Genesis (1968). The Gods' debut album was the sound of a band capturing the transition of British psychedelia into more ostentatious progressive hard rock. Ken Hensley's heavy Hammond organ was the center of their sound, and both that and the sometimes overbearing vibrato vocals pointed toward the less psychedelic sounds he and drummer Lee Kerslake would pursue in Uriah Heep. Genesis is undoubtedly lighter than Uriah Heep, though, often employing characteristically late-'60s British vocal harmonies. Some tunes, like "Candles Getting Shorter" and "Radio Show," even skirt a pop-soul sensibility. But the songs weren't terribly memorable, though they were segued together by brief odd'n'goofy instrumental bits at the end of tracks in keeping with the modus operandi of the psychedelic era…

The live attempts at recreating the seminal jam chemistry of Super Session were hit-and-miss affairs, and this one, previously unreleased, has its fair share of off-key and off-target tunes. The rhythm section is erratic, the repertoire–ranging from Simon & Garfunkel's "59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)" to an Elvis-flavored "That's All Right Mama"–is a bit odd, and co-leader Al Kooper is competent but rarely inspired. Guitarist Michael Bloomfield, however, is uniformly brilliant and his graceful blues virtuosity is by itself well worth the price of admission. Bloomfield and the group are joined on B.B. King's "It's My Own Fault" by a then-unknown Johnny Winter and things get really interesting.

The combination of organist Jimmy Smith teamed with Oliver Nelson's big band featuring Nelson and Claus Ogerman's arrangements has arguably yielded mixed results. "Walk on the Wild Side" is probably the most acclaimed and potent of the pairings, while "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" produces more questions than answers. The music tends to be corny and overly dramatic, based in soul-jazz and boogaloo; it's dated even for this time period (1964) and a bit bland. Disparate elements clash rather than meld, the title track and "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue" being perfect examples. If you can get beyond the hokey 007 theatrics, patriotic splashes, and sleigh bells, you do hear Smith jamming…

Rick Wakeman spent much of the '80s and '90s recording instrumental albums that veered toward either classical or ambient, so 2003's Out There comes as a bit of a shock: it's an honest to goodness revival of the full-throttle prog rock Wakeman pursued on his solo albums in the '70s. A large part of this is due to his decision to form a full-fledged supporting rock band. Called the New English Rock Ensemble, they're a quintet led by Wakeman and featuring Damian Wilson on vocals, Ant Glynne on guitar, Lee Pomeroy on bass, and Tony Fernandez on drums and percussion. They're a powerful and skilled outfit, able to follow Wakeman's shifting tempos and moods with dexterity without ever losing sight of their forceful rhythmic core, which keeps this rock, not new age.

Bad as Me is Tom Waits' first collection of new material in seven years. He and Kathleen Brennan - wife, co-songwriter, and production partner - have, at the latter's insistence, come up with a tight-knit collection of short tunes, the longest is just over four minutes. This is a quick, insistent, and woolly aural road trip full of compelling stops and starts. While he's kept his sonic experimentation - especially with percussion tracks - Waits has returned to blues, rockabilly, rhythm & blues, and jazz as source material. Instead of sprawl and squall, we get chug and choogle. For "Chicago" - via Clint Maedgen's saxes, Keith Richards' (who appears sporadically here) and Marc Ribot's guitars, son Casey Waits' drums, dad's banjo, percussion and piano, and Charlie Musselwhite's harmonica (he appears numerous times here, too) - we get a 21st century take on vintage R&B…

Perhaps most widely known for his contributions to the atmospheric score of Nicolas Roeg's The Man Who Fell To Earth, Japanese composer/percussionist Stomu Yasmashta made a number of albums in the 1970s that trounced the boundaries of jazz fusion, new age music, and old fashioned experimentation. This 2008 release, mastered directly from the original recordings, is the first CD edition of Yamashta's '75 opus, Raindog, a compelling work that includes one track later used in Earth. Fans of Brian Eno will find a kindred (but wholly original) spirit here.

The full addition of Alan Wilder to Depeche Mode's lineup created a perfect troika that would last another 11 years, as the combination of Martin Gore's songwriting, Wilder's arranging, and David Gahan's singing and live star power resulted in an ever more compelling series of albums and singles. Construction Time Again, the new lineup's first full effort, is a bit hit and miss nonetheless, but when it does hit, it does so perfectly. Right from the album's first song, "Love, In Itself," something is clearly up; Depeche never sounded quite so thick with its sound before, with synths arranged into a mini-orchestra/horn section and real piano and acoustic guitar spliced in at strategic points. Two tracks later, "Pipeline" offers the first clear hint of an increasing industrial influence (the bandmembers were early fans of Einstürzende Neubauten), with clattering metal samples and oddly chain gang-like lyrics and vocals…