The Beatles never quite made a commercially released Christmas album, though they put together special singles for their fan club every year from 1963 to 1969, then compiled them as The Beatles Christmas Album, also just for the fan club, in 1970. These recordings were more spoken-word than musical, though there was a song, "Christmas Time (Is Here Again)," heard in excerpts on the 1967 record. It has been left to Ringo Starr to release the first full-length Christmas album from a Beatle, and I Wanna Be a Santa Claus is very much in the group's spirit. Since he returned to recording in 1992, Starr has made a point of making music reminiscent of the Beatles, hooking up in 1998 with a group led by Mark Hudson dubbed the Roundheads. Hudson is everywhere on I Wanna Be a Santa Claus, co-writing the half-dozen originals with Starr and others, co-producing with Starr, and handling a variety of instruments. He and keyboard player/arranger Jim Cox clearly are steeped in the Beatles, and they have effectively recreated a Beatles sound on the record, in some cases aping specific songs.

While this soundtrack is arguably most notable for introducing Middle America to Blondie, there is also some interesting incidental music written by legendary producer Giorgio Moroder and performed by Harold Faltermeyer and Keith Forsey – the latter of which may be familiar to some as percussionist for the German prog/art rock collective Amon Düül. There is likewise a vocal contribution from actress/vocalist Cheryl Barnes on "Love and Passion." The album's pervading heavily manufactured and synthetically generated atmosphere is convincing in its aural depiction of the shallow decadence portrayed on the screen. It took almost two decades before American Gigolo was issued on CD in North America. The primary impetus for the release was the "extended version" of Blondie's "Call Me," which was unavailable on any Blondie album and was too long – at over eight minutes – to fit onto a single. The song was co-composed by Debbie Harry and Moroder specifically for this project, becoming the second chart-topper for the band, ultimately staying at number one for six weeks in March of 1980.

Maryland's Deanna Bogart is an explosive live performer, mixing in several streams of American vernacular music into her sets, ranging from funky R&B romps to hushed, Norah Jones-like jazz-pop ballads, and she just happens to be a dynamite barrelhouse piano player who also plays a pretty mean tenor saxophone, as well. Her versatility is truly astounding, and while it might be safe to say that everything she does grows out of the blues, to label her a blues artist doesn't even begin to cover the half of it. On Real Time she offers up a typically varied program of New Orleans R&B, late-night blues, smoky jazz ballads, a touch of country, and some rousing boogie-woogie piano instrumentals, but what keeps it all stitched together is her strong, sultry singing.

Since his debut recording on Linn Records of Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique in 2012, and his subsequent releases of Les nuits d'été, La mort de Cléopâtre, L'enfance du Christ, and Roméo et Juliette, Robin Ticciati has demonstrated a strong affinity for the refined sonorities of French music, and his attention to vibrant orchestral colors and transparent textures is especially well-suited to accompanying the human voice. His 2017 album of works by Debussy and Fauré with mezzo-soprano Magdalena Kozena and the Deutsche Symphonie-Orchester Berlin reflected his strengths and sensitivity, so this 2018 release with the same artists, featuring works by Maurice Ravel and Henri Duparc, effectively recommends itself to knowledgeable listeners.

This exciting Baroque instrumental group using period instruments performs with passion and integrity music primarily from Telemann's "Essercitzii Musici" and "Tafelmusik."

It figures that the ensemble most responsible for the French Baroque revival is the one to outdo Nelson and Kirkby's legendary recording of these lamentation settings. Sophie Daneman and Patricia Petibon don't have the earlier pair's gorgeous, distinctive voices (both occasionally wobble above the staff), but they sound plenty beautiful. More importantly, they've managed to make these major-key pieces sound like lamentations. Twenty years ago, Kirkby and Nelson were pioneers: merely singing with their white tone was risky; they couldn't take many chances with rhythmic freedom.