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    Nipsey Hussle Murder Trial: What to Know

    More than three years after the Los Angeles rapper was shot and killed, the trial of Eric Holder Jr., the accused gunman, is finally underway.More than three years after the fatal shooting of the rapper Nipsey Hussle, a proudly local Los Angeles artist whose killing reverberated far beyond the world of West Coast hip-hop, the trial of the accused gunman, Eric R. Holder Jr., is finally underway. Jury selection in the case, which had been repeatedly delayed because of the Covid-19 pandemic, began on June 2. Opening arguments are expected to start this week, with the trial likely to last about four weeks.Hussle, whose real name was Ermias Asghedom, was shot and killed on March 31, 2019, outside a clothing store he owned in South Los Angeles, with the police soon attributing the attack to a personal dispute. Two days after the shooting, which also wounded two bystanders, Mr. Holder, then 29, was arrested and charged with murder, attempted murder and possession of a firearm by a felon. He pleaded not guilty and has since been held in lieu of $6.5 million bail.According to court records, Los Angeles County prosecutors plan to argue that Mr. Holder and the 33-year-old Hussle, two old acquaintances who belonged to the same street gang, had a chance encounter in a strip mall parking lot, during which the rapper mentioned neighborhood rumors that Mr. Holder had cooperated with law enforcement — “a very serious offense” in the gang world. Minutes later, prosecutors say, Mr. Holder returned with two handguns and began firing repeatedly. Here is what else to know about the case.Who was Nipsey Hussle?A workmanlike rapper with underground credentials and an A-list network of supporters, Hussle was more than 15 years into his music career when he released his proper debut album in 2018. Before the Grammy-nominated “Victory Lap,” Hussle had built a career that was richer in industry respect and good will than hit records, though he collaborated widely with artists like Snoop Dogg, Drake and Rick Ross. Known for his independent business ethos and novel marketing ideas, like the limited-edition $100 mixtape “Crenshaw,” Hussle had partnered with Jay-Z’s Roc Nation management company as he eyed a move toward the mainstream.A self-proclaimed member of the Rollin’ 60s Crips, Hussle had also made a name for himself as a community ambassador and an entrepreneur in his South Los Angeles neighborhood. While seeking to stem gang violence in the area, he preached Black empowerment through business ownership, reinvesting his earnings as a musician in the place where he grew up.With a group of backers, Hussle had bought the strip mall at the corner of Crenshaw Boulevard and Slauson Avenue that housed his Marathon clothing store, while also helping to open a nearby co-working space dedicated to increasing diversity in science, technology, engineering and mathematics.At the same time, even as Hussle was praised after his death as an inspirational neighborhood fixture and a peacemaker, his properties were the subject of a longstanding investigation by the Los Angeles Police Department and the city attorney’s office, which considered the area a Rollin’ 60s stronghold.Some 20,000 people attended Hussle’s public memorial at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, where a statement from President Barack Obama highlighted the rapper’s life as “a legacy worth celebrating.”After his killing in 2019, mourners held a vigil ouside his Marathon clothing store.Alex Welsh for The New York TimesWhat happened on the day of the shooting?That Sunday afternoon, according to grand jury transcripts, Hussle arrived at the shopping plaza for an unannounced visit, as he often did. While catching up with neighborhood friends and employees in the parking lot in front of his Marathon store, Hussle spent about half an hour signing autographs and posing for photos with fans.At the same time, a woman Mr. Holder was casually dating was driving him around the area just to hang out, the woman testified to the grand jury in 2019. As they stopped to get something to eat, the woman noticed Hussle outside the store and remarked in passing that he looked handsome, she said. Mr. Holder did not indicate that he knew the rapper, but approached him for a brief conversation after ordering chili cheese fries at a nearby burger place while the woman waited in the car.