But Cleary still has a tell: he’ll turn to the audience with a look on his face that falls somewhere between a nudge and a wink, and he’ll say something cutesy to drive up audience applause. This is your moment of involvement. And it’ll often happen halfway through a song, when every stops and later picks back up in grand fashion.

These live moments are what makes jazz performances great. There’s an energy to them that simply can’t be captured on a record. It’s one of the reasons the best way to experience jazz is to see a live show, and it’s undoubtedly the reason there are still a lot of jazz bars left over from the genre’s heyday.

Some of that riotous crowd-pleasing is present on Mo Hippa, the live album that Jon Cleary put out with The Absolute Monster Gentlemen, his backing band. You can hear it on crowd-pleasers like “When U Get Back,” which is a stunner of a track — particularly with its chorus and harmonies.

The track is a great demonstration of everything else that Jon Cleary and his band have to offer to: most of the track is an incredible, jubilant piano solo that lights up the room. The crowd loves it. It’s in exact time with the band.

The hardest thing about jazz is the timing. The solos require an incredible amount of precision, regardless of the instrument you’re playing — and everybody in Jon Cleary’s band is monstrously talented (pardon the pun). But what makes the band so impressive is how tight they are. Jazz is often polyrhythmic, working in non-traditional time signatures. (That’s also the reason jazz is often so dance-able.) Those time signatures make playing tightly very difficult, but Jon Cleary & The Absolute Monster Gentlemen are impeccable.

I say all that so you can really appreciate what’s happening here, particularly on Booker T inspired tracks like “Mo Hippa,” the finale. Everybody on stage here plays incredible, and if it weren’t for Jon Cleary’s immense voice, they would completely overpower him. (I couldn’t find a version of this track on Youtube, but it’s a can’t-miss track. Here’s a performance from 2008.)

Some tracks in jazz rely on a more traditional blues-like structure, creating an atmosphere of melancholy. “Port Street Blues” are a perfect example of the mopey New Orleans vibe i’m talking about: it takes expert musicians to be able to play through a track like this, shimmying between different time signatures and tempos with ease. It’s also a fantastic track.

For most people, though, I suspect that Jon Cleary’s going to be at his best when the band is at their most energetic. For those people, “Cheatin’ On You” might be one of the standouts on the record. This is one heck of a track. “People Say” is also going to be a standout, particularly after the drums get involved.

If there’s anything I can say about Mo Hippa (Live) that I haven’t said yet, it’s simply this: I think the album is one of the clearest representations of New Orleans jazz that we as a music community are blessed to have. For fans of New Orleans jazz, it’s a must-listen. For people wondering why some of us love the genre so much, this is an approachable and fun way to find out.

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That article is still a fairly apt summary of what makes Gojira so wonderful: they’re a death metal band from France that are uninterested in following trends, releasing “bangers”, or following everybody else’s lead. Gojira are thoroughly interested in making their own brand of heavy metal.

Their 2008 record, The Way of All Flesh, might be their best record yet (although it’s tough to pick a favourite from their discography). Oroborus (the album opener) and Toxic Garbage Island are two perfect tracks to dig into this style with: the guitars and drums are pounding and oppressive, the vocal work is impeccable, the production is astounding, and the band’s sense of rhythm is both difficult to approach and easy to appreciate.

All of that isn’t to say that Gojira is impossible to groove to, or that it’s completely experimental — there are moments sprinkled throughout that are easy to whip your dreadlocks to, or riffs that pretty easily played on an air guitar. Gojira simply doesn’t have an interest in that sort of music.

A Sight to Behold is the track I keep coming back to: the song is largely guitar-less, and the verses sound like an electronic song. It doesn’t sound like death metal at all. But Gojira have earned the ability to take the genre in whatever direction they want, and they don’t have to explain themselves.

Gojira is one of the most original and creative bands in heavy metal, and not to say that their other albums are lesser, but The Way of All Flesh is perhaps the clearest statement of their vision.

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Most people would say that he came into his own, though, on his second record: The Mandé Variations, a beautiful take on what Middle Eastern classical might sound like. With beautiful production values and an intense focus on his lush guitar playing, fans of guitar work and great composition will find a lot to like here.

There’s also a lot to note here when comparing Diabaté to modern-day guitar gods: players like Kaki King (one of the world’s best) undoubtedly owe much of their playing style to Diabaté, and particularly the way his records (beginning with The Mandé Variations, which was critically acclaimed) drew attention to the unique sounds that classical-influenced guitar playing could offer.

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Julian’s voice is easy to listen to, but what really pulls it together is the way he plays guitar. There’s a reassuring quality to it: he uses his palm to keep a steady rhythm, which means you feel like you’re always in good hands even though the percussion is sometimes pretty sparse.

Fans of Dustin Kensrue’s solo work or City & Colour will find a lot to like here.

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At the same time, that familiarity is likely because she’s spawned so many imitators. People fell head over heels for Youth Novels when it was released, and she’s been raising the stakes with every album since, developing on how fully-realized Youth Novels was.

So the easiest way to describe her is saying that she sounds at once foreign and familiar, comfortable and difficult to grasp, predictable and also unknowable. In the world of pop music, these lines are thin and easy to cross. Lykke Li straddles them, taunts them, and draws new lines in the sand. She’s everything I wish Feist sounded like after The Reminder.

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