alt-classical/amos

Tori Amos‘ latest, Night of Hunters, went Top 10 on Billboard’s rock, classical and alternative charts, but it’s none of the above. Commissioned by Deutsche Grammophon to create a contemporary song cycle, Amos borrowed bits by composers from Bach to Satie, then added lyrics both baffling and banal. The piano and strings sound lovely, but that business about the tree alphabet and the shape-shifting fox-goose don’t do her any favors. Amos plays Thursday at the Academy of Music (Dec. 1, kimmelcenter.org). —M.J. Fine

disco

There’s been no shortage of disco revivalists recently, but few have managed to recognize and replicate the joyous, sexy, soulful spirit — and the magnificently playful excesses — of the music’s 1970s origins quite like Escort. The 17-piece New York orchestra took its sweet time perfecting its eponymous self-released debut LP — they started dropping singles (all included here, most in tight new re-recordings) way back in 2006 — but there’s no denying that the 50 solid-gold, groove-strutting, synth-twinkling minutes were worth the wait. —K. Ross Hoffman

rock/pop/best-of

At this late date, you should know whether you need most of R.E.M.‘s biggest hits in one package. But what about the three new tracks on Part Lies, Part Heart, Part Truth, Part Garbage (Warner)? “A Month of Saturdays,” all Pylonesque riffage and intentionally dumb lyrics, would’ve been a cute mid-’90s B-side. The deceptively breezy “We All Go Back to Where We Belong” suggests what Reveal -era R.E.M. might’ve grown into had they packed theaters instead of clinging to ever-emptier arenas. And then there’s “Hallelujah,” a bittersweet synthesis of lofty sentiments, moody feedback and hard-won harmonies that’s a fitting final word. Hallelujah, indeed. —M.J. Fine

hip-hop

It’s no surprise that celeb cameos, splashy Euro-crunk productions and rent-a-diva choruses don’t suit Yelawolf‘s Southern trailer-park gutter talk and neck-snapping double-time flow nearly as well as the deliciously sinister beats peppering his mixtapes. The intermittent moments of the overstuffed Radioactive (Shady) that allow the Alabaman’s “ugly boy swag” to shine through tantalizingly confirm that he remains one of hip-hop’s most charismatic and technically compelling new voices; if only this was the proper showcase that voice deserves. —K. Ross Hoffman