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      Jim Post, Known for a Memorably ‘Groovy’ Hit Song, Dies at 82

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      He and his wife, Cathy Conn, had a Top 10 single with “Reach Out of the Darkness” as Friend & Lover in 1968. It’s still played today, but it was their only hit.Jim Post, best known as half of the duo Friend & Lover, whose only hit was a memorable one — “Reach Out of the Darkness,” which proclaimed with flower-power earnestness, “I think it’s so groovy now that people are finally gettin’ together” — died on Sept. 14 in Dubuque, Iowa. He was 82.His former wife Janet Smith Post, with whom he wrote two children’s books, said his death, in hospice care, was caused by congestive heart failure.“Reach Out of the Darkness,” which rose to No. 10 on the Billboard Hot 100 in June 1968, featured Mr. Post and his wife at the time, Cathy Conn, singing lyrics that say, in part:Don’t be afraid of loveDon’t be afraid, don’t be afraidDon’t be afraid to loveListen to meEverybody needs a little love.Although the lyrics say “Reach out in the darkness,” an executive of Verve Forecast Records, the label that released the record, gave it the title “Reach Out of the Darkness.” That title suggested something different to Mr. Post, who wrote the song.“Reach out in the places where you’re not enlightened,” he explained to The South Bend Tribune in 2009. He then recited the chorus: “Reach out in the darkness, reach out in the darkness, reach out in the darkness and you may find a friend.”The song fared better than the duo’s album of the same name, and after a few more singles that were not successful, Friend & Lover disbanded and Mr. Post and Ms. Conn divorced. Ms. Conn died in 2018.Mr. Post injected extra elements into “Reach Out” for a 2009 recording, giving it a radically new arrangement and merging it with “Get Together,” the late-1960s Youngbloods hit that urged listeners, “Everybody get together / Try to love one another right now.” He called the medley “Reach Out Together.” He said at the time that “Reach Out,” mashed up with a song from the same era with a similar sensibility, was as relevant as it had been in 1968.“What is the theme of our country now?” he asked. He answered his own question: “Coming together.”“Reach Out of the Darkness” received new life in 2013 when it was heard over the closing credits of a sixth-season episode of “Mad Men” while Senator Robert F. Kennedy’s assassination was being reported on television. Writing on the arts and culture website Across the Margin, L.P. Hanners said that the upbeat 45-year-old song “was perfectly paired with the duality featured in the final scene of ‘Man With a Plan.’”The song was also heard on the soundtrack of the 2015-16 TV series “Aquarius,” which starred David Duchovny as a homicide detective on the trail of Charles Manson in Los Angeles in the late 1960s.Jimmie David Post was born on Oct. 28, 1939, in Houston and grew up on a farm about 20 miles outside the city. His father was a longshoreman, his mother a homemaker.A singer from an early age, Jim won a school talent contest in first grade, which led to a performance on a local radio show. Later, he told The Chicago Sun-Times in 1972, he was a “successful evangelistic singer” who had performed in more than 500 churches around the United States by the time he was 22.In the early 1960s, Mr. Post became part of a three-man folk group, the Rum Runners, which in 1963 released a version of the traditional song “You Gotta Quit Kickin’ My Dog Around” as a single on Mercury Records. When they played at a club in Kansas City, Mo., a year later, Dick Brown of The Kansas City Star wrote, “To a major extent, the vocals depend on the remarkable tenor voice of Jim Post.”While on tour in Canada with the Rum Runners, Mr. Post met Ms. Conn, a dancer, and left the group to be with her. They soon began performing as Friend & Lover and made their name at the Earl of Old Town, a folk club in Chicago where singers like Steve Goodman and John Prine also performed.Although Friend & Lover was a folk act, their records used studio musicians and achieved more of a pop sound — and, at least at first, pop success.After the breakup of both Friend & Lover and his marriage to Ms. Conn, Mr. Post became a solo act and returned to folk music.“Jim was a wonderful character with a wide vocal range,” the folk singer Bonnie Koloc, who watched Mr. Post perform both with Ms. Conn and alone at the Earl of Old Town, said in an interview. “He was such an enthusiastic performer. We all loved him.”Mr. Post, who was married and divorced five times, is survived by a daughter and a grandson.He later changed directions, conceiving and touring with one-man musical shows. The first, in 1986, was “Galena Rose: How Whiskey Won the West,” about a 19th-century lead-mining rush in Galena, Ill., where he lived for many years.Then, in the mid-1990s, when he began to look like Mark Twain, Mr. Post created “Mark Twain and the Laughing River,” a show that married his songs to Twain’s words. The CD of the show earned him an American Library Association award for notable recordings.He followed that about a decade later with “Mark Twain’s Adventures Out West.”“Reach Out of the Darkness” remained a notable part of Mr. Post’s life 54 years after its release, through continued airplay and the royalties he received.“Two months ago, he got a check for $6,000,” his friend Bob Postel said in an interview.He added: “He was always proud that he wrote it and it surprised the hell out of him that it was a hit. That song paid for a lot of gas.” More

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      Eleri Ward Captures the Longing at the Heart of Sondheim’s Work

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      On her new album, the singer fuses Stephen Sondheim’s emo register with a familiar coffeehouse folk sound.The so-called “I want” song is a convention — if not a rule — of musical theater scores. From “I’ll Know” in “Guys and Dolls” to “My Shot” in “Hamilton,” these thesis statements by leading characters typically come early in a show, hitching the plot’s momentum to their ambitions or dreams.Stephen Sondheim, arguably the greatest of musical theater songwriters, didn’t write many conventional “I want” songs — one great exception being the long “I wish” prologue to “Into the Woods” — but it was not for want of wanting. The characters he wrote for had huge, often doomed desires, whether it was the impossible no-strings intimacy Bobby seeks in “Company” or the apocalyptic retribution demanded by the demonic barber Sweeney Todd, and they expressed them in accordingly expansive musical terms.Among the qualities that Eleri Ward, a preternaturally gifted young singer whose guitar-based interpretations of Sondheim lit up last year’s brilliant album “A Perfect Little Death,” and whose follow-up collection, “Keep a Tender Distance,” is being released by Ghostlight Records on Friday, captures in her performances is the vast, unquenchable longing at the heart of the master’s work. This is not the nervy, brassy Sondheim of “Getting Married Today” or “Putting It Together,” but the wounded soul who wrote “Not a Day Goes By” and “Unworthy of Your Love,” two songs that appear on the new album.Ward plumbs this deep well in a way that feels so intuitively right, it’s remarkable no one has done it before: She has fused this emo Sondheim register with a familiar coffeehouse folk sound, adding delicate fingerpicking guitar accompaniment to support her limber, expressive soprano. In her hands, it’s not hard to imagine these songs as the creation of an especially gifted — if occasionally bloody-minded — indie singer-songwriter.Ward’s new album, “Keep a Tender Distance,” will be released on Friday.-A conservatory-trained singer and musician who grew up on musical theater, as well as pop, in Chicago, Ward, 28, stumbled on this folk-Sondheim sound when she picked up a friend’s guitar and, inspired in part by Sufjan Stevens in his mellower mode, recorded a version of “Every Day a Little Death” on Instagram in 2019. Kurt Deutsch, Ghostlight’s founder and president, later discovered her version of “Johanna (Reprise)” on TikTok, and said of that moment, “There was just a balm that came over me.” He reached out to her to see if she had more like it, and soon she did.“A Perfect Little Death” was mostly “made in her closet during the pandemic,” Deutsch said. It led to a series of live shows, first at Rockwood Music Hall in Manhattan, then at Joe’s Pub, where she sang a duet of “Loving You” with Donna Murphy, who first sang it as Fosca in Sondheim and James Lapine’s 1994 musical, “Passion.” In an interview, Murphy raved about Ward’s “unicorn of a voice,” adding that she especially admired that “there is nothing about Eleri that is struggling for a quality; it just all feels so fluid.”Josh Groban, who was in the audience at that first Rockwood gig and who later invited Ward to open for him on a recent concert tour, noted the “wonderful line” of her voice, which he said goes against the grain not only of the spikiness of a lot of pop music vocals, but also of what he called the “staccato in Sondheim.” (Groban will find out more about that when he stars in a “Sweeney Todd” revival on Broadway next spring.) Sondheim’s music “connects the brain to the heart,” he said, but what Ward does is “find ways to smooth the songs out and bring even more heart into the performance.”Though she reads music, Ward said she arrives at her guitar and vocal arrangements by ear, spinning the cast albums to learn the songs, then “never listening to them again.” Likewise, on “Keep a Tender Distance,” the string parts by Ellis Ludwig-Leone (“The king of moody strings,” as Ward put it) were derived from her demos rather than from the original orchestrations.The resulting interpretations are somehow both spare and lush, honoring the complexity of Sondheim’s compositions without, as the album’s producer, Allen Tate, put it, “trying to outthink” the original material. Tate, who with Ludwig-Leone is a member of the Brooklyn band San Fermin, added that “what Eleri does well is take what is really speaking to her about these songs, and then try to lay that bare, as opposed to dressing them up beyond what they already are.”“Every song explores some sort of distance from what you want or what you don’t have, and it all rolls forward,” Ward said of the 14 songs on her new album.Amy Lombard for The New York TimesThe 14 songs on “Keep a Tender Distance” don’t constitute a cast or concept album, exactly, but there is a kind of emotional logic to their order, from the questioning opener, “Merrily We Roll Along,” to the resolute closer, “Move On.”“The whole record is moving through space in all these different ways,” Ward told me. “Every song explores some sort of distance from what you want or what you don’t have, and it all rolls forward.”Among the album’s high points is a subtly reimagined “Another Hundred People” that suggests the original’s vertiginous pace, but is more heartbroken than breakneck, and a stark, haunting take on “Marry Me a Little,” the song from “Company” that gives the album its title and may be Sondheim’s quintessential push-me-pull-you expression of unfulfilled desire.While many singers tend to lean into the song’s delusional hope that an easy-to-handle relationship might be just around the corner (“I’m ready now!”), Ward’s voice, alternating between what Murphy called the “whistle tones” of falsetto and a Fosca-like lower register, conveys crushing need more than sunny optimism.Ward, who is currently understudying two tracks in the new musical “Only Gold” at MCC Theater, and who has recorded her own original pop music, may be feeling a bit like Bobby in “Company”: pulled in many directions by contradictory impulses. The new record, she said, is infused with the sense of, “I’m far away from the thing that I want.” Of course, that might be why it sounds so very Sondheim. More

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      Art Rosenbaum, Painter and Preserver of Folk Music, Dies at 83

