Written, arranged, and produced almost exclusively by Beck, IRM harkens back to a time when uber-producers and songwriters-for-hire put their weight behind an artist whose job was to interpret the material placed before them. Very common throughout the forties, fifties and sixties, this practice quickly waned after the Beatles and Dylan established the idea that performers should basically be doing their own, self-penned material. While this is, of course, largely to the good, there is still something to be said for an artist with a distinctive voice being a "muse" for others. The evidence is here that such an approach can still work beautifully. Gainsbourg, daughter of music icon Serge Gainsbourg, has been known primarily for her acting, although she did release a solid album, 5:55, a few years back (and infamously performed on her daddy's song, "Lemon Incest" way back in 1984). On IRM, whose title (and title song) was inspired by a brain hemorrhage suffered by Gainsbourg after a water skiing accident (IRM is the acronym used by the French for MRI-magnetic resonance imaging), the focus is largely on hushed, downcast musings, occasionally sung in French. Gainsbourg's breathy, at times almost whisper of a voice, is a perfect vehicle for such musings, and Beck has written a great set of songs that capture this mood. Indeed, the album is quite reminiscent of Beck's Sea Change, right down to the grand string arrangements that pop up throughout. But Beck definitely stays out of the forefront (save for a duet on "Heaven Can Wait"), allowing Gainsbourg's compelling, yet detached, approach to the songs carry the day. Not everything is slow and sad, as the title song purveys an ominous feel over a driving bassline and various sound effects, and "Trick" rides a pounding tom-tom flourish to yield an almost tribal-dance like effect, leavened by light as air "who-hoo" hooks. As each song moves by, linked by mood and sound to the others, the album works best when listened to as a whole. All in all, this may be Beck's best album since the aforementioned Sea Change.

The last in the series of "American" recordings helmed by Rick Rubin, one might expect Ain't No Grave to be something of a barrel-scraping exercise, exhuming the last bits of Cash that could be marketed to the public after his death in 2003. The recorded evidence makes it clear that this is far from the case. Indeed, American VI ranks right up there with the best of the Rubin/Cash ventures. Some of this is certainly due to the superb musical accompaniment, which in addition to Cash's own acoustic guitar, includes heavy contributions from the Avett Brothers as well as members of Tom Petty's Heartbreakers. But it is also due to the fine combination of light and dark moods present on the album. Starting off with the title song, a death-defiant traditional folk number, Cash's gravelly vocals sit beautifully over layered acoustics and a slow, plodding beat. "Redemption Day" is a Sheryl Crow song that Cash makes his own, with a much more foreboding tone than the original. "For The Good Times, " penned by Kris Kristofferson, takes a much lighter, but no less affecting approach. This is then followed by the one Cash original, "I Corinthians 5:55," obviously focusing on the religious theme of the title. As the album progresses, there are more musings about death, but as it moves towards its conclusion, the songs turn away from the dark side of the subject to embrace the "glory" inherent in the inevitable (at least for religious believers). Indeed, the final song, Queen Lili'uokali's traditional Hawaiian ode, "Aloha Oe," is the perfect send-off, as it focuses on the singer's uplifting "goodbye" to his audience "until we meet again".