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    ‘The Quiet Girl’ Review: Welcome Home

    This luminous drama, Ireland’s entry for best international feature, may not be holiday fare, but it does express the season’s benevolent ethos.A body lies still in a field as girls from afar shout, “Cait! Cait!” For a beat, “The Quiet Girl” sounds an uneasy note. It won’t be the last time this luminous Irish drama — directed by Colm Bairead and based on Claire Keegan’s short story “Foster” — teases dark concerns.Cait (Catherine Clinch, in a splendid debut) lives in a crammed, clamorous house with her parents, sisters, baby brother and another sibling on the way. Which is why her exhausted mother (Kate Nic Chonaonaigh) and idle father (Michael Patric) whisper about sending the 9-year-old to stay with her mother’s people.When Cait’s father delivers her to the Cinnsealaches’ farmhouse, the viewer senses — even if Cait doesn’t yet — that she has won the lottery, or at least been granted a well-ordered reprieve. Eibhlin and Sean Cinnsealach (Carrie Crowley and Andrew Bennett) shimmer with compassion but also a profound ache. The availability of a child’s clothes and the trains chugging across the wallpaper of the room Cait sleeps in signal a loss that the film takes its time to address.In Cait’s encounters with nature, Bairead and the cinematographer Kate McCullough capture the first-person perspective of Keegan’s story: leaves flutter and flash by; a ladle sets the still surface of a well in gently rippling motion. They also go beyond it. Although “The Quiet Girl” — Ireland’s entry for the best international feature Oscar — is not holiday fare, there may not be a movie more expressive of the season’s benevolent ethos than this hushed work about kith and kindness.The Quiet GirlNot rated. In Irish Gaelic, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘Children of the Mist’ Review: Stolen Youth

    A documentarian traces a Hmong girl’s experience with a custom that permits boys to detain girls with the intention of marriage.In the disturbing Vietnamese documentary “Children of the Mist,” a plucky 12-year-old girl named Di is abducted after a Lunar New Year celebration. Her parents are frustrated at best — who will feed the pigs when they go drinking? But their response is not unusual in this remote mountain region of northern Vietnam, where the Hmong — one of the country’s largest ethnic groups — reside.“Bride-napping” is a Hmong custom that permits boys, often with the help of their families, to nab girls and detain them for three days. Throughout this time, the girl can decide whether she wants to go through with the marriage, though in practice, rejections can be violently challenged. That’s the norm in these parts: Di’s mother and older sister were bride-napped as well.Di, however, is the first person in her family to receive a formal education; she’s quick, chatty and understands all too well the pitfalls of her community’s patriarchal mores. Still, she’s a child herself, glued to her phone when she’s not working the field or cooking meals, and prone to engaging in online flirtations.The filmmaker Ha Le Diem shot “Children of the Mist” over the course of three years, integrating herself into Di’s life in a way that complicates the documentary’s otherwise unobtrusive, observational approach. When Di cozies up to a smitten boy, Diem’s camera watches them walk away. The boy says not to follow them, shouting back from a distance that he has no intention of kidnapping Di.Then he does, though Di has no intention of getting married. Diem is told not to interfere, but at one crucial moment, she must. It’s an upsetting scene, though one senses that without the presence of the camera, Di would have fared far worse.Children of the MistNot rated. In Hmong and Vietnamese, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘The Volcano: Rescue from Whakaari’ Review: A Seismic Tragedy

