Darkstar, News from Nowhere

Six years after their first batch of trad-dubstep singles, four years after the skittering buzz of their breakthrough “Aidy’s Girl Is a Computer,” and three years after their synthpop-homaging debut full-length North, Darkstar just keep getting more delicate. Their sophomore album News from Nowhere is a tricky album to grasp — placid on the surface, but built to make its intricacies emerge with patient listening. Instrumentation leans heavy on airy, bright pianos and chimes, the basslines hover just as much as they throb, and vocalist James Buttery has an almost translucent quality to his voice that still sounds inhumanly frail no matter how many multitracks and effects it’s run through. The best moments on the album pair that sense of floaty fragility with an undercurrent of urgency, whether it’s emotional (the aching minimalism of the woozily lovestruck “Young Hearts”) or rhythmic (“Amplified Ease” and its clattering hoofbeat snares). In swapping out the melancholy of North for a more bucolic feeling, News from Nowhere is bound to take some getting used to for fans who were initially drawn in by Darkstar’s strikingly moody earlier work. But go in expecting a low-key sort of sunny euphoria and it’ll feel like an intriguing new facet to their style.

Veronica Falls, Waiting For Something To Happen

Veronica Falls set the bar high with their 2011 self-titled debut, an exemplary collection of foggy indie-pop with rambunctious guitars, cartoonishly gothic sentiments and a restless heart. On their charming second album, Waiting For Something To Happen, the U.K. quartet stands up even straighter and smooth out any lingering wrinkles. Produced by Rory Attwell (The Vaccines, Male Bonding), the record is a confident and clear-eyed throwback to a time when strummy ’80s college rock ruled the underground. “Tell Me” has the crispness and buoyancy of an early R.E.M. song, while the deliberate “Shooting Star” channels the unsettled beauty of Throwing Muses. Vocalist Roxanne Clifford also sounds far more self-assured; her lilting soprano soars and dips around the band’s hypnotic male background harmonies, especially on the Lush/New Order hybrid “If You Still Want Me.”

Veronica Falls’ knack for smartly addressing familiar themes — ennui, romantic confusion and loneliness, to name a few — remains strong on Waiting. The title track chides someone for their inertia (“Everybody’s crazy/ What’s your excuse, baby?”), “Everybody’s Changing” struggles with accepting change and “Last Conversation” is a proper album-ender, a bittersweet declaration of a broken relationship. Still, Waiting possesses a stubborn optimistic streak despite its angst, which neutralizes any melancholy and adds jolts of extra energy. It all adds up to a lovely, enduring album which cements Veronica Falls as one of the best indie-pop bands going.

Remembering Rumours

In 1977, Rolling Stone’s Annie Leibovitz set off to photograph Fleetwood Mac with a clever idea in tow: Get all five members of the band in bed together. Leibovitz knew that both of the band’s internal couples had split up before making their current album, Rumours. Bassist John McVie and his wife, keyboardist Christine, had divorced, while guitarist Lindsey Buckingham and singer Stevie Nicks were off again from their lengthy on/off relationship. And yet the band had pulled together to create an album that documented their pains and heartaches under a gloss of brisk, folksy, commercially irresistible pop-rock. When Leibovitz arrived at the shoot and told the band about her plan, they balked, but the photographer had brought along drugs and a case of champagne; lapsed inhibitions won the day. She snapped a career- and era-defining shot of Buckingham clutching Christine, a giggling Nicks curled up in Fleetwood’s arms and John oblivious to one side, reading a magazine. A gloss of woozy innocence hangs over the scene. Group sex and ’70s hedonism never looked like such wholesome, upbeat fun.

I’ve seen this photo many times — back in the era before the internet it was occasionally reprinted, and Rolling Stone republished it in a special anniversary issue in 2004. But when I stumbled upon it recently on a Fleetwood Mac website called The Blue Letter Archives, it hit me in an especially poignant way. Maybe it’s because I’ve been immersing myself in the latest Rumours repackage: an expanded, three-disc edition made up of the original album plus live performances and never-before-released studio outtakes. (For Rumours super-nerds there’s a four-disc “deluxe” edition which adds previously released outtakes from a 2004 edition, a DVD of archival footage and the original album on vinyl.) Rumours and Fleetwood Mac have been revived plenty of times before — they’ve toured on and off for the past decade, after reuniting for Bill Clinton’s 1992 inaugurationand the 1997 album called The Dance — but this new package is hard to beat.

While the 2004 outtakes hewed closely to the final cuts, the new batch captures the band much earlier in the recording process, and shows how lyrics, playing and production evolved in the studio. In “I Don’t Want to Know (Early Take),” Buckingham’s vocal and guitar playing are positively garage-y; it’s FMac as secret cousin to Big Star and godparents to R.E.M. McVie mumbles during the chorus of an early take of “Oh Daddy” — Nicks hadn’t yet contributed the line, “And I can’t walk away from you baby, if I tried.” “Never Going Back Again (Acoustic Duet)” tries out three-part harmony on the verses, showing how deeply and thoroughly the band approached every vocal line on the album. But the biggest revelation is “Dreams (Take 2).” In the liner notes, Nicks says she was thrown out of the studio one day because she didn’t play an instrument, found a romantic nook and composed the song on the spot. She brought it back to the band and had to nag them to get their attention: “I really think you’re going to want to hear this.” It ended up being the biggest hit of their career and their only No. 1 single. On “(Take 2),” with the band still fishing around for parts, Nicks’s vocal is emotionally complete, full of complex nuances of anger and vulnerability; it’s as if she’s channeling the ’70s’ sweetest kiss-off from directly another dimension.

Nicks’s undeniable star power is one thing; I subscribe to the theory that Rumours also persists because of the tension between the album’s bright, cheerful surfaces and the devastation within. You can take it at either level. It’s a big, fat dinosaur of a classic rock album, one of the top-20 sellers of all time with more than 33 million copies sold, an album for rah-rah political campaigns and feel-good supermarket muzak; it’s also one of the most tender breakup albums ever, with selfless sendoffs like “Go Your Own Way” and bittersweet, tentative pledges like “Songbird.”

Maybe that’s why, after 35 years with it, I’m still not fatigued. Rumours was big in my household when I was growing up — we had it on vinyl for the home stereo, portable 8-track for the car — and by the time I was 15 I was a full-fledged Stevie fanatic, channeling her airy-fairy style in my journal, belting her songs from the backseat and mimicking her vibrato. (“Don’t do that to your voice,” my mother chided. “You think it sounds good, but it doesn’t.”) I had a renunciation period in the ’80s and early ’90s when I went indie, but I’m glad those old attitudinous walls have come down. Indie kids today love Fleetwood Mac for their songs and dedication to craft — just give half a listen to last year’s Just Tell Me That You Want Me: A Tribute to Fleetwood Mac, where Antony over-emotes the crap out of Nicks’ “Landslide.” I know plenty of 20-something hipster gals who’ll wax militant about Stevie’s awesomeness. When I got my Rumours box set, I immediately posted a Herbert Worthington photo of the band circa 1977 to my Facebook page. What adorable freaks they were, decked out in bell-sleeved silk tunics, top hats, bandanas and hairy chests. I wrote, “We don’t have to choose. Fleetwood Mac and punk rock were both awesome in 1977.” “Yes,” “Yes,” “Yes,” said the comments.