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      As an artist and exponent of American traditional songs, he sought to blur the lines between outsider and insider art, and became a guiding force in the Athens, Ga., scene.ATLANTA — Art Rosenbaum, a painter and folk musician acclaimed for a half-century of field recordings of American vernacular music, including old-time Appalachian fiddle tunes and ritual music imported from Africa by enslaved people, died on Sept. 4 at a hospital in Athens, Ga., his adopted hometown. He was 83.His son, Neil Rosenbaum, said the cause was complications of cancer.Art Rosenbaum’s passion for documenting a broad range of American musical traditions as they were passed down and performed at work camps, church gatherings and rural living rooms expanded upon the famous field recording work of the ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax. An important inspiration was Pete Seeger, another high-profile 20th-century champion of folk music. Mr. Rosenbaum wrote that Mr. Seeger had once told him, “Don’t learn from me, learn from the folks I learned from.”Mr. Rosenbaum called it “good advice, and the kick in the rear that got me going.”“Outside Carnesville,” oil on linen, 1983-84. Mr. Rosenbaum’s paintings often depicted the musicians he recorded, as he did here, with Mabel Cawthorn on the banjo.Art RosenbaumIn 2007, the Atlanta-based label Dust-to-Digital released the first of two box sets of compilations from Mr. Rosenbaum’s trove, “Art of Field Recording Volume I: Fifty Years of Traditional American Music Documented by Art Rosenbaum,” which won a Grammy Award for best historical album.The pop music website Pitchfork called the release “revelatory” and “an indispensable counterpoint to Harry Smith’s ‘Anthology of American Folk Music,’” a reference to the 1952 song compilation that remains a canonical touchstone for folk musicians.Like Mr. Smith, the bohemian polymath who compiled the “Anthology,” Mr. Rosenbaum was an accomplished visual artist. As an art teacher, he spent the bulk of his career at the University of Georgia, in Athens, where his energetic paintings, often depicting the musicians he recorded, and his ideas about the democratization of culture had an influence that resonated far beyond the classroom.Michael Stipe, the visual artist and singer with the Athens rock band R.E.M., who was a student of Mr. Rosenbaum’s in the early 1980s, said Mr. Rosenbaum’s goal “was to blur the lines between what is outsider and insider, and to bring together this untrained music and art with trained music and art, and acknowledge that each have immense power, and that they’re not that far apart.”A portrait of Michael Stipe, the R.E.M. singer, a student of Mr. Rosenbaum’s, as well as a subject of his paintings.Art Rosenbaum, Collection of the Peasant CorporationArthur Spark Rosenbaum was born on Dec. 6, 1938, in Ogdensburg, N.Y., in St. Lawrence County. His mother, Della Spark Rosenbaum, was a medical illustrator who encouraged her children’s artistic inclinations. His father, David Rosenbaum, was an Army pathologist who sometimes sang what his son described as “Northern street songs.” Arthur later recorded one of these songs, his father’s a cappella version of the ribald 18th-century Child ballad “Our Goodman,” and included it in the 2007 box set.The family eventually moved to Indianapolis, where Mr. Rosenbaum, entranced by traditional music, absorbed the Harry Smith anthology and the contemporary folk stars of the day. In high school he won an art contest at the Indiana State Fair and spent the $25 prize money on a five-string banjo. He went on to become a pre-eminent expert on traditional banjo playing and tunings and to record several albums.In the mid-1950s Mr. Rosenbaum moved to New York City, then the epicenter of the burgeoning folk revival, earning an undergraduate degree in art history and a master’s degree in fine arts from Columbia University. In the summers he worked at a resort hotel on Lake Michigan, where he began making recordings of nearby field workers from Mexico and the American South.In 1958, Mr. Rosenbaum tracked down and recorded in Indianapolis a musician named Scrapper Blackwell, whom he described as “one of the best and most influential blues guitarists of the 1920s and ’30s.” Back in New York, as Mr. Rosenbaum was fond of recalling, a fellow roots music obsessive named Bob Dylan would pester him for any details he could muster about Mr. Blackwell’s life and playing style.“Shady Grove,” 2009. Mr. Rosenbaum sought out traditional Black and white musicians, revealing a shared cultural history.Art RosenbaumIt was in New York that Mr. Rosenbaum met the artist Margo Newmark, who became his wife and lifelong collaborator. She survives him.In addition to her and his son, Neil, a filmmaker and musician, he is survived by a sister, Jenny Rosenbaum, a writer; and a brother, Victor Rosenbaum, a concert pianist.After eight years of teaching studio art at the University of Iowa, Mr. Rosenbaum in 1976 took a similar job at the University of Georgia’s Lamar Dodd School of Art. With Athens as a home base, he and Ms. Newmark Rosenbaum continued making field recordings, many of them in and around Georgia, and giving the musicians they met opportunities to play before new audiences.“As these traditional musicians were identified and then brought out,” said Judith McWillie, an emerita art professor at the university, “and as there were more festivals and opportunities for them to play, people began to envision an identity for Georgia that was somewhat different from the one that it had. This was the 1970s, and coming off some extremely difficult times in the South.”Folk music, she said, revealed a shared cultural history: “The musicians Art brought out were Black and white.”In 1984, Mr. Rosenbaum recorded an album of stories and songs by Howard Finster, the self-taught artist, preacher and self-proclaimed “man of visions” whose work has become indelibly associated with 20th-century Georgia after its use on album covers by R.E.M. and the band Talking Heads.Untitled Diptych, 2014. Many of Mr. Rosenbaum’s paintings are allegorical works in which the old and the new cohabitate, with traditional musicians sharing space with modern-day hipsters.Art RosenbaumHe also recorded the McIntosh County Shouters, an African American group from coastal Georgia who performed the “ring shout,” which Mr. Rosenbaum described as “an impressive fusion of call-and-response singing, polyrhythmic percussion and expressive and formalized dancelike movements.” The ring shout, he asserted, was “the oldest African American performance tradition on the North American continent.”Brenton Jordan, a member of the group, said of the Rosenbaums, “It’s their legwork that actually kind of introduced the McIntosh County Shouters to the world.” He noted that the ring shout, once on the verge of extinction, has in recent years been performed by his group in Washington at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and the National Museum of African American History and Culture.The Rosenbaums published a book on the ring shout in 1998. With drawings of the performers by Mr. Rosenbaum and photos of them by Ms. Newmark Rosenbaum, it depicts a place and a culture that seems beguilingly out of phase with modern life.Many of Mr. Rosenbaum’s other paintings and drawings are loose allegorical works in which the old and the new clash and cohabitate, with traditional musicians sharing space on the canvas with modern-day hipsters, skateboarders and documentarians (often Mr. Rosenbaum himself).As a painter, he was inspired by Cezanne and Max Beckmann, the German Expressionist. At times his work recalls the painting of Thomas Hart Benton, the American regionalist. Some of Mr. Rosenbaum’s works are large murals on historical themes.Pete Seeger once told Mr. Rosenbaum, “Don’t learn from me, learn from the folks I learned from.” That advice set him on a decades-long project of seeking out unrecorded musicians.via Rosenbaum familyBeginning in the late 1970s, Athens saw an explosion of forward-thinking rock musicians, many of whom, like Mr. Stipe, had ties to the Georgia art school. Mr. Rosenbaum’s passions always ran to traditional music, but he remained an inspiration for contemporary musicians.Lance Ledbetter, the founder and co-director of the Dust-to-Digital label, recalled Vic Chesnutt, the brilliant, idiosyncratic Athens-based songwriter who died in 2009, speaking of Mr. Rosenbaum, quoting him as saying:“When you move to Athens, and you hear about this guy who plays banjo and knows all of these songs, you just follow him around like a puppy dog. And I’m not the only one who did that.” More

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      75 Pop and Jazz Albums, Shows and Festivals Coming This Fall

