A trumpeter sat in on a house groove, quoted Coltrane, and texted the drummer that night — we have to record this. 一張專輯名長到得喘口氣，七首歌把英國民謠揉成一場胡鬧

Nicholas Payton & Butcher Brown — A Supreme Blue

The story goes that it began by accident. Nicholas Payton was in the audience at a Butcher Brown show, the Richmond band deep in one of their house-inflected grooves, when he climbed up and started threading the opening figure of Coltrane's "Acknowledgement" through the beat. By the end of the night he had texted the drummer, Corey Fonville, to say they had to make a record. What they made is nervier than the anecdote suggests. The first five tracks follow the running order of Kind of Blue; the last four take up the four movements of A Love Supreme. Arriving in the centenary year of both Miles Davis and Coltrane, it could easily have curdled into reverence, and mostly it declines to. Payton's trumpet keeps testing the funk underneath, looking for somewhere the old tunes have not already been.

Robyn Hitchcock — The Confuser

Robyn Hitchcock has been writing his particular brand of English non-sequitur since the Soft Boys, and time has done nothing to sand it down. The novelty here is the setting. He took these ten songs to Nashville, and the Music City players give his surrealism a warm, jangling floor to stand on. The friction between the two is the pleasure: a line about death or a lizard lands inside an arrangement so poised it seems not to have registered what was said. He is in his seventies and still handling language like a toy he refuses to put away.

Svindel — Drömfeber

Svindel are Swedish, and Drömfeber, which means "dream fever," is exactly the seventies pastiche the title promises: riffs first, questions later