And maybe that’s why Leibovitz’s photo of the band tangled up in sheets brought out such an onslaught of feeling in me. I’m at a different place in my life. I’ve never listened to Rumours as a 47-year-old divorced person before — I’ve never experienced it from that aftermath side. I looked at that photo, and just as I sang my way into Stevie Nicks’s voice as a 15-year-old, I Photoshopped my life into that picture. I imagined myself in bed with a recent lover who didn’t work out, with my ex-husband on one side and his ex-wife on the other, with the ghosts of our past and future lovers fanning out toward the margins. We all bring our lovers to bed with us, even when we’re alone. Rumours communicates that truth every bit as well now as it did then. I only hope that the next time those marketing whizzes in the fading music business repackage Rumours for yet another generation, they remember to tuck in a couple of tissues.

eMusic’s Alternate-Universe GRAMMY Nominees

Let’s be honest: The Grammys are a great spectacle and fun bit of junk food TV, but few of us take it seriously as any kind of measurement of musical innovation. Even this year, when more indie-bred artists are on the ballot than ever before, with the notable exception of Alabama Shakes it still feels like the Grammy-nominating committee is getting to the party a little too late. So we decided to take 10 of this year’s nominees and use them to introduce you to your next favorite band. Like The Black Keys? See why we suggest Two Gallants. Loving the Lumineers? Read why we think Trampled By Turtles is a good next step. This way, when the 2014 Grammys roll around, you can say, “Those guys? Man, I was into them forever ago.”

Interview: Local Natives

L.A.’s Local Natives have had a turbulent few years. After the 2009 release of their debut, Gorilla Manor, they went out on tour again and again — both as headliners and as the opening act for Arcade Fire and the National. Then they went through a rough patch: Singer Kelcey Ayer’s mother died (the subject of their new song “Colombia”), several band members had health problems, and bassist Andy Hamm left the group.

Now a quartet of three singer/multi-instrumentalists — Ayer, Taylor Rice and Ryan Hahn — and drummer Matt Frazier, they recorded Hummingbird in Brooklyn with kindred spirit Aaron Dessner of the National. It’s a darker, more subdued album than Gorilla Manor, both in its lyrics and in its sound. But it’s buoyed up by the group’s resonant three-part harmonies and fondness for rich, swampy instrumental textures from outside the rock tradition.

eMusic’s Douglas Wolk spoke to Ayer as the band was getting ready to fly to Oakland for the second show of what promises to be another long tour.

It’s been more than three years since you released your first album. How did the songs for Hummingbird evolve over that time?

At the beginning, we were trying to find our bearings and write whatever felt good. We tried to rely on working hard and working a lot; we trusted that if we put in the work, we’d get something good out of it. Probably around five months in, we had seven songs we were excited about but we weren’t really sure what direction the album was taking yet. We had a breakthrough when Ryan and I got together and wrote the song that became “You & I” on the record. I’d had this piano riff forever, and a melody, but we just couldn’t figure out how to make it work. But I jumped on this SPD-S [electronic percussion] pad that we got, and we came up with that song, and it gave us a direction that we felt comfortable going in.

We all had bits and pieces flying around; I think I’ve had the chords for “Three Months” since 2009 or 2010. “Bowery” was a guitar riff that Ryan had had for a long, long time, since around 2007. But he totally revamped it on a demo where he played it on a Rhodes instead of guitar, and came up with this pulsating beat that ended up being what “Bowery” is now. That was cool to see how he reimagined it — you have something in your head for years, and then lightning strikes.

You’ve mentioned that one of the songs on Hummingbird has an entirely sampled drum part — which one?

That’s “Three Months.” At first we were really nervous about it — it’s such a departure for us, for a band that doesn’t even use many guitar effects pedals — but we just inched our way in, and it gradually felt good. Now I feel comfortable with it, and I couldn’t imagine the album without it. When we play it live, Matt is sampling each part of the drums on the SPD-S pad — he’s not actually playing it, but he’s triggering it in time. I don’t think it’s cheating.

You’ve spent an enormous amount of the last few years touring. How do you pass the time on the tour bus?

We all get along really well. I just bought a five-way splitter for headphones — that is a must for any touring band, ’cause you want to share what you’re watching, you know? With as many people as can fit on the bench.

Does the band have a favorite movie?

I think Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy is right up there. And we just watched the whole first season of Boardwalk Empire. I love Michael Shannon and Michael Pitt; I think they’re such amazing actors, and it’s cool to see them in one show together.

Local Natives famously decide on everything collectively. Does that work in practice?

Yeah, we can talk about the artwork for a billboard for hours. But we don’t know any other way to do it, and it’s worked so far. It really helps that we’re proud of everything that we’ve put out there so far.

Do you have models, within or outside music, for a career of making art?

The answer definitely differs from person to person, but for me — I’m a huge, huge Radiohead fan. If we could have anything close to the career they’ve had, that would be amazing. They’ve been around for so long, and changed into so many forms, and to this day they feel very current and alive. And they did it all without compromising any of their vision. That’s incredible. And also Damon Albarn — The Good, The Bad and the Queen? Have you heard that record? I just think he’s a pop mastermind. Every melody that comes out of him gets in your head, and it’s not cheesy.

Who has the best facial hair in the band?

People always say that about Taylor, so I will pick me. [Laughs.] As sick as I am of hearing about it, I would never want him to shave it, because it looks really, really great.

Jim James, Regions of Light and Sound of God

As the linchpin of Louisville’s My Morning Jacket, singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer Jim James has made a name as the consummate crafter of a spacey and highly distinctive rock hybrid: classic country (in the mode of The Band and Neil Young), etched with psychedelic pop and bearing a deep soulfulness (think Marvin Gaye, Bill Withers and Curtis Mayfield).

James’s solo debut, however, is a very different proposition. Regions of Light and Sound of God presents as a deeply personal record, most of it played by James himself and recorded in his home studio. The reverb slathered so generously over MMJ’s material also warms and enriches these nine, alluringly intimate songs, but without once threatening to smother James’s effortlessly lovely voice, while instrumentation (his MIDI guitar gets a good workout) and arrangements are markedly more minimal.

It’s an easy-flowing and reflective affair that nods to Crosby, Stills & Nash (final track “God’s Love to Deliver” echoes their “Helplessly Hoping”), George Harrison (“Of the Mother Again” acknowledges the Beatle’s interest in Indian ragas) and Roy Orbison (the doo-wop-toned “A New Life” recalls “In Dreams”), as well as his beloved soul greats. Much more unexpectedly, groovy opener “State of the Art [A.E.I.O.U.]” is a foray into lean, kosmische blues, while the killer “Know ’til Now” sources contemporary R&B/futuro-hip hop via its marriage of James’s velveteen, echo-treated vocal to punched-up beats, staccato keys and synthesized horns.

The tendency of far too many frontmen making their debut is to bludgeon the listener into submission with excessive length, in an effort to declare their solo capability. Stealing hearts is an infinitely more subtle business; Jim James manages it in just 38 heartfelt, impeccably judged minutes.