    A Netflix documentary recounts the eruption of an active volcano off the coast of New Zealand that left several tourist groups struggling to survive.Three years ago on a small island off the eastern coast of New Zealand, several tour groups were trekking near the rim of an active stratovolcano when the site erupted, spouting scalding steam, toxic gases and ash plumes that rose thousands of feet into the air. More than 20 people died, some in the explosion and others who later succumb to their injuries; many more suffered severe burns.A detailed chronology of the tragedy is relayed in the unembellished Netflix documentary “The Volcano: Rescue from Whakaari,” which hinges on interviews with a handful of survivors and people involved in the rescue missions.White Island (also known by its Maori name, Whakaari) is a gorgeous setting for a documentary, a natural wonder that has long been a destination for geology enthusiasts and thrill seekers keen to peer into a live volcano’s abyss. The film begins by leaning into this wanderlust through imagery and maps of the island, but once we reach the moment of eruption, the mood turns dark.The director, Rory Kennedy, only lightly explores the science behind the calamity, and the film never stretches beyond a layperson’s knowledge. The film similarly stops short of looking into the organizations and government agencies that may be accountable. Instead, Kennedy seems intent on centering the survivors, who — alongside original photos and videos taken by tourists that day — describe a living hell of fear and agony.But while this framework guarantees an engrossing disaster story, the choice to ignore the social aftershocks of the eruption leaves viewers without the tools to contextualize the profound pain on display. Once the ash settles, we long for insight, but only the trauma lingers on.The Volcano: Rescue from WhakaariRated PG-13. Running time: 1 hour 38 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More

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    ‘Jurassic Punk’ Review: Making Digital Dinosaurs Walk

    This documentary looks at the computer animation innovator Steve Williams.It is hopefully not to gross a generalization to point out that animators are different from you and me. And this holds whether the animator works in hand drawing, stop-motion, or computer graphics. Obsessiveness that goes beyond dedication to work is a common trait. As is social awkwardness.The Canadian-born computer animation innovator Steve Williams was and remains so overtly brash that he inverts the latter characteristic into the kind of awkwardness that, well, can often get you fired. Williams is the guy who enabled the effects team at Industrial Light and Magic to build many of the dinosaurs for the 1993 film “Jurassic Park” inside a computer.Directed by Scott Leberecht, “Jurassic Punk” tells the very juicy story of pioneers, naysayers and professional hierarchies that made Williams both the Necessary Man and an eventual outcast. Frankly admitting that he’s not a diplomat, Williams makes clear his skepticism concerning revered visual effects figures. Among them Dennis Muren, the I.L.M. department head who took home a lot of Oscars while Williams labored in a section of the company known as “the pit.”In that space, Williams figured out how to execute previously unattainable visions for James Cameron’s “The Abyss” and “Terminator 2” before “Jurassic.” And his work on Spielberg’s film resulted from Williams directly not doing what he was told. “Don’t even bother” trying to make a computer-animated dinosaur, he recalls Muren instructing him.In contemporary interviews, the stop-motion animator Phil Tippett, whose whole livelihood was threatened by Williams’s innovation, displays the most affinity for Williams’s disruptive way of thinking. The documentary was conceived as a tribute, but Leberecht happened upon Williams at a dark time in his life: divorced, unemployed, alcoholic and convinced his work has ruined movies. This movie ends with the artist marking eight months sober and finding some fulfillment in teaching.Jurassic PunkNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 21 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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    ‘Nelly & Nadine’ Review: An Unlikely Love, an Unlikely Record

    A family archive provides intimate records of a love affair that began between two women imprisoned in the Ravensbrück concentration camp.For most of Sylvie Bianchi’s life, the records of her grandmother’s time as a prisoner in the Ravensbrück concentration camp seemed too painful to examine. Sylvie kept her grandmother’s letters, diaries, photographs and home movies in the attic of her family’s French farmhouse for decades. The documentary “Nelly & Nadine” captures the story as Sylvie finally opens dusty boxes, unearthing a surprising tale of love and resilience.Sylvie learns that her grandmother, Nelly Mousset-Vos, was an opera singer turned spy with the French Resistance. She was imprisoned at Ravensbrück in 1944, and there, Nelly met Nadine Hwang, who