The King's Singers are one of the best vocal ensembles - in every incarnation they've had. The tone changes with new members, but each regrouping presents itself and the music with integrity and intelligence. This compilation is one of their best. My personal bias is that this kind of music is their forte.

Battle of the Field was recorded by the Albion Country Band in 1973, but it wasn't released until 1976. The delay didn't really matter, since the group's music – traditional English folk played on electric instruments – is essentially timeless. The group wasn't quite as skilled as Fairport Convention, but they were nevertheless extraordinarily talented, and this arguably remains their finest moment.

The story of the Cranberries is one of dogged survival. Debuting with a maiden release that everybody seemed to rate as a portent of great things, the band suffered not only a "difficult" second album but also an absolute stinker of a third one, as the bandmembers strove desperately – too desperately – to live up to their reputation for sensitivity and thoughtfulness, and completely lost sight of their true virtues in the process. Internecine squabbling, health problems, and general disaffection all took further toll, so much so that, as the band prepared to release its fourth album, 1999's Bury the Hatchet, many observers were shocked to learn that the band even existed any longer, let alone was capable of actually making a new record – especially one that was as good as Bury the Hatchet turned out to be. Filmed at the Paris Omnisport de Bercy on December 9, 1999, toward the end of that album's accompanying tour, Beneath the Skin captures the full 84-minute concert performance, with the band ranging and, occasionally, raging through a veritable greatest-hits collection.

Scaled smaller than 2012's double-album Privateering, Tracker also feels suitably subtle, easing its way into being instead of announcing itself with a thunder. Such understatement is typical of Mark Knopfler, particularly in the third act of his career. When he left Dire Straits behind, he also left behind any semblance of playing for the cheap seats in an arena, but Tracker feels quieter than his new millennial norm. Some of this is due to the undercurrent of reflection tugging at the record's momentum. Knopfler isn't pining for the past but he is looking back, sometimes wistfully, sometimes with a resigned smile, and he appropriately draws upon sounds that he's long loved. Usually, this means some variation of pub rock – the languid ballad "River Towns," the lazy shuffle "Skydiver," the two-chord groove of "Broken Bones" – but this is merely the foundation from which Knopfler threads in a fair amount of olde British folk and other roots digressions.