String Theory is the ambitious third release from Partikel (Duncan Eagles, Max Luthert and Eric Ford), a band that's been performing non-stop the last few years and is largely heralded in the UK as one of the most exciting new groups working in improvised-based music. This latest project sees the band pushing their own sonic and compositional boundaries by teaming up with four of the most in-demand string players on the UK scene, fusing their love of jazz, rock and world music with the sounds and textures of a string quartet to create a high energy album that merges a bewildering array of unique soundscapes. The string quartet have been integrated seamlessly into Partikel's trademark style of raw emotion and fiercely interactive improvisations, striking an intriguing balance between intensity and rich harmony. It's an excellent example of a band not content with resting on their laurels.

There are a number of arguments to be made for and against Maria Muldaur's 2008 antiwar statement Yes We Can! on Telarc (before actually listening to it; remember, we live in a cynical culture). The "perceived" negatives all relate to the intent of the recording and who it's supposed to reach (no doubt an expression of the same set of beliefs rooted in Muldaur's 1960s music), and the fact that it's loaded with guests (in all fairness, these star-studded affairs seldom work). On Yes We Can!, her guests include Muldaur's old friends (Joan Baez, Bonnie Raitt, Phoebe Snow, Jane Fonda, and Holly Near) and influences (Odetta) and new pals (writers/spiritual gurus Anne Lamott and Marianne Williamson, and Indian spiritual teacher Amma). Does it read as if it is yet another exercise in self-referential backslapping? Yep. But don't believe everything you read on the back of a CD jacket. The positives are all musical.

On his 1994 debut album, Bloomed, Richard Buckner built a memorable song around the line "This is where things start goin' bad," but Buckner made that notion the overriding theme of his second full-length release, 1997's Devotion + Doubt. Written and recorded in the wake of the collapse of Buckner's first marriage, Devotion + Doubt abandons the largely acoustic, string band-influenced approach of Bloomed in favor of a stark, dusty sound that suggests a sleepless night in a motel room in the Arizona desert. J.D. Foster's production and the accompaniment from Calexico founders Joey Burns and John Convertino is often as spare as a whisper in the dark, but the production is a perfect match for the deep insinuations of Buckner's textured voice and the artful, impressionistic heartache of the lyrics, and this is a significantly more ambitious and accomplished effort than Bloomed, as fine as that album was.

Ignis Fatuus is the classic debut album from Norwegian prog legends White Willow. Originally released in the Spring of 1995, the album took the global progressive rock scene by storm. Fan letters started coming in from all over the world, and wonderful reviews from American and European music magazines kept flowing out of their fax machine. 5000 copies were quickly sold and soon the band was on a plane to California to perform at the 1995 Los Angeles Progfest, along with acts like Spock’s Beard, Ars Nova and Landberk.

Saxophonist Pat Posey goes to extremes for his solo debut album, they/beast. Introducing the tubax - a German-invented, modified version of the contrabass saxophone - Pat plays deep, dark renditions of J.S. Bach's Cello Suite No. 3, Melodies for Saxophone by Philip Glass, Bach-inspired Mo'ingus by Brooklyn-based composer-saxophonist Shelley Washington, and Pat's own Hymn.

Baritone Joel Urch and pianist Sophie Sczepanek perform an intimate recital of songs by Beethoven, Robert Schumann and Ravel. Alongside the well-known concept of 'Wanderlust' - the purposeful desire for travel - they explore the less widespread expression 'Fernweh': a wistful longing for faraway places that cannot be reached.

Pianist Ian Gindes presents a captivating elucidation of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s solo piano works on RACHMANINOFF, a new album of discerning artistry. With meticulous care and interpretive insight, Gindes navigates the rich tapestry of Rachmaninoff’s compositions, peeling back the layers on their emotional depth and their technical intricacies.

The history of music-making in Rome tends to focus on Renaissance polyphony, with an occasional nod to the Baroque thereafter. But thanks to composers like Giovanni Battista Casali (1715–92), choral music continued to flourish in Roman churches and other religious establishments in the eighteenth century, too, until Napoleon’s occupation broke many of its traditions. Casali’s music, though, is as good as unknown, and this pioneering recording reveals a composer at home in the galant style – with a surprising fondness for the occasional dissonance.