had worked in literary circles in Paris and likely participated in resistance efforts. The pair fell in love. They were separated, but after the war, Nelly and Nadine moved together to Venezuela. They lived as a couple until Nadine’s death in 1972, and Nadine documented their lives together in home movies that are shown in the film. In informal, pensive interviews with the director Magnus Gertten, Sylvie reflects that she remembers Nadine, but Nadine was only ever referred to as her grandmother’s friend and housemate.It’s an astonishing love story, all the more notable for the sheer amount of documentation that is shown onscreen. Gertten first identifies Nadine in newsreel footage of refugees arriving in Sweden after the liberation of the camps. This footage alone, which captures hundreds of joyful faces — and Nadine as a solitary somber figure in the crowd — would be noteworthy. But it’s equally miraculous that Nelly and Nadine’s records were preserved by Nelly’s family — an archival kindness that is, historically-speaking, not frequently afforded to women who love other women. The film is moving for the intimacy it depicts, an archive as unlikely as the love story itself.Nelly & NadineNot rated. In French, Swedish and Spanish, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 32 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘The Apology’ Review: Regrets, He’s Had a Few

    A surprise visitor derails a grieving mother’s holiday plans in this gloomy, overwrought family drama.“The Apology” might arrive a week before Christmas and take place on Christmas Eve, but this deeply depressing picture is less ho-ho-ho than no-no-no.With the help of an isolated home, a convenient snowstorm and essentially two actors (unless you count Janeane Garofalo’s pop-in, pop-out turn as the best friend), the writer and director, Alison Star Locke, stirs up a turgid tale of grief, guilt and attempted atonement. It all starts innocently enough as Darlene (Anna Gunn), a sober alcoholic, is preparing to host a family Christmas for the first time in the two decades since her teenage daughter, Sally, disappeared. Darlene, though — who blames herself for being drunk at the time of the disappearance — is clearly a mess.Just as she’s about to topple off the wagon, her long-estranged former brother-in-law, Jack (Linus Roache), arrives bearing surprise gifts and shocking secrets. Jack, it turns out, has feelings — oh boy, does he ever — and he would like to share. First, though, for safety’s sake, he’ll just show Darlene his collection of zip ties and move the kitchen knives out of her reach. Now that they’re both comfortable, the talking can begin.Unfortunately, it never seems to end. A play-like trudge through seesawing power dynamics, bursts of violence, perpetual gloom and a ludicrously attenuated finale, “The Apology” could have doubled its tension by halving its running time. When the resolution of a movie depends in part on a fortuitously constipated dog, the only apology required is from whoever convinced you to watch in the first place.The ApologyNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 31 minutes. In theaters and available on Shudder. More

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    ‘The Almond and the Seahorse’ Review: Like Sand Through an Hourglass

    In this drama, two couples grapple with how their relationships are changed through a partner’s brain injuries.“The Almond and the Seahorse” gets its title from two limbic structures inside the brain: the amygdala and the hippocampus, each shaped like their nickname, which team up to store memories. “It is remarkable what that kilo-and-a-half blob at the top of your neck files away,” a neuropsychologist (Meera Syal) says to a frazzled archaeologist named Sarah (Rebel Wilson) whose husband, Joe (Celyn Jones), has a tumor that causes his cerebral cache to continually delete every minute or so. When it happens, the piano score curdles, the camera swirls in circles, or the film cuts to waves smoothing the sandy creases on a beach — a poetic flourish more impactful than the film’s resolution which is as artificially rosy as a bag of seaside taffy.This debut feature from the directors Tom Stern (a longtime cinematographer for Clint Eastwood) and Jones (who originated the role of Joe onstage, and now adapts the play with its author Kaite O’Reilly) plays out like an educational film strip. Vignettes of Sarah and Joe’s lightly comic struggles are spliced alongside the darker grievances of the couple Toni (Charlotte Gainsbourg) and Gwen (Trine Dyrholm), the latter of whom suffered a traumatic brain injury 15 years ago and gasps in horror every time she’s surprised by her partner’s wrinkles.Smartly, Joe and Gwen are more petulant than pitiful. (They’d both be happier not being reminded of all they’ve forgotten.) If the audience, too, loses track of where things are trudging, the original soundtrack by Gruff Rhys constantly chimes in to describe the plot, crooning, “I want my old life back.” Only when Sarah and Toni meet for the first time, an hour in, does the film allow a genuine conversation — and, gratefully, a moment of recognition.The Almond and the SeahorseNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 36 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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    Notable Boxed Sets of 2022: Pop, Rap, Soul, Jazz and More

    Anniversary editions (from Norah Jones and Neil Young), a dive into the hip-hop underground (via C.V.E.) and rediscovered live jazz (from Elvin Jones and Charles Mingus) arrived in 2022.In the archives of recorded music — and now video — there’s always more to discover (or exploit). This year’s boxed sets revisit blockbuster albums and go nationwide with local scene stars. The New York Times has already featured some major archival collections from bands like the Beatles, Blondie and Wilco. Here are more deep dives.Albert Ayler, ‘Revelations’(Elemental Music; four CDs or download, $58)Albert Ayler’s mid-60s work, once controversial, is now jazz canon. But the later phase of the saxophone radical’s brief career, when he experimented with funk and blues, and incorporated vocals from his partner Mary Maria Parks, is still overlooked. This set, the first complete issue of two July 1970 concerts at the French modern-art center the Fondation Maeght, expands prior versions by more than two hours — and makes a strong case that Ayler was in peak form here, just months before his death at age 34. On the ballad-like “Spiritual Reunion,” he caresses and adorns a prayerful melody atop gorgeous accompaniment from the pianist Call Cobbs, making even his quavering shrieks on the horn sound loving, while on “Desert Blood,” Ayler, the bassist Steve Tintweiss and the drummer Allen Blairman artfully frame a Parks song before embarking on an improvisation that suggests a softer yet still-incandescent version of the flame the saxophonist lit on his early classics. HANK SHTEAMERThe Beach Boys, ‘Sail On Sailor — 1972’(Capitol; six CDs, $150; five LPs and 7-inch EP, $179.98)1972 was a year of upheaval for the Beach Boys. Brian Wilson, the group’s mastermind, had grown withdrawn, leaving most of the songwriting to the other band members while Carl Wilson largely took over production. Two South African musicians, Blondie Chaplin and Ricky Fataar, officially joined the band. The two Beach Boys albums that were completed in 1972, “Carl and the Passions — ‘So Tough’” and “Holland” — still got their singles (“Marcella” and “Sail On, Sailor”) from Brian Wilson. But the other members’ broad and sometimes confused ambitions were clear in songs with elaborate structures and lyrics about topics like spirituality and colonial genocide — determinedly grown-up songs, not would-be hits. The much expanded boxed set includes an exhilarating full-length 1972 Carnegie Hall concert, songs in progress, a cappella mixdowns and a worthy, much-bootlegged “Holland” outtake, “Carry Me Home,” that laments mortality with lush harmonies. JON PARELESC.V.E., ‘Chillin Villains: We Represent Billions’(Nyege Nyege Tapes; LP, $20)The unrelenting weirdness of the Los Angeles hip-hop underground in the mid-1990s gave birth to an almost unending variety of techniques and characters. Among the most signature was C.V.E. — Chillin Villains Empire — a relatively unheralded crew affiliated with the fertile scene at the Good Life Café. This anthology collects songs from 1993 to 2003, some released and some not, that show off just how experimental C.V.E.’s primary members Riddlore?, NgaFsh and Tray-Loc were. With their bizarre cadences, unusual word pairings and unexpectedly punchy storytelling, they sound like close cousins to the freaky styles of Freestyle Fellowship, the scene’s pre-eminent eccentrics. JON CARAMANICAGuns N’ Roses, ‘Guns N’ Roses — Use Your Illusion I & II Super Deluxe’(UME/Geffen; 12 LPs, one Blu-ray and a book $499.98; seven CDs, one Blu-ray and a book $259.98)In 1991, no band was bigger than Guns N’ Roses, and on the two albums