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      Major live events (Adele, Rosalía), buzzy debuts (Muni Long, Skullcrusher), energized returns (the Comet Is Coming, Kid Cudi) and a Taylor Swift LP are on the way.Live music made a roaring return this year, as artists who paused touring plans for the pandemic flooded back to the road. Arenas, jazz clubs, rock spots, cozy cabaret rooms: they’re booked solid this fall, giving musicians and fans a chance to reconnect. The release calendar is jam-packed, too, though many of pop’s biggest names haven’t announced autumn albums — yet. (One big exception? Taylor Swift.) But the schedule is stocked with LPs from emerging artists, established acts and a few pioneers who still have plenty to say. Dates are subject to change; check vaccine and mask requirements for individual performers and venues.ROSALÍA A few months ago, Lorde slipped a cover of Rosalía’s saucy “Hentai” into her set at Radio City Music Hall; this month, New Yorkers have a chance to hear it straight from the source, on the same stage. Currently on the road supporting her genre-busting album “Motomami,” the Spanish superstar hits Boston on Sept. 15, then cities including New York, Toronto and Chicago before heading to California. From a doggedly inventive artist who’s as meticulous about her visuals as her music, this stage show features sharp choreography, a seamless backdrop and even the singer giving herself an onstage haircut. (In North America through Oct. 22) — Olivia HornROXANA AMED For this Argentine-born, Miami-based vocalist, jazz is a loose and syncretic system, suitable for mingling traditions from across the Americas. The luxurious darkness of her alto might recall contemporaries like Cassandra Wilson or Claudia Acuña, but Amed is distinguished by her scholarly tack. “Unánime” (the title translates to “Anonymous”) is both a response and a kind of resistance to one question she’s often asked, about her relationship to the so-called Latin jazz tradition. The album includes covers of artists as varied as Egberto Gismonti and Miles Davis, as well as new originals, anchored by the piano playing of a now-80-year-old Chucho Valdés. (Sept. 16; Sony Latin) — Giovanni RussonelloBLACKPINK Perhaps the biggest girl group in K-pop, Blackpink is also the genre’s most playfully eclectic. “Pink Venom,” the first single from its second album, “Born Pink,” has traditional Korean instruments, old-school rap, boomy EDM beats and boasts about their stuff going “straight to your dome like whoa, whoa, whoa.” A world tour this fall includes a handful of American dates. (Sept. 16; YG Entertainment/Interscope) — Ben SisarioMICHELLE BRANCH With Y2K nostalgia thriving, Michelle Branch — whose pop-rock anthems “Everywhere” and “All You Wanted” made her a teen star in 2001 — released an updated version of her debut, “The Spirit Room,” last year. But, hardly content to be a throwback act, Branch has new music in the pipeline, too. Written and recorded with the Black Keys drummer Patrick Carney, “The Trouble With Fever” balances alt-rock edge with decadent orchestral pop flourishes. (Sept. 16; Audio Eagle/Nonesuch/Warner Records) — HornNOAH CYRUS When she began her music career at age 16, Noah Cyrus — already caught in spillover from her sister Miley’s spotlight — hunted for her sound in full public view. Her early efforts, aligned with hip-hop and R&B, didn’t stick, and she has since retreated to her Nashville roots. On “The Hardest Part,” her debut album, she draws pedal steel, banjo, fiddle and harmonica from a robust country tool kit on songs that foreground her struggles with addiction and noxious romance. (Sept. 16; Records/Columbia) — HornDEATH CAB FOR CUTIE Twenty-five years into its career, the band brings its incisive, anguished writing to a particularly 2022 brand of existential angst on its 10th album, “Asphalt Meadows.” The songs spool and spiral, commenting on the slow-motion dread of a warming planet, the ache and anger of pandemic politics and the desperation of lockdown. “These nights, I don’t know how I survive,” Ben Gibbard repeats on the first track, howling over a distorted gnarl of guitar. It’s a tidy thesis statement for an expansive album: He doesn’t know how he makes it through, but he’s delighted that he does. (Sept. 16; Atlantic) — Dani BlumSKYLER GENTRY The performer and writer Ben Zook, host of the cheeky web series “Where the Bears Are,” brings “The Dirty Show With Skyler Gentry” to the West Bank Cafe’s Laurie Beechman Theater on Sept. 22-23. Expect an evening of raunch and revelations from “America’s favorite actor-singer-dancer-psychic,” as Zook is billing his alter ego. The venue’s lineup also features the drag darling and television personality Tammie Brown (Sept. 16-17), the elegant soprano stylings of Shana Farr (Oct. 7, 12 and 20, Nov. 12), the queenly revisionism of Distorted Diznee (Sept. 23, Oct. 21, Nov. 18, Dec. 9), the supple harmonies of Those Girls (Oct. 2, 15 and 29, Nov. 3), the caressing interpretations of Linda Viggiano (Oct. 13, Nov. 11) and the diva impressionist nonpareil Christine Pedi (Dec. 16-17). — Elysa GardnerLITTLE BIG TOWN The country group Little Big Town recruited over 30 songwriters for its latest album, “Mr. Sun,” a sweeping record that oscillates between whistling, warbling songs and despondent breakup anthems. These are glossy, pop-inspired tracks — “Why are songs never long enough to hold you?” the band coos over disco beats on “Heaven Had a Dance Floor” — but they also confront the turmoil brewing beneath the burbling bass lines. “I go to bed to sleep you off, and I wake up feeling better/Ain’t too proud to push it down, but I’m a terrible forgetter,” they howl on “Three Whiskeys and the Truth.” (Sept. 16; Capitol Records Nashville) — BlumMARCUS MUMFORD The Mumford & Sons frontman trades his galloping guitar and ragged harmonies for introspective anthems on his debut solo album, “(Self-Titled).” Childhood trauma, prolonged breakups, losing faith — Mumford doesn’t shy away from the heaviest topics here. (“Each word is a cut that I see coming/I clench my fists as I’m inflicting them,” he murmurs on “Prior Warning.”) He recruits Phoebe Bridgers, Clairo and Brandi Carlile to help bring some air into his intense self-examination, but even on these duets, Mumford and his gravelly voice remain the focus. (Sept. 16; Capitol) — BlumMarcus Mumford’s debut solo album doesn’t shy away from painful topics.Emma Mcintyre/Getty Images For KroqMURA MASA The English producer Mura Masa can contort any sound into a rave-ready thumper. On “Demon Time,” his pandemic dread-inspired album, he cobbles club hits out of dial-up tones, revving engines, screeching cars and sludgy synths. A cadre of hyper-online collaborators sing and rap over his bleeping, blurry beats, including Lil Uzi Vert, Shygirl and PinkPantheress. “Life in a box, start watching TV/Brain like mush always staring at screens,” the British rapper Slowthai snarls on “Up All Week,” over frenetic flashes of fizz. (Sept. 16; Anchor Point Records/Interscope) — BlumLeANN RIMES Twenty-five years after LeAnn Rimes released her first song — the yearning ’90s country classic “Blue,” which she delivered as a 13-year-old with the ache of someone three times her age — the singer-songwriter is ready to take some risks. On “God’s Work,” a nod to the Christian music she’s put out in the past and the album’s devotional undercurrent, she slides through swelling piano ballads and guitar-heavy reggae, crescendoing choruses and gentle, lilting hums. “If we ain’t seeing God in everyone,” she muses on the title track, “then we ain’t seeing God at all.” (Sept. 16; EverLe Records via Thirty Tigers/ The Orchard) — BlumREMEMBERING TOMASZ STANKO Until his death four years ago, the Polish trumpeter Tomasz Stanko was among the most respected improvisers and bandleaders in Europe, unmistakable for his terse economy and saturnine tone. He grew up in Soviet-era Rzeszów, where he first heard jazz via Voice of America broadcasts in the postwar years. In his mid-60s he realized a lifelong dream and moved to New York. Now, in what would have been his 80th year, Stanko will be celebrated in a special tribute concert in Brooklyn, featuring admirers and collaborators from Europe and the United States: the trumpeters Ambrose Akinmusire and Wadada Leo Smith; the guitarist Jakob Bro; the saxophonists Ravi Coltrane, Joe Lovano and Chris Potter; and others. (Sept. 18; Roulette) — RussonelloCÉCILE McLORIN SALVANT Since winning the Thelonious Monk International Jazz Competition in 2010, Cécile McLorin Salvant has earned consistent praise (and three Grammys) for her witty, rangy singing, as well suited to Rodgers and Hart and Kurt Weill as to blues classics and Kate Bush. Her song cycle “Ogresse” blends folk, jazz, country and baroque influences, and she’ll appear Sept. 20-25 at the Blue Note, where other artists this season include the silky-voiced rising jazz star Samara Joy (Sept. 12, Sept. 26), the Harlem Gospel Choir (Sept. 18, Oct. 16, Nov. 13), the prolific trumpeter and vocalist Keyon Harrold (Oct. 16-19) and the soulful, genre-blending group Tank and the Bangas + Friends (Nov. 11-13). — GardnerCécile McLorin Salvant will bring the full range of her vocal talents to the Blue Note this month.Pawel Supernak/EPA, via ShutterstockALEX G For more than a decade, this unlikely star of Philadelphia’s D.I.Y. scene has been cranking out defiantly odd homespun recordings, keeping his head down and choosing close friends and family as collaborators even after accruing mainstream clout (see: his contributions to Frank Ocean’s “Blonde”). “God Save the Animals,” his ninth album, smashes together elements of folk, rock and noise music and subjects them to funhouse-mirror distortion, with results that are alternately eerie and endearing, and, as usual, resistant to interpretation. (Sept. 23; Domino) — HornCHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS PRESENTS REDCAR Since assuming the Christine and the Queens moniker in 2010, this French singer has become known for body-friendly funk-pop with nuanced ideas about gender norms and performance. With a new alias, Redcar, reflecting an evolving identity (“My journey with gender has always been tumultuous,” the artist told The New York Times earlier this year), he is back with his first album in four years, “Redcar les Adorables Étoiles (Prologue).” Sung almost entirely in French, the album feels beamed from the ’80s, with chunky, ultra-synthetic arrangements counterbalancing the singer’s lithe, expressive voice. (Sept. 23; Because Music) — HornKELSEA BALLERINI On “Subject to Change,” Kelsea Ballerini animates her perky country-pop with succinct, specific details — the partner who leaves a light on for her when she comes home after a night drinking with friends, the blasé thrill of a hand on the small of her back. Her new album is filled with strum-along tracks about growing up (her verdict: “It kinda hurts like hell/it’s chaotic, ironic”) and delving deeper into new relationships and long-term friendships (“I’ve known you since Brad and Angelina”). Even while extolling how hard it is to leave adolescence behind, she makes maturity sound easy. (Sept. 23; Black River Entertainment) — BlumKelsea Ballerini’s new album, “Subject to Change,” revels in the details.Amy Harris/Invision, via Associated PressTHE COMET IS COMING Of the saxophonist Shabaka Hutchings’s many projects, the Comet Is Coming is the most closely linked to London’s electronic music mainstream. Mixing jazz methodology with loops, spiraling effects and Hutchings’s retrofits of Caribbean rhythm, this trio seems intent on humanizing the EDM beat while actually upping its power, not diluting it. Hutchings, the keyboardist Dan Leavers and the drummer Max Hallett (in the band they go by King Shabaka, Danalogue and Betamax) recorded their fourth album, “Hyper-Dimensional Expansion Beam,” in a series of jam sessions. The LP finds each player showing newfound restraint, leaving more room for the listener than on any of the trio’s earlier releases. (Sept. 23; Impulse!) — RussonelloDR. JOHN The New Orleans piano man who embodied the musical mélange of his hometown had the kind of drawly, lived-in voice that only improved with age. So “Things Happen That Way” — Dr. John’s final album, recorded the year he died, 2019 — captures him in peak form. The album honors the singer’s country influences via covers of classics by Hank Williams (a swaggering “Ramblin’ Man”) and Willie Nelson (a wry “Funny How Time Slips Away”), who also duets with the good doctor on a funky “Gimme That Old Time Religion.” A few originals — a reprise of “I Walk on Guilded Splinters,” from Dr. John’s voodoo-inspired 1968 debut, and new tracks including “Holy Water,” inspired by his early ’60s drug arrest — frame him as a key link in the American lineage he so revered. (Sept. 23; Rounder) — Hank ShteamerMUNI LONG “Public Displays of Affection: The Album,” a new collection from the R&B singer-songwriter Muni Long, isn’t exactly a debut. But it might register as one, since the artist’s prior two full-lengths came out under the name Priscilla Renea, before she assumed her current alias (a playful rendering of “money long”) and scored a Top 20 hit with the sultry “Hrs and Hrs.” Joining material from two earlier EPs are new tracks that betray her years of experience in the pop songwriting trenches. “Butterfly Effect” unleashes her formidable vocal range on a fantasy of undoing a painful romance; “Conversation” returns to the luxurious feel of “Hrs and Hrs,” paying tribute to the simple joys of talking it out. (Sept. 23; Supergiant/Def Jam) — ShteamerMAKAYA McCRAVEN The drummer Makaya McCraven has been blurring the line between bandleader and beatsmith for the better part of a decade now. And over time, his blend of live performance and hip-hop production technique has become both more organic and more grandiose: The making of his newest album, “In These Times,” was shaped by a string of shows he played with large ensembles, transposing his production approach to a live band that featured harp, vibraphone and a frontline of horns. Though the arrangements skew polyrhythmic and layered, and McCraven did his fair share of cutting and editing, the communal flow of the full group reigns. (Sept. 23; International Anthem/Nonesuch/XL) — RussonelloFor Makaya McCraven’s “In These Times,” he adapted his cut-and-edit approach to a large live band.Marcin Obara/EPA, via ShutterstockANGELICA SÁNCHEZ This pianist and composer has yet to receive her full due, but at 50 she continues to churn out fabulous acoustic free jazz recordings at an unfettered clip. On her latest acoustic-trio album, “Sparkle Beings,” recorded at Rudy Van Gelder’s former studios in New Jersey, she partners with an expert rhythm section: the bassist Michael Formanek and the immortal drummer Billy Hart, a longtime inspiration and new collaborator for Sánchez. The trio lays into some ear-grabbing originals, plus works by Cecil Taylor, Mary Lou Williams, Duke Ellington (the album closes with a somersaulting take on “The Sleeping Lady and the Giant That Watches Over Her,” from his “Latin American Suite”) and the Mexican composer Mario Ruíz Armengol. (Sept. 23; Sunnyside) — RussonelloVIEUX FARKA TOURÉ and KHRUANGBIN The whole world now celebrates desert blues — the hypnotic Saharan style currently performed by Tinariwen and Mdou Moctar — thanks largely to one musician: the Malian guitarist-singer Ali Farka Touré. His son and musical successor honors him on “Ali,” an inspired team-up with Khruangbin, a Houston trio that has garnered its own passionate following thanks to its exquisitely chill, globally seasoned grooves. On “Diarabi,” from Ali’s 1994 album with Ry Cooder, Vieux’s plaintive vocals and guitar hover over the band’s plush yet unshakable pulse. On “Mahine Me,” played acoustically on Ali’s 1992 LP “The Source,” the zydeco accordionist Ruben Moreno sits in for a buoyant interpretation of a Songhai proverb. These covers point back to their source while casting their own spell. (Sept. 23; Dead Oceans) — ShteamerGLOBAL CITIZEN FESTIVAL During the past decade, Global Citizen has raised more than $40 billion to combat extreme poverty, with an annual all-star event on Central Park’s Great Lawn as its flagship event. Fans can enter a ticket drawing by signing petitions, calling leaders or sharing informational videos, and this year, their incentives include a 10th-anniversary lineup featuring the pop empress Mariah Carey, the thrash titans Metallica, the Spanish pop revolutionary Rosalía, the country trailblazer Mickey Guyton, the glammed-up Italian rockers Maneskin and the resurgent hitmakers the Jonas Brothers. A companion fest, held simultaneously in Accra, Ghana, plays up the event’s international reach, pairing American stars like SZA, Usher and H.E.R. with Afrobeats luminaries including Tems and Sarkodie. (Sept. 24; Central Park) — ShteamerTAYLOR HAWKINS TRIBUTE CONCERT Taylor Hawkins wasn’t just the Foo Fighters’ drummer; he was also a full-time poster boy for the band’s arena-conquering rock ’n’ roll quest. So it’s fitting that the Foos will give Hawkins — who died in March at age 50 — a hero’s send-off at this Los Angeles blowout, which follows a similar event in London. The guest list traces the full arc of his career, touching on his early idols (Queen’s Roger Taylor, the Police’s Stewart Copeland), his first high-profile boss (Alanis Morissette), his drummer peers (Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Chad Smith, Rage Against the Machine’s Brad Wilk) and various pop-star pals (Pink, Miley Cyrus). Expect a heartfelt memorial that doubles as a loud, sweaty scream-along. (Sept. 27; Kia Forum) — ShteamerZACHARY CLAUSE For those not ready to leave summer