Who Are…The History of Apple Pie

Two years ago, Stephanie Min and Jerome Watson formed The History of Apple Pie as a modest bedroom project. Little did they know how fast things would move: A warm reception to a few songs they posted online caused them to cobble together a live band; in the months that followed, the pair used the classified ads to connect with James Thomas, met Aslam Ghauri through Thomas and found Kelly Owens through their pals the Pains of Being Pure at Heart and the Depreciation Guild.

Their first full-length, Out Of View is sure to please fans of much-missed Britpop/shoegaze act Lush — Owens and Min’s burnt-sugar vocal harmonies echo the late group — but its saw-toothed guitar drone, cheerful feedback buzz and lilting melodies transcend any one influence. The record’s melancholic sheen gives it lovely sentimental weight.

Just after Christmas, Min answered some email questions from eMusic’s Annie Zaleski about the band’s origins, inspirations and unique alchemy.

On what brought the band together:

I think it was boredom, mainly. We didn’t really have anything else to do apart from our jobs and were just sitting around.

On their songwriting process:

Jerome and I write all of the music, but in the live environment the band all like to experiment and contribute. In terms of the actual songwriting process, a lot of the early demos began with Jerome writing the instrumental and me writing the lyrics and vocal melody. As time has gone on, we have both involved ourselves in each other’s duties. The one thing that held me back the most from contributing instrumentally was the fact I couldn’t really play any instruments and hadn’t got any grasp of programming. In the last year, I got more to grips with it all, and even started to learn guitar, so it’s become a lot easier for me to lay down song ideas that I have. It beats having to hum guitar and weird noise parts into my phone!

On how fiction inspires Min’s lyrics:

I’ve been inspired by past friendships, situations I’ve been in, but the majority of experiences that I write about aren’t experiences that I’ve had at all. Some of my favorite songs have come from imagining myself in hypothetical, sugar-coated situations, the kind you only see in the movies. The lyrics have always come naturally, after I get a feeling for the instrumental. If it makes me feel like running away with a loved one, I write about that. If the song makes me feel like I’ve just been fucked over and seek revenge, I write about that. I like making the listener feel something, but am especially interested in hearing people’s own scenarios having listened to our songs.

On getting it right…the second time:

We actually recorded [Out Of View] twice in total. The first time around was a disaster, but a good learning curve. The band was pretty much thrown in the deep end and expected to record, produce and mix the record entirely on our own. We had some experience of producing and mixing, but not to the scale of how we wanted our full-length LP to sound. We were never happy with the first output, so we turned to some of our friends for help. [The Horrors'] Joshua [Hayward] became a huge help to us from an engineering perspective, and our old friend Charles “Chicky” Reeves stepped in to handle mixing duties. Without them, we wouldn’t have a record so we’re extremely grateful.

The biggest challenge Jerome and I had the first time around was getting the right balance between lo-fi (which we were firmly against) and highly-produced (which didn’t necessarily suit our style of music). We just didn’t know how or what we wanted the record to sound like. Nothing seemed to be working. Then, like magic, the second time around it all just came together. Charles had experience of mixing lots of pop acts, and he somehow managed to keep the energy and rawness flowing throughout the record, whilst still giving it a polished sound.

On how contrasts inform the band:

Singles are great, but an album gives us the opportunity to tell our listeners a story. It’ll demonstrate stuff like Jerome’s love for strange sounds and guitars, my love for harmonies and appreciation of female pop groups, and the band’s love for feel-good, noisy music as a whole.

The songwriting is all very natural. Jerome tends to come in from more of a noisy guitar angle, whereas I come in from a sweet, melodic angle. That’s pretty much how our songs are made.

On their worst gig ever:

Every band has that “one show” that they “dare not speak about ever again.” For us, it was our second show at the Bull & Gate in Kentish Town, London. Our previous managers had taken us to a curry house an hour before the show. Just before we were due on stage, I was pretty much throwing up just behind the stage, and I think the rest of the band felt pretty rough, too. Fortunately, the next time we played Kentish Town was a year later supporting one of our guitar heroes Graham Coxon [Blur], and we had an absolute blast.

On Lush and other Britpop bands:

Lush are great. I’m obsessed with their song “Nothing Natural” at the moment. There’s a bit in the video that just reminds me of Kelly and I — you know, where Miki [Berenyi] and Emma [Anderson] are sitting close to each other and the strobe lights are all going off?

Jerome grew up listening to bands like Blur, Pulp, Oasis. His dad used to work at a record shop in Soho, so he introduced Jerome to a lot of cool stuff. He was also in this amazing stoner rock band called Terminal Cheesecake!

On Min’s formative influences:

I fell into music very suddenly and only thought about pursuing it when I started writing songs with Jerome for this band. Before then, though, while growing up, I was excited by girl groups like TLC and Salt-n-Pepa. I wanted to be in a hip-hop group! I was later introduced to bands like Placebo, Smashing Pumpkins and Pulp by my sister indirectly — mainly by sneaking into her room and rummaging through her tape and CD collections. I soon fell in love with the song “Nancy Boy” by Placebo and that’s when I realized guitars were fucking cool.

On being misunderstood:

Any tags that we’ve had have always been misleading and based on hearing one single or song. That’s why the album will be a nice way to confirm our sound once and for all. Whilst we do like a lot of ’90s bands, I think people fail to understand that the songwriting process for us personally is a lot more complex than just replicating what those bands do.

On not being slacker-rock:

There’s nothing really slackerish about the album at all. It’s pretty polished and well-thought about. We’d know, considering we went through hell and back to record it!

On unexpected influences:

We are quite into a lot of electronic music, actually — stuff like Add N to X, Squarepusher, Aphex Twin and Portishead. We love the strange noises and arrangements created by these artists and bands; it inspires us to go and create our own bunch of Frankenstein sounds. Listening to the album, there is a definite nod to this genre of music.

On the biggest misconception about them:

Weirdly enough, one of the biggest has been that we’re signed to Rough Trade! We aren’t really signed as such. We are just doing our part for the indie community by releasing our album through one of our good friend’s labels, Marshall Teller. We’re glad that we’ve been able to help increase the status of this particular independent label and encourage people to give it the recognition it deserves. They’ve been so good to us. It’s nice to not be treated like a product, but treated like musicians.

Tegan and Sara, Heartthrob

In the past, the inherent quality of Tegan and Sara’s scrappy tunes has always eclipsed the duo’s actual talent. And, really, that’s been an essential part of their charm: In spite of their nasally voices and ramshackle instrumental skills, these twin Canucks have wrangled their hooks through sweat and persistence, expanding and refining their sound with each subsequent album — from the bratty Lilith Fair-emo of 2004′s So Jealous to the layered, sculpted art-pop of 2007′s The Con and 2009′s Sainthood. But with their seventh studio album, Heartthrob, Tegan and Sara are no longer underdogs. Working with a top-tier trio of hip producers (Greg Kurstin, Mike Elizondo, Justin Meldal-Johnsen), they’ve plunged head-first into slick, air-tight ’80s synth-pop, each melody and riff buffed and waxed with studio sheen.