“Apparently the conversation had something to do with Mr. Asghedom telling Mr. Holder that word on the street was that Mr. Holder was snitching,” John McKinney, the Los Angeles County deputy district attorney, told the grand jury, citing witnesses. “The conversation wasn’t particularly intense, it wasn’t particularly belligerent, and it lasted for about four minutes.”Hussle, the witnesses said, seemed to be looking out for Mr. Holder, telling him he needed to address the rumors. When Mr. Holder asked Hussle and those around him if they had heard the music he had been working on, they said they had not. As the men finished speaking, the woman driving Mr. Holder approached Hussle for a selfie, which she soon posted to Facebook.Upon returning to the car, Mr. Holder told the woman to pull into another nearby parking lot so he could eat his fries, she said. After a few bites, he loaded a 9-millimeter pistol, she testified, and walked back toward Hussle’s store. According to witnesses, Mr. Holder confronted the rapper and said, “You’re through” as he opened fire with a gun in each hand, hitting Hussle at least 10 times and then kicking him twice in the head.“You got me,” Hussle said, according to court testimony. Two other men, Kerry Lathan and Shermi Villanueva, were wounded by the gunfire.How was Eric Holder identified as the suspect?Recognized in the neighborhood as another member of the Rollin’ 60s Crips, Mr. Holder was better known by his nickname, a descriptive epithet. Surveillance footage captured the shooting, in addition to the car he used to flee the scene, and the police soon publicized the information. Upon seeing her vehicle on the news, the woman who had been with Mr. Holder submitted to a five-hour interview with police officers, along with searches of her car and her mother’s home, where Mr. Holder had spent the night of the shooting before moving to hide out at a Motel 6.The woman later testified that she had heard the gunshots but was confused about what had occurred until she saw coverage of Hussle’s death online. When Mr. Holder first returned to the car, she recalled, “He’s like, ‘Drive, drive, before I slap you.’” The woman declined to press him on the specifics of what happened out of fear, she said.That Tuesday, two days after the shooting, Mr. Holder was arrested without incident in Bellflower, Calif. The murder weapons were never found.The woman, whose identity has been kept secret to protect her from threats and harassment, later agreed to immunity from prosecution in exchange for her testimony at trial. She is expected to be among the prosecution’s key witnesses.What is Mr. Holder’s defense?Mr. Holder was originally represented by Chris Darden, a lawyer perhaps best known as one of the prosecutors in the 1995 trial of O.J. Simpson. But Mr. Darden soon withdrew from the case, citing death threats against his family. Instead, Mr. Holder will be represented at trial by a public defender, Aaron Jansen, who said in an email that he plans to argue that the case was “overcharged.”“Mr. Eric Holder, Jr. should not have been charged with First Degree Premeditated Deliberate murder in the unfortunate death of Mr. Asghedom,” Mr. Jansen wrote. “Similarly,” Mr. Jansen added, he should not have been “charged with First Degree Attempted Murders of Mr. Lathan and Mr. Villanueva. Mr. Holder, Jr. did not know either man, had no beef with them, and certainly did not have the intent to kill either gentleman.”The lawyer has also alluded to Mr. Holder’s struggles with mental health, noting that the defendant was on a high dosage of medication and had been treated with electroshock therapy “as a last resort to help him.” Whether Mr. Holder will testify, the lawyer said, is his client’s decision. He faces life in prison. More

