Music CDs

Proving yet again their willingness to dice 'n' slice their burgeoning legacy into new--if not exactly fresh--product, the Fab Four Minus One have released this single-disc compendium of their No. 1 hits. Though obviously superfluous to longtime Fabs faithful (who may also find themselves quibbling over the precise definition of "No. 1 hit" and the exclusion of seeming contenders like "Please Please Me" and "Strawberry Fields"), newly arrived visitors from the Pleiades star cluster and other neophytes will find it a concise and generous (nearly 80 minutes) single-disc introduction to the band's career-spanning, unparalleled dominance of pop music in the 1960s.

As each new Enya release has washed over all who have ears to hear, as each heaven-touched work leaves admirers sitting speechless in slack-jawed wonder, questions eventually come to mind: Might her layered, choral-like approach gradually become predictable or stale? Will she ever exhaust her deep reservoir of soul-stirring ideas? Remarkably, A Day Without Rain, Enya's fourth release since her 1988 breakthrough, Watermark, establishes new artistic heights for the gifted Irish vocalist and keyboardist.

Who'd have thought it? Magnification is the strongest, freshest set of new Yes material in a long time. Having thoroughly exhausted the world's supply of classically inclined rock keyboard players, the four remaining members of Yes have dispensed with that perennially bothersome ivory-tickling slot altogether. And so Messrs Jon Anderson, Alan White, Chris Squire, and Steve Howe have enlisted the temporary services of soundtrack composer Larry Groupe, whose cinematic orchestrations lend a thoroughly modern aura to the band's sonic palette.

Echoes is a double-CD collection of some of Pink Floyd's best songs. It's also a fascinating document of the band's history. They began life as Syd Barrett's phantasmagoric plaything before clasping the wings of Icarus and ascending toward the sun on an epic space-rock odyssey, eventually turning left once they reached the dark side of the moon and burning up on reentry, crash-landing on every earthlings' home hi-fi.

Give Sting credit for craftily averting the downside of worldwide pop stardom: finding yourself at 50 playing decades-old hits at some dusty state fair. The trick, of course, is to have your artistic cake and eat it, too; and that's just what the singer has done--reinvented himself first as a coolly crooning jazz head, then infused that sensibility with some spiritually vague Euro-trance affectations.

It's hard to imagine, but Beatles resident mystic George Harrison has arguably become the band's most curmudgeonly cynic. We offer as evidence this splendidly remastered 30th-anniversary edition of his 1970 multidisc solo epic. If the mini-boxed set's booklet and twin inner CD sleeves won't convince you (the album's familiar cover is colorized and altered to include backdrops of a freeway-tangled cityscape and nuclear reactor cooling towers, respectively), then maybe his liner-note apology for Phil Spector's "big production" (kind of like Da Vinci grousing about Mona's crooked smile) or his laconic, stripped-down, 2000 rethink of "My Sweet Lord" will.