Turns out, commercial grab-ass is their true calling: Heartthrob is nuclear-catchy from start to finish. Tegan still handles the robust arena-friendly singles: bittersweet, butterflies-in-stomach electro-anthems like “Closer” and “Drove Me Wild.” Sara’s songs — even within this high-gloss context — are still quirkier and more eclectic: “Now I’m All Messed Up” is heart-melting piano ballad turned new-wave belter; “Shock to Your System” closes the album with a sensual R&B stunner, mingling spacey synth flurries with a sparse piano-drums groove. Heartthrob is a glitzy parade of nostalgic, windows-down catharsis — 36 minutes of escapist pop bliss.

Jeremy Pelt, Water and Earth

Trumpeter-composer Jeremy Pelt has been trying for years now to add some 21st-century shine to the godhead funky-fusion jazz formula minted by Miles Davis on Bitches Brew. Portions of Water and Earth demonstrate brilliant progress in that quest.

“Boom Bishop,” track four, is the pole star. After 45-seconds of palette-cleansing razz-a-ma-tazz goes quiet, David Bryant’s throbbing Fender Rhodes wafts up, Burniss Earl Travis plies the electric bass, and drummer Dana Hawkins starts laying down ground fire that would do Miles’s prodigious time-keeper Tony Williams proud. Roxy Coss is by turns elliptical and angular in her tenor solo, and then, more than three minutes in, Pelt arrives. His trumpet, altered by electronic effects, escalates in intensity, hits a wah-wah fever of modulation, and then exits with some Miles-ian tonal Nerf balls.

There are other strong tunes in this vein, such as “Prior Convictions,” which features Frank LoCrasto on Fender and Prophet keyboards while Bryant moves over to a Hammond B-3 organ. A “Dreams”-themed triptych includes the gossamer march-funk of “In Dreams,” and a compelling blend of neo-bop and Bitches fusion named “Pieces of a Dream.” The ballad “Butterfly Dreams” is a starburst closer that Pelt bends beautifullywith the persistent patience of a woodworker.

Five years ago, Pelt released a live album with his electric group Wired entitled Shock Value because the bop purists who correctly regard the trumpeter as a superb bop stylist were shocked he’d take up fusion so blatantly. After that, Pelt assembled one of the deeper, creatively synergistic neo-bop quintets of the past decade, for a stirring, highly-praised four-album run. Now he’s back to plugging in, delivering better shocks than he did before. He’s still in his 30s, and a high-powered future awaits.

Harvie S with Kenny Barron, Witchcraft

Whether he is providing the lone accompaniment to idiosyncratic vocalist Sheila Jordan or engaging the urbane artistry of a consummate pro like pianist Kenny Barron, acoustic bassist Harvie S demonstrates the talent and temperament of a sublime duo partner. Witchcraft is a sequel to a duet session between Harvie and Barron recorded back in 1986 but literally lost among tapes in the basement and only released in 2008 under the ironic title Now Was The Time. It was like buried treasure, and such a seemingly effortless and erudite musical conversation that the pair convened again, 26 years after that original date. These ten tracks show them to be just as compatible but all the wiser for the time elapsed time.

Harvie immediately showcases the equality of their interplay by carrying the melody on the opening number, “Autumn Nocturne.” On other tunes, such as “For Heaven’s Sake,” Barron is inescapably the focus of attention. But most tracks find the pair intertwined a fine weave of ideas. On the beguiling samba, “Rio,” they state the theme in unison like a pair of horn players. Stevie Wonder’s “Creepin’” is clearly a chance for Harvie to showcase his fast fingers, while Deodato’s obscure “Juan’s Theme,” from the 2000 movie Bossa Nova, may be the highlight of the disc, as Barron spools out beautiful lines that are then gloriously ornamented by Harvie’s extended bow work. The three-song finale includes Harvie’s wistful original ballad, “Until Tomorrow,” a very Monkish take on Duke Ellington’s “Wig Wise,” and then Cy Coleman’s title track, which Barron takes at a serene, victory-lap tempo.

“Background music” is usually an epithet, especially when the intelligence and technical facility are as high as they are on Witchcraft. But this does indeed enrich your existence as a secondary focus, much like a plush Oriental rug or a striking painting. Pay attention and it will give up its many secrets. But let it play as you make dinner or converse over wine and your ambiance will be more golden than silence.

Miles Davis, Miles Davis Quintet: Live In Europe 1969 The Bootleg Series Vol. 2

The first volume in Legacy’s series of Miles Davis concerts focused on 1967 and the well-documented quintet with Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and Tony Williams. Volume 2 is more of a revelation: three 1969 European concerts from a quintet never heard as such on any officially sanctioned release until now.

Only Davis and Shorter remained from ’67; the rhythm section’s pianist Chick Corea (sometimes on electric Fender Rhodes, sometimes acoustic), acoustic bassist Dave Holland, and drummer Jack DeJohnette. Just as daringly exploratory as their forerunners, this group makes familiar compositions new every time, even when the concerts are on successive nights, as with the Antibes shows of July 25 and 26 (also here is November 5 in Stockholm).

Corea’s glinting accompaniments and probing solos can be as spacious as his predecessors’, but are often more dense and distorted, emphasizing the break from the past even as the evolution is on display — it’s fascinating to hear this thoroughly modern band on such earlier classics as “Milestones,” “‘Round Midnight,” “I Fall in Love Too Easily,” and “No Blues” alongside kaleidoscopically reconfigured mid-’60s repertoire and Bitches Brew material.

The leader was at his peak of health and technical virtuosity, unleashing vicious runs, and with Holland and the aggressively polyrhythmic DeJohnette jacking the tempos, Shorter’s at his most driving even as his solos retain his trademark ellipticality. This is a must-own set of great musicality and historicity.

Fleetwood Mac, Rumours [Deluxe]

In 1977, Rolling Stone’s Annie Leibovitz set off to photograph Fleetwood Mac with a clever idea in tow: Get all five members of the band in bed together. Leibovitz knew that both of the band’s internal couples had split up before making their current album, Rumours. Bassist John McVie and his wife, keyboardist Christine, had divorced, while guitarist Lindsey Buckingham and singer Stevie Nicks were off again from their lengthy on/off relationship. And yet the band had pulled together to create an album that documented their pains and heartaches under a gloss of brisk, folksy, commercially irresistible pop-rock. When Leibovitz arrived at the shoot and told the band about her plan, they balked, but the photographer had brought along drugs and a case of champagne; lapsed inhibitions won the day. She snapped a career- and era-defining shot of Buckingham clutching Christine, a giggling Nicks curled up in Fleetwood’s arms and John oblivious to one side, reading a magazine. A gloss of woozy innocence hangs over the scene. Group sex and ’70s hedonism never looked like such wholesome, upbeat fun.

I’ve seen this photo many times — back in the era before the internet it was occasionally reprinted, and Rolling Stone republished it in a special anniversary issue in 2004. But when I stumbled upon it recently on a Fleetwood Mac website called The Blue Letter Archives, it hit me in an especially poignant way. Maybe it’s because I’ve been immersing myself in the latest Rumours repackage: an expanded, three-disc edition made up of the original album plus live performances and never-before-released studio outtakes. (For Rumours super-nerds there’s a four-disc “super deluxe” edition which adds previously released outtakes from a 2004 edition, a DVD of archival footage and the original album on vinyl.) Rumours and Fleetwood Mac have been revived plenty of times before — they’ve toured on and off for the past decade, after reuniting for Bill Clinton’s 1992 inaugurationand the 1997 album called The Dance — but this new package is hard to beat.

