London’s Black Cat Bones were one of those bands from the late '60s that served as an incubator for its various members’ later rock incarnations, in this case the bands Free, Foghat, and Bad Company, all of whom drew members from Black Cat Bones. As an intact band, they only released a single album, Barbed Wire Sandwich, on Decca Records in 1969, and then splintered into the future. The album itself is a collection of rather generic period British blues pieces, a bit reminiscent of Cream in sound, although that doesn’t hinder cuts like “Chauffer” and the best track here, “Please Tell Me Baby,” from taking off into some interesting territory.

This 1987 best-of compiles the work from A&M efforts that marked a stylistic change from her Vanguard years, yet a pretty consistent level of success. Relying on the work of other artists seemed to be more hit and miss during the A&M era. In Baez's interpretations of songs like Bob Dylan's "Simple Twist of Fate" and "Forever Young" and John Lennon's "Imagine," her pitch-perfect tone might strike some as unemotional, but her singing is engrossing nonetheless. Not surprisingly, Baez sounds the best here with the tracks that deviate from weighty issues. "Gracias a la Vida" (sung in Spanish) and the haunting "Di Da" (with Joni Mitchell) have her giving off more charm and emotion than usual. "Children and All That Jazz," from her best-selling 1975 album Diamonds & Rust, has a gorgeous, heavily produced '70s L.A. pop/rock style that suited her voice. Unlike many greatest-hit sets, Classics, Vol. 8 also offers strong live performances, including "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" and the CD closing "Amazing Grace." Classics, Vol. 8 has the strength of a regular release effort and more than captures the time frame and the artist it's spotlighting.

Astrud Gilberto has never been properly anthologized by Verve Records; although they've released a number of compilations over the years, none of them have been definitive, and most of them have been rather skimpy. 1987's The Silver Collection, originally released only in Europe but later imported to North America, is an idiosyncratic selection. It omits "The Girl From Ipanema," her biggest hit, includes all 11 tracks from her 1965 release The Astrud Gilberto Album, and adds on a selection of singles and album tracks recorded from 1965 to 1970 with no particular logic. All that said, however, it's still one of the best compilations available of this idiosyncratic but brilliant singer's '60s material. Jazz purists turn up their noses at Gilberto, correctly pointing out her near total lack of technical ability. However, the Brazilian songbird's appealingly plain voice, with its deliberately wobbly pitch (the "desafinado" style celebrated in Antonio Carlos Jobim's song of that title), total lack of vibrato, and deadpan phrasing, is a delight for those attuned to its charms.

Most notable is a Liebestod of superbly controlled intensity. In the Narrative and Curse the exultant, passionate power of Varnay's singing exposes one hint of mannerism—a tendency to press too hard on certain syllables, and to seem, in consequence, an Isolde more unyielding than volatile. The difficulty a great Wagnerian can have in scaling her voice down is most noticeable in the first of the Wesendonk Lieder: Varnay is best in the rapt, inner intensity of No. 3, "Im Treibhaus". Such inner intensity is also abundant in the long extract from Act 2 of Tristan.