behind, the cunning charmer Zachary Clause returns to Pangea on Sept. 29-30 with “On a Beach,” drawing inspiration from Hollywood and Fire Island, Rodgers and Hart and post-punk pop. The East Village nightspot will also offer new shows by the seasoned provocateur Penny Arcade and her longtime creative partner Steve Zehentner (Sept. 17) and house favorite Tammy Faye Starlite (Nov. 3 and 10), who’ll apply her beneficent irreverence to the Rolling Stones catalog. The coolly eclectic vocalist Zora Rasmussen is in residency the third Thursday of each month through December, and the long-treasured actor, director and theater guru Austin Pendleton will continue his collaboration with the singer, actor and musician Barbara Bleier in a tribute to Richard Rodgers, set for Oct. 4, 11 and 25. — GardnerTITUS ANDRONICUS “The Will to Live,” the seventh LP by the classicist New Jersey punk act Titus Andronicus, doesn’t aim quite as high as its Civil War-inspired “The Monitor” or its rock opera “The Most Lamentable Tragedy.” But it still finds the bandleader Patrick Stickles howling out big questions following the 2021 death of Matt (Money) Miller, his cousin and the band’s founding keyboardist. On “I Can Not Be Satisfied,” he belts that he isn’t afraid to die, “I’m much more frightened to survive,” on a chorus that sounds like the E Street Band tearing through a dive-bar encore. Fittingly, the actual Springsteen sideman Jake Clemons adds ambling piano to the down-and-out closer “69 Stones.” (Sept. 30; Merge) — ShteamerBJÖRK “Fossora,” the Icelandic musician’s first album in five years, is a pandemic-era project as only Björk could conceive it: a paean to the Earth and her late mother, filled with fantastical imagery of fungi and what she described as lots of “heavy bottom-end.” (Sept. 30; One Little Independent) — SisarioKID CUDI The man who famously branded himself “the lonely stoner” released a third installment of his “Man on the Moon” series in 2020, in which he continued to interrogate his angst and trace the sources of his trauma. Cudi returns for a new project in September, “Entergalactic” (arriving with an animated Netflix show that expands on its themes), which explores another very personal topic: love. (Sept 30; Republic) — BlumASHLEY McBRYDE This country singer-songwriter wields her intricate, intimate storytelling like a conductor on “Ashley McBryde Presents: Lindeville,” offering a guided tour of a fictional town where the strip club hosts a gospel night and even the funeral home comes with a catchy jingle. She passes the mic to country contemporaries like Aaron Raitiere, Pillbox Patti and the Brothers Osborne for songs that sketch out the landscape of Lindeville and its many characters — the woman in a turtleneck racing around in a red Corvette, the widow chalking the local ball field. It’s a fluorescent carnival of pedal steel and thumping guitar that proves McBryde can be a skilled curator, as well as a performer. (Sept. 30; Warner Music Nashville) — BlumAshley McBryde’s new album explores a fictional town in all of its hyperlocal glory.Katie Kauss/Getty ImagesWILCO In honor of the 20th anniversary of the lush, sprawling album often considered the best in Wilco’s catalog, the band is releasing seven new editions of “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot,” with a remastered version included in each set. The Super Deluxe iteration includes live concert recordings, radio performances, drafts and demos that trace the band tinkering with shards of the tracks, and 82 previously unreleased songs. The set also includes parts of a 2001 full-band interview with the Chicago radio station WXRT, one week after Sept. 11. (Sept. 30; Nonesuch) — BlumALYSHA UMPHRESS The powerhouse whose bluesy but ebullient belting was showcased in the 2015 Broadway revival of “On the Town” will present her first solo show in New York City since 2008 — titled “Alysha Umphress and Things … Like This” — at Joe’s Pub on Oct. 1-3. The Joe’s Pub Vanguard Residency will feature artists who studied with or were influenced by the beloved voice teacher Barbara Maier Gustern, who died in March, among them the downtown luminaries Penny Arcade (Nov. 29-Dec. 1) and Murray Hill (Dec. 13-17). Earlier, Machine Dazzle will celebrate the album release of “Treasure,” a “future psyche-sex-adelic synth rock experience” inspired by Dazzle’s mother and their relationship, on Oct. 21. — GardnerALVVAYS After a half-decade and a lineup shuffle, the dream-pop band fronted by Molly Rankin is back with “Blue Rev,” its third album. Across 14 songs, Rankin’s sharp character sketches are set against colorful scribbles of guitar and synths, padded with layers of fuzz. Working with Shawn Everett, an engineer and producer known for unorthodox techniques, Alvvays recorded much of the album in one sprint, managing to preserve the zingy immediacy of a live performance. (Oct. 7; Polyvinyl) — HornBROKEN BELLS Brian Burton, the A-list producer known as Danger Mouse, and the Shins leader James Mercer are a well-matched pair: pop auteurs who have carved out space in the mainstream while keeping their eccentricities intact. Their 2010 self-titled debut bathed Mercer’s trademark twisty hooks in Burton’s stylish psych-pop textures; “After the Disco” from 2014 added a dose of playful retro funk. “Into the Blue” is their moodiest trip yet, with the duo sending classic soul balladry (“Love on the Run”) and sumptuously spooky art pop (“We’re Not in Orbit Yet”) through a surreal prism. The album has its kitschier moments (the glam-rock-tinged “Saturdays”) but the overall mood suggests an alternate-dimension “AM Gold” compilation: soothing and unsettling by turns. (Oct. 7; AWAL) — ShteamerCHLOE MORIONDO Paramore, All Time Low and Girlpool were among the acts that Chloe Moriondo name-checked on “Favorite Band,” a 2021 song situating her own punkish brand of indie-pop within a broader lineage. “Suckerpunch,” her new album, smacks away indie signifiers: Out with the guitars and the earnestness, in with bravado, beat drops and Auto-Tune. The opener, “Popstar,” an apparent sequel to “Favorite Band,” outlines her ambitions, citing Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera as inspiration. Kesha in her dollar-sign era is another evident touchstone. (Oct. 7; Public Consumption/Fueled by Ramen) — HornCHARLIE PUTH What if … Charlie Puth finally finished the album? Over the past year, the pop star has been relentlessly teasing new music on TikTok, taking viewers through his song-making process from conception — like when he captured Foley-style audio of a studio light switch in the video that soft-launched the single “Light Switch” — to completion. On “Charlie,” Puth’s third album, a year’s worth of dribbles are assembled into a coherent whole: a tangy, lightly gimmicky record that sees Puth through the many phases of heartbreak. (Oct. 7; Atlantic) — HornWILL SHEFF The longtime leader of the elegant indie-folk band Okkervil River has described his solo debut as a clean break with the past. Inspired in part by the 2020 death of the band’s former drummer, Travis Nelsen, “Nothing Special” finds Will Sheff letting go of previously held ideas of romanticized self-destruction. The results reveal a new serenity but don’t fall back on easy truths. “Holy Man” plays like soft-rock Leonard Cohen, weighing temptation and redemption with equal skepticism, and “Estrangement Zone” finds a narrator “ready to withdraw” but worried about slipping into oblivion. The context may be new, but Sheff still showcases his gift for writing songs that harness both the glow of poetry and the gravity of hymns. (Oct. 7; ATO) — ShteamerSUN RA ARKESTRA The world is just beginning to catch up with Sun Ra, whose radical practice as a composer, pianist, bandleader, poet and philosopher presaged much of the work being done by artists and humanities scholars today, particularly (but not only) in the realm of Afrofuturism. Ra’s band, the Arkestra, remains active and thriving almost 30 years after his death, converting this renewed attention into fresh sound. “Living Sky” is an all-instrumental album recorded during the pandemic, featuring takes on a few classic Ra compositions as well as three originals by Marshall Allen, the 98-year-old alto saxophone iconoclast who now leads the band. (Oct. 7; Omni Sound) — RussonelloMarshall Allen leads the Sun Ra Arkestra through a new instrumental album recorded during the pandemic.Nate Palmer for The New York TimesMICHAEL FEINSTEIN Following a seven-year association with 54 Below, the singer, pianist, historian and American songbook advocate is attaching his brand to the Uptown institution where Bobby Short once held court. Feinstein’s first-ever engagement at Café Carlyle, set for Oct. 11-22, will include songs from “Gershwin Country,” his album featuring duets with Dolly Parton, Alison Krauss, Vince Gill and Liza Minnelli. Others due at the Carlyle include the Broadway and “Madam Secretary” alum Erich Bergen (Sept. 13-17), the actress and singer Betty Buckley (Sept. 27-Oct. 1), the pianist and vocalist Peter Cincotti (Sept. 20-24), the singer and actress Rita Wilson (Oct. 25-Nov. 5) and the beloved cabaret couple John Pizzarelli and Jessica Molaskey (Nov. 8-19). — GardnerHABIBI FESTIVAL Organized by the music arm of the Public Theater, this five-day event highlights performers who preserve and reinterpret the regional musical traditions of Southwest Asia and North Africa. In its second year, Habibi Festival’s lineup includes Bnat El Houariyat, an all-female percussion and dance group from Morocco; Bedouin Burger, a Syrian and Lebanese duo who explore Arabic melodic modes in their electronic compositions; and Hat, a Moroccan D.J. who travels the world to capture recordings of folk musicians, then remixes them live. The French-Tunisian composer Yacine Boulares, one of the festival’s curators, will also present the U.S. debut of his take on “Night in Tunisia,” imbuing the jazz standard with North African rhythms. (Oct. 11-15; Joe’s Pub) — HornBACKSTREET BOYS It’s a bridge every by-the-book pop act must cross eventually: the Christmas album. And the Backstreet Boys sound like they’re all in on their first holiday-themed effort, “A Very Backstreet Christmas,” whether they’re embracing vintage doo-wop on “White Christmas” and “Winter Wonderland” or going full carol on “Silent Night.” The standout numbers skew more modern: “Together,” one of three originals, a lite-R&B promise of holiday-season romance, and, best of all, a tastefully tempo-boosted reading of the gold standard of all boy-band Christmas efforts, Wham!’s “Last Christmas.” (Oct. 14; BMG) — ShteamerBILL CALLAHAN It’s tempting to view Bill Callahan’s three-decade evolution — from the lo-fi outsider art of his early ’90s recordings as Smog to his current mature-troubadour mode — as a gradual mellowing. But his songs’ ability to stop you in your tracks has only grown. “We warmed our hands in the corpse of a wild horse,” he sings over rolling fingerpicked guitar on “Everyway,” from “YTI⅃AƎЯ,” his upcoming eighth album under his own name. Then he works his way to a classic Callahan punchline: “At least we’re all in this horse together.” Elsewhere, he muses on childhood innocence while name-checking the Harlem Globetrotters great Meadowlark Lemon on the loose roots-rocker “Natural Information” and processes death with disarming tenderness on the ghostly folk song “Lily.” (Oct. 14; Drag City) — ShteamerBRIAN ENO There’s a new Brian Eno album on the way, but which Eno will show up? The master soundscapist who arguably invented ambient music, or the skewed pop auteur the world met on ’70s cult classics like “Here Come the Warm Jets”? On the upcoming “Foreverandevernomore,” it’s a little of both. The album is Eno’s first vocal-centric LP since 2005, but the tracks themselves — like “Garden of Stars,” where he chants about the mysteries of the cosmos against a backdrop of distorted synth buzz, or “We Let It In,” where he and his daughter Darla croon serenely from within a womblike tone bath — are as unapologetically abstract as anything in his catalog. (Oct. 14; Verve/UMC) — ShteamerMIKO MARKS This singer-songwriter’s “Feel Like Going Home” — her second album in two years, following a lengthy recording hiatus — arrives at a time when she and fellow artists of color are forcefully pushing back against racism in Nashville, past and present. The album finds Miko Marks broadening her sound to make room for her full range of influences, from Muscle Shoals-style Southern soul (“One More Night”) to sizzling blues (“River”) and soothing gospel (“Lay Your Burdens Down”). (Oct. 14; Redtone) — ShteamerSUE MATSUKI An author and a performers’ advice columnist as well as a long-admired entertainer, Matsuki was the first winner of the Mabel Mercer Foundation’s Julie Wilson Award in 2004. Now she’ll present “But Beautiful … a Tribute to Julie Wilson” in two parts during separate shows on Oct. 14 at the Green Room 42. Homages are also planned for Barbra Streisand (Jenna Pastuszek’s “Me, Myself & Barbra,” returning Dec. 17) and Britney Spears (Sean Stephens’s “One More Time,” Oct. 12), as the revue “At This Performance …” continues to showcase Broadway and Off Broadway understudies, standbys and alternates (Sept. 12, Nov. 21 and Dec. 12). “5 Questions With James and JAM” will deliver James Jackson Jr. and John-Andrew Morrison from the cast of the Tony-winning musical “A Strange Loop” on Sept. 19; “Leola’s Lady Land Lounge” will team Will Nolan’s Kelly Clarkson-loving drag persona with special guests on Oct. 6 and Dec. 5; and the new musicals “Fountain of You” and “Atlantis” will be performed in concert Sept. 26 and Oct. 2. — GardnerMIGHTMARE The new solo project from Sarah Shook, who fronts the country-punk outfit Sarah Shook & the Disarmers, was an insular-by-necessity product of the pandemic, written, recorded and produced by Shook during its first year. On “Cruel Liars,” Shook dials back the twang and down-home shuffle of Disarmers records while retaining their rough hew and stark, straightforward lyricism. Compact and nervy, the album centers the fallout of a bad breakup, but creeps toward optimism: “Ain’t gonna be no memory gonna haunt me down tonight,” Shook sings on its unexpectedly sweet final track. (Oct. 14; Kill Rock Stars) — HornRED HOT CHILI PEPPERS The return of one member to a legacy rock act shouldn’t mean that much these days. But the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ 2019 reinstatement of John Frusciante — the soulful and prodigiously skilled guitarist who had done two prior stints in the band since joining in 1988 — has been received like the righting of a cosmic imbalance. “Return of the Dream Canteen,” the band’s second new double LP of the year, helps explain why, distilling the quartet’s signature sound down to its essence: “Tippa My Tongue” checks every Chili Peppers box (Flea’s serpentine slap bass, Frusciante’s jewel-like chords, Anthony Kiedis’s audaciously corny rap couplets) without sounding tired, and tracks from the Eddie Van Halen-inspired “Eddie” to the glimmering, reggae-esque “Handful” summon that sun-baked pathos that’s always elevated the band’s Frusciante-era material. (Oct. 14; Warner Records) — ShteamerAnthony Kiedis, Flea and the rest of Red Hot Chili Peppers are releasing their second double album of 2022 in October.Rob Grabowski/Invision, via Associated PressSKULLCRUSHER The musician Helen Ballentine drummed up some early pandemic buzz with her debut EP, a set of folksy, confessional tunes that suited the hushed interiority of the moment. (Tellingly, she named a song after Nick Drake on a subsequent release.) With her first album, “Quiet the Room,” Ballentine, who performs as Skullcrusher, has grown more adventurous: Her delicate melodies bloom into dense sound collages, built up with layers of drones, field recordings and echoes that smudge out her vocals. The songs are spooky and stirring, like old photos whose context is long forgotten. (Oct. 14; Secretly Canadian) — HornTOVE LO “Dirt Femme,” Tove Lo’s fifth album, and the first for her own label, hones in on the twin forces that have animated her music since her breakout hit “Habits (Stay High)”: her deconstruction of femininity, especially as a queer woman, and her fascination with her own death drive. She rejects constraints of traditional gender roles (“Suburbia”), prods at the limits of body positivity (“Grapefruit”) and laments her draw to a conventional romance narrative. She finds clarity in club music, joining with the dance producers SG Lewis and Channel Tres to craft sticky, coruscating tracks. “It’s tough out in the real world,” she wails on “True Romance”; this LP offers a welcome distraction. (Oct. 14; Pretty Swede Records/Mtheory) — BlumWILD PINK “A Billion Little Lights,” Wild Pink’s acclaimed album from last year, wasn’t the frontier myth-themed double LP that the group’s frontman, John Ross, once planned — but its soft-edged rock did conjure a sense of road-meets-horizon vastness. The New York band’s follow-up, “ILYSM,” builds on that instinct with long songs full of unexpected detours. Though partly inspired by Ross’s battle with cancer while writing it, the record is more imagistic than diaristic, and more contemplative than despairing. Its most prominent theme is companionship, with the tenderness of the title track (shorthand for “I love you so much”) matched only by closer “ICLYM” (“I couldn’t love you more”). (Oct. 14; Royal Mountain) — HornIHEARTRADIO FIESTA LATINA The annual festival returns to Miami’s FTX Arena in honor of Hispanic Heritage Month. The one-night event brings established Latin rap and pop stars like Enrique Iglesias, Farruko and Nicky Jam alongside rising hitmakers like the glossy pop singer Becky G and the rapper Myke