While the 2004 outtakes hewed closely to the final cuts, the new batch captures the band much earlier in the recording process, and shows how lyrics, playing and production evolved in the studio. In “I Don’t Want to Know (Early Take),” Buckingham’s vocal and guitar playing are positively garage-y; it’s FMac as secret cousin to Big Star and godparents to R.E.M. McVie mumbles during the chorus of an early take of “Oh Daddy” — Nicks hadn’t yet contributed the line, “And I can’t walk away from you baby, if I tried.” “Never Going Back Again (Acoustic Duet)” tries out three-part harmony on the verses, showing how deeply and thoroughly the band approached every vocal line on the album. But the biggest revelation is “Dreams (Take 2).” In the liner notes, Nicks says she was thrown out of the studio one day because she didn’t play an instrument, found a romantic nook and composed the song on the spot. She brought it back to the band and had to nag them to get their attention: “I really think you’re going to want to hear this.” It ended up being the biggest hit of their career and their only No. 1 single. On “(Take 2),” with the band still fishing around for parts, Nicks’s vocal is emotionally complete, full of complex nuances of anger and vulnerability; it’s as if she’s channeling the ’70s’ sweetest kiss-off from directly another dimension.

Nicks’s undeniable star power is one thing; I subscribe to the theory that Rumours also persists because of the tension between the album’s bright, cheerful surfaces and the devastation within. You can take it at either level. It’s a big, fat dinosaur of a classic rock album, one of the top-20 sellers of all time with more than 33 million copies sold, an album for rah-rah political campaigns and feel-good supermarket muzak; it’s also one of the most tender breakup albums ever.

Frontier Ruckus, Eternity of Dimming

A strip-mall’s worth of stores occupies the lyrics of Matthew Milia. The frontman of Frontier Ruckus loads his verse with references to CVS, J.C. Penny, Little Caesar’s, Subways, IHOP, Home Depot and Kohls — stores that could live anywhere, and so barely live at all.

But if Milia’s words ground themselves in a modern suburban sprawl, his band’s music is rooted firmly in rural Americana. Crinkly banjos and flickering mandolins play off dusty guitars and creaky pianos in their songs, suggesting an old-timey take on the folk-rock of bands like Son Volt and The Avett Brothers.

On their fourth album, Frontier Ruckus flesh out some of the loveliest melodies Milia has written yet. They’re mirrors of his unsure and wary vocals. Milia has the lost-boy quivering of a young Conor Oberst, and a similar verbal derring-do. He rhymes as densely as a rapper, throwing out more images than he can always inform with sense. Even so, the essential landscape he details — set in the band’s homeplace of suburban Detroit — comes into sharp focus, the chiropractors’ offices, bowling alleys and Volvo dealerships stretch on forever, creating something both familiar and disorienting. Matched to the historically-minded music, Frontier Ruckus’s songs turn America’s past and present into lost brothers.

Ducktails, The Flower Lane

At first glance, it’s hard to draw a straight line from Matt Mondanile’s early work as Ducktails — the loopy, homemade instrumentals of his self-titled 2009 debut — to The Flower Lane, a smoothed-out, largely traditional guitar-pop album. Maybe the more shimmering, languid indie guitar stuff he plays as a member of Real Estate has affected Mondanile’s sensibilities. Certainly there are elements of the buoyant indie-pop of fellow New Jersey-ians Big Troubles, who are the core backing band on The Flower Lane. In a 2010 interview with self-titled, Mondanile tips his hand about his approach to making music as Ducktails, explaining, “…I wanted it to sound kind of like it was coming from the past — like an imaginary cartoon band from the past that plays memory rock music that makes you nostalgic, and that’s kind of like my whole thing. It hasn’t really evolved that much from there.” Actually, maybe the techniques have evolved — Flower Lane is the first Ducktails album recorded in a professional recording studio — but the worn-in, tweaked-jukebox feel of Mondanile’s music is the subtle, rewarding thread running throughout all his records.

The Flower Lane, from the start, is pristine and sweet. The ultra-clean, strummy stroll of album opener “Ivy Covered House” is followed by the title track, a slightly syrupy, swinging ballad with some gooey keyboards and hushed, lilting vocals. The album isn’t rote indie-pop, though — Mondanile has a keen sense for slyly unexpected chord changes and fractured arrangements. Flower Lane is an unapologetically melodic album, but also successfully mines the off-kilter sensibilities of sophisticated pop mavens like Cleaners from Venus’s Martin Newell and Aztec Camera’s Roddy Frame. “Timothy Shy” is a largely-straightforward, bouncy piano-led romp with a left-turn chorus of chiming guitars and syncopated drums that sounds quite like Ariel Pink, one of Mondanile’s inspirations, minus the misanthropic menace. As The Flower Lane continues, you can continue to play spot-the-influence (New Zealand indie!, Prefab Sprout!) but it’s more rewarding to listen as a whole and realize that Mondanile’s fanciful “imaginary cartoon band” has come to life and produced a set of distinct, idiosyncratic, wonderful songs.

Chris Potter, The Sirens

Chris Potter, a titanic saxophonist still searching for the ceiling of his prime, has engaged in magnificent horn-blowing showcases (try Lift: Live at the Village Vanguard) and been a member of some memorably strong and cohesive ensembles (with Dave Holland, Dave Douglas, in trio with Paul Motian and Jason Moran, and most recently with Pat Metheny). But Potter has never relied on his compositions with the thematic rigor and imagination displayed on The Sirens, his ECM debut and 19th disc as a leader overall.

The Sirens was conceived in a burst of creativity that mirrors the fluid complexity of Potter’s solos. He had just re-read Homer’s ancient classic, The Odyssey, and erupted with eight songs, all related to his impressions of the epic poem, within a two-week period. He assembled an enormously talented quintet who could exercise rugged discipline and free-wheeling spontaneity. Suffice to say, his bandmates give the compositions full justice.

A key choice was enlisting Eric Harland on drums — a dynamic time-keeper well-suited for grandeur, who proves here, as he does in Charles Lloyd’s quartet, that his carpet-bombing style raises the intensity without driving the band into a frenzy. There are a pair of keyboardists, first among them Potter’s longtime cohort Craig Taborn, who can expertly preserve the natural shape of a fragile ballad like “Dawn (With Her Rosy Fingers), capably ride astride the odd-metered canter of “Kalypso,” and engage Potter’s robust tenor solo with classic jolt of chordal thunder and single-note passages. The other keyboardist is David Virelles on prepared piano, harmonium and celeste, on board primarily for minor but crucial twinkling (and a wonderfully busy interaction with Taborn on “Wayfinder”).

Potter the composer is lucky to have Potter the reedman at his disposal. When his tenor solos stretch the moody opener, “Wine Dark Sea,” near the breaking point, you revel in his well-established gifts. But when his bass clarinet marinates with the bowed bass of Larry Grenadier on the title track, you realize Potter is stretching his compositions too. I particularly enjoy the side tributes to two of his saxophone heroes. “Penelope” is a voluptuous ballad that strays into blues, reminiscent of Wayne Shorter’s composition of the same name, and Potter plays it on soprano, an instrument long associated with Shorter. On the next track, “Kalypso,” Potter gambols on tenor with a modified calypso that veers in and out of avant garde territory but still recalls the scintillating calypsos of Sonny Rollins. There is a delicious confluence at play here: Penelope is the mother of Odysseus, while Kalypso keeping Odysseus hostage on an island for seven years. The same sort of resonant, overlapping details are brimming through the music of The Sirens.

