Who says you can't make a great record in one day – or night, as the case may be? The Trinity Session was recorded in one night using one microphone, a DAT recorder, and the wonderful acoustics of the Holy Trinity in Toronto. Interestingly, it's the album that broke the Cowboy Junkies in the United States for their version of "Sweet Jane," which included the lost verse. It's far from the best cut here, though. There are other covers, such as Margo Timmins' a cappella read of the traditional "Mining for Gold," a heroin-slow version of Hank Williams' classic "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry," "Dreaming My Dreams With You" (canonized by Waylon Jennings), and a radical take of the Patsy Cline classic "Walkin' After Midnight" that closes the disc. Those few who had heard the band's previous album, Whites Off Earth Now!!, were aware that, along with Low, the Cowboy Junkies were the only band at the time capable of playing slower than Neil Young and Crazy Horse – and without the ear-threatening volume.

One of the most popular Merseybeat singers, Billy J. Kramer (born Billy Ashton) was one of the most mild-mannered rockers of the entire British Invasion. He wasn't that noteworthy a singer, either, and more likely than not would have never been heard outside of northern England if he hadn't been fortunate enough to become a client of Beatles manager Brian Epstein. Even more crucially, he was gifted with several Lennon-McCartney songs in 1963 and 1964, several of which the Beatles never ended up recording. That gave him his entrance into the charts on both sides of the Atlantic, but Kramer couldn't sustain his success after the supply of Lennon-McCartney tunes dried up. Significant? No. Enjoyable? Yes. Even tossing aside the considerable value of hearing otherwise unavailable Lennon-McCartney compositions, his best singles were enjoyably wimpy, melodic pop/rock, offering a guilty pleasure comparable to taking a break from Faulkner and diving into some superhero comics.

Although not initially released until 1992, 25 years after composer Billy Strayhorn's death, this is his definitive CD. Strayhorn is heard singing "Lush Life" while backed by the Duke Ellington Orchestra in 1964 (his voice is not strong but his phrasing is quite sincere), jamming on piano with flügelhornist Clark Terry and Bob Wilbur (on clarinet and soprano) in a quintet, backing singer Ozzie Bailey, and taking a pair of piano solos ("Love Came" and "Baby Clementine"). These are very valuable and intriguing recordings, shedding some new light on a nearly invisible genius.

George Philipp Telemann's Wassermusik (commonly known as 'Hamburger Ebb und Fluth' – an oblique reference to the local method of sewage disposal!) was composed for a grand celebration of seafaring life during 1723. The music was noted at the time for being 'uncommonly well-suited to the occasion', and not least for its subject-matter: Telemann guides his audience through a pageant of aquatic folklore and meteorology.

Guillaume Dufay is one of the key representatives of the French musical genius. His masterful work is a comprehensive and brilliant apotheosis of the middle ages. During his long career, the master from Cambrai gave us not only an impressive series of motets and masses, but also more than 80 profane songs, jems of melodic, rhythmic and poetic creativity. These small masterpieces show extreme refinement and an extraordinary command of counterpoint. Whatever the form, ballad, rondeau, bergerette or motet-song, the expression remains surprisingly natural and exquisitely simple. Most of these songs hail lightness of mind, joy, optimism, modestly restrained amorous pleasure, though some are melancholic or dwell on more austere feelings.

Chailly's Mahler Tenth has certainly withstood the test of time since its original release in 1988. Simon Rattle's new Berlin recording offers perhaps a more highly inflected, characterful performance, but Chailly has both the better playing and sound, and this pays particular dividends in the dark, rich string textures of the opening and closing movements. Both Rattle and Chailly use Deryck Cooke's revised performing version (Chailly sticks to it more literally than does Rattle), and this remains the edition of choice. Recent releases of other completion attempts, including a pretty ghastly one by Remo Mazzetti, only confirm the excellence of Cooke's work.

Flying the flag for British rock throughout the Seventies and well into the next decade, Climax Blues Band were at the forefront of high quality, entertaining music, performed with equal success ‘live’ and on record. This ten track selection was first released in 1980, a time of change and conflicting influences. But whatever the moods affecting the musicians, they always played with maximum passion and expertise, as is revealed on ‘Flying The Flag’. The opening number ‘Gotta Have More Love’ is closer to disco pop than the blues that first inspired the group, but whatever style they espoused, Climax always delivered songs with cool expertise. And the core feeling for the rockin’ blues can always be found in performances like Peter Haycock’s outstanding ‘So Good After Midnight’ and the aggressive ‘Blackjack And Me’, that are among the highlights of a vibrant high flying album.

Two years after 2013's The Beast in Its Tracks, the good news is Josh Ritter is feeling better about things. While The Beast in Its Tracks documented Ritter's often unsettled state of mind after the collapse of his marriage, 2015's Sermon on the Rocks is the sound of a man on the rebound, and while the album is hardly sunshine and cold beer throughout, these songs clearly reflect Ritter's tenacity and spirit rather than the damaged emotions that were front and center two years earlier. "Getting Ready to Get Down" finds Ritter offering a small-town girl some advice to forget Bible college and see a bit of the big bad world, and the tale is told with the swagger of a guy who wouldn't mind showing her a few things himself.

The minor San Francisco group Lamb tend to be remembered only for their appearance on the Fillmore: The Last Days concert album, where they were one of several non-star artists on a set dominated by bigger names like the Grateful Dead, Santana, and Boz Scaggs. The band did actually put out three albums in the early '70s, however, and were quite an interesting group. Not only were they not readily comparable to other acts on the San Francisco rock circuit, but it's debatable whether they could be fairly categorized as a rock band at all. Their music blended jazz, folk, singer/songwriter pop, gospel, and even some classical and avant-garde influences. Certainly the dominant figure was singer Barbara Mauritz, whose bluesy and earthy vocals had considerable resonance, but which could also traverse the band's frequently mystical, poetic lyrics with much delicacy and nuance…

Sonny Boy Williamson was, in many ways, the ultimate blues legend. By the time of his death in 1965, he had been around long enough to have played with Robert Johnson at the start of his career and Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, and Robbie Robertson at the end of it. In between, he drank a lot of whiskey, hobo'ed around the country, had a successful radio show for 15 years, toured Europe to great acclaim, and simply wrote, played, and sang some of the greatest blues ever etched into Black phonograph records. His delivery was sly, evil and world-weary, while his harp-playing was full of short, rhythmic bursts one minute and powerful, impassioned blowing the next. His songs were chock-full of mordant wit, with largely autobiographical lyrics that hold up to the scrutiny of the printed page. Though he took his name from another well-known harmonica player, no one really sounded like him.