Towers. Iglesias will also receive this year’s iHeartRadio Corazón Latino Award, for his charitable endeavors as well as his musical legacy. (Oct. 15) — BlumBRIC JAZZFEST A multiday festival that gets more adventurous each year, BRIC JazzFest gives some of New York’s brightest rising talent the rare chance to perform on a major festival stage without leaving home. This year’s three-day marathon, held as usual at BRIC’s Downtown Brooklyn headquarters, will include sets from the vibraphonist Joel Ross and his nine-piece band, Parables; the vocalist Lizz Wright; the pianist Julius Rodriguez; and the trombonist Kalia Vandever, among dozens more. (Oct. 20-22; BRIC House) — RussonelloARCHERS OF LOAF Archers of Loaf perfected a certain strain of roaring, smartass indie rock on their 1993 debut, “Icky Mettle.” They broke up before the decade was done but, like so many of their peers, revved back up in the 2010s. On “Reason in Decline,” their first album in 24 years, the singer-guitarist Eric Bachmann reclaims the band’s lovably ornery spirit, working in the hard truths of middle age. “Tangled in the wasted time,” he sings on “Saturation and Light.” “Every little minute you stay in it/You blame yourself and it cuts you like a knife.” Whether he’s taking aim at the “masters of distraction” dominating the discourse on “Misinformation Age” or a troubled old friend on “Human,” his band provides a reliably stubborn kick. (Oct. 21; Merge) — ShteamerARCTIC MONKEYS This beloved British rock band has shape-shifted over its nearly two-decade career, pivoting from raucous anthems about caroming drunk through city streets to steamier, sleeker songs about anxious desire. For its seventh album, “The Car,” the band zags once more, teaming up again with its long-term producer James Ford for 10 mostly ballad-tempo songs, all written by the band’s lead singer, Alex Turner, that include classic-rock nods like string sections, carefully crooned vocals, funky guitars and plenty of dark observations. (Oct. 21; Domino) — BlumBABYFACE Kenneth (Babyface) Edmonds knows a thing or two about the female voice, having written songs for standouts including Aretha Franklin and Ariana Grande. His new album, “Girls Night Out,” harks back to the “Waiting to Exhale” soundtrack from 1995, where he assembled an all-star cast that featured the Queen of Soul alongside Whitney Houston, Mary J. Blige, Chaka Khan, TLC and more. This time around, he shows how sharp he still is as a producer, talent spotter and sometime vocalist, teaming up with an impressive selection of R&B up-and-comers, including the “Boo’d Up” singer Ella Mai on “Keeps on Falling,” a dance-floor-ready ode to enduring love; and Ari Lennox on “Liquor,” which equates romantic intoxication with the other kind. (Oct. 21; Capitol) — ShteamerBabyface’s “Girls Night Out” features collaborations with up-and-coming women artists.Kevin Winter/Getty ImagesCARLY RAE JEPSEN A dependable source of heart-eyed synth-pop, this Canadian singer rode the wave of poptimism all the way from her “Call Me Maybe” breakout to her current status as cult hero. The breezy first single from her new album, “The Loneliest Time,” showed her mellower side, but effervescence is still Jepsen’s default mode: Look out for the stratospheric chorus of “Surrender My Heart” and the escapist disco fantasia of “Shooting Star.” (Oct. 21; 604/Schoolboy/Interscope) — HornDRY CLEANING “My shoe organizing thing arrived/Thank God,” Florence Shaw deadpans over a swirling art-pop vamp on “Anna Calls From the Arctic,” the opening track of “Stumpwork,” the second LP from the young London quartet Dry Cleaning. The moment sums up the odd sense of composure that’s helped make Shaw one of the most compelling presences in the current British post-punk revival. But the band is a true collective: On the title track, Shaw’s bandmates wrap her words in gauzy textures that betray a hint of menace, heightening the weirdness of lines like, “I thought I saw a young couple clinging to a round baby/But it was a bundle of trash and food.” (Oct. 21; 4AD) — ShteamerTAYLOR SWIFT The pop superstar’s fifth album in just over two years will arrive this fall: “Midnights,” which she described on social media as “the story of 13 sleepless nights scattered throughout my life.” She added: “This is a collection of music written in the middle of the night, a journey through terrors and sweet dreams. The floors we pace and the demons we face.” “Midnights” will come too late to qualify for the next Grammys, but the album has a strong possibility of becoming one of the year’s biggest commercial successes, rivaling LPs like Harry Styles’s “Harry’s House.” (Oct. 21; Republic) — SisarioAngela Weiss/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesTEGAN AND SARA The Canadian twins have turned their open-book ethos into a robust brand, unpacking their origins as songwriters and queer women in a 2019 memoir, soon to become a TV series starring the TikTok creators Railey and Seazynn Gilliland. But as heard on the upcoming “Crybaby,” Tegan and Sara’s most revealing platform remains their songs. Twenty-plus years and 10 albums into their career, the sisters are experts at polishing their tracks to a sheen without sanding down the sharp emotional edges. Songs like “I Can’t Grow Up” and “____ Up What Matters” explore toxic relationship dynamics to the tune of peppy, hook-heavy pop. (Oct. 21; Mom + Pop) — ShteamerTHE MABEL MERCER FOUNDATION’S NEW YORK CABARET CONVENTION The organization’s 33rd fête rolls into Jazz at Lincoln Center’s Rose Hall on Oct. 26 with “Look to the Rainbow: The Songs of Yip Harburg,” hosted by Andrea Marcovicci and Jeff Harnar and featuring cabaret and theater fixtures such as Karen Akers, Christine Andreas, Tovah Feldshuh, Maude Maggart and Those Girls. On Oct. 27, Natalie Douglas hosts Darius de Haas, Eric Yves Garcia, Marilyn Maye, Gabrielle Stravelli, Billy Stritch and others in “Unforgettable: A Tribute to Nat King Cole,” and KT Sullivan wraps things up Oct. 28 with “Through the Years: Celebrating Timeless American Standards,” set to include performances by Celia Berk, Klea Blackhurst, Shana Farr, David LaMarr, Karen Mason, Sidney Myer and Mark Nadler. — GardnerOUMOU SANGARÉ Now that Tuareg desert blues is known around the world, Wassoulou — a style that favors female bandleaders and rides an equally infectious current of rhythm — is due for its own moment in the global sun. Oumou Sangaré, a Grammy-winning vocalist, songwriter and activist, is a household name in Mali and one of Wassoulou’s greatest ambassadors abroad. Singing in Bambara, she renders social critiques and affirmations of women’s power in a gravelly alto; on her latest release, “Timbuktu,” she shows off a wide range — singing over driving, front-loaded rhythms on some tracks, and offering wistful Malian ballads (think Toumani Diabaté and Ali Farka Touré) on others. She will make her Apollo debut at this concert, presented as part of the World Music Institute’s Women’s Voices series. (Oct. 29; Apollo Theater) — RussonelloTRIPPIE REDD This 23-year-old descended from the SoundCloud school of hip-hop: brash beats, soupy melodies, sludgy emo-rap. His new release, “A Love Letter to You 5,” continues a series — his last installment topped the charts when it came out in 2019 — and taps current heavyweights like Offset and Moneybagg Yo. The new album finds Trippie Redd crooning about being in love over twinkling guitars and skittering drums, swooping his vowels as he sings to a nameless “youuuu.” (October; 1400 Entertainment/10K Projects) — BlumTrippie Redd’s October release, “A Love Letter to You 5,” features Offset and Moneybagg Yo.Amy Harris/Invision, via Associated PressBOB DYLAN “The Philosophy of Modern Song,” Bob Dylan’s first book of new writing since “Chronicles: Volume One” (2004), promises lessons on the craft of songwriting — pro tips on “the trap of easy rhymes” and “how the addition of a single syllable can diminish a song,” according to his publisher — through 66 essays on a tantalizing track list including Elvis Costello’s “Pump It Up,” the Grateful Dead’s “Truckin’,” Hank Williams’s “Your Cheatin’ Heart” and three songs associated with Elvis Presley (“Blue Moon,” “Viva Las Vegas” and “Money Honey”). (Nov. 1; Simon & Schuster) — SisarioDANIEL AVERY The British dance music producer Daniel Avery opts for a darker, denser sound on “Ultra Truth,” distorting swaths of static and tinny, tingling beats into neatly packaged tracks. A song with fellow techno producers Kelly Lee Owens and Haai (Teneil Throssell) is titled “Chaos Energy,” but “Ultra Truth” is all about pristine precision, slick cuts and jittery percussion. The album unveils like an elegy to the internal monologue, the constant noise building inside your brain. (Nov. 4; Mute/Phantasy) — BlumCAVETOWN The bedroom pop singer-songwriter Robin Skinner has gained a fervent online following with delicate tracks about teen life featuring titles like “I Miss My Mum” and “I’ll Make Cereal.” On his new release, “Worm Food,” he blends the curdled angst and peppy hooks of ’90s pop-punk (one track longs for 1994, a year Skinner was not yet alive) with subdued synth pop. He writes about the specific aches of a new relationship: “Laundry day, going to shrink your shirt/makes a perfect fit for me,” he coos over lilting strings on “Laundry Day.” On another, he compares himself to a “ball of wasabi” — “there to keep things interesting, but nobody wants me.” It’s a charming portrait of anxious love. (Nov. 4; Cave Music Limited) — BlumBILLY JOEL Before Billy Joel conquered Madison Square Garden with an ongoing monthly residency and played the last-ever concerts at Shea Stadium, he headlined another of New York’s secular temples, the original Yankee Stadium, for two nights in June 1990. A remixed, re-edited and newly expanded version of “Live at Yankee Stadium,” the concert film documenting those mega-gigs, will soon see release on Blu-ray, with the audio version coming out digitally, and on CD and LP sets. The hit-parade set list (including “My Life,” “Uptown Girl,” “New York State of Mind,” “Piano Man” and the then-recent No. 1 “We Didn’t Start the Fire”) doesn’t differ much from the one you’ll hear Joel play at the Garden today, more than 30 years later — the mark of a true pop institution. (Nov. 4; Columbia/Legacy) — ShteamerPHOENIX The French band whose bubbly 2009 indie-pop crossover hit “Lisztomania” got even a collegiate A.O.C. dancing with abandon is back with “Alpha Zulu,” its first LP in five years. In part a meditation on loss — including that of its producer Philippe Zdar, who died in an accident in 2019 at age 52 — the album, marking Phoenix’s 25th anniversary as a group, includes an appearance by Ezra Koenig of Vampire Weekend. (Nov. 4; Glassnote/Loyaute Music) — SisarioJULIE BENKO & JASON YEAGER If you followed the backstage drama at Broadway’s “Funny Girl,” you know that Julie Benko is the bright-eyed, dulcet-voiced soprano who went from standby to star after Beanie Feldstein’s departure. On Nov. 7, Benko and her husband, the jazz pianist Jason Yeager, will perform selections from their new album, “Hand in Hand,” which mixes show tunes and standards with Janis Joplin’s “Mercedes Benz” and Yeager originals at 54 Below. Other artists slated to visit “Broadway’s living room” include the unsinkable nonagenarian Marilyn Maye (Oct. 12-15, Oct. 18-22), the stage and screen veteran Leslie Uggams (Nov. 10-12) and the latest jewel in the club’s “Diamond Series,” Vanessa Williams (Dec. 13-18), followed by the enduring gem Patti LuPone (Dec. 20-30). Fans of a certain Sara Bareilles musical can look forward to “Sugar, Butter, Reunion: Celebrating the Jennas of ‘Waitress’” on Oct. 9, and the new musical “Sean’s Story,” an Ars Nova commission by Khiyon Hursey, will be showcased in concert Oct. 11. — GardnerPATRICIA BRENNAN The jazz world can get stuck in a battle between the head and the heart, but rarely do you find an improviser like Patricia Brennan, the Veracruz, Mexico-born vibraphonist, marimba player and effects maven, who skirts that dichotomy almost completely. Her music seems to exist in a realm outside the body, but stays loaded with feeling. “More Touch” is the follow-up to Brennan’s spellbinding debut, the solo LP “Maquishti,” and it introduces a new quartet of advanced rhythmic thinkers: the drummer Marcus Gilmore, the percussionist Mauricio Herrera and the bassist Kim Cass. They venture between dreamy swing, bobbing bolero, the Afro-Caribbean rhythms of Brennan’s hometown, and free time. (Nov. 11; Pyroclastic) — RussonelloADELE Apart from a few TV tapings and private events, Adele hasn’t appeared on a U.S. stage since 2016. And the postponement of her Las Vegas residency the day before its original January kickoff date raises the stakes even more for this rescheduled “Weekends With Adele” run at Caesars Palace’s 4,100-seat Colosseum. Expect megawatt tear-jerkers like “Hello” and “Someone Like You” to share set-list space with new fan favorites from her 2021 chart-topper “30,” including “Easy on Me,” a tender post-mortem of her former marriage; “Oh My God,” where she confronts the vertigo of new love; and the real-talk anthem “I Drink Wine.” (Nov. 18 through March 23; Caesars Palace; Las Vegas) — ShteamerMICHAEL JACKSON In an era when Beatles recording sessions yield a seven-hour documentary and a Bob Dylan boxed set might contain an entire album’s worth of “Like a Rolling Stone” outtakes, a two-disc reissue commemorating the 40th anniversary of “Thriller” — the best-selling album of all time, by a significant margin — seems almost stingy. But the idea that there might still be more to learn about this Quincy Jones-helmed triumph is still an enticing prospect. The Jackson estate is keeping a tight lid on the contents of the “Thriller 40” bonus material, but previously unreleased demos are promised. Given that only a handful of demos and outtakes surfaced on a 2001 “Thriller” reissue, a major excavation could be in store. (Nov. 18; Sony) — ShteamerCHARLES LLOYD The guitar has been an essential foil for Charles Lloyd since his upbringing in the blues and soul hotbed of Memphis. Moving to Los Angeles in the mid-1950s, a big early break came as musical director for Chico Hamilton’s band, where he forged a close bond with the Hungarian guitar virtuoso Gabor Szabo. In recent years, Lloyd, an 84-year-old tenor saxophonist, flutist and National Endowment for the Arts Jazz Master, has been leading the Marvels, a country-jazz quintet featuring Bill Frisell’s guitar and Greg Leisz’s pedal steel. And by autumn’s end, he will have released three new albums this year, each with a different guitar trio and each casting its own light on his Lester Young-goes-to-Joshua Tree saxophone sound. Of the three, the last one, “Sacred Thread,” featuring the guitarist Julian Lage and the tabla icon Zakir Hussain, packs the wiliest punch. (Nov. 18; Blue Note) — RussonelloWENDY MOTEN The 21st-century virus of celebrity-judged TV talent contests has produced heartening stories, few more so than Wendy Moten’s; the 50-something Memphis native sang backup for Julio Iglesias and assorted country stars before “The Voice” brought her supple, limpid voice to wider attention. In a show returning to the Birdland Theater on Nov. 18-20, Moten highlights the pre-World War II classics of Richard Whiting (“He’s Funny That Way,” “Too Marvelous for Words”), mixing in a little Paul Simon and Janis Ian. Upstairs at Birdland Jazz Club, scheduled acts include the Broadway star-turned-cabaret stalwart Karen Akers (Sept. 12), the piquant stage and screen mainstay Julie Halston (Oct. 17) and the upscale nightlife fixtures Steve Ross (Oct. 24) and Jeff Harnar (Nov. 7), with the variety shows “Jim Caruso’s Cast Party” and “The Lineup With Susie Mosher” continuing at the jazz club on Mondays and the theater on Tuesdays. — GardnerThe singer Wendy Moten returns to Birdland Theater with a show that crosses genres and eras.Terry Wyatt/Getty ImagesWEYES BLOOD The singer-songwriter Natalie Mering, who performs as Weyes Blood, braids together emotional and existential upheaval, capturing the weightiness of contemporary life in sweeping, baroque-pop poetry. The crisis-rich three years since her last release have offered Mering plenty to write about; her upcoming fifth album, “And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow,” layers references to climate change, pandemic and impending civilizational collapse into songs about estrangement and longing. “Living in the wake of overwhelming changes/We’ve all become strangers, even to ourselves,” she sings on the opening track, looking around and within. (November; Sub Pop) — HornJINKX MONSOON & BENDELACREME In 2018, these popular “RuPaul’s Drag Race” alumni joined forces to ring in the most wonderful time of the year. “The Jinkx & DeLa Holiday Show” now marks the duo’s fourth seasonal tour, for which variety-show maestro BenDeLaCreme and the cabaret and theater veteran Monsoon — the “sugary” queen and the “spicy” one, according to their official site — have co-written a new assortment of music, comedy and spectacle. The party arrives at Town Hall on Dec. 2-3. — GardnerA JOHN WATERS CHRISTMAS It’s been 18 years since the filmmaker, performer, author, fine artist and pope of trash (as he was christened by William S. Burroughs) curated a holiday album including cult classics such as “Fat Daddy” and “Santa Claus Is a Black Man,” but the spirit hasn’t left John Waters, who returns to City Winery on Dec. 18 with his latest irreverent Yuletide offering. Other seasonal celebrations scheduled at the Winery include Betty’s “December Delight” (Dec. 11) with special guests including Gloria Steinem, and “Suzanne Vega: Home for the Holidays” (Dec. 22-23, Dec. 26-27). — Gardner More