John Hollenbeck, Songs I Like a Lot

Most widely known for his Claudia Quintet, which chucks the usual piano in favor of vibraphone and — why not? — accordion, drummer and composer John Hollenbeck makes jazz do his bidding, pushing it to the borders of new classical and beyond. But for each mold he breaks, he carefully pours a new one, ensuring that his concepts produce fit, ravishing music. He sounds like himself whether slicing time for jazz master Fred Hersch, shaking gourds for experimental vocalist Meredith Monk or, on this Sunnyside album, leading a large ensemble and two special singers into one of his fewer remaining uncharted territories: pop music.

Commissioned and finely performed by the Frankfurt Radio Bigband, Songs I Like a Lot is unconcerned with a consistent definition of pop, as is tipped in the title. The lone straight-acoustic transcription, Imogen Heap’s electro-pop sculpture “Canvas,” is wedged between two extended Jimmy Webb standards. “Wichita Lineman” spins out into dreamily weaving stripes, while “The Moon is a Harsh Mistress” is undressed down to Gary Versace’s piano before trying on exotic clothes for fourteen minutes. An explosively zany “Bicycle Race” abuts Nobukazu Takemura’s “Falls Lake,” its smooth electronic tones replaced by a quivering jelly of winds and brass. Hollenbeck’s focus is microcosmic, magnifying the harmonic and rhythmic possibilities of his compact sources.

Unmoored from the big band’s conventional swinging triplets, Hollenbeck’s drumming is like a dotted line meandering over some fantastical map, and the voices of Theo Bleckmann and Kate McGarry are at once earthy and alien, like how English folk music might sound to a Martian. Familiar songs rarely sound so strange, and vice-versa.

Mice Parade, Candela

Mice Parade are a band of no fixed address: Adam Pierce is trained as an ethnomusicologist, and incorporates a global palette of ideas into his compositions. (His last album, for example, led off with “Kupanda,” sung in Swahili.) Fittingly, Pierce named his seventh album Candela, after an unassuming Madrid bar populated by flamenco guitarists.

Pierce is an assimilator, not an impressionist, however, and there is only a whiff of Andalusian influence on Candela. Instead, Pierce’s attention is drawn to flamenco’s odd time signatures and dense polyrhythms, which he filters through off-kilter, atmospheric indie rock. Fans of Sonic Youth, Gastr del Sol and Slint will find much to admire on Candela‘s dramatic-yet-economical “Pretending,” and “This River Has a Tide,” a stormy, dreamlike mini-suite. Each time collaborator Caroline Lufkin’s piercing soprano appears throughout the album — slivers of light breaking through some very moody surroundings — she immediately recalls Kazu Makino’s early vocal work for discordant New York art-punks Blonde Redhead. Candela may the product of wanderlust, but Pierce resists mere slideshow posturing. Far from a compendium of field notes, Candela is the latest melancholic travelogue from a musician who finds it impossible to settle down for long.

New This Week: The History Of Apple Pie, Tomahawk, Local Natives & More

The History of Apple Pie, Out Of View While you get the sense that for this band, “history” is the Nineties, the London quintet have perfected a mix of bubblegum pop and shoegaze shimmer. Beverly Bryan reviews:

“Vocalist Stephanie Min’s feathery vocals float high in the mix, leaving her teen-romance lyrics (“We’re having so much fun in the light of the sun / You’re so cool”) faintly discernible above the thick clouds of My Bloody Valentine-style glide guitar that threaten to overwhelm them. It’s that constant give-and-take between pop and art-rock chaos that keeps Out of View interesting.”

Tomahawk, Oddfellows Mike Patton’s fourth album with rock supergroup Tomahawk – featuring guitarist Duane Denison and bassist Trevor Dunn of Mr Bungle and Fantômas – is essentially a Faith No More record in all but name. Andrew Parks reviews:

“This record’s all about the riffs and meaty hooks… If you think Patton lost the plot somewhere around the WTF duets of Peeping Tom, Oddfellows is the record where he redeems himself and reminds us what he’s always been: one hell of a frontman.”

Local Natives, Hummingbird More gorgeous, unhurried melancholia from the LA four-piece whose 2009 debut drew comparisons to Fleet Foxes and Grizzly Bear. Eric Harvey writes:

“On Hummingbird, which improves on its predecessor in every way, the band’s hootenanny harmonies are dialed down and the production values increased, all to heighten an uneasy emotional core.”

Various Artists, Reason To  Believe: The Songs of Tim Hardin Okkervil River, Mark Lanegan and others pay tribute to cult singer-songwriter Tim Hardin, who wrote “If I Were A Carpenter”, and died of a heroin overdose in 1980. Andrew Mueller reviews:

“Hardin was never nearly as famous as his most famous songs, and has become one of those figures around whose works an evangelical cult has developed – in his case, quite rightly. Some of the artists on Reason To Believe have previous form as Hardinistas… others are drawn to the epic possibilities of Hardin’s terse balladry.”

The Ruby Suns, Christopher On his latest offering, Ryan McPhun beefs up the beats with the help of Beach House producer Chris Coady. Barry Walters approves:

“Christopher is essentially a psychedelic impression of a Robyn album… It starts with “Desert of Pop”, which details McPhun’s autobiographical adventures in discovering the Swedish singer’s chart-topping dance music, drunkenly meeting her backstage and then seeing her show.”

Bassekou Kouyate & Ngoni Ba, Jama Ko An impassioned plea for peace in Mali from the acclaimed Ngoni Ba, who have been called Africa’s answer to Led Zeppelin. Chris Nickson reviews:

“This was recorded against the backdrop of a military coup in Mali’s capital and civil unrest in the north of the country. Small wonder, then, that it’s an album with a desperate edge. There is a driving urgency to “Ne Me Fatigue Pas” (literally, “Don’t Wear me Out”), a track that sounds as raw and gutbucket as anything to have come out of the south side of Chicago.”

Diamond Version, EP3 The German electronic producers deliver their third EP of high-concept heaviosity.

DJ Heny.G, Child Hood This is a lush, immersive dubstep album from an unsung legend of the scene.

New This Week: Local Natives, The Ruby Suns, Tegan and Sara

Tegan and Sara, Heartthrob -The glossy seventh set from Canadian twins Tegan and Sara. Says Ryan Reed:

With their seventh studio album, Heartthrob, Tegan and Sara are no longer underdogs. Working with a top-tier trio of hip producers (Greg Kurstin, Mike Elizondo, Justin Meldal-Johnsen), they’ve plunged head-first into slick, air-tight ’80s synth-pop, each melody and riff buffed and waxed with studio sheen. Turns out, commercial grab-ass is their true calling: Heartthrob is nuclear-catchy from start to finish.

Local Natives, Hummingbird -The sophomore effort from the buzzworthy L.A. band. Says Eric Harvey:

On Hummingbird, which improves on its predecessor in every way, the band’s hootenanny harmonies are dialed down and the production values increased, all to heighten an uneasy emotional core. Though Taylor Long’s mile-wide tenor earns comparisons to Band of Horses’ Ben Bridwell, and there’s a resemblance to the National’s button-down production sheen, what sets Local Natives apart is a sui generis approach to eerie scene-setting.

