One of the things I most enjoy doing lately is reviewing five new/newish albums the first week of each month. (Last month’s roundup got bumped a week so we could report on Big Ears.) This month’s picks cover a pretty broad range, from avant-garde classical to jazz to electronic-tinged singer-songwriter music to doomy power metal. Let’s dive in, shall we?

According to the booklet of their new CD aus der nacht, a•pe•ri•od•ic is “a Chicago-based experimental music ensemble founded in 2010 and directed by Nomi Epstein featuring post-Cagean notated, experimental music. Repertoire explores the indeterminacy of various musical elements including instrumentation, structure, pitch, and/or duration.” The instrumentation for this piece, which runs a little over 45 minutes but is a sequence of 71 discrete musical events, includes flute, clarinet, whistle, French horn, prepared piano, cello, bassoon, percussion, voice and sine tone. There seems to be some degree of improvisatory latitude available to the performers; as Epstein explains it, “Each performer’s role remains fixed within the group, but the way in which we each iterate our material in a given event is autonomous, shaped through relational listening and a shared intention toward a particular kind of sonic landscape.” All of the discrete musical events are similar in tone and vibe; this isn’t some John Zorn/Carl Stalling-esque piece built out of jarring juxtapositions. It reminds me of Apartment House’s recording of John Cage’s Number Pieces; it’s really beautiful in a way that’s superficially meditative, but the more closely you listen, the more fascinating little moments you’ll hear.

James M. Creed is a composer and guitarist from the UK; Tending is his debut album, released on the Another Timbre label, whose work has never failed to impress me (I haven’t heard everything they’ve released, but I’ve loved everything I’ve heard). It consists of four pieces for ensembles ranging from six to 12 players, each of which is simply named for its instrumentation. The first piece, “Double Quintet and Duo,” is both the largest group and my favorite. It’s a series of slowly rising long tones, anchored by simple piano chords, and the cumulative effect is like if Coldplay decided to write a song based on a melody stolen from Arvo Pärt? Only… good? “Piano(s) and String Quartet” sets up a fascinating dynamic between two pianos, one new and properly tuned and the other old and messed-up, with long drones from the strings filling the space between. It’s a cloud of sound that you can stick your head inside and get lost in. “Sextet and Solo” pulses in a way that reminds me of ambient electronic music, while the final track, the 25-minute “Octet: after five bars by Rebecca Clarke, composer,” feels almost infinitely patient, wavering like something half-heard from over the next hill. There’s a really interesting interview with Creed on Another Timbre’s website; he talks about his own background, and the music, and the musicians he worked with on the album. It’ll give you some real insight into the album, so check that out before, after, or while you listen.

Kiiōtō is a new project from Lou Rhodes, former vocalist of Lamb, and keyboardist Rohan Heath. Black Salt is their second album, following 2024’s As Dust We Rise. I loved Lamb; their self-titled debut album, released in 1996, offered a stark and arty take on trip-hop. The follow-up, 1999’s Fear Of Fours, was a little more jazzy — I saw them supporting it at the Mercury Lounge in New York, and they had a trumpet player, an upright bassist, and a live drummer, which was great. Kiiōtō’s music is quieter and more conventional than Lamb’s. As Rhodes has aged, her voice has developed a crackle and roughness reminiscent of Marianne Faithfull, and the instrumental palette she and Heath construct, with guest guitarists and string players (and more trumpet and upright bass), is hushed and somewhat gloomy, like a dusty living room with the curtains drawn. Occasionally, the energy level jumps up a bit; “Here Comes The Flood” (not a Peter Gabriel cover) from the debut, and “Warpaint” from the new one, are a somewhat genteel take on Memphis soul. The music is nice, but Rhodes remains a hushed presence better suited to ballads. Still, I can’t think of another record that sounds exactly like this.

When was the last time you heard a baritone saxophonist record as a leader in trio format? I can’t think of one. The baritone is usually there to fill out a larger ensemble, or at least paired up with another horn — think Gerry Mulligan and Chet Baker, or Pepper Adams and Donald Byrd. And while Jimmy Farace’s debut, 2025’s Hours Fly, Flowers Die, featured a larger ensemble (guitarist Kenny Reichert, pianist Julius Tucker, bassist Clark Sommers, drummer Dana Hall, and a string quartet), on Big Shoulders, Big Sounds, he’s out there with just Sommers and Hall backing him. The result is one of the most relaxing and enjoyable jazz records I’ve heard in some time. The baritone’s gentle, rumbling murmur just seems to float in the middle of the room, and Farace’s bluesy melodies are constructed with perfect emotional logic. You’d expect a piece with a title like “Prophetic Dreams” to be a spiritual jazz vamp, but it’s a romantic ballad straight out of a noir movie. And while his solo rises to a somewhat passionate crescendo, it gets there so gradually that it never feels forced or showy. Nobody here is showing off; even when Hall opens “DST” with a drum solo, it’s clearly intended to set up the other players’ entrances as much as to demonstrate his own percussive facility.

Spirit Adrift has been one of my favorite metal bands for several years now. I’ve never heard their debut, the two-track Behind-Beyond EP, or their first full-length, Chained To Oblivion, but their next four albums — Curse Of Conception, Divided By Darkness, Enlightened In Eternity, and Ghost At The Gallows — have been an amazing journey. (They also released the Forge Your Future EP and 20 Centuries Gone, a collection of covers with two new songs added, between Enlightened and Ghost.) They’ve gradually transitioned from doom metal in the vein of Dio-era Black Sabbath to a more galloping power metal style, and their lyrical themes have shifted accordingly. Enlightened was the breakthrough, to my ear; bandleader Nate Garrett began singing about transcendence and overcoming life’s obstacles, rather than being weighed down by them, and the music reflected that, sounding like a cross between High On Fire and Dawnbringer, with guitar solos that soared like eagles. Their last album, 2023’s Ghost At The Gallows, was even cleaner, almost Baroness-esque. (I wrote about it here, calling it “some of the most fist-in-the-air, big-riff, screaming-solo, joyous music you’ll ever hear.”) But now Garrett is hanging up his leathers due to personal hardship, and the final Spirit Adrift album, Infinite Illumination, is a slow march back into the darkness from whence they came. The tempos are slower, the riffs are heavier, with the bluesy swing of sludge and biker doom, and track titles like “Born In A Bad Way” and “Buried In The Shadow Of The Cross” and the ominous “Where Once There Was An Ocean” tell the tale; this album is more in the spirit of Scott “Wino” Weinrich projects like the Obsessed and Spirit Caravan. Garrett is staring into the void, axe in hand, and if the exultation of previous albums is gone, he’s still got grit and determination, and you will pump your fist and bang your head to these songs.