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    SZA’s ‘Ctrl’ Bonus, and 8 More New Songs

    Hear tracks by Saucy Santana, Demi Lovato, Joyce Manor and others.Every Friday, pop critics for The New York Times weigh in on the week’s most notable new songs and videos. Just want the music? Listen to the Playlist on Spotify here (or find our profile: nytimes). Like what you hear? Let us know at theplaylist@nytimes.com and sign up for our Louder newsletter, a once-a-week blast of our pop music coverage.SZA, ‘Jodie’One way to satiate fans who have been clamoring for your long-delayed next album: just keep adding new material to the one they already love! Five years ago this week, SZA released her widely adored debut “Ctrl,” and though she’s put out a handful of singles and made some celebrated feature appearances since then (including her Grammy-winning Doja Cat collaboration “Kiss Me More”), she’s yet to follow it up with a full-length. As a stopgap, though, SZA offered fans seven previously unreleased tracks this week on a deluxe edition of “Ctrl.” The best of them is “Jodie” — already a fan favorite, since a demo version leaked last year. “Stuck with just weed and no friends,” she laments on the buoyant track, which balances a confessional tone with self-deprecating humor. Her vocals are melodically nimble but endearingly off-the-cuff, as though you’re overhearing an animated conversation she’s having with herself. LINDSAY ZOLADZSaucy Santana featuring Latto, ‘Booty’Whether the exuberant horns deployed on Saucy Santana’s “Booty” are sampled from Beyoncé’s “Crazy in Love” or “Are You My Woman? (Tell Me So)” by the Chi-Lites (which provided the original sample for “Crazy in Love”) is immaterial — it’s pure cheat code either way. “Booty” functions as a kind of conceptual bootleg remix of the Beyoncé classic, a way of trumpeting an alliance that could be actual, virtual or theoretical. Most listeners won’t parse it out. Consider it a savvy stroke by Saucy Santana, whose “Material Girl” was the best kind of TikTok breakout — a catchphrase that was in fact connected to an outsized personality. “Booty” is his first major label single, and it has a couple of other borrowings, too: a flow from J-Kwon’s “Tipsy,” a nod to Bubba Sparxxx’s “Ms. New Booty.” But mainly this onetime makeup artist is having fun in the shrinking space between fan and star. JON CARAMANICALizzo, ‘Grrrls’Another entry in the gratuitous remake sweepstakes of 2022: Lizzo reimagines the Beastie Boys’ hypercrass “Girls” as a celebration of female friendship: “That’s my girl, we codependent/If she with it, them I’m with it.” CARAMANICABeach Bunny, ‘Entropy’“Somebody’s gonna figure us out,” Lili Trifilio sings with bracing confidence, “and I hope they do ’cause I’m falling for you.” The hopelessly catchy opening track from the Chicago pop-rock band Beach Bunny’s forthcoming second album, “Emotional Creature,” is all about throwing caution to the wind and going public with a clandestine romance. There’s a fitting clarity to the song’s production and arrangement: glimmering guitars, steady percussion and Trifilio’s voice at the forefront as she sings such openhearted lyrics as “I wanna kiss you when everyone’s watching.” ZOLADZDemi Lovato, ‘Skin of My Teeth’Demi Lovato — the child star turned grown-up hitmaker who survived a 2018 drug overdose and has come out as nonbinary — leverages notoriety and a setback into fierce punk-pop with “Skin of My Teeth.” It’s an armor-plated confession that begins “Demi leaves rehab again” and rides seismic drums, cranked-up guitars and an “ooh-woo-hoo” pop hook to claim solidarity with everyone struggling with addiction. “I can’t believe I’m not dead,” they belt, adding, “I’m just trying to keep my head above water.” JON PARELESJoyce Manor, ‘You’re Not Famous Anymore’“40 Oz. to Fresno,” the new album from the Torrance, Calif., rock band Joyce Manor, is a relentlessly tuneful 17-minute collection of all-killer, no-filler power-pop. An obvious highlight is the punchy “You’re Not Famous Anymore,” which sounds like something that would have gotten a lot of play on mid-90s alternative-rock radio — the sort of song that would have seemed like a mere novelty hit until it ended up stuck in your head for weeks. “You were a child star on methamphetamines,” the frontman Barry Johnson sings, “Now who knows what you are, ’cause you’re not anything.” Accompanied by head-bopping percussion and a surfy guitar, Johnson’s archly acidic delivery cuts through the rest of the song’s mock-breezy atmosphere. ZOLADZJoji, ‘Glimpse of Us’A splendid and striking piano ballad from the singer Joji, who finds middle ground between 1970s soft rock and James Blake. His singing is lightly unsteady, meshing an unnerving sadness with a know-better resilience. CARAMANICAJulius Rodriguez, ‘In Heaven’The 23-year-old pianist and multi-instrumentalist Julius Rodriguez has been wowing audiences at New York clubs for more than half his young life. In a story that’s already become part of jazz’s 21st-century lore, from the time Rodriguez was 11 his father would drive him in from White Plains to partake of jam sessions at Smalls. Cats were floored from Day 1. The other big portion of his musical education took place in church, where he started out even younger as a drummer, and those two big influences resound throughout “Let Sound Tell All,” Rodriguez’s highly anticipated debut album. On “In Heaven,” an invocation written by Darlene Andrews and first recorded by Gregory Porter, Rodriguez joins up with another rising star, the singer Samara Joy. He accompanies her molasses-rich vocals with fanned-out harmonies, channeling Kenny Barron and Hank Jones, sweeping from heavy clusters of notes to threads of crystal clarity. GIOVANNI RUSSONELLOSonic Liberation Front and the Sonic Liberation Singers featuring Oliver Lake, ‘Ain’t Nothin’ Real But Love’“Love is an emotion in action,” the eminent saxophonist, poet and visual artist Oliver Lake, 79, recites over the Sonic Liberation Singers’ suspended, open-vowel harmonies. “Ain’t nothin’ real but love/It moves independently of our fears and desires.” Lake recently performed a series of farewell shows with Trio 3, the avant-garde supergroup that he has played in for more than three decades — but it should come as little surprise that as he closes one chapter, the ever-prolific Lake has opened another: “Justice,” on which this track appears, is the first LP to feature Lake’s vocal compositions. At times wild and purgative, the album is also full of moments like this one: poised, stubbornly hopeful, grounded in Lake’s memories of a more revolutionary age and seeking to stir that energy up again. RUSSONELLO More