Ducktails, The Flower Lane - Ducktails moves away from the loopy instrumentals of his 2009 debut. Alex Naidus says:

The Flower Lane, from the start, is pristine and sweet. The ultra-clean, strummy stroll of album opener “Ivy Covered House” is followed by the title track, a slightly syrupy, swinging ballad with some gooey keyboards and hushed, lilting vocals. The album isn’t rote indie-pop, though — Mondanile has a keen sense for slyly unexpected chord changes and fractured arrangements. Flower Lane is an unapologetically melodic album, but also successfully mines the off-kilter sensibilities of sophisticated pop mavens like Cleaners from Venus’s Martin Newell and Aztec Camera’s Roddy Frame.

Buke and Gase, General Dome -The DIY Brooklyn duo make a lasting impression on their latest. Says Andy Battaglia:

Buke and Gase certainly don’t lack novelty, but they also don’t sit back and let that novelty do their work for them. The New York duo’s instruments are self-styled and handmade — the “buke,” a modified and electrified baritone ukulele, and the “gase,” a hybrid of guitar and bass — but their shared approach to sound and song are unusual enough to make a lasting impression on its own. “Houdini Crush” introduces a lurching, leering attack informed by punk agitation and math-rock complexity, with the searching voice of Arone Dyer careening strangely, yet always melodically, over top.

Tomahawk, Oddfellows -The latest from Mike Patton is the closest he’s come to releasing a new Faith No More record. Andrew Parks says:

Of all the side projects and solo pursuits Mike Patton has indulged in over the past decade, Tomahawk’s fourth album is the closest he’s ever come to releasing another Faith No More record. Not espresso-huffing covers of Italian pop songs (Mondo Cane), or a sparring session with world-renowned turntablists (General Patton vs. The X-Ecutioners), or a faithful nod to Native American music (Tomahawk’s last album, Anonymous) — a Faith No More record. Meaning: 13 songs that are experimental and enjoyable. Or as guitarist Duane Denison recently told SPIN, “This is not [a] sausage party in the church basement…No, this is meant to be played in huge clubs with alcohol and drugs and dancing girls and all those good things.” Amen.

The Ruby Suns, Christopher - The latest Ruby Suns albums is essentially a psychedelic DIY impression of a Robyn album. Says eMusic’s Barry Walters:

Christopher starts appropriately with “Desert of Pop,” which details Ryan McPhun’s autobiographical adventures in discovering the Swedish singer’s chart-topping dance music, drunkenly meeting her backstage, and then seeing her show. Its mixture of elation with sadness — particularly the way the chorus emphases the line “makes me want to cry,” as if tears are the inevitable outcome of all desire — is, of course, so very Robyn, a singer who revels in conflicting yet extreme emotions.

Frontier Ruckus, Eternity of Dimming - Fourth album from the Michigan-based Americana group. Jim Farber says:

On their fourth album, Frontier Ruckus flesh out some of the loveliest melodies Matthew Milia has written yet. They’re mirrors of his unsure and wary vocals. Milia has the lost-boy quivering of a young Conor Oberst, and a similar verbal derring-do. He rhymes as densely as a rapper, throwing out more images than he can always inform with sense. Even so, the essential landscape he details — set in the band’s homeplace of suburban Detroit — comes into sharp focus, the chiropractors’ offices, bowling alleys and Volvo dealerships stretch on forever, creating something both familiar and disorienting.

The History of Apple Pie, Out of View - London indiepop quintet’s debut. Beverly Bryan says:

The History of Apple Pie blend the most precious of indie-pop impulses with the messiest squalling noise-rock has to offer. Vocalist Stephanie Min’s feathery vocals float high in the mix, leaving her teen-romance lyrics (“We’re having so much fun in the light of the sun/ You’re so cool”) faintly discernible above the thick clouds of My Bloody Valentine-style glide guitar that threaten to overwhelm them. It’s that constant give-and-take between pop and art-rock chaos that keeps Out of View interesting

Mice Parade, Candela - Mice Parade’s flamenco-inspired seventh album. Says Eric Harvey:

Adam Pierce is an assimilator, not an impressionist, however, and there is only a whiff of Andalusian influence on Candela. Instead, Pierce’s attention is drawn to flamenco’s odd time signatures and dense polyrhythms, which he filters through off-kilter, atmospheric indie rock. Fans of Sonic Youth, Gastr del Sol and Slint will find much to admire on Candela‘s dramatic-yet-economical “Pretending,” and “This River Has a Tide,” a stormy, dreamlike mini-suite.

Fleetwood Mac, Rumours Deluxe Reissue – The seminal, immortal document of 1970s California; an album with so much staying power that it’s had multiple commercial and artistic lives since its release. This reissue sheds new, welcome light, says Karen Schoemer:

Rumours and Fleetwood Mac have been revived plenty of times before — they’ve toured on and off for the past decade, after reuniting for Bill Clinton’s 1992 inauguration and the 1997 album called The Dance — but this new package is hard to beat. While the 2004 outtakes hewed closely to the final cuts, the new batch captures the band much earlier in the recording process, and shows how lyrics, playing and production evolved in the studio. In “I Don’t Want to Know (Early Take),” Buckingham’s vocal and guitar playing are positively garage-y; it’s FMac as secret cousin to Big Star and godparents to R.E.M. McVie mumbles during the chorus of an early take of “Oh Daddy” — Nicks hadn’t yet contributed the line, “And I can’t walk away from you baby, if I tried.” “Never Going Back Again (Acoustic Duet)” tries out three-part harmony on the verses, showing how deeply and thoroughly the band approached every vocal line on the album.

Miles Davis, Miles Davis Quintet: Live In Europe 1969 The Bootleg Series Vol. 2 - This 1969 set sees its first official release. Steve Holtje says:

The leader was at his peak of health and technical virtuosity, unleashing vicious runs, and with bassist Dave Holland and the aggressively polyrhythmic Jack DeJohnette jacking the tempos, Wayne Shorter’s at his most driving even as his solos retain his trademark ellipticality. This is a must-own set of great musicality and historicity.

John Hollenbeck, Songs I Like A Lot – The itinerant composer , accordion player , and member of the Claudia Quintet offers his warped take on pop songs, as the title says, that he likes a lot. Brian Howe writes this:

Commissioned and finely performed by the Frankfurt Radio Bigband, Songs I Like a Lot is unconcerned with a consistent definition pop, as is tipped in the title. The lone straight acoustic transcription, Imogen Heap’s electro-pop sculpture “Canvas,” is wedged between two extended Jimmy Webb standards. “Wichita Lineman” spins out into dreamily weaving stripes, while “The Moon is a Harsh Mistress” is undressed down to Gary Versace’s piano before trying on exotic clothes for fourteen minutes. An explosively zany “Bicycle Race” abuts Nobukazu Takemura’s “Falls Lake,” its smooth electronic tones replaced by a quivering jelly of winds and brass. Hollenbeck’s focus is microcosmic, magnifying the harmonic and rhythmic possibilities of his compact sources.

