Odds & Ends 148

Exhausted? Look back, then look up

Marilina Bertoldi: Para Quien Trabajas Vol. I

Argentine guitarist turned beatmaker ties in to our 1985 retromania by interpolating Sumo’s “Mejor No Hablar de Ciertas Cosas” into her new New Wave, adding lyrics reflecting her societal and personal concerns—femicide, being exhausted by it all, eternal heartbreak except this time it’s lesbian—which you’ve got to admit is more progressive than Sumo complaining about dumb blondes (“Autoestima”, “El Gordo”, “De Caza”)

David Murray Quartet: Birdly Serenade

Glad Murray plus three got that bag from rich birders (not the jazz kind, though Parker’s chords show up more than once): the avian-themed vocals aren’t my thing, but this time Marta Sanchez’s piano has a lot more to do, and only a churl would complain about more Murray blowing even if nothing here matches the best of Francesca (“Bird’s the Word”, “Bald Ego”, “Black Birds Gonna Lite Up the Night”)

Ms. Ezra Furman: Goodbye Small Head

She’s found stability despite pains physical and non- and need we mention the general state of the world, which perhaps contributes to an album about not being in control sometimes feeling tame (vocal commitment notwithstanding), but it’s easy to add some catharsis by going outside and howling at whichever celestial sphere you most identify with (“Power of the Moon”, “A World of Love and Care”, “Submission”)

Ivo Perelman & Matthew Shipp String Trio: Armageddon Flower

After the jazzpocalypse: a single flower, an exploration of new possibilities, a spiritual rebirth—but will there be drums? (“Armageddon Flower”, “Tree of Life”)

Zulu Guitar Blues: Cowboys, Troubadours and Jilted Lovers 1950-1965

Fun if samey, with fascination in hearing artists credited as Cowboy Superman and The Blind Guitar Player turn similar structures into personalized sounds (“MaNdlovu”, “Ntombi Kazipheli”, “Ungakhulumi”)

Addison Rae: Addison

Pop-Lana, which unsurprisingly is an improvement over current Lana, but surprisingly mostly in the lyrics: pop’s metric requirements mean the place names are shorter and the rhymes blunter (“kick drum/chew gum”)—add some consistency with end consonants and we might be getting somewhere (“Fame Is a Gun”, “High Fashion”, “Diet Pepsi”)

Dj Aguilar: Direto do Alto Vol 1

Relatively friendly Belo Horizonte funk, in that the focus is on vocalists rather than destroying your speakers (you’ll have to set your equalizer yourself to do that), plus you can play the fun game of guessing which track got ten times the streams of everything else put together without peeking (“Modo Bigode Vs Toma Vapo Vapo”, “Deixa Eu Mander Meu Passinho”)

Mthuthu: Indumiso YabeNguni

Spiritual not meaning (too) boring group vocals with production more contemporary than Ladysmith’s that occasionally veers into Disney Soundtrack audition territory, but the soul if not the loins move when a grittier singer takes the helm and when the instrumentation tends traditional (“Icala Lentombi”, “uMagwaza”, “Vukani beNguni”)

James Brandon Lewis Quartet: Abstraction Is Deliverance

Top lineup (Arúan Ortiz, Brad Jones, Chad Taylor) in a low-key mood—maybe a little too low-key if they’re going to name the opener after David S. Ware; still, the consistency of tone can’t be faulted, and the better cuts offer some kind of deliverance, even if I’d rather they bring me a pizza (“Even the Sparrow”, “Polaris”)

Juana Rozas: Tanya

Argentine alt-Latino type acquires Gecsian trappings; my colloquial Spanish isn’t fluent enough to work out whether Tanya is her lover, her alter ego, or some subsection of her lower body, but whoever she is, she inspires hard metal and harder beats, plus a token ballad because the streaming economy’s tough (“Bad Choice”, “Qué Importa”)

Sparks: Mad!

Let’s see what our twelfth or thirteenth favorites Laputan smart-asses are up to in this era: “Nightmare seems so real, and yet/It’s getting weirder, getting weirder yet”—et tu?, “JanSport backpack/She wears a JanSport backpack”—ah, that’s better (“JanSport Backpack”, “Running Up a Tab at the Hotel for the Fab”)

Erika de Casier: Lifetime

Since, unlike de Casier, my age hit double digits before the millennium, I’m qualified to say the Madonna and Janet ambitions are bunk, since they never let their individuality be subsumed into mere chill; Sade, sure (“You Can’t Always Get What You Want”, “The Garden”)