Bahia-to-São Paulo singer-guitarist and her power trio play plenty of triplet-twisting time signature tricks, yet always with a sense of bass-propelled motion and often fetching tunelets, which sometimes she repeats enough times to turn into artsy, swellegant hooks (“Raio de Sol”, “Sem Edição”, “Mangostão”)
Lainey Wilson: Sayin’ What I’m Thinkin’
Her Deeply Southern singing and Jay Joyce’s rock-readiness keep this afloat through the generic middle; before that, “Things a Man Oughta Know” shifts the traditional third verse twist to the chorus all the better to punch you again and again, while afterwards, she knows to ask “what would Dolly do?”, which bodes well for her longevity (“Things a Man Oughta Know”, “WWDD”, “Sayin’ What I’m Thinkin’”)
Aespa: Savage: The 1st Mini Album
Not universally convincing—the single “Savage” is anything but—yet when they and/or their producers cop to keeping up with hyperpop up to at least the last Sophie album, their potential iconicity is unlimited (“Iconic”, “I’ll Make You Cry”, “Lucid Dream”)
RaeLynn: Baytown
Former quarterfinalist on The Voice, now a decade into Nashville striving, makes her complaints about her adopted “Fake Girl Town” sound sociological while still platinum-dreaming to the extent that she’ll do a truck song with Blake Shelton: no, he doesn’t get hit by one (“Bra Off”, “Judgin’ to Jesus”, “Fake Girl Town”)
Ches Smith and We All Break: Path of Seven Colors
“Not a fusion of jazz and Haitian vodou music”, according to AllMusic; instead, Gordon McChesney Smith takes Miguel Zenón’s tirelessly inventive alto and Sirene Dantor Rene’s singing likes she’s releasing the weight of generations and tanbou players’ whipping up a storm when permitted, and joins (some might say “fuses”) them together (“Here’s the Light”, “Women of Iron”)
Lil Durk: The Voice
It’s not too hard to let yourself be enthralled by this major star’s Auto-Tuned tales of violent, luxurious life, and if you squint, you can even detect a hint of moral growth: shaken by the murder of his friend King Von, he’s realized “Death Ain't Easy”, at least when it happens to one of his circle—although since then he’s expanded his circle to include Morgan Wallen, so let’s not overstate his progress (“Refugee”, “Still Trappin’”, “Death Ain’t Easy”)
Artifacts: And Then There’s This
Nicole Mitchell with Reid-Reed, avant-Chicago’s most adaptable rhythm section, playfully partially overcome my anti-flute prejudices, especially when they flirt with gutbucket swing before ascending to the spaceways, the ether, the ultraviolet (“In Response to”, “Reflection”)
Mariana Aydar & Fejuca: Aqui em Casa Vol. I
Brazil classics covered with vocals, guitars, and occasional accordion, precise and accomplished and danceable at least once (“Forró do Xenhenhém”, “Opachorô”)
EST Gee: Bigger Than Life or Death
“2021 was EST Gee’s year”, said Tom Breihan (with some truth) about this linebacker-turned-rapper whose matter-of-fact vocal-fried delivery has a certain charisma; still, if he wants a hit higher than number 34, he needs to become so much fun that Young Thug and Future don’t immediately outparty him on arrival (“5500 Degrees”, “Lick Back Remix”)
Robert Plant & Alison Krauss: Raise the Roof
All-time great singer and sometime great singer get so T-Boned even the Calexico one feels claustrophobic, yet there are still folk and very occasional pop thrills, and if their “Can’t Let Go” doesn’t touch Lucinda’s, I’m sure Randy Weeks won’t mind the royalties (“Go Your Way”, “Searching for My Love”)
It’s too much to expect a septuagenarian, even Henry Goddamn Threadgill, to come up with something as novel as In for a Penny, In for a Pound every time, so call this In for Two Quid and be thankful there’s more sax than flute (“Come and Go”, “Now and Then”)
Okay, so you’ve got a copy of Pro Tools, that don’t impress me much, but the improvisation is of real quality, and the moments when the much-obscured songs come into focus are sunshine (“Cheio/Vazio”, “Dois Litorais”)
Chuck Berry: Live from Blueberry Hill
A bio that like most second editions is insufficiently updated, a mean old blues how ’bout that, and many spirited, charmingly clunky versions of the canon make me wish I’d driven the four hours on the I-70 to see the old perv myself while I could’ve (“Mean Old World”, “Carol/Little Queenie”)