Albums of the week: Tortoise, Tame Impala, Miguel, Emma Rawicz

Touch

Tortoise

(International Anthem/Nonesuch)

On their first album since 2016, Tortoise remain a supple force still capable of stealth manoeuvres. Back in the 90s, the Chicago-born quintet pioneered a sinuous, free-form sound – serious but playful. Although conceived within a rock band formation, their music found room for the energetic tones of jazz guitarist Jeff Parker and the tricksy rhythmic possibilities of two drummers, melodic bass and wayward electronics. They hated the term foisted on them: post-rock.

Thirty years on, many outfits now operate at the cusp of soundtracks, jazz and experimental music, but few have the grooves and immediate sonic signatures of Tortoise. Take the louche progressions of Oganesson, what you might quaintly call Touch’s lead single, named for the heaviest element in the periodic table, or the more reflective Works and Days.

By contrast, Elka is mostly composed of straight electronic club music, while Axial Seamount has hints of Neu! Night Gang invokes the retro grandeur of Phil Spector’s wall of sound before turning towards a spaghetti western landscape. You could hardly accuse these musicians of lacking ideas, but there are two missteps here: the shruggy, place-holding A Title Comes, and Touch’s cringeworthy cover art: an image of a woman’s face framed by a scorpion. Kitty Empire

Deadbeat

Tame Impala

(Columbia)

Since decisively pivoting from psychedelic rock to a more commercial sound with 2015’s Currents, Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker has sat at pop’s top table: collaborations with Lady Gaga, Rihanna and Dua Lipa have followed. Deadbeat is his most dancefloor-friendly effort to date, the likes of Ethereal Connection and End of Summer in particular carrying an unmistakable debt to 1990s house music. As with all of Parker’s records, Deadbeat is immaculately executed (multitracked voices evoking a four-to-the-floor Beach Boys at times) and easy on the ear. However, it is so polished that it feels almost featureless – there are melodies aplenty, but vanishingly few of them are memorable.

Lyrically, meanwhile, there’s something a little unbecoming – and at odds with the gauzy euphoria of the music – about millionaire solipsism. The opener, My Old Ways, starts: “So here I am once again, feel no good” – and the mood doesn’t noticeably lift throughout. No Reply is effectively a lengthy apology for failing to return a text; Obsolete documents the end of a relationship. It’s a triumph of style over substance. Phil Mongredien

Caos

Miguel

(ByStorm Entertainment/RCA)

Over his 25-year career, singer-songwriter and producer Miguel has garnered a reputation for eclecticism, making sultry, dramatic R&B that borders on the cosmic, with splashes of funk, rock and dance music. His first new album in eight years continues in that vein, cut through with more emotion than ever. “I know it’s too late, I thought there was always time,” he sings on lead single Always Time, starkly contemplating his divorce over a drifting, Nirvana-esque riff.

Elsewhere, the lyrics can be a little clunky, as when he considers ageing (“We all know we gotta die someday”), but there are thoughtful reckonings on US politics and first-time fatherhood on Angel’s Song, along with new lusts and desires on Oscillate. Indeed, the record gets its title, Caos, from the highs and lows of Miguel’s life (it being Spanish for “chaos”; several songs on the album are also sung in his paternal tongue). The ups and downs are mirrored in the shapeshifting tracks: celestial slow-burners, amped-up power pop, semi-junglist hooks,plush, psych-tinged guitars. Sonically this is as sumptuous as ever. Tara Joshi

Inkyra

Emma Rawicz

(ACT)

Since winning best newcomer at the Parliamentary Jazz awards at age 19, while still studying at London’s conservatoire, Devon-born saxophonist Emma Rawicz has proved a tyro for our times. She has plunged boldly into new experiences: her own jazz orchestra; extensive tours across Europe; and, in 2023, a sparkling second album, Chroma, its title a nod to her synaesthesia, where sounds and colours evoke each other. Now Rawicz, at 23, has relocated to Berlin.

Having been tested in performance last summer and much refined thereafter, the pieces on Inkyra were recorded with a sextet, among which flautist Gareth Lockrane and guitarist David Preston shine. “Everyone’s imprint is on it,” says Rawicz, and the result is some magisterial ensemble playing. Her boisterous post-bop stylings and love of fusion are still here on Particles of Change, but the album also contains orchestral pieces such as Anima Rising. From the title on, the spirit of Joni Mitchell often holds sway – particularly in the busy All My Yellow Afternoons (taking its title from a Mitchell lyric) and the lovely Moondrawn (Dreaming). They are part of a wider narrative maturity. Landmark, bravura stuff. Neil Spencer

Celtic artists have been dominating the musical spotlight recently – from the headline-grabbing Belfast rap trio Kneecap, to the long-deserved ascent of CMAT, the Scottish singer-songwriter Jacob Alon and the trad-folk outfit the Mary Wallopers. Many of these acts have also been proudly giving a platform to the sounds of their heritage, flooding TikTok with fiddles and flutes and thus bringing these instruments to a new generation.

It’s into this moment that the Falkirk quintet Brògeal (pronounced: “bro-gale”) arrive, fusing the bawdy barroom spirit of the Pogues with the 00s indie earworms of the View and lacing everything with local references and a broad Scottish brogue. Their new debut album, Tuesday Paper Club, includes tracks named after home town roads, while their self-titled 2024 EP opened with Roving Falkirk Bairn – an ode to the constant pull of their roots.

Speaking to the Independent, vocalist Aidan Callaghan emphasised Brògeal’s wish for their sound to occupy a specifically Scottish space. “I feel very strongly about my country and its culture, and so it’d feel like a cop-out trying to copy English bands,” he said. Callaghan plays the banjo, and on top of guitar, bass and drums, they also count an accordion player among their number. Meanwhile, the band’s live shows regularly end with a tin whistle. It is a winning combination: all sorts of fun and an audible pride. Lisa Wright

Photographs by Heather Cantrell/Brandon Bowden/Gregor Hohenberg