Released at the front end of 1999's Lilith Fair, Mirrorball is a take-home sampler of the live performances that catapulted Sarah McLachlan into the modern rock stratosphere. Over half of the album's 14 songs are radio hits (including four of the first five), proving McLachlan's worth as a pop songstress bar none, but also hinting at an underlying stagnation in her recent musical output. Though fans of McLachlan and folks who missed her Lilith performances will likely enjoy Mirrorball, it's a little too by-the-book to win any converts or please critical listeners. There is little dialogue between songs, for example, and the sound quality is so pristine that if it weren't for the occasional hoot and holler from the audience, one would never know it's a live album.

Mock Morris, Molly on the Shore and Shepherd’s Hey are edgily chipper. When Grainger is in this vein he looks in the direction of Frank Bridge’s Sir Roger de Coverley – a Britten favourite - and in this case there is a hint of Capriol too. Died for Love is out of the same green meadow as Moeran’s two pieces for small orchestra. Delightful. The Love Verses and the slightly chilly Early One Morning bring home parallels with Balfour Gardiner’s April and Philomela (long overdue for revival). Youthful Rapture (Tim Hugh, cello) has also been recorded by Julian Lloyd Webber who takes more time than Hugh and this piece can bear the slower tempo.

The contemporary blues bannerman's recording debut (originally released as Who's Been Talkin' in 1980), while naturally not as strong as his later work (especially Bad Influence, released five years later), is the work of an extremely promising artist. The album is an appealing mix of standards (Willie Dixon's "Too Many Cooks," Howlin' Wolf's "Who's Been Talkin'," O.V. Wright's "I'm Gonna Forget About You," among others) and originals. Among the strongest of the latter are the slow blues "I'd Rather Be a Wino" and the closing number, "If You're Thinkin' What I'm Thinkin'," which contains the flavorful mix of tight rhythms, excellent guitar work, strong vocals, and bittersweet mood that would become Cray's hallmark.

Jeff Lynne revived Electric Light Orchestra in 2015 – due to legal reasons, they were now called Jeff Lynne's ELO – releasing a comeback album called Alone in the Universe and steadily mounting a return to the road. Several dates happened in 2016, but the tour reached its apex in June 2017, when the group played in front of 60,000 people at London's Wembley Stadium. Released five months after that June 24 gig, Wembley or Bust – which was accompanied by a concert film – features the entirety of the gig, and if it's not heard too closely, it could sometimes be mistaken for an ELO greatest-hits album.

Boris Giltburg has set out to study and film all of Beethoven’s 32 piano sonatas by the end of 2020. The project started as a personal exploration, driven by curiosity and his strong love of the Beethoven sonatas. These performances display Giltburg’s customary spirit and technical finesse, and also convey the electric atmosphere of the live recording.

Heart had a pair of greatest-hits collections to their credit by 1997, but both did not contain all the renowned studio versions of their classic hits from the '70s (both 1980's Heart Greatest Hits: Live on Epic and 1997's Greatest Hits on Capitol contained half studio and half live material). 1998's Greatest Hits on Epic/Legacy finally corrected this once and for all – collecting all of Heart's '70s studio hits on a single disc. Nearly all of the songs have become classic rock staples, the best-known being the Zep-esque rockers "Crazy on You," "Barracuda," and "Magic Man," while the more subdued acoustic material ("Dreamboat Annie," "Love Alive," "Dog & Butterfly") showcases the immense talents of vocalist Ann Wilson.

Diana Krall reunited with Tommy LiPuma, the producer who worked with her for the first decade-and-a-half of her career, for Turn Up The Quiet, a 2017 album that found the pianist returning to the Great American Songbook interpretations that made her name. LiPuma died just before the release of Turn Up the Quiet, prompting Krall to fashion a quasi-tribute to her collaborator from the album's leftovers. The ensuing This Dream of You is hushed and reserved, a leisurely stroll through quite familiar standards augmented by a version of Bob Dylan's "This Dream of You," a deep cut from his 2009 album Together Through Life.

April Lawton's short rock & roll moment in the sun takes a better turn on Ramatam's second attempt, In April Came the Dawning of the Red Suns. Acoustic ramblings like "Excerpt From Guitar Concerto #1," where she plays solo for 44 seconds, are more inviting than much of what was on the group's self titled debut. Since her prowess was a big part of the hype, why those introspective glimpses weren't extended is the mystery. There's also a pretty interlude, "Rainy Sunday Evening," which comes between two awful moments on side one, "Betty Lou" and "I Can Only Love You," proving the previous point.

Schnittke's Piano Quintet, a creative response to his mother's death, is an austere, haunting work full of grief and tenderness that marks one of his early ventures into polystylistic writing. The opening piano solo is unique, a spare statement of puzzlement in the face of tragedy. It gives way to a waltz, as if recapturing a lost past, then the graceful dance melody literally disintegrates as the strings venture off into other regions, vainly trying to reassemble the theme and failing. At the end of its touching five movements the music's despair is transformed into serene, hard-won acceptance. Shostakovitch's 15th Quartet, his final statement in that form, premiered just months before his death. It's six slow movements are shot through with contemplative sadness and regret. The music is so rich in texture and substance that attention never flags.

Consummation. This is what the piano music of Arnold Schönberg (1874-1951) and Franz Schubert (1979-1828) have in common, the bridge that Thomas Larcher brings to this welcoming solo recital, his first for ECM. To underscore this point, he shuffles Schönberg’s Klavierstücke op. 11 with Schubert’s posthumous Klavierstücke D 946. By turns halting and didactic, the opening pairing opens into the fresh air of Schubert’s precisely syncopated revelry. The contrasts between the two composers are obvious to the ear, but to the heart Schönberg is an extended exhalation to Schubert’s inhalation. Where Schönberg plots slow, jagged caverns, Schubert runs furtively above ground in the sunshine. Yet both seem so urgent to tell their stories, offering lifelong journeys from relatively young minds.