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    Mailbag Madness: Adele, Jack Harlow, the State of Rock’s Return

    Subscribe to Popcast!Apple Podcasts | Spotify | StitcherEvery few months, members of The New York Times pop music team gather for the ritual Popcast mailbag.On this week’s episode, we answer questions about the current state of rock music, including recent revivals of emo and hardcore; the status of Adele and Chance the Rapper’s careers; the degree to which critics consider extramusical concerns when assessing work; rising talents including Rina Sawayama and Yeat; and much, much more.Guests:Joe Coscarelli, The New York Times’s pop music reporterCaryn Ganz, The New York Times’s pop music editorJon Pareles, The New York Times’s chief pop music criticConnect With Popcast. Become a part of the Popcast community: Join the show’s Facebook group and Discord channel. We want to hear from you! Tune in, and tell us what you think at popcast@nytimes.com. Follow our host, Jon Caramanica, on Twitter: @joncaramanica. More

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    Post Malone and Pop’s Single Sound

    “Twelve Carat Toothache,” the new album from the post-genre star, continues to collapse several styles into one, and hones a template adopted by a new generation, including Tate McRae.For a stretch in the mid-to-late 2010s, Post Malone found a way to make every kind of music, all at once. His songs were rooted in the attitude of hip-hop while helping underscore the genre’s sing-rap evolution. He had a penchant for lightly plangent country, and lived in the long shadow of what was once called alternative rock. Every now and then, he dialed up his tempo ever so slightly, turning his wails into bright pop. And his voice, a heavily processed sweet gargle, sounded completely modern, yet also like a deeply imprinted memory.On his fourth album, “Twelve Carat Toothache,” the 26-year-old musician returns with more sorrowful yodels from the basement of the gilded mansion. Success hasn’t sated him, nor has it challenged him. He remains a calm synthesizer of styles for an era in which old borders matter less than ever. At times, he is relentlessly effective, but just as often, his music has an air of indifferent inevitability — it sounds both like the template for what’s still to come and also the logical endpoint of pop specificity as we once knew it.What makes Post Malone particular are songs in which ecstasy and misery are indistinguishable: antagonists are saviors, surrender is freedom. “I was born to raise hell/I was born to take pills/I was born to chase mills,” he moans on “Reputation,” never shifting his tone. On “Euthanasia,” he can’t decide what form celebration should take: “Behold! A sober moment/Too short, and far between/I should crack one open to celebrate being clean.”The real narcotic is Post Malone’s voice, though — it contains unanimity. Whether boasting about stealing someone’s girlfriend (“Insane”), excavating the anxiety associated with hyperfame (“Wasting Angels”) or delivering the odd deeply moving koan (“Everything done for the dead after they’re dead is for the living”), he sounds the same: bereft, lonely, removed.That consistency goes a long way in the streaming ecosystem, when songs have no incentive to ever come to a conclusion, or resolution. TikTok may reward the choppy and the bristling, but Spotify privileges the tuneful and the atmospheric.This album’s production leans in to that, even as it includes some of Post Malone’s brightest sounds to date: “Wrapped Around Your Finger” has 1950s sweetness and 1980s syntheticness, and “I Cannot Be (a Sadder Song)” has a bubbly undertow that recalls some of the squeakiest K-pop. “One Right Now,” with the Weeknd, is more zippy dyspepsia.But even the chirpy moments don’t detract from the album’s tonal consistency — Louis Bell, a longtime collaborator and architect of Post Malone’s sound, is an executive producer on “Twelve Carat Toothache,” and has a production credit on each track. Mostly, he’s conducting a gloomy mood that’s tactile — “Insane” is ominous, “Cooped Up” is lavishly empty, and the production on “Love/Hate Letter to Alcohol” sounds like Foley artists recreating storm sounds for a disaster film. It’s ignorable but inescapable music that operates at gut level, not ear level — call it “Ambient 2: Music for AirPods.”The album’s guest roster captures the potency of this approach as well: Mostly, Post Malone seeks out like-voiced performers who blend singing and rapping — Gunna, the Kid Laroi, Doja Cat, Roddy Ricch. He even recruits Fleet Foxes, who more than a decade ago brought a keening shimmer to roots-friendly indie rock, making music that was epiphanic and smudgy, and a little grating. This gathering of performers feels pointed: a seamless bridge between generations of stars in Post Malone’s image, even as the man himself remains blurry.Strikingly, though, this tactic is even spilling over to more straightforward pop singer-songwriters, who are finding the audience for crispness narrower than it might once have been.It’s hovering over “I Used to Think I Could Fly,” the astute and piercing debut album from the 18-year-old Canadian Tate McRae. McRae has found some success on TikTok, mostly as a lightly puckish (or even punky) pop singer in the Olivia Rodrigo vein. Her recent hit “She’s All I Wanna Be” is a taut mix of self-laceration and eye-rolling. And some of the finest moments on this album follow a similar pattern, like “What Would You Do?,” with its sock-hop sass, or the exceptional “What’s Your Problem?,” which renders romantic gut punch with curiously ecstatic production.But more often, McRae’s sharp vocals are coated in layers of production — the melancholy “Hate Myself” is thick with theatrical reverb, and “Go Away” pulses with a muscular throb. There’s the faintest hint of R&B on “I’m So Gone” and “Don’t Come Back.” And the smeared production and vocal effects on “Chaotic” start somewhere near Billie Eilish but then become something more synthetic, touching on the anodyne joy of Christian pop and Post Malone’s aquatic pain. For good measure, Bell produced a track on McRae’s album, “You’re So Cool,” which echoes some of the more optimistic moments on “Twelve Carat Toothache.”It is a savvy decision, but also something of a hedge — in an era in which styles are all melting into one, it can seem like the way to stand out is to fit in. But maybe not forever.Post Malone“Twelve Carat Toothache”(Mercury/Republic)Tate McRae“I Used to Think I Could Fly”(RCA) More

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    Why ‘This Is How We Do It’ Is Actually a Country Song

