On Ghosts, a variety of keyboards—acoustic piano, electric Fender Rhodes, synths—make up the core of Polish composer, pianist, and singer Hania Rani's sound world. It's an ambient place inflected with delicate melancholia and, occasionally, uplift. A third of the tracks are instrumentals, but rather than simply functioning as musical interludes, the voiceless pieces are an integral part of the album's flow. The hypnotic, slightly ominous instrumental "Oltre Terra" opens the album with carefully crafted pulses, pings, and drones. The piece nicely sets up the incredibly catchy "Hello," where Rani, shaded by backup vocals and jazzy keyboard, gives voice to an irresistible melody that rides rubbery electronic bass and brushed drums. "Don't Break My Heart" hints at gospel and rhythm and blues. Special guest Duncan Bellamy of the British rock band Portico Quartet provides spare and subtle percussion and loops that play off Rani's yearning voice. On "Dancing with Ghosts," Rani is joined by Patrick Watson on vocals and piano; accompanied by a panoply of electronic sounds, their voices mesmerize. The next cut, the gently propulsive "A Day in Never," employs hand percussion and rippling piano to support Rani's rhythmically insistent singing. Icelandic multi-instrumentalist Ólafur Arnalds appears on "Whispering House," where tense breathing and spare and lovely keyboard tones fill the air. The effect is spooky: a haunting of a song that is barely there at all. By contrast, "Thin Line" vibrates with psychedelic energy. Strings arranged by Viktor Orri Árnason wend their way over percolating rhythms as Rani's vocals play with a handful of notes and words. The hypnotic track has a gentle quality but in this dreamy context it qualifies as a rocker. © Fred Cisterna/Qobuz    

Named after the address of his childhood home in North Carolina, J. Cole's third studio effort was released with no supporting singles, and there are no featured artists, either, because 2014 Forest Hills Drive is one of those personal, conceptual, and "heavy" albums. Most importantly, it's admirable bordering on excellent, sure to inspire returning fans to herald it as a classic even if it doesn't woo the skeptical, casually wandering out of its intro with two smooth and soulful numbers that are so free, they're just shy of being clumsy. Key cut "January 28th" puts gut-wrenching hard truths of the Pusha-T type ("What's the price for a black man's life?/I check the toe tag, not one zero in sight") next to wobbly wordplay that could have been lifted off some old Digable Planets LP ("Flow is bananas/Here, peel this back"), while "Wet Dreamz" finds J. Cole the producer offering a beat that's rather Alchemist or 9th Wonder inspired, and then slathering it in plush strings for a perfect single on an album that refuses singles. Later, "No Role Modelz" mixes a tribute to the late actor James Avery ("Rest in peace Uncle Phil"), with a bubbling beat that's a variation on cloud-rap (co-produced by Phonix Beats and Cole), and a snarky, snappy set of put downs that are like an elevated Fergie ("I don't want no bitch from reality shows/Out of touch with reality hos"), but all these flights of fancy fly freely since the album lacks an anchor. 2014 Forest Hills Drive comes off as a great, experimental, and advancing mixtape, but it's insider to a fault, as slight as that fault might be. © David Jeffries

Definitive early-period funk/fusion. Clarke's finger-pop bass is up front.© Michael G. Nastos /TiVo

If any clue were needed to confirm a new direction for the Cardigans -- that is, other than the music itself -- it's the change of hair color for vocalist Nina Persson. Previously an icy blonde that approached white (best flaunted on the cover of Life), Persson's hair is now jet black, a color that matches her confessional mood and conflicted feelings about love on the Swedish group's fifth studio album. Produced by Per Sunding (career-long collaborator Tore Johansson left after an initial session), Long Gone Before Daylight is understated and well-designed, a musicians' record, one that sounds more like an MTV Unplugged session than the high-energy chamber pop of their early recordings. Unfortunately, it's also over-produced to within an inch of its artistic life, and lacks the quality songs and exquisite productions that the group had made a hallmark. Persson composed all the lyrics, rewriting the Spector standard "He Hit Me (It Felt Like a Kiss)" into "And Then You Kissed Me" (sample lyric: "Baby you hit me/Yeah, you punched me right in the heart/And then you kissed me...and then you hit me"). Guitarist Peter Svensson took care of all the music, relying on familiar pop archetypes but forswearing the catchy hooks in favor of carefully constructed songs. Still, the Cardigans don't have enough musical personality on their own to carry these songs; they've always been a surprisingly workmanlike band -- their performances here are sympathetic and intricate -- but they simply can't rise above this subpar material. [The American release, which followed over a year after the Canadian and European issues, included a bonus DVD featuring three videos and three live tracks, plus interviews.]© John Bush /TiVo

Frescobaldi brilliantly combines improvisation and architecture. These qualities resonate with the discography of harpsichordist Christophe Rousset, whose choice of repertoire and interpretation are adventurous and serious at the same time. Frescobaldi’s counterpoint goes along with the finest art of singing, inherited from the Italian madrigal, and the flexibility of his language highlights the virtuosity of his compositions. Christophe Rousset recorded toccate and partite on a beautiful and original harpsichord of the late 16th century. Its sound faithfully testifies for the significant place of this First Book of harpsichord pieces in the nascent modernity of Frescobaldi. If the modal harmonies are still old-fashioned, the free beat and subtle melodies make it an indisputable baroque master, admired from Italy to France and Germany: Bach is said to have had a copy of his Fiori musicali! This new disc by Christophe Rousset reveals the first treasures composed specifically for the harpsichord. Its repertoire was served from the beginning by musicians whose expressive boldness recalls in a musical way Caravaggio’s chiaroscuro. © Aparté

Issued without advance notice 17 days after Kendrick Lamar's riveting 2016 Grammy Awards performance, untitled unmastered. consists of eight demos that are simply numbered and dated. Apart from segments previewed at the Grammys and late-night television appearances, there was no formal promotion. A postscript, it's (artfully) artless in presentation -- not even basic credits appear on the Army green liner card in the compact disc edition -- yet it's almost as lyrically and musically rich as To Pimp a Butterfly. The dates indicate that the majority of the material was made during the sessions for that album, and the presence of many of its players and vocalists is unmistakable. This was assembled with a high level of care that is immediately evident, its components sequenced to foster an easy listen. Track-to-track flow, however, is about the only aspect of this release that can be called smooth. After an intimate spoken intro from Bilal, the set segues into an urgent judgment-day scenario with squealing strings and a resounding bassline as Lamar confronts mortality and extinction with urgent exasperation. He observes terrifying scenes all the while sensing possible relief ("No more running from world wars," "No more discriminating the poor"). untitled unmastered. offers this and other variations on the connected themes of societal ills, faith, and survival that drove the output it follows, with Lamar at his best when countering proudly materialistic boasts with ever-striking acknowledgments of the odds perilously weighted against his people. Remarkably, this hits its stride in the second half. The stretch involves a rolling, ornamented retro-contemporary production from Adrian Younge and Ali Shaheed Muhammad (with vocal assists from Bilal and Cee Lo Green), a stitched suite that is alternately stern and humorously off the cuff (featuring Egypt, five-year-old son of Alicia Keys and Swizz Beatz, as co-producer and vocalist), and a finale of Thundercat-propelled funk. Even while coasting over the latter's breezy and smacking groove, Lamar fills the space with meaning, detailing a confrontation with sharp quips and stinging reprimands. While Lamar referred to these tracks as demos, and not one of them has the pop-soul appeal of "These Walls" or the Black Lives Matter protest-anthem potential of "Alright," untitled unmastered. is no mere offcut dump. It's as vital as anything else its maker has released.© Andy Kellman /TiVo