Jeremy Pelt, Water and Earth - Jeremy Pelt is still in his 30s, and a high-powered future in jazz awaits. Says Britt Robson:

Trumpeter-composer Jeremy Pelt has been trying for years now to add some 21st-century shine to the godhead funky-fusion jazz formula minted by Miles Davis on Bitches Brew. Portions of Water and Earth demonstrate brilliant progress in that quest.

Harvie S with Kenny Barron, Witchcraft -Harvie S and Kenny Barron convene 26 after a long-lost recording. Britt Robson says:

Whether he is providing the lone accompaniment to idiosyncratic vocalist Sheila Jordan or engaging the urbane artistry of a consummate pro like pianist Kenny Barron, acoustic bassist Harvie S demonstrates the talent and temperament of a sublime duo partner. Witchcraft is a sequel to a duet session between Harvie and Barron recorded back in 1986 but literally lost among tapes in the basement and only released in 2008 under the ironic title Now Was The Time. It was like buried treasure, and such a seemingly effortless and erudite musical conversation that the pair convened again, 26 years after that original date. These 10 tracks show them to be just as compatible but all the wiser for the time elapsed time.

Chris Potter, The Sirens – The saxophonist’s 19^th release, and, to hear Britt Robson tell it, his magnum opus:

The Sirens was conceived in a burst of creativity that mirrors the fluid complexity of Potter’s solos. He had just re-read Homer’s ancient classic, The Odyssey, and erupted with eight songs, all related to his impressions of the epic poem, within a two-week period. He assembled an enormously talented quintet who could exercise rugged discipline and free-wheeling spontaneity. Suffice to say, his bandmates give the compositions full justice.

K-OS, Black on Blonde – Pretty good-sounding new hip-hop from Canadian producer/rapper K-OS, who is pretty unapologetically throwback/purist in his attitude, but sweetens his conservatism with candy sheets of  Prince-styled synth-rock/pop.

Oh No, Disrupted – Oh No’s latest full-length continues to shine light on his unique ear and skill as a producer, so that one day he might not have to see his name with the tag “Madlib’s younger brother” on it. Bent, distressed, sickly samples that have been backed over and stepped on multiple times. Takes the J Dilla obsession with a musty lived-in feel  to near-avant garde heights.

Lisa Loeb,  No Fairy Tale – She’d probably say I only hear what I want to,  but this sounds like pretty generic, slickly engineered corporate AnyRock to me. I know,  I know: I’m only here in negative.

Percy Thrillington, Thrillington – NOTHING TO SEE HERE, JUST A LONG-LOST SOLO MCCARTNEY RARITY. It was released under the pseudonym “Percy Thrillington,” a fictitious socialite persona Paul invented as a goof. The album itself is a string arrangement version of McCartney’s pastoral-pop masterpiece Ram, recast as a lounge-music-meets-Montovani piece of Muzak. An example of just how far his whimsical urge could take him. Something about the supremere cheesed-out, supermarket-music saxophone tootling through “Ram On” feels as secretly radical as any of John Lennon’s primal-scream-therapy experiments. Paul was, and is, weird, man.

Cult of Luna, Vertikal – Moody, churning hardcore/metal  hybrid – lots of echoing, downtuned guitars and screaming, but also weird,  taser-planetarium music interludes.

Bleeding Rainbow, Yeah Right – The band who lost a lawsuit to LeVar Burton returns as Bleeding Rainbow. They still sound like an punkish indie-pop band, but Don’t Take My Word For It! #doodooDOOT

Adam Green and Binki Shapiro, S/T – Adam and Binki do their best Lee and Nancy.

Rudresh Mahanthappa, Gamak – The fearless improviser, alto saxophonist, and composer Rudresh Mahanthappa bears down hard on jazz fusion influences. We have a Six Degrees of this multicolored, fascinating record on tap for later in the week; download and start soaking it in!

Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Live At the Montreux Jazz Festival –  One of the catchiest and most enduring of all-time jazz live performances, dismissed  by purists but embraced and redeemed by hip-hop producers who knew funky breaks when they heard them.

Adam Orvad, Christensen: Pipes and Reeds – Haunted, luminous, George Crumb-like works for organ and woodwind, and electronics.

Ben Harper with Charlie Musselwhite, Get Up! – Renowned harmonica master Charlie Musselwhite teams up with Ben Harper to play plaintive, muted, simple roots blues music.

Glenn Gould, The Acoustic Orchestrations – Works by Scriabin and Sibelius – This is a 1972 recording made during the height of Gould’s hermetic studio experimentation; these pearly, glimmering works by Scriabin and Sibelius were recorded on eight tracks, through four sets of microphones: Gould then manipulated the tracks, panning in and zooming out to create an audio environment he felt thoroughly captured the music’s ambience. The project has a whiff of “mad scientist” in its methodology, but his playing is still revelatory.

Charlie Wilson, Love Charlie – Charlie Wilson of the Gap Band, after a long time spent in the drug-and-rehab wilderness, emerged to become an “Uncle Charlie” figure to rappers, who have given him second life as a hook singer and spirit guide. This is his fifth solo studio album.

Happy Jawbone Family Band, Tastes The Broom – Infectious, Siltbreeze-style tinker-toys punk primitivism.

SINGLES/EPs

Autre Neu Veut, “Play By Play” – YES. This record is going to be incredible. Gorgeous, full-throated R&B jam that goes for the Prince brass ring and nabs it.

The Knife, “Full of Fire” -  Another YES, from the Knife’s fearlessly bizarre monstro of a new record, which melds Silent Shout’s eerie insectile propulsion with the contemporary-classical experimentation of Tomorrow, In A  Year.

Sally Shapiro, “Starman” – Yup, another big fist-pump YES. A reminder that there’s lots of good records coming soon.

The Flaming Lips, “Sun Blows Up Today” – The Flaming Lips! New single from what, in my opinion, could be one of the best bands ever. They are in the middle of a gloriously improbably sixth or seventh reinvention, reverting to the nasty-grin bad-drugs psychedelic nerve-scrape of their earliest days.

Matthew Dear, Fighting Is Futile Remixes -  Matthew Dear offers remixes to “Fighting is Futile,” the third single off of last year’s Beams.

Embassy, “International” – Gorgeous, promising new single from long-silent Gothenburg indie-pop band.

Buke and Gase, General Dome

Buke and Gase certainly don’t lack novelty, but they also don’t sit back and let that novelty do their work for them. The New York duo’s instruments are self-styled and handmade — the “buke,” a modified and electrified baritone ukulele, and the “gase,” a hybrid of guitar and bass — but their shared approach to sound and song are unusual enough to make a lasting impression on its own. “Houdini Crush” introduces a lurching, leering attack informed by punk agitation and math-rock complexity, with the searching voice of Arone Dyer careening strangely, yet always melodically, over top.

Aron Sanchez supplies heavy layers of texture with the gase, while the two share percussive duties with an arsenal of foot-actived drums and tambourine-like shakers (the “toe-bourine,” for example). It all has a homespun feel to it, like something sourced from an art-school workshop by two friends taking a break from a big sculpture project and just playing around. But there’s an accomplished sense of songcraft at work too, with highlights (“In the Company of Fish,” “Twisting the Lasso of Truth”) that navigate strange paths to new, unimagined forms.