    Elyssa Dudley and Listen and follow Still ProcessingApple Podcasts | Spotify | Stitcher | Amazon MusicIt’s an indelible 1990s relic, a tune that gets you into a groove right when the six opening words hit. Wesley has heard “This Is How We Do It” by Montell Jordan countless times since he was a teenager, but it wasn’t until a recent listen at the gym that he had an epiphany: It’s a country song. It fits into a long tradition of country music that expresses love and respect for an artist’s hometown — which, in Jordan’s case, is South Central Los Angeles.Wesley explores other songs that have personally changed in meaning for him over the years (like “Losing My Religion” by R.E.M.), and he considers music that has changed in tone for our collective culture — such as Britney Spears’s catalog, in the aftermath of her yearslong struggle to end her court-sanctioned conservatorship.While the context and meaning of these songs may evolve, “the art itself is not going to change,” Wesley realizes. “‘This Is How We Do It’ is the same song in 1995 as it is in 2022,” he continues. “But what’s different is me, I have changed, and there’s something about just hearing Montell Jordan talk about what it’s like to live in South Los Angeles that my life was finally ready to absorb in some different way.”Hosted by: Wesley Morris and Jenna WorthamProduced by: Hans Buetow and Elyssa DudleyEdited by: Sara Sarasohn and Sasha WeissEngineered by: Marion LozanoExecutive Producer, Shows: Wendy Dorr More

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    Sky Ferreira’s Dazzling, Defiant Return, and 11 More New Songs