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      Archie Roach, Who Lived and Sang the Aboriginal Blues, Dies at 66

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      His song “Took the Children Away,” inspired by his childhood, shook Australians into confronting a grim era when their government tore apart Aboriginal families.One day in 1970, Archie Cox’s high school English class in Melbourne, Australia, was interrupted by a voice from the intercom: “Could Archibald William Roach come to the office?”An uncanny feeling took hold of 14-year-old Archie: This name, which he had no recollection of, he somehow knew to be his own.A letter to Archibald William Roach awaited him. It announced that Nellie Austin, a name he had never heard, was his mother, and that she had just died. His father and namesake was dead, too, the letter said. It was signed by Myrtle Evans, who identified herself as his sister.Within a year, Archie had dropped out of school, abandoned Dulcie and Alex Cox — who, he realized, were only his foster parents — and embarked on a quest to discover who he really was.He spent years without a home. He was imprisoned on burglary charges twice. He tried to kill himself. All the while, he kept bumping into revelations about his family and why he had been taken away from them.When he left home, there was not a name for what Archie was. But today people like him are considered part of the Stolen Generations — Indigenous Australians seized from their families as children to be assimilated into white society.This history is known thanks in no small part to Mr. Roach, who turned his wayward life into the material for a career as one of Australia’s best-loved folk singers, and who in doing so dramatized the plight of his people.He died on July 30 at a hospital in Warrnambool, a city in southeastern Australia, his sons Amos and Eban announced on his website. He was 66.The announcement did not cite the cause, but Mr. Roach had struggled with lung cancer and emphysema, requiring him to perform while breathing through a nasal cannula.His rise to prominence began in the late 1980s and early ’90s, on the strength in particular to one autobiographical song: “Took the Children Away.” He performed it at Melbourne Concert Hall when he opened for the popular Australian rock singer Paul Kelly.“There was this stunned silence; he thought he’d bombed,” Mr. Kelly recalled to The Guardian for a 2020 article about the song’s impact. “Then this wave of applause grew and grew. I’d never heard anything like it.”Mr. Kelly was a producer of Mr. Roach’s first album, “Charcoal Lane,” released in 1990. When the two toured together, Aboriginal audience members approached Mr. Roach, saying they, too, had been taken from their families.“He started to realize it was a much broader story,” Mr. Kelly said.The song became a national hit. “When he sings ‘Took the Children Away,’ or any of the tracks on ‘Charcoal Lane,’ it cuts through like great blues should,” Rolling Stone Australia wrote in 1990. “The experience becomes universal.”In a 2020 article commemorating the 30th anniversary of “Charcoal Lane,” Rolling Stone Australia credited “Took the Children Away” with helping to inspire a landmark 1997 government report estimating that as many as one in three Indigenous children were seized from their families between 1910 and 1970.Fourteen more albums followed “Charcoal Lane,” ranging in style from blues to gospel, while Mr. Roach’s wife, Ruby Hunter, gained renown of her own as a musical partner of Mr. Roach’s, and as a songwriter in her own right.The Aboriginal singer and songwriter Emma Donovan told The Guardian that when she was growing up, “we’d see Archie and Ruby on TV.”“They were our royalty, our king and queen,” she said.Archibald William Roach was born in the Framlingham Aboriginal Reserve, in southwestern Australia, on Jan. 8, 1956. When he was older, he recovered a memory of a tall man with long limbs and curly hair reaching toward him while police officers were grabbing him. That man, he realized, was Archibald, his father.He was raised largely by the Coxes. The implications of the fact that he was Black and that the Coxes were white dawned on Archie only gradually.His foster father, who was Scottish, longed for his homeland, and at night tears came to his eyes as he sang ballads around the family’s organ. “For years I thought I missed Scotland,” Mr. Roach wrote in “Tell Me Why,” his 2019 memoir. “I took great joy in sharing those songs with Dad Alex, because I wanted to be close to him, and I also wanted to understand the power that the songs had over him.”Mr. Cox gave Archie his first guitar. After Archie left home at 15, he never saw his foster parents again.He took a circuitous path to the return address on the letter he had received, in Sydney; by the time he arrived, his sister had left, without informing her neighbors of her next destination.A homeless one-armed Aboriginal man named Albert took care of Archie, showing him where in Sydney to sleep free of charge and teaching him how to panhandle. Archie began drinking with his new Aboriginal friends from morning till night.“I look back now and see the darkness that would have touched every moment unless we numbed it with beer and port and sherry,” he wrote in his memoir. “We were part of an obliterated culture.”He built a life from openness to chance and the coincidences that ensued. Archie found his family by running into one of his sisters at a bar in Sydney. On a coin flip, he decided to visit the South Australia city of Adelaide, where he met Ms. Hunter, who would become the love of his life. She, too, was an Aborigine who had been taken from her parents.Chance also granted Mr. Roach knowledge about his past. In 2013, he stumbled across the first photographs he had ever seen of his father as a boy, and of his grandmother.He learned that there were dangers in trying to recover tradition. He and his peers sought approval from elders before going on dates with other Aboriginal people, to ensure that they were not related. Taking up the old profession of his father and brother, Mr. Roach became an itinerant boxer. He realized in the middle of one bout that he was fighting his own first cousin.At other times he earned a living by picking grapes, pushing sheep up kill runs at an abattoir and doing metalwork at a foundry. He often lost jobs in a blur of drunkenness. The binges induced seizures. During one bender, overcome with despair at his prospects as a father and husband, he tried hanging himself with a belt. After more than a decade of patience, Ms. Hunter left him.Mr. Roach was jolted into sobriety. He found work as a health counselor at a rehab center in Melbourne. He rejoined Ms. Hunter and their two sons, and he threw himself into writing songs.“Like my daddy before me/I set ’em up and knock ’em down/Like my brother before me/I’m weaving in your town,” he wrote in “Rally Round the Drum,” a song from the early 1990s about his boxing days.“Have you got two bob?/Can you gimme a job?,” he wrote in the 1997 song “Beggar Man.”“At 15 I left my foster home/Looking for the people I call my own/But all I found was pain and strife/And nothing else but an empty life,” he wrote in “Open Up Your Eyes,” which was not released until 2019.Mr. Roach at Carrara Stadium on the Gold Coast in Queensland, Australia, in 2018. His songs helped uncover the history of the Indigenous Australians known as the Stolen Generations.Dita Alangkara/Associated PressComplete information about his survivors was not available, but in addition to his sons, Mr. Roach and Ms. Hunter unofficially adopted 15 to 20 children. The impetus in some cases was simply encountering a young person on the street looking “a little worse for wear,” he told the Australian newspaper The Age in 2002.Ms. Hunter died suddenly in 2010 at the family home in Gunditjmara country, in southeast Australia, the ancestral land of Mr. Roach’s mother.As “Took the Children Away” grew in fame, even to the point of overshadowing Mr. Roach’s other work, he was often asked whether he got sick of singing it.“I say, ‘Never,’” he told ABC News Australia in 2019. “It’s a healing for me. Each time I sing it, you let some of it go.” More