it released that year, “Use Your Illusion I” and “II,” it showed. Here was a group grappling with ambition using several different, sometimes competing tactics — songs that had the feverish intensity of metal, songs that touched on politics, songs that ran nine minutes long. These multiplatinum albums are epically unkempt, for better and worse — it doesn’t get much blowzier, and it doesn’t get much more rollicking, or arrestingly melodramatic. This doorstopper release is a sprawling boxed set for a sprawling pair of albums (remastered for the first time from the original stereo masters). There’s a book rich with ephemera, oodles of trinkets, recordings of two live shows, and a Blu-ray of one of those: from a bruising, chaotic jam at the Ritz in New York in 1991, a warm-up show for the Use Your Illusion Tour (even though the group hadn’t yet finished recording the albums). For capturing this era of this band, this excess is appropriate, but also telling. Implosion was around the corner — these albums would be the last full-length releases of original music it would put out for 17 years. CARAMANICAElvin Jones, ‘Revival: Live at Pookie’s Pub’(Blue Note; digital album, $12.99 to $17.98; two CDs, $29.98; three LPs, $54,98; three LPs and test pressing, $224.98)Elvin Jones’s elemental brand of swing, bashing yet balletic, propelled John Coltrane’s band for five magical years in the early to mid-60s. As Coltrane’s music grew more abstract, and, according to Jones, “hectic,” the drummer took his leave in 1966. The New York club gigs documented on “Revival” — recorded the following year, less than two weeks after Coltrane’s death — play like a manifesto of the bandleading philosophy that would define the rest of Jones’s lengthy career: Assemble a sturdy group — here featuring the saxophonist and flutist Joe Farrell; the obscure pianist Billy Greene, with Larry Young subbing on one tune; and the bassist Wilbur Little — put together a well-balanced set list of standards and originals and get down to business. Jones’s turbulent drive on Farrell’s “13 Avenue B” and way-behind-the-beat lope during “On the Trail” demonstrate why many consider him jazz percussion’s all-time heavyweight champ. SHTEAMERNorah Jones, ‘Come Away With Me (20th Anniversary)’(Blue Note; three CDs, $39.98; four LPs, $179.98)The hushed jazz-country-folk-pop amalgam of “Come Away With Me,” the debut album that became a blockbuster for Norah Jones, didn’t come out of nowhere. She had to home in on it along a winding path that led through music school, New York City jazz-brunch gigs that people talked through, homesickness for country music from her childhood in Texas, demos she made with songwriter friends in New York City and all-star recording sessions in a mountainside mansion near Woodstock, N.Y. Those sessions, rejected by Blue Note Records before Jones tried again with her friends and made her hit album, are unveiled on the expanded reissue of “Come Away,” and they reveal an artist quietly finding her own voice: one of elegant modesty. The rejected sessions, newly released, offer a lesson in musical chemistry. With musicians who were skillful but not her regular collaborators, Jones both deferred too much to her better-known accompanists and pushed her voice a little too hard. Although there are luminous moments, like her versions of Horace Silver’s “Peace” and Tom Waits’s “Picture in a Frame,” the results were capable but not quite right. PARELESPeggy Lee, ‘Norma Deloris Egstrom From Jamestown, North Dakota (Expanded Edition)’(Capitol; CD, $13.98)Peggy Lee aficionados know that one of the hidden gems in her vast discography is her 40th record, and her last for her longtime label Capitol, “Norma Deloris Egstrom From Jamestown, North Dakota.” (Yes, that’s Lee’s civilian name and her place of birth.) “Norma” is a mature work, born of the same lived-in ennui that had made “Is That All There Is?” an unexpected hit in 1969, when Lee was almost 50. “Norma” flew under the radar and remained out of print for decades, but half a century after its initial release, it can at last be properly appreciated. It is a stirring and remarkably melancholic album that gives voice to grief and isolation through Lee’s wrenching performances of “It Takes Too Long to Learn to Live Alone” and “Superstar,” at the time a recent hit for the Carpenters. Artie Butler’s arrangements are sublime, giving Lee’s anguish plenty of dramatic flourish. The seven bonus tracks are illuminating if not revelatory, largely alternate vocal