7 albums to listen to this winter

Three years ago, I wrote the 2021 winter music guide, a compilation almost entirely influenced by the restrictions and varying relationships to the pandemic. And while it’s reassuring to be (mostly) out of the woods regarding the virus, much of the world is experiencing unrest. A lot of the art being created now reflects that.

I rounded up an interesting selection for this guide with lots of variety. But despite some obvious sonic differences, I find that all of these artists are reaching within themselves to tell stories. From provocative jazz compositions to charged hip-hop, and country twangers to jilted electro-R&B, these seven albums show how artists are managing to reclaim their identity in a new winter in the post-pandemic world.

Like Weyes Blood or Fiona Apple, New York City’s Selett (a Boston native) melds ethereal pop with the flavors of vintage cabaret. On her self-titled EP, the backdrop of the East Village serves as a set piece towering over the music, like on the single “Wheels Within Wheels,” where a dusty piano leads a hazy waltz steeped in romance and malaise. It’s music for the “missed connections” forums of New York City.

There’s some interesting lore surrounding 83-year-old Jim Kweskin in the Boston music history books. Formerly of the Jim Kweskin Jug Band, a folk-revivalist band and staple in the New England folk scene of the 1960s, Kweskin was famously connected with Mel Lyman, leader of the neo-transcendentalist commune (or cult, depending who you ask) Fort Hill Community. Such mythicism can also be found on Kweskin’s new album “Never Too Late,” an ode to the vintage songbooks of Southern blues, Tin Pan Alley and the Great American Songbook, where each song features a duet from a list of his favorite female singers.

Quentin Branch and Brian Warren, the duo behind Chicago hip-hop group Angry Blackmen, took inspiration from the 1954 horror-apocalypse novel “I Am Legend” by Richard Matheson. Long story short, the protagonist survives a pandemic where humans become vampires, and he becomes a vigilante vampire killer. “The Legend of ABM,” Angry Blackmen’s newest album detailing American Blackness, draws parallels from this story; “...this album is kinda like our villain origin story,” says Branch in a press release. And he’s not wrong; this album is high-octane, industrial and relentless hip-hop with an acrimonious backbone.

It feels cheap to label what pianist and composer Vijay Iyer creates simply as “jazz.” Sure, his choice of instrumentation and free-roaming compositions place his new album “Compassion” in the jazz category, but the brevity of his musical language suggests an artist more keen on clearly conveying an emotional idea than searching for them within the music. Along with drummer Tyshawn Sorey and bassist Linda May Han Oh (a Boston resident and Berklee professor), Iyer’s “Compassion” illustrates how three masters of their craft can speak so clearly without saying anything at all.

The fifth album from Brooklyn-via-Boston indie rock collective San Fermin was born from a despondent phone call. Bandleader Ellis Ludwig-Leone called his collaborator and bandmate Allen Tate late one night with big feelings stemming from a series of ending relationships, and from that connection, the poignant “Arms” began to take shape. The rustic indie folk-rock of the album recalls the Americana flavors of The National and early Sufjan Stevens, both stated influences on Ludwig-Leone. It’s a somber late-night drive kind of album.

The debut self-titled album from Ian Hatcher-Williams’ Lamplight tells a story that shouldn’t feel as familiar as it does. He was born into a Virginia cult, then landed in New York City and became overworked in the tech world, then went back to Virginia to marry his childhood friend. The buzzing and forbearing indie rock of “Lamplight” explores the concept of identity with an unpretty elegance found in artists like Bill Callahan or Andy Shauf. This will undoubtedly be the soundtrack of my winter.

Portland, Oregon “post-disco” (their words) band foamboy is like if Sade was from — well, Portland. The jilted, house-like grooves on their new album “Eating Me Alive” are an introspective ode to queerness and society at large, helping usher in the new wave of electro R&B made recognizable from groups like Moonchild and Tom Misch. The staggered groove and soft sonic palate of lead single “Exit Sign” will undoubtedly stick to your eardrums like glue.