One of Stan Getz's all-time greatest albums, Sweet Rain was his first major artistic coup after he closed the book on his bossa nova period, featuring an adventurous young group that pushed him to new heights in his solo statements. Pianist Chick Corea, bassist Ron Carter, and drummer Grady Tate were all schooled in '60s concepts of rhythm-section freedom, and their continually stimulating interplay helps open things up for Getz to embark on some long, soulful explorations (four of the five tracks are over seven minutes). The neat trick of Sweet Rain is that the advanced rhythm section work remains balanced with Getz's customary loveliness and lyricism. Indeed, Getz plays with a searching, aching passion throughout the date, which undoubtedly helped Mike Gibbs' title track become a standard after Getz's tender treatment here…

When trombonist/producer Wayne Henderson, pianist/keyboardist Joe Sample, sax-man Wilton Felder, and drummer Stix Hooper changed their name from the Jazz Crusaders to the Crusaders back in 1971, it signaled a more R&B-minded direction for the group – they were always funky, but in the '70s, they became even funkier. And so, the names the Crusaders and the Jazz Crusaders came to stand for two different things – if the Jazz Crusaders were synonymous with a funky yet acoustic-oriented approach to hard bop (à la Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers), the Crusaders were about electric-oriented jazz-funk and fusion. In 1995, Henderson (who left the Crusaders in 1975) resurrected the name the Jazz Crusaders and produced Happy Again for the small, Los Angeles-based Sin-drome Records.

Aufbrüche! is an important music documentation from the early years of the Umsonst & Draussen festivals - a quite famous trademark nowadays all over in Germany. It all began in 1975 with a one-day event in Vlotho/East Westphalia. Aufbrüche mirrors the years from 1975 to 1978 where most of the bands/artists can be filed under the label progressive rock - at least prog-related. The four discs are dominated by fusion and jazz rock oriented music. There are Embryo, Missus Beastly, Skyline, Out Of Focus, Hammerfest and many others interesting bands. 'Aufbrüche' is a worthy investment for all those who want to get an impression of the early German festival history which was dominated by progressive rock bands.

Cosmic Baby (aka Harald Blüchel) has always walked a fine line between serious music and entertainment music. On the one hand he has remixed pieces from Sven Väth, Vangelis and Yello, yet on the other hand this classically trained concert pianist has embued his Trance tracks with a completely new dimension that deserves the title of "Techno-art". "An album shouldn't be just a collection of good pieces - it must also have a concept behind it," says Cosmic Baby about his album, "Heaven". The 14 tracks are cleverly ordered in dramaturgical fashion, each taking you away to fantastical tonal worlds all of which could make up the sound-track of a dream. The music wiith a lot of snorkelling and distortion. Sometimes classically overdone, then suddenly set to pronounced drumbeats, a revision of seven years of Cosmic Baby on the one hand and the unmistakable influence of electronic pioneers like Tangerine Dream and Jean-Michel Jarre on the other.

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…