Thelonious Sphere Monk

Mast

Two key words in the subtitle, A Cosmic Journey Reinterpreting the Great Thelonious Monk Songbook, are “cosmic” and “reinterpreting.” But whereas those terms often camouflage silliness, the multi-instrumentalist Mast (née Tim Conley) takes them seriously. He also takes Monk’s compositions seriously. Neither the prevalence of electronic sounds nor their deployment beneath and around such benchmarks of bebop as “Bemsha Swing,” “Well You Needn’t,” and “Pannonica” (two-fifths of Monk’s brilliant Brilliant Corners) distracts from their melodies—melodies that draw attention to the subtitle’s third key word: “great.”

Relax Your Mind: Honoring the Music of Lead Belly

Peter Tork and Shoe Suede Blues

The main difference between Peter Tork’s Lead Belly tribute and Dan Zanes’ (see below) is that Tork isn’t targeting kiddies. Not that his cracker-barrel tenor or his rhythmically acute folk-rock band (or his Monkees pedigree) is child unfriendly. But he takes greater risks in choosing which Lead Belly songs to record. Children will understand “Come and Sit Down Beside Me” just fine. They might, however, need the songs about Black Betty, Jean Harlow, and Jesus (specifically, why He died without saying a mumblin’ word) explained.

Spiritual Impressions

James Weidman

Assisted by a bluesy, modestly swinging small combo, the pianist James Weidman provides interior illumination to “iconic Negro spirituals” (his term). Eight feature the singularly creamy mezzo-soprano of the Christian jazz vocalist Ruth Naomi Floyd. Three she sits out. One of those, “Walk Together Children,” is a low-key solo-Weidman affair. Another, the full-combo original “African Spirals,” unfolds for 6½ breathtaking minutes. Verdict: Floyd provides the icing, but the cake is pretty tasty as well.

Lead Belly, Baby!

Dan Zanes and Friends

Zanes has long credited his childhood discovery of Lead Belly with having launched him on his own musical odyssey. And with these 15 songs he and his friends do their best to introduce the technology-besotted children of the 21st century to the irrepressibly human spirit of the man born Huddie Ledbetter. To that end, they clean up the language of “Whoa, Back, Buck” and prove with a “Skip to My Lou” featuring the (clean) rapping of Memphis Jelks and Chuck D that cute is not beneath them.

ENCORE

Bruno Mars’ third album, 24k Magic (Atlantic), was released in November 2016, but it fell within the eligibility parameters established by the Recording Academy and dominated January’s awards ceremony (the 60th of its kind if you’re counting). Not only did it earn Mars the coveted Album of the Year trophy, but its title cut and “That’s What I Like” won Record of the Year and Song of the Year honors respectively.

So how good is it? Call it an effervescently heady mix of Michael Jackson, Prince, James Brown, and Ray Parker Jr., and assume the catchiness therefore to be a given. What isn’t is the album’s humility-bespeaking brevity. At 33 minutes and 28 seconds, it’s the fourth-shortest Album of the Year in Grammy history. It’s also, alas, one of the shallowest: The Mars that emerges seems little more than a hedonistic “player.” At their most effervescently heady, Jackson, Prince, Brown, and Parker came off as more three-dimensional. —A.O.