Pianist Gene Harris' 1992 quartet (with guitarist Ron Eschete, bassist Luther Hughes, and drummer Harold Jones) explores ten wide-ranging selections on this CD. But despite the very different chord changes, they are able to infuse the music with so much soul that the results are consistently bluesy. Among the tunes that Harris and his group explore are Horace Silver's "Strollin'", "Until the Real Thing Comes Along," "Jeannine", "You Make Me Feel So Young", and "Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams". An excellent effort.

Cesaria Evora was a Cape Verdean popular singer. Nicknamed the "Barefoot Diva" for performing without shoes, she was also known as the "Queen of Morna". A native of the island nation of Cape Verde, Cesaria Evora was known as the country's foremost practitioner of the morna, which is strongly associated with the islands and combines West African percussion with Portuguese fados, Brazilian modhinas, and British sea shanties. Evora began singing morna at age 16 after meeting an attractive young guitarist. Her talent soon had her performing all over the islands, and in the late '60s two of her radio tapes were released as albums in the Netherlands and Portugal, respectively.

Underpinned by perfect virtuosity, Zukerman's rich and beautiful violin tone perfectly reveals the charm that Beethoven puts into these sonatas. A well-balanced and excellent performance with the exquisite support of Neikrug has value that should be listened to for a long time as a standard of Beethoven's performance.

Exalted as "The George Gershwin of Brazil," Antonio Carlos Jobim was an incredibly prolific composer who wrote many songs that became standards in Brazilian and jazz circles. But in fact, Jobim also composed many great songs that aren't standards, and on this absorbing CD, Ana Caram insightfully spotlights some of the Jobim pearls that aren't nearly as well known as "The Girl From Ipanema," "Triste" or "Corcovado." Indeed, The Other Side of Jobim underscores the fact that for every "Desafinado" or "One Note Samba" he wrote, there was a lesser-known treasure like "Ana Luiza," "Olha Maria" or "Esperanca Perdida." Even those with an extensive knowledge of Brazilian music may not be familiar with "Correnteza" or "Demais," but as Caram obviously realizes, they certainly deserve to be.

This two-hour-plus compilation of the first five years of the history of John Mayall and his band the Bluesbreakers in their many permutations covers all the expected bases and then some. Eric Clapton, Peter Green, and Mick Taylor are all represented, but so are Bernie Watson and Roger Dean, both of whom preceded Clapton in the guitarist's spot in the band. What's more, they're not bad; they may not have been the assertive soloist that Clapton came to embody, but Dean plays a pretty hot solo on "Crocodile Walk," which was good enough to make the A-side of a single in 1965. Moreover, there was more to any of the Mayall bands than their guitarists, and Mayall's blues harmonica is showcased throughout, on tracks such as "Crawling Up a Hill" and "Blues City Shakedown."

The recent Glyndbourne staging of this oratorio demonstrated how well it worked as an opera, and this recording by Nicholas McGegan creates a similar dramatic intensity out of the tragic story of oppression and resistance. He finds excellent tempi for the arias, and keeps the recitatives cracking along at a good pace. And though he has a very good ensemble team of soloists, the star of the show is definitely soprano Lorraine Hunt (who, interestingly enough, sang the mezzo role of Irene for Glyndebourne) as Theodora. She uses the rich, throaty quality of her voice to bring out all the terrible pathos of Theodora's plight, while still suggesting that she is a character lit by an inner fire of joy. Unfortunately the acoustic lacks a certain bloom, and this makes the sound world sometimes seem a little flat and dry.

Famous as its title has become through Carl Orff's work of the same name, the original Carmina burana—a German manuscript collection of mostly secular songs, probably compiled in the early thirteenth century—is all but unknown to modern listeners. That it should be so is hardly surprising, since many of the pieces in the manuscript pose formidable editorial problems (inasmuch as they can be deciphered at all), and since virtually nothing is known about the manner in which they would have been performed and accompanied, nor about the circumstances under which they would have been heard. In short, it is improbable that any twentieth-century performance of songs from Carmina burana will ever come close to the original experience, and it would certainly be fairer to describe such modern reconstructions as the present one as little more than exotic entertainments loosely inspired by material from the manuscript, much as Orff's cantata is.

The Naples years, 1815 to 1822, are at the very centre of Rossini's creative life. It is here that genius—''I had facility and lots of instinct''—was put to school. And firmly so: the serious masterpieces of the Naples years take as their subjects the Bible and Shakespeare, Scott and Racine, Tasso and English historical romance.

In the last period of his life, Hasse, together with Faustina Bordoni, settled in Venice. At this time, he devotes himself almost exclusively to composing sacred music. However, in 1775 - 1776, two remarkable cantatas, written on the text of his friend Pietro Metastasio, saw the light.

Not everyone will approve, but there are ways in which this super-budget set of Il barbiere diSiviglia puts to shame just about every other version of the opera there has been. Those it may not please are specialist vocal collectors for whom Il barbiere is primarily a repository of vocal test pieces. If, however, you regard Il barbiere (Rossini, ex-Beaumarchais) as a gloriously subversive music drama – vibrant, scurrilous, vital – then this recording is guaranteed to give a great deal of pleasure.

George Szell was the greatest opera conductor who never recorded a complete opera. Early in his career, he decided to leave the opera house because he was unable to work with what he considered to be the compromising conditions of modern opera production. The most tantalizing recording he never conducted was the complete "Ring" for London. The honor went instead to Sir Georg Solti, and although Solti's work was hardly inconsiderable, this exceptional disc gives us some sense of what we lost.

Bruce Springsteen has always been steeped in mainstream pop/rock music, using it as a vocabulary for what he wanted to say about weightier matters. And he has always written generic pop as well, though he's usually given the results away to performers like Southside Johnny and Gary "U.S." Bonds. Sometimes, those songs have been hits - think of the Pointer Sisters' "Fire" or Bonds' "This Little Girl Is Mine." Occasionally, Springsteen has used such material here and there on his own albums; some of it can be found on The River, for example. But Human Touch was the first Bruce Springsteen album to consist entirely of this kind of minor genre material, material he seems capable of turning out endlessly and effortlessly - the point of "I Wish I Were Blind" is that the singer doesn't want to see, now that his baby has left him; "57 Channels (And Nothin' On)" is about TV…

Alun Francis is one of the most respected conductors on the international scene, and is particularly admired for his efforts in bringing international recognition to several great tonal symphonists active in the post-World War II years, and for other efforts on behalf of 20th century music. His "native" instrument is the French horn. He continued his studies on that instrument and took conducting while attending the Royal Manchester College of Music from 1960 to 1963.