takes, though Lee’s poignant song from the 1972 movie “Snoopy Come Home” is included. The rerelease’s main aim, though, is not to excavate old material but to introduce new listeners to “Norma Deloris Egstrom,” and one of her great works. LINDSAY ZOLADZGalcher Lustwerk, ‘100% Galcher’(Ghostly International; CD, $14; two LPs, $27)The most rewarding aspect of “100% Galcher,” the breakout mix by the house music producer Galcher Lustwerk, is its utter patience. On tracks like “I Neva Seen” and “Enterprise,” it’s clear the body is in motion, but there’s an overlay of deep soothing and pensiveness, an almost new age energy. This decade-old mix, which had its premiere in the Blowing Up the Workshop series in 2013 and is completely made up of his original productions, is being properly reissued as individual tracks for the first time now. It’s womb-like and astral, and Lustwerk’s talk-raps, which he casually ladles throughout, are like reassuring commands. CARAMANICACharles Mingus, ‘The Lost Album From Ronnie Scott’s’(Resonance Records; three CDs, $29.99; three LPs, $74.99)The Charles Mingus sextet featured on these two beautifully captured 1972 live sets from the venerable London club Ronnie Scott’s, intended for official release but shelved because of label limbo, was only intact for a brief stretch. But its chemistry rivals that of the bassist’s greatest groups. On a stunning 35-minute version of the “Mingus Ah Um” classic “Fables of Faubus,” the drummer Roy Brooks and the under-documented pianist John Foster skillfully steer the band between playful abstraction and crackling swing, while on the then-new “Mind-Readers’ Convention in Milano (AKA Number 29),” the saxophonists Charles McPherson and Bobby Jones and the trumpeter Jon Faddis show how fully they’d internalized Mingus’s signature blend of ornate writing and joyous collective improv. SHTEAMERNeu!, ‘50!’(Groenland; four CDs, $54.99; five LPs, $129.99)Among the creators of kosmiche, a.k.a. krautrock, Neu! was probably the most anti-pop of all. Alongside Can, Faust and Kraftwerk — which included the founders of Neu!, Michael Rother and Klaus Dinger, in an early lineup — Neu! embraced repetition, drones, found-sound noise and studio collaging, creating music in the early 1970s that would influence punk and industrial rock very soon afterward: sometimes raucous, sometimes meditative. The vinyl box collects the three Neu! studio albums from the 1970s; the CD collection also includes “Neu! 86,” which sounded less radical and more jovial, but still contentious. Both sets add a group of newly recorded tributes and remixes from fans including the National and Mogwai — who, try as they might, can’t quite sound as austere or cantankerous as Neu! in its prime, though Idles and Man Man come close. PARELESNancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood, ‘Nancy & Lee’(Light in the Attic; CD, $14; LP, $27; cassette, $12; 8-track, $35)After last year’s excellent Nancy Sinatra compilation “Start Walkin’ 1965-1976” comes the first official reissue of what is perhaps the highlight of her discography: the beloved 1968 duet album she made with her frequent collaborator Lee Hazlewood. Lush, cinematic and alluringly strange, “Nancy & Lee” still possesses every bit of its oddball charm; more than 50 years on, it makes the argument not only for Hazlewood’s boundless imagination as a producer, but for Sinatra’s open-mindedness and risk-taking, as she followed Hazlewood down avenues — the trippy “Some Velvet Morning,” for one — less adventurous pop stars would have avoided. The bonus material is scant, but fun: a lounge-y, sultry take on the Kinks’ “Tired of Waiting for You” and a hammy rendition of the Mickey & Sylvia hit “Love Is Strange.” Of their enduring, opposites-attract sonic chemistry, Sinatra quips in a lively new interview included in the liner notes, “We used to call it beauty and the beast!” ZOLADZ‘John Sinclair Presents Detroit Artists Workshop’(Strut; download, $9.99; CD, $13.99; two LPs, $26)The MC5 manager and White Panther co-founder John Sinclair steps into the role of smooth-voiced jazz D.J. on the intro track to this compilation, the first sampling of live recordings from the archives of the Detroit Artists Workshop, a collective he helped start in 1964 to present local concerts and poetry events. The set, which encompasses 1965 through 1981, features nationally recognized names (including the trumpeter Donald Byrd and the saxophonist Bennie Maupin, both heard in righteously funky settings), but it’s the local