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      Heilung Puts a Heavy Metal Twist on the Sound of the Vikings

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      The band Heilung performs on replica instruments to recreate the sound world of pre-Christian Europe and bring it into the modern age.BORRE, Norway — “We have vegan potato salad in the medium cauldron,” Maria Franz announced to the 17 members of Heilung, her folk metal band, as they gathered around a campfire here recently. The band was celebrating the release of its third album, “Drif,” at Midgardsblot, a festival that takes place on a Viking burial ground and also includes seminars on Viking culture for an audience of campers, many of whom were dressed up in tunics and cloaks. Earlier that day, festivalgoers joined the band to listen to the new album while sitting on the floor of a replica Viking feast hall rigged up with a speaker system.It was the perfect setting for Heilung, whose work over the past eight years has put a heavy metal twist on the music of pre-Christian Europe. Working with a team of researchers and performing on replica instruments from the period, Heilung produces music that its members describe as “amplified history.” Heilung takes its lyrics from historical texts, like runic inscriptions on archaeological finds, and uses sound sources that would have been available to early European civilizations, such as stones, bones and crude metal objects struck together.Clockwise from top left; Kati Liiri and Jussi Aspivaara at the Midgardsblot festival, in Borre, where Heilung played; Faust, a Heilung band member; a festival attendee; a homemade patch on a vest.David B. Torch for The New York Times“Drif,” for instance, combines throat singing, spoken word, chanting, battle sounds and field recordings from nature. One of Heilung’s songs, “Hakkerskaldyr,” was used in a trailer for a recent Robert Eggers film, “The Northman,” another artistic imagining of ancient Scandinavia.“We’re not claiming that we are doing the exact same thing as our ancestors did, because no one knows,” Franz said. “But it’s our interpretation of how it might have felt.”Heilung has three core members — Franz, Christopher Juul and Kai Uwe Faust — who are supported by a large cast of onstage performers, including actors dressed as Viking warriors, backing singers and drummers.Franz said the band’s project was about more than just focusing on the Viking era, though. Its members want to tap into what they see as a shared ancient history that goes beyond European borders and encompasses all of humanity. For instance, “Marduk,” the last track on the new album, is a recital of 50 names of the highest god of the Mesopotamians. Franz sometimes plays a primitive instrument she brought back from India: a stick, half a coconut, some goat skin and strings. If you look back far enough into history, Juul said, you find that most cultures share similar instruments, and similar myths.Fans of Heilung listening to its new album, “Drif,” inside a replica Viking hall.David B. Torch for The New York TimesThere are other bands in the subgenre of folk metal that draw on pre-Christian history, like the Norwegian group Wardruna. But Heilung stands out for the depth of its historical engagement and the scale of its live performances. The band’s self-released debut album, “Ofnir,” was well-received in folk metal circles, but it was not until the band’s first live shows, in 2017, that Heilung became popular in the broader metal scene.“It was a phenomenon,” said Jonathan Selzer, a music journalist at Metal Hammer magazine. He remembered seeing the band at Midgardsblot, in 2017, when it played the penultimate slot. The set incorporated elaborate costumes, including antlers and animal furs, battle cries and half-naked actors dressed as warriors charging around the stage. This performance set the blueprint for all of Heilung’s stage shows since. “You could just see this realization going through the crowd in real time, from incomprehension to wonder,” Selzer said. “The whole field turned into Viking rave.”Michael Berberian, who signed Heilung after that show to Season of Mist, a metal label he runs, said it was “a band that popped out of nowhere with a complete concept.” He added that “the visual aspects, the costume, the unique music, the production values were all there, fully ready.”Heilung onstage at a concert in Denver last year. The band stands out for the depth of its historical engagement and the scale of its live performances.Maurice NunezFranz, Faust and Juul first met through the Viking re-enactment scene, in which enthusiasts gather to dress up as Vikings, learn about their history and practice their traditions, such as sword fighting and cooking over an open fire. Runa Strindin, Midgardsblot’s founder, said the popularity of Viking re-enactments had exploded over the past five years in northern Europe, spurred by TV shows like “Vikings” and movies like “The Northman,” as well as the inclusion of Norse gods in the Marvel movies.“People are searching for an identity to come closer to something that is missing in their modern lives,” Strindin said, “and they are attracted to the Norse mythologies because it’s so easily adaptable. Whatever suits you, you will find it there.”Norse mythology also resonates with some far-right groups that see it as an endorsement of their ideology, but Heilung’s members strongly reject that worldview. For at least a century in Scandinavia, extreme nationalists have adopted the visual language of ancient runes to suggest an imagined, pre-modern era of racial purity, and neo-Nazis have used the symbols to identify themselves to one another.The connection between Nordic runes and white supremacy is still strong. Anders Behring Breivik, a Norwegian extremist, marked the weapons he used in a 2011 massacre with runes, and the perpetrator of the Christchurch, New Zealand, mosque terrorist attack in 2019 emblazoned a sonnenrad — a rune symbol that was appropriated by the Nazis to embody their ideal vision of an Aryan identity — on his backpack.Selzer, the music journalist, said that, outside the metal scene, many people were wary about bands in the folk metal subgenre, whose merchandise and visual branding features runic symbols or who go to runic inscriptions for lyrics.A Viking battle demonstration at Midgardsblot. Heilung’s core members met through the Viking re-enactment scene.David B. Torch for The New York TimesBarbara Welento, 32, traveled from Poland to hear Heilung.David B. Torch for The New York TimesRunic windchimes at the Midgardsblot.David B. Torch for The New York TimesReclaiming Viking culture, particularly the runes, from neo-Nazis was a central part of Heilung’s mission, Strindin said. Each of the band’s live shows opens with a recited poem that emphasizes the audience’s shared humanity. “Remember that we all are brothers, all people, and beasts and trees and stone and wind,” reads one line.Strindin said that when she was growing up in Norway, in the 1990s, taking an interest in runes was discouraged by teachers and parents, because of their far-right associations. Heilung, she said, was “helping to take those symbols back, and put new meaning to them,” one that emphasized their original, spiritual intentions.“We see music as a cup,” Faust said. “You can have a beautiful cup, but a cup is supposed to transport something. So I was always more interested in the content: What am I doing with these frequencies? What is my intent, with these songs?”At the album listening session in the replica Viking hall, there was a quiet, respectful atmosphere, like a church. People closed their eyes to listen, or read through a booklet of explanatory notes the band had provided to accompany each track.The next day, Heilung played the festival’s headline slot to a crowd of fans who had come from all over the world. Lindsey Epperson, 32, from Tucson, Ariz., who had left the United States for the first time to be there, said the band’s music was “familiar, even though I wasn’t from that time,” adding, “It sounds like home to me.”A hush fell over the crowd as the show began. A performer wafted incense out over the audience, and the rest of the band gathered in a circle to recite the opening poem. They left a break after each line, so the crowd could chant it back with one voice.A couple on a Viking burial mound at dawn at Midgadsblot. “People are searching for an identity to come closer to something that is missing in their modern lives,” said the festival’s founder.David B. Torch for The New York Times More

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      The Art of Disappearance