    Hear tracks by Wynonna & Waxahatchee, Superorganism, Rico Nasty and others.Every Friday, pop critics for The New York Times weigh in on the week’s most notable new songs and videos. Just want the music? Listen to the Playlist on Spotify here (or find our profile: nytimes). Like what you hear? Let us know at theplaylist@nytimes.com and sign up for our Louder newsletter, a once-a-week blast of our pop music coverage.Sky Ferreira, ‘Don’t Forget’The nine long years since Sky Ferreira’s 2013 cult-classic album “Night Time, My Time” vanish in the opening moments of “Don’t Forget,” a dazzling return to form that is slated to appear on Ferreira’s much-delayed second album, “Masochism.” In her near decade (mostly) away from music — due, in part, to disagreements with her record label — Ferreira’s grungy synth-pop sound has hardly changed at all. But “Night Time, My Time” still sounds singular enough that “Don’t Forget” (which she co-produced with Jorge Elbrecht and co-wrote with Tamaryn) comes as a comfort rather than a disappointment. It’s refreshing to hear the 29-year-old pick up exactly where she left off, inhabiting a song’s echoing, tarnished atmosphere with her signature breathy intensity and smeared glamour. “Keep it in mind, nobody here’s a friend of mine,” Ferreira sneers, proving her melodramatically defiant edge is still intact. LINDSAY ZOLADZAlex G, ‘Blessing’The Philadelphia-based indie artist Alex G has both an easily recognizable aesthetic sensibility and a playfully elastic sense of self. On his excellent 2019 album “House of Sugar,” Alex (last name: Giannascoli) sometimes pitch-shifted and distorted his vocals as though he were embodying different characters — and then on the very next track he’d sing a twangy and seemingly earnest acoustic-guitar ditty that could break your heart in half. His predictable unpredictability strikes again on “Blessing,” which contrasts quasi-spiritual lyrics (“Every day/Is a blessing”) with a sound that borrows from the moody, alt-rock/nu-metal sound of the late ’90s. Alex sings in a menacing whisper, and an explosion of apocalyptic synths completely transforms the song midway through. Inscrutable as it may be, the whole thing is eerie, hypnotic and, somehow, strangely moving. ZOLADZSuperorganism, ‘On & On’The London-based group Superorganism turns boredom and monotony into something almost perky in “On & On.” “No more space, hit replay/It goes on and on,” Orono sings with sullen nonchalance, then repeats “and on” another 16 times. The track is bubble gummy pop with a hint of reggae, and it’s packed with little hooks and ever-changing effects, but nothing breaks through the ennui. JON PARELESWynonna & Waxahatchee, ‘Other Side’As she’s gotten older, Wynonna Judd has been singing with an assured husk in her voice, cutting the crisp country she’s performed for decades with just a hint of the blues. Katie Crutchfield of Waxahatchee, over the course of a career that began in DIY warehouse spaces, has found her bridge to American roots music. The two singers meet on “Other Side,” a gentle rumination on impermanence. For Judd — whose mother and longtime singing partner, Naomi, died last month — it’s a sturdy breeze, understated but invested. For Crutchfield, it’s a soft landing in a new home. JON CARAMANICASaya Gray, ‘Empathy for Bethany’“Empathy for Bethany” keeps wriggling free of expectations. Saya Gray, a Canadian songwriter who played bass in Daniel Caesar’s band, starts the song like a folky, picking triplets on an acoustic guitar. But almost immediately, the chord progression starts to wander; then her vocals warp by multitracking and shifting pitch, and soon a breathy trumpet drifts in from the jazz realm; by the time the track ends, it has become a loop of electronic aftereffects. “Honestly, if I get too close I’ll go ghost,” Gray sings, and the track bears her out. PARELESBruce Hornsby, ‘Tag’Bruce Hornsby has stayed productive and exploratory through the pandemic, doubling down on musical craftiness and structural ambition. His new album, “’Flicted,” pulls together spiky dissonances and folky warmth, chamber orchestrations and electronic illusions, puckishness and benevolence. “Fun and games in pestilence/We could use, use some kindly kindliness,” he sings in “Tag,” adding, “Still shake your fist/A kind of gritted bliss.” The music seesaws between rumbling, dissonant piano over a funky backbeat and richly chiming folk-rock, neatly juggling skepticism and hope. PARELESMaria BC, ‘April’The songs on Maria BC’s debut album, “Hyaline,” are reveries built around patiently picked guitar patterns and tranquil melodies, though they might sprout electronics, percussion or chamber-music orchestrations at any moment. In “April,” vocals overlap and multiply into cascading chords while unexpected sounds wink into earshot behind the guitar. “Listen to me/Anything you want,” the lyrics promise. PARELESKaitlyn Aurelia Smith & Emile Mosseri, ‘Amber’The experimental artist Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith and the Academy Award-nominated film composer Emile Mosseri have struck gold with their collaborative album, “I Could Be Your Dog/I Could Be Your Moon.” It’s only two minutes long, but “Amber,” from the second half of the project, runs like a spaced-out symphony. Over bubbling synth tones, Smith’s airy vocalizations loop into circuitous entanglements, shapeshifting into oceans of cosmic flotsam. The effect is appropriately cinematic, like a long-lost immersive Pipilotti Rist video. ISABELIA HERRERANduduzo Makhathini featuring Omagugu, ‘Mama’The first release on the new Blue Note Africa label, “In the Spirit of Ntu” is the South African pianist Nduduzo Makhathini’s homage to the universal energetic force known in Bantu cultures as “ntu.” It includes this wistful but swiftly rolling tune, “Mama,” written by Makhathini’s wife, Omagugu, in memory of her mother, who recently died. Omagugu sings in a sweeping, brushy tone, holding her syllables open, as Makhathini surrounds her in a pattern of chords that ascend and ascend. GIOVANNI RUSSONELLORico Nasty, ‘Intrusive’Falling somewhere between gritty hardcore and distorted jungle, Rico Nasty’s “Intrusive” scrapes like metal through a meat grinder. With her latest single, the Maryland rapper continues her return to music after her 2020 album “Nightmare Vacation.” On “Intrusive,” she harnesses punk verve and raps over a warped breakbeat, letting her intrusive impulses and most violent desires flow out in a stream-of-consciousness torrent. It’s bratty, turbulent and deliciously cathartic, like a childhood temper tantrum. “Mom, if you hear this I’m sorry,” she raps. Hey, at least she warned you. HERRERASleazyWorld Go featuring Lil Baby, ‘Sleazy Flow’ (remix)There’s not much to “Sleazy Flow,” by the Kansas City rapper SleazyWorld Go: a few piano tinkles, some groaning bass throbs, a sleepy, sinister tempo and crucially, some select lyrics blending street beef and sexual conquest: “How you mad she choosing me?/I like what she do to me/She say she feel safer over here, this where the shooters be.” That snippet became a TikTok breakout earlier this year, and Lil Baby picks up that taunting theme on the song’s official remix. His verse is almost chipper: “Acting like I’m chasing her or something, she be pursuing me/Can’t hold her, she be telling me all the time she wish that you was me.” CARAMANICADavid Virelles, ‘Al Compas de Mi Viejo Tres’David Virelles has no beef with the piano. A virtuoso improviser and classically trained pianist from Santiago de Cuba, he doesn’t seem intent on turning the instrument inside-out, like Thelonious Monk did; or jettisoning it entirely, like a John Cage; or turning it into an android, like some of his contemporaries. Virelles is a subtler expander. He plays the grand piano with sensitivity and deference, working with it, not against. He tucks dense harmonies inside other harmonies, shading his music with deep browns and grays — like an island sky turning dark before a storm. And on “Al Compás De Mi Viejo Tres” (“By the Compass of my Old Guitar”), from his masterly new album, “Nuna,” he celebrates the lilt of classic Cuban danzón by playing with utter elegance and clarity — stopping every so often to get in his own way with a few irruptive slashes or low, corrosive chords. RUSSONELLO More

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    ‘Look at Me: XXXTentacion’ Review: A Life Cut Short

    A documentary about a rap sensation who was a troubled and incendiary figure.About a half-hour into this documentary, Cleopatra Bernard, the mother of the rapper XXXTentacion, lists the occasions on which her son got a beating from his father. They are numerous. “But,” Bernard concludes, the father “wasn’t abusive.”Such moments make watching “Look at Me: XXXTentacion” — directed by Sabaah Folayan and executive-produced by Bernard — both fascinating and exasperating.XXXTentacion, born Jahseh Onfroy, was a Florida rapper whose brief life and career were ended in a 2018 shooting. Before that, his emotive music, incendiary persona and criminal notoriety earned him a fan base of America’s most disaffected children — and multiplatinum record sales.He learned he had bipolar disorder in his early adolescence, and he was making rap recordings before he turned 15. One such track in the film sounds like a cry for help that went unanswered.A frenetic and sometimes proudly violent person whose brutal beatings of his girlfriend Geneva Ayala are here chronicled in harrowing detail, XXXTentacion used one of his mug shots as the cover for his breakthrough single “Look at Me.”The film features home video footage of a celebration of his release from jail, at which he accepts platitudes offered by family and management (“do the right thing,” “one day at a time”). After which he flat-out lies about his abusive actions. “She was bruised already,” he says of Ayala.The musician’s life — and those of many around him — became a terrifying and toxic mix of street culture, mental illness and social media. Speaking of the world outside his circle, Bass Santana, a member of XXXTentacion’s crew, observes, “All these people want to see is us destroy each other.” He seems not wholly cognizant of the larger truth of what he’s saying, and that’s heartbreaking.Look at Me: XXXTentacionNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 48 minutes. Watch on Hulu. More

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    Kendrick Lamar’s Anxiety Era

    Subscribe to Popcast!Apple Podcasts | Spotify | StitcherKendrick Lamar spends much of his fifth album, “Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers,” in a state of anxious lament. It’s been five years since he released “DAMN.,” the Pulitzer Prize-winning album that was also his most commercially ambitious, and in that time, Lamar effectively disappeared. But he’s been reckoning — with his own relationship struggles, and with the burdens placed upon him by fans who lionize him.The No. 1 album he’s made faces those struggles head on, with Lamar detailing the ways in which he’s been shaped by his family, and openly grumbling about the weight of the crown he has only sometimes asked to wear.On this week’s Popcast, a conversation about Lamar’s evolution, the specificity of his songwriting and how even the most individualistic musicians can find themselves at the mercy of a narrative created by their listeners.Guests:Jeff Ihaza, senior editor at Rolling StoneCraig Jenkins, music critic at Vulture/New York magazineStephen Kearse, contributing writer at The NationConnect With Popcast. Become a part of the Popcast community: Join the show’s Facebook group and Discord channel. We want to hear from you! Tune in, and tell us what you think at popcast@nytimes.com. Follow our host, Jon Caramanica, on Twitter: @joncaramanica. More