luminaries who make this an essential document of a regional scene. The pianist and longtime Supremes musical director Teddy Harris combines big-band-style horns and a hard-grooving R&B rhythm section on “Passion Dance”; the Detroit Contemporary 4 serves up elegant, impassioned post-bop on “Three Flowers”; and the organist Lyman Woodard’s Organization digs into fierce jazz-funk in 5/4 time on “Help Me Get Away.” SHTEAMER‘The Skippy White Story: Boston Soul 1961-1967’(Yep Roc; CD, $15.99; LP, $24.99)Beginning in the early 1960s, Skippy White was — and still remains — an all-purpose cheerleader for Boston’s soul and gospel music scenes: record store proprietor, radio D.J., and when necessary, record label owner and producer. This anthology of long-lost sides captures just a little bit of the music he helped usher into the world, and is accompanied by an extensive historical essay on White’s life and career by Noah Schaffer and Eli (Paperboy) Reed. White’s sonic interests were wide-ranging — there’s dizzying doo-wop from Sammy and the Del-Lards, and also a stretch of intriguing gospel singles including Crayton Singers’s desperate, almost unsteady “Master on High.” That rawness is there, too, on “Do the Thing” by Earl Lett Quartet, an instruction song for the dance floor, or maybe somewhere else. CARAMANICAHorace Tapscott, ‘The Quintet’(Mr. Bongo; download, $5; CD, $10.99; LP, $25.99)Horace Tapscott was a movement unto himself, a pianist and composer who spent decades advocating for Black artists in Los Angeles and mentoring up-and-coming musicians through his Pan-Afrikan Peoples Arkestra. Documents of his early work are scarce, making this previously unreleased set — recorded at the same session as Tapscott’s thrilling 1969 debut, “The Giant Is Awakened” — especially noteworthy. The music sometimes recalls earlier work by East Coast piano progressives like Mal Waldron or Cecil Taylor (both heard on fine archival releases this year), but Tapscott presents his own unique agenda. On “Your Child,” one of three lengthy, equally excellent tracks here, he plays dramatic, knobby lines that sometimes spiral off into jagged shards, ‌while the alto saxophonist Arthur Blythe‌ shows off the swooping agility and strong emotional charge that would earn him wide acclaim upon his move to New York in the mid-1970s‌. SHTEAMERMarvin Tate’s D-Settlement, ‘Marvin Tate’s D-Settlement’(American Dreams; three CDs, $30; four LPs, $75; four clear vinyl LPs, $85)Marvin Tate, who got his start as a slam-poetry champion, channeled his storytelling skills and multifarious voice — singing, preaching, narrating, taunting, shouting — into D-Settlement, a far-reaching band whose reputation should have extended well beyond its Chicago hometown during the 1990s and early 2000s. This boxed set collects the three albums D-Settlement made before breaking up in 2003, revealing a musical collective that easily vamped its way toward funk, rock, jazz, blues, gospel, reggae, punk, cabaret and more. Tate’s lyrics and delivery could be ferociously direct or sardonically barbed, as D-Settlement’s songs confronted poverty, racism and violence even as they summoned the joys of family and community — echoed in the communal improvisations of an ever exploratory band. PARELESNeil Young, ‘Harvest (50th Anniversary Edition)’(Reprise; deluxe CD boxed set, $49.98; deluxe LP boxed set, $149.98)The mythos of Neil Young’s fourth solo album still looms large in the popular imagination. “Harvest” is the record he made in retreat from fame at his newly acquired rustic Northern California ranch; thanks to its blockbuster success and its No. 1 hit “Heart of Gold,” it subsequently made Young even more uncomfortable with fame than ever before. Fans looking for a trove of demos or unreleased recordings may be slightly disappointed with this 50th anniversary edition, as it contains only three studio outtakes (“Bad Fog of Loneliness,” “Journey Through the Past” and “Dance Dance Dance”) all of which have been floating around in some variation for years. What makes the set worth it, though, are the DVDs, especially “Harvest Time,” a two-hour documentary (directed by Young’s alter ego, Bernard Shakey) that serves as an indelible time capsule of the record’s creation. Also fantastic is the 1971 BBC television recording, included in audio and video versions, of a solo Young, in especially fine voice, debuting some of his works in progress — and a stunned studio audience hearing “Old Man” and “Heart of Gold” for the first time. ZOLADZ More