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      Listen to This ArticleAudio Recording by AudmTo hear more audio stories from publications like The New York Times, download Audm for iPhone or Android.The problem — or at least a problem, I’ve been told — is that I am not very concerned about being missed upon any of my exits, not the ones that are voluntary nor the ones that swoop down without warning to cover me in a quilt of dark feathers. I think about this often, and if there is a remedy for it. I read the sometimes long, sprawling announcements people make when they leave or take breaks from social media platforms, or I watch someone announce that he or she is departing on the way out of a crowded party, and I sometimes find myself puzzled by the practice. I slip out of parties unannounced. I make up excuses for why I didn’t make the rounds, or say goodbye. I see the concerned texts, I tell myself I’ll reply later and sometimes I do. I am indifferent about being missed, which isn’t to say that I don’t believe that I have been missed, or will be missed again. It is very likely that there are people missing me right now, reading this admission and shaking their heads at what they’ve always known, even if I wasn’t bold enough to explicitly speak it out loud before walking out of a door that I’d never again be on the better side of.This feeling is acute during the long, endless-feeling Ohio winters, when leaving a physical space is scarcely an option. This is most challenging in late March, when temperatures can barely rise above the 30s and snow is still accumulating. During that season within a season, when hope tails off, spinning into the still-early darkness, I return to the music of the cult favorite singer-songwriter Connie Converse. When I am most seduced by the idea that sunlight might be a cure for an emotional descent I can no longer trace, I return to the same song: Converse’s “We Lived Alone.” Clocking in at just over a minute, it’s both an ode to contentment with loneliness and an expression of intense longing. When the song begins, Converse is reveling in her own isolation: “We lived alone/my house and I/we had the earth/we had the sky/I had a lamp against the dark/and I was happy as a lark.” She describes her beloved stove and window, and the chair wearing a “pretty potato sack,” and the roses blooming around her doorstep. And then, right before the listener is evicted from the tune, there is the Volta: “I had a job/my wants were few/they were until I wanted you/and when I set my eyes on you/nothing else would do.” I first heard the songs of Converse in 2009, five years after Gene Deitch, who initially recorded Converse’s music in his kitchen with a Crestwood 404 tape recorder in the 1950s, played a cluster of recordings on WNYC. The songs were compiled and then released as the 2009 album “How Sad, How Lovely.” The release ignited a fascination around Converse, whom most people had never heard of. There are few things that seduce like scarcity — the reality that you can briefly traverse a single small world built by someone who left, and then built nothing else for the public to find or access. These were the only songs Converse ever recorded: She disappeared from Ann Arbor, Mich., in 1974, and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.If Connie Converse were alive today, she would be 98. On the internet, she is mostly assumed dead. Written of and spoken of in the past tense. For some, it might be hard to separate the shock of how her story ended from the songs themselves, but there is an abundance of brilliance in the work. Converse mastered the art of sparseness, relying on her ability to create a tiny chamber in which all that could survive is a voice and the pin pricks of a guitar’s strings, moving along inch by inch. It is very possible that even if nothing about her disappearance were spectacular beyond the disappearance itself, even if she spent decades in the mountains or forest, or simply driving from place to place, the years might have accumulated, her body might have reached its limits. But I find myself uncomfortable with the assumption of finality.I realize that I am projecting. Converse was someone who, it seemed, made a path for her life, post-music, that was rooted in refusal. A refusal to be known, a refusal for access. Her musical legacy suggests that an exit — both the life it leaves behind, and the elsewhere that it hints at — can echo, be endless. An elsewhere can offer relief, or at least an idea of relief, whether that desire for an elsewhere leads one to consider death, or whether it leads one to simply exit her circumstances and seek new ones, seek a place where she is unreachable. I am drawn to Converse because she offers a model for these questions that I have weighed and carried in the past, questions that I will almost certainly be confronted with again. I live with multiple anxiety disorders and depression. I have, in the past, had to do hard math around the subject of staying: staying alive, staying present in the place that I am, the world I know best.I have found myself newly sensitive to the art of disappearance, and how it is not — or at least not always — aligned with death. Sometimes a desire to be gone is simply a desire to be gone. It may be foolish, but there’s something comforting about imagining Converse living, moving through the back end of her ninth decade, in defiance of the dissatisfying “here” that haunted her over 40 years ago.Connie Converse is a person with a life ripe for the writer’s gaze. There are incompletions, large holes that can be filled only through imagination, through wishing, through myriad projections, for better or worse. But there are, of course, some concrete facts.Converse was born Elizabeth Eaton Converse in Laconia, N.H., on Aug. 3, 1924. Her father was a minister, and her mother ran a strict Baptist household. She was the middle child, sandwiched between two brothers: Paul, nearly three years older, and Phillip, four years younger. Converse excelled academically and earned a scholarship to Mount Holyoke College in Massachusetts. She was continuing a tradition — her mother and grandmother each graduated from Mount Holyoke — but dropped out abruptly after two years and moved to New York City. It was there, working at a printing house in the Flatiron district and living in Hell’s Kitchen and Greenwich Village, that she shed the name Elizabeth and began going by Connie. She started writing songs and playing them for friends. She also took up drinking and smoking, which reportedly enraged her religious parents. Still, Converse gave in to the joys of reinvention. Photo illustration by Itchi. Source photograph: Courtesy of the estate of Elizabeth Eaton Converse.When we speak of artists as being “ahead of their time,” we often mean that they were operating in a time, place or space that was not prepared for them, and wouldn’t be prepared for years or decades to come. A very specific ache in the Connie Converse story is that she was ahead of her time, but by only minutes. Or, she was ahead of her time but unrecognized as an innovator perhaps because of immutable factors: her gender, her personality. In New York, before the enormous success of singer-songwriters like Bob Dylan, Converse got in good with the right crowd, rolling with a crew of budding young folk musicians like Pete Seeger. In 1954, she played songs on the CBS “Morning Show.” In photos from this moment, she is sitting next to Walter Cronkite, who leans in while Converse answers a question, her arm slung over her guitar, a half-grin on her face. But then there was nothing. The TV appearance came and went with little interest from the public. The work to get her music in front of producers and managers yielded no results. She was considered too hard to sell, according to Deitch. She would mail her brother Phillip some of her recordings monthly. When her listener base didn’t expand as she’d hoped, she moved to Ann Arbor, Mich., in 1961, in part to be closer to Phillip. She worked as a secretary for two years before taking a job as the managing editor for The Journal of Conflict Resolution in 1963. She stopped writing songs altogether, seemingly content with her newfound life of relative certainty. By that time, the folk scene in New York had taken off, bursting with singer-songwriters who were aligned with the work Connie had already done.By the end of 1972, The Journal, which she had helmed for nearly a decade, left the University of Michigan, where it was housed, and was acquired by Yale. This was an inciting event for Converse, whose loved ones saw her growing increasingly depressed, bored and burned out on the routine of work, though it seemed to be the routine that sustained her. Friends pooled money to send her on a sabbatical to London, where she lived for around half a year, though it didn’t appear to have an impact on her demeanor upon her return. When she did return, her mother coaxed her into taking a trip to Alaska. Converse, who was by now drinking with noticeably more frequency, was not interested. But that trip, too, just furthered her dissatisfaction. In a quote attributed to Converse from 1974, she reportedly told her brother Phillip, “Human society fascinates me and awes me and fills me with grief and joy; I just can’t find my place to plug into it.” Shortly after that, she placed her meager belongings into her Volkswagen Beetle, left behind a batch of goodbye letters and vanished, entirely. In the interview, Phillip says that he didn’t know where his sister was. That he wouldn’t know what to say to her even if he knew where to find her. In the 2014 documentary “We Lived Alone,” Phillip reads a letter his sister left behind. The language in the letter is much like the language in her songs, poetic and direct. Speaking of things as they are, not as she dreamed they could be: “I’ve watched the elegant, energetic people of Ann Arbor, those I know and those I don’t, going about their daily business on the streets and in the buildings, and I felt a detached admiration for their energy and elegance. If I ever was a member of this species perhaps it was a social accident that has now been canceled.” In another letter, she wrote: “Let me go, let me be if I can, let me not be if I can’t.”Beautiful and jarring and haunting as it may be, what has most remained for me, in the back of my mind at a low hum, is its opening: Let me go, let me be if I can, let me not be if I can’t. About a decade after her disappearance, Converse’s family hired a private investigator to find her, or to at least confirm whether she’d taken her own life. In the documentary, Phillip says that the investigator declined, telling the family that even if he did find Connie, it was her right to disappear. He couldn’t bring someone back who didn’t want to return to the place from which they fled.To drill down on the definition of “being alive,” I have always come to a core definition that I can understand and make peace with: being someone who participates in the ever-shifting world. But I have no control over the world, and I don’t mean only the world in the sense of a blue rock twirling along endless dark. I also mean the smaller worlds. The worlds of the country I live in, the worlds of my city, the worlds of my neighborhood. There are edges of these worlds simultaneously sharpening and softening, even now, and I do not know which edges they are, or when they’ll come for me or comfort me, depending on their intent. And so I decide that living, then, is also a contract. I’ll stay for as long as I can, and I hope it is a good, long time. I’ll stay as long as staying gives more than it takes. In the times I’ve not wanted to stay, I have been showered with familiar platitudes. I’ve been told I have “a lot of life left,” or I’ve been told to think about all the people who will miss me when I’ve gone. Once, a doctor who was tasked with keeping me alive for longer than I wanted to be at the time told me to envision my funeral. It didn’t work, because I’d buried enough people I’d loved by that point. I had begun to believe in the funeral — at least as it serves the still-living — as a portal. Something you enter with one understanding of grief, and exit with a newer, sharper understanding of grief. I began to believe the funeral as a simple moment of transience, not of any grand enough consequence to keep me grounded in an unsatisfying life. I have still not gotten good at explaining this to anyone who has always wanted to be alive, or at least people who have rarely questioned their commitment to living, but there is a border between wanting to be alive and wanting to stay here, wherever here is to you, or whatever it means. It’s a border that I have found to be flimsy, a thin sheet overrun with holes. But it is a border, nonetheless. Similar to the border between, say, sadness and suffering. All these feelings can intersect, of course. But I have found it slightly more confusing when they don’t. When I maybe want to be alive, but don’t want to be in the world as it is. When I haven’t wanted to be alive, but want to cling to the varied bits of brightness that tumble into my sadness, or my suffering, which isn’t the same as a temporary haze of sadness, or a rush of anxiety. I mean suffering that requires a constant measuring of the scales between staying and leaving. Suffering that requires a consideration of how long the scale can tilt toward leaving before it becomes the only viable option. There are a lot of things in any life that aren’t left up to the people doing the living. If there is anything for a suffering person (or any person) to self-determine, it should be how they live, or if they choose to live at all.There are few thoughtful bits of advice for those who drift between those borders, or those who have a foot on each side simultaneously. And so, in a bad week, I turn my phone off, and then on again. I play piano in a quiet room. I look at maps. I admit, of course, that there are many intersections of Converse’s story that allow for me to map myself onto both her apparent frustrations and dissatisfactions. This is, I’m sure, why I’m here again. Why I have been here before, picking apart her old tunes and searching tirelessly for more and hoping that she is somewhere, alive, and away from anywhere that reminds her of any ache she has carried. I feel some compulsion to defend against the dominant idea that is attached to her songs: that they are terribly, poignantly sad. I bristle at this, not only because I know sadness to be a shorthand description for deep, vibrantly aware feeling. What Converse seemed to aspire to was a removal from the world on her own terms. From what is known about the time leading up to her disappearance, Converse was seeking newness. Her close friends pooled money to send her on a six-month trip to England in 1973, and she returned home, her mood unchanged. Not long before her disappearance, her mother pushed her into the Alaska trip, which worsened her discomfort and depression. These are the gestures people make when they love us, when they see us suffering. The idea is about what can be done to fix a person gripped by a sometimes unexplainable condition. Someone who is folding further into herself, and becoming seemingly unreachable. There is something I understand about the letter Converse left behind. She wanted to be let go, perhaps not only for the sake of not feeling like a burden on loved ones, but also to figure out, on her own, if the world was worth living in.I am sure that no small part of me takes some offense to Converse being referred to in the past tense is because it rushes to a conclusion about her motivations and fate — neither of which we have access to — and assumes that what seemed to be her relentless dissatisfaction was a form of selfishness. In the words she left behind, it seems as if she was most eager to be gone, away from a world that dissatisfied her, that had failed her after a half century of living. But to live in a world that often can’t make sense of someone self-determining their own exits, death is the easiest presumption to make. Photo illustration by Itchi. Source photograph: Courtesy of the estate of Elizabeth Eaton Converse.What I hear fighting its way to the surface in Converse’s songs is a type of questioning discontent, opening up to a sky of insatiable desire. In her songs, her voice doesn’t sound weighed down by grief, or weariness. It doesn’t sound as if it is nested in some web of dilemmas from which it can’t untangle itself. It tends to leap at the end of each line she sings. It’s a playful voice, a curious and constantly seeking voice. It splashes in the gaps of silence left by the space in her sparse guitar playing. It is almost a child’s voice — which, yes, can sometimes be sad — but is often trying to make sense of the otherwise unexplainable world that is newly coming into focus. I hear longing, and something that seems like hope.What stands out most is a sort of eager dreaming. Exuberant wishes that aren’t as sad as they appear on the tracks themselves, but maybe became sad for her as the years accumulated and she continued to seek them. What Converse seemed to know in her songs was that there was somewhere better, or a little more satisfying. And then, when she was done recording, she spilled back into a world where all of that satisfaction became increasingly out of reach. I am aware, more often now than I used to be, that I am up against time, same as anyone else. I can work to be happy where I am, and I do. I can work for my satisfaction with what I have at my disposal, which, to be clear, is a life full of privileges and sometimes pleasures, even if it is difficult to make that clear to myself some days. But in my wishing, my satisfaction is endless. In my dreams, I want to live forever. To come back to earth, swept into the many jagged realities of the present, is small damage. It accumulates, though in my case, that accumulation is met with other moments that make survival worthwhile: A pink flower that didn’t grow in my front yard last year pokes out of a brown patch. My dog, somehow, still excited to see me when I walk through the door. It didn’t rain when I wanted to go shoot ball and I made a few shots in a row. But even those pleasures work against a clock. Everything is a balance. When I think back to “We Lived Alone” and what I love about that song, I am grateful for its celebration of building the world you want amid life’s wreckage. It’s a song about understanding that what some people might see merely as absence is not only that. Like most of Converse’s songs, it is an ode to the delights of small pleasures, the things worth staying for.It might be hard for some listeners to hear this aspect of her music. I find myself uncomfortable with how people — not just in the case of Connie Converse, but broadly — tend to flatten the idea of what sadness is, or looks like, without considering its varied face. The music of Connie Converse teems with longing, desire and relentless dreaming. We are to believe that the outcome of her life is sad; therefore, she and her music have retroactively been branded as sad. But Converse reminds us that sadness is a complex color, a result of other, primary colors intersecting over time. I’m thankful for Converse’s vanishing act, even if I’ll never know its destination. She wrote and sang of all the places she hoped to go, and I listen to her songs now and hope that she got to where she wanted, even if it wasn’t where the people who loved her wished that she would be. If you are having thoughts of suicide, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline or go to Speaking of Suicide for a list of additional resources.Hanif Abdurraqib is a contributing writer for the magazine as well as a poet, an essayist and a cultural critic from Columbus, Ohio. More

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      Judith Durham, Singer of ‘Georgy Girl’ and Other Hits, Dies at 79

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      A classically trained soprano, she became a chart-topping pop star in the 1960s with the folk-based Australian quartet the Seekers.Judith Durham, the lead vocalist of the 1960s Australian folk-pop band the Seekers, whose shimmering soprano voice and wholesome image propelled singles like “Georgy Girl” and “I’ll Never Find Another You” to the top of the pop charts, died on Friday in Melbourne. She was 79.Her death, in a hospital, was caused by bronchiectasis, a lung disease that she had battled since childhood, according to a post from Universal Music Australia and the Musicoast record label on the Seekers’ Facebook page.A sunny folk-influenced quartet whose fresh-faced image and effervescent pop songs stood in marked contrast to the libidinal frenzy of 1960s rock, the Seekers sold an estimated 50 million singles and albums worldwide. They became the first Australian pop group to achieve global success, paving the way for other acts based in Australia, like the Bee Gees and Olivia Newton-John.“Judith Durham gave voice to a new strand of our identity and helped blaze a trail for a new generation of Aussie artists,” Prime Minister Anthony Albanese wrote on Twitter.Ms. Durham was a classically trained vocalist whose work was admired by other singers. Elton John, whose song “Skyline Pigeon” Ms. Durham recorded in 1971, once said that she possessed “the purest voice in popular music.”Lynn Redgrave and Alan Bates in a scene from the hit 1966 movie “Georgy Girl,” for which Ms. Durham sang the theme song.Columbia Pictures, via PhotofestJudith Mavis Cock was born on July 3, 1943, in Essendon, Australia, to William Cock, an aviator in World War II, and Hazel (Durham) Cock. “My mother apparently said I could sing nursery rhymes in perfect tune when I was 2,” Ms. Durham once said in a television interview.She was working as a secretary at the J. Walter Thompson advertising agency in Melbourne when an account executive, Athol Guy, invited her to sit in with his folk group, which also included Keith Potger and Bruce Woodley, and which had just lost its singer.The group released its first album, “Introducing the Seekers,” in 1963, but did not strike it big until the next year, when it took a gig on an ocean liner and ended up staying in England indefinitely.It was a portentous time to arrive on the British music scene: Bands like the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and the Kinks were performing to screaming teenage fans as they rolled toward global stardom.The Seekers were a far cry from the rock ‘n’ roll sweeping London. Ms. Durham belted out toe-tapping ditties wearing ankle-length evening gowns and a perky smile, backed by three clean-cut male bandmates in suits.“The pop charts was probably the furthest thing from any of our minds,” she said in a 2001 television interview. “You just didn’t try to do that with a folk-based quartet. Everybody was more poppy, and had the long hair and the electric instruments.”Fueled by Ms. Durham’s vocals, however, the group caught the eye of Tom Springfield — Dusty Springfield’s songwriting brother — who offered them one of his songs, “I’ll Never Find Another You,” to record.Released in 1964, it went on to hit No. 1 on the British charts and No. 4 in the United States. The hits kept coming in 1965, with “A World of Our Own” (No. 3 in Britain) and “The Carnival Is Over” (No. 1).On her 70th birthday in 2013, Ms. Durham received kisses from her Seekers bandmates Mr. Potger, left, and Mr. Guy. David Crosling/EPA, via Shutterstock“Georgy Girl,” the title song from the hit 1966 feature film starring Lynn Redgrave in the title role, was an even bigger smash. Written by Mr. Springfield and Jim Dale, it was nominated for an Academy Award and hit No. 2 on the Billboard singles chart in the United States.But Ms. Durham felt the pressure of fame and was increasingly insecure about her weight, which she tried to disguise by making her own dresses. She began to shrink from the spotlight.“It was this never feeling good enough to be given the amazing opportunities we were given,” she said in a 2018 Australian television interview. “The boys were amazing, they all looked gorgeous, and so musically talented and everything. And so for me, I thought, ‘Well, they don’t really need me.’”Fans were crestfallen when she left the group in 1968. (A later version of the group, the New Seekers, would have a hit in 1973 with “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing.”) But Ms. Durham remained in the public eye, particularly in Australia, where she recorded solo albums, starred in television specials and performed with her husband, the pianist Ron Edgeworth, whom she married in 1969. He died in 1994 of motor neuron disease, a rare neurological disorder.Survivors include a sister, the singer Beverley Sheehan.Ms. Durham reunited with the Seekers off and on in the ’90s and again in 2013, for the group’s 50th anniversary. That tour was interrupted when Ms. Durham suffered a brain hemorrhage.In honor of her 75th birthday in 2018, Ms. Durham released her first album in six years, a compilation of previously unreleased tracks called “So Much More.”In a 2016 interview on Australian television, she admitted that fame had come to seem a burden at times when she was younger.“At one stage I really thought that I probably wasn’t going to keep singing,” she said. But, she added: “I’m glad that I’ve lived a long time. That’s helped me therefore lose the sense of burden, and see it as an honor and a privilege that people have kept me in their lives.” More