Melissa Carper: Daddy’s Country Gold
She’s Daddy, essaying Western swing about pastoralism and baking and an old Chevy van with a pinched, Billie-Holiday-but-content-voice that goes down easy, maybe too easy, except that also allows how gay is it to sneak up on you (“You’re Still My Love”, “Would You Like to Get Some Goats?”, “Makin’ Memories”)
Four (or five, depending on streaming service) tracks that both claim and demonstrate skill and hunger: for success, for liberation, for cum; tastes good to me (“Girls”, “Truth”, “Shit”)
Charlotte Greve, Wood River, & Cantus Domus: Sediments We Move
Finally, the choral music-indie rock fusion you’ve been clamoring for: Cantus Domus sing Greve’s suite (about, ironically, dependent rocks) with precise SATB balance, while Wood River’s conservatory-mediated interpretation of rocking out has its safe skronking pleasures (“Pt. 2”, “Pt. 1”, “Pt. 6”)
Angélique Kidjo: Mother Nature
After all these years, she finds her calling as pan-Africa’s dancing-’til-the-world-ends senior diva, calling in the continent’s young stars (and also Salif Keita) (and Earthgang?) to help her steamroll generations of beats; among the flattened: the hopes of “Indépendance Cha Cha”, which now sports a chorus that begins “dreams have crushed, mama” (“Meant for Me”, “One Africa (Indépendance Cha Cha)”, “Do Yourself”)
Vincent Neil Emerson
Rodney Crowell protege with clever words, heavy subjects, some music, and one masterpiece (“Learnin’ to Drown”, “Debtor’s Blues”, “Texas Moon”)
Musique concrète with some features that’ll appeal to posthumans (children made to sound like synths or maybe synths made to sound like children, noises that don’t sound like anything earthly at all) and some to humans (it’s under half an hour)
Soulful if mild singer over creative beats that sometimes feel more than you’d expect from her producers’ mean demographics, though note that since enunciation is as unfashionable as it’s ever been in R&B, you’ll need a lyric sheet (“Rider”, “Gold”, “Beretta”)
Emily D’Angelo: Enargeia
Deutsche Grammophon-backed mezzo with a clear, not-too-opera-y delivery takes on daring repertoire by women, though the only contemporary who matches Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179) for tune sense is Sarah Kirkland Snider (“The Lotus Eaters”, “O frondens virga”)
Tiwa Savage: Water & Garri EP
As a pop guy I can’t entirely approve of this major Nigerian star going alt-R&B, but the atmospheres linger pleasantly, and Brandy shows up to remind her what a song is (“Somebody’s Son”, “Tales by Moonlight”)
Conway the Machine: La Maquina
Tilling the same crime-economics-wrestling subject matter as the rest of his Grizelda fam, Conway puts his desolate persona across forcefully, and is not averse to a hook every other song or so; still, even the wrestling stuff is a bit narrow (“Scatter Brain”, “Bruiser Brody”)
Femi Kuti & Made Kuti: Legacy +
Femi’s disc isn’t as captivating as any number of records his dad tossed off while stoned, but he’s propulsive, spirited, and intermittently wise; Made might be as captivating as his dad one day (“Pà Pá Pà”, “Land Grab”)
I don’t know how many levels of irony this party is on, but at face value, it’s flyweight fun—crumbs of cake by the ocean (“Just Let Go”, “Gotta Good Thing Going”)
Lindsay Buckingham
That his knack for writing down bits that make the up bits stand out more hasn’t deserted him and that he remains one of the few white rockers who can give a justification for his multi-instrumentalism besides union-busting are reasons enough to give a single shit, or at least half of one (“Santa Rosa”, “Scream”)