New and noteworthy

Sweet, Sweet Spirit

Ron Carter & Ricky Dillard

Ron Carter is the jazz bassist who cemented his legendary status with Miles Davis and has re-cemented it many times since. Ricky Dillard is the leader of the 80-voice New G (for “Generation”) Choir. Together, they take 10 hymns beloved of Carter’s late mother and give them a variety of treatments. Some raise the roof (“Open My Eyes,” “Everybody Will Be Happy”). Others emphasize nuance (“Pass Me Not,” “Just a Little Talk With Jesus”). Listeners concerned that the choir will drown Carter out can relax. His elastically loping bass pulses as palpably as a vein in a well-flexed arm.

The Romantic

Bruno Mars

This album’s strong commercial performance should delight nostalgists: The songs that couldn’t have been huge hits in the pre-disco 1970s would’ve been huge hits in the pre-new-jack-swing ’80s. Michael Jackson, of course, was dominant during both periods, as was Stevie Wonder, and it’s those two whom Mars still seems incapable of not channeling. Not that his voice is as eccentric as Jackson’s or as strong as Wonder’s, but then nostalgists can’t have everything. That is, unless they’re Santana fans. “Something Serious” rips off—er, pays homage to—“Evil Ways” something serious.

Baz Luhrmann’s EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert Original Motion Picture Soundtrack 

Elvis Presley

The 2010 soundtrack to Cirque du Soleil’s Viva Elvis stands on its own because you don’t need the visuals to enjoy Erich van Tourneau’s audio wizardry. Baz Luhrmann’s problem is that his audio wizardry can’t touch his cinematic wizardry. Still, if you’ve seen EPiC, this soundtrack’s audio will keep your memories of the experience alive. And, anyway, you don’t need to see Elvis laying claim to everybody else’s best material as well as his own to find it rather awe-inspiring. About the “Suspicious Minds” remix “Don’t Fly Away,” Van Tourneau would approve.

Blank Arcades

Andrew Rumsey

Andrew Rumsey isn’t a typical Anglican bishop. He writes books about the sacredness of place, for one thing. But he also records albums with top-notch engineers. As in his books, locations (“Juxon Street,” “Trebarwith Strand”) and landmarks (“Shirley Windmill,” “We Are the Sons of Temperance”) play a role. His acoustic textures, melancholy melodies, and haunted vocals suggest what Nick Drake might’ve achieved if he’d overcome his inner vortex.

Encore

Fans of Rob Withem’s hour-long 2025 Fine China album I Felt Called (Velvet Blue) will know that Bruno Mars isn’t the only guy effectively mining nostalgia these days. Awash in 1980s synth-pop and then wrung out of all but the (often melancholy) essentials, I Felt Called served as a tuneful reminder that older styles can still yield fresh pleasures if you know where to drill. Withem knows where to drill. In fact, the just-released I Felt Called: The Complete Sessions reveals that he may have been easing up on the bit.

The Complete Sessions adds four tracks to the original dozen, and, yes, “Pedal to the Metal” is just an alternate ­version of one of those. But even it has its place in what amounts to a 24-minute coda, the overall dreaminess of which pleasantly reinforces the tendency of Withem’s lyrics to go in and out of focus. His in-focus moments, by the way, don’t come any clearer than this warning from “Take the Pain”: “It won’t feel / like the morning of the world / until you’re too old / to enjoy all the things you’re working for.” —A.O.