New Music Friday: Stream albums from Mabe Fratti, Boldy James, Loma, and more

Mabe Fratti’s fourth solo studio LP is a shapeshifting ride that twists and loops through the Guatemalan cellist/singer/composer’s psychic theme park: “Kravitz” is a house haunted from behind its walls; “Pantalla Azul” is a cable car with panoramic windows; “Oídos” is a dangerously keening pirate ship; “Quieras o no” is a log flume that splashes down on its final, single-word line, “Justificación!”; and “Angel Nuevo” is a supermassive ferris wheel, overlooking the record’s emotional turmoil from a critical distance. In context, the album’s outre instrumental cuts — or, as Fratti refers to them, “tension creators” — are less quirky interludes than rollercoaster ascents, accruing potential energy until there’s nothing to do but dive back down into the fray of one of this year’s most thrilling albums so far. — Raphael Helfand

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music | Bandcamp

A year and a half after a life-threatening car accident left him with serious injuries and a lengthy recovery period, Boldy James is still consistently releasing music with the same keen detail and sharp humor, but with an increased sense of purpose. Across The Tracks is part of that new clarity: a 10-track collaboration with Conductor Williams, the veteran producer whose menacing beats built on vintage samples helped define the sound of Buffalo’s Griselda crew. For all the inevitability that the union of James and Williams may have, their pairing still feels like a lightning bolt. The songs are siblings of James’ beloved, star-making collaborations with The Alchemist, but warmer and less brooding. James gives props to other rappers (including a memorable shoutout to fellow Detroit star Veeze) and draws up dense, heartbreaking narratives across swirling instrumentals that tilt psychedelic at times. As predictable as Across The Tracks‘s creation was, it shows that logical link-ups can still be legendary. — Jordan Darville

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music

Loma's third album came together between a small house and a 12th century chapel in the U.K., where vocalist Emily Cross lives as an end-of-life doula. A padded coffin was used as a vocal booth on some of the warm, stirring songs that make up the group's first album in four years. Loss informs many of the lyrics on How Will I Live Without A Body?. It's there on "Unbraiding" and "Turnaround," a demo-like recording that closes the album and features the lines, "Walk into the darkness Don't turn around." Elsewhere, Cross sings about her battle with agoraphobia on both "Broken Doorbell" and " How It Starts," the latter offering a sign of release from the caging experience. Album highlight "Pink Skies," meanwhile, sounds like the group's take on "Ghost Town" by The Specials. Rich woodwind instruments and a dubby bassline combining to create an enticing, murky sound. Curiously, the title of the project is taken from a poem devised by Laurie Anderson's AI, a chatbot trained solely on the work of the great experimental artist. It may seem odd to turn to technology to guide such a deeply humanistic album, it's to the group's credit that they fold the uncanny futurism into their work so seamlessly. — David Renshaw

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music | Bandcamp

Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s latest film opens and closes with long, steady tracking shots of sky through trees, accompanied by a wash of simmering strings. Written and arranged by Eiko Ishibashi for roughly 50 parts, the theme was recorded by two musicians who executed dozens of overdubs in the studio next to Ishibashi’s home in rural Japan. Aside from the score’s symphonic elements, which she wrote after watching the film’s final cut, she composed the rest of the film’s music — from the searching electronics of “Hana” and “Fether” to the slick jazz fusion of “Smoke” — without even knowing the plot. Originally meant for a live performance to be accompanied by Hamaguchi’s silent visuals (a collaboration that did ultimately come to fruition as Gift), the music takes on a far more active role in Evil Does Not Exist than scores generally do. The movie’s climax, for instance, is 12 minutes of wordless action set to “Missing,” the film’s longest uninterrupted musical passage. Out today in album form, Eiko’s Evil Does Not Exist soundtrack is a masterful, morphing body of work culminating in the electric and orchestral moments that coexist on “Missing,” bringing the full picture into focus. — Raphael Helfand

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On his second studio album God Said No, Omar Apollo crafts a breakup album that's complicated and messy, strung together from a series of secret confessions, conflicted thoughts, and unexpected waves of emotions. Throughout the album, Apollo makes decisive statements while simultaneously undermining them with imperfect moments of quiet desperation and wallowing regret. He’ll let sludgy basslines betray the upbeat techno of “Less Of You” and allow his insecurities to eat away at the confident seduction of “Done With You,” but there’s an authenticity to the production being at odds with his words. These sonic question marks and half-truths are what make God Said No such a relatable listen, and a turbulent yet truthful reflection of the emotional chaos that accompanies the heartbreak, anger, and grief of a lost relationship. — Sandra Song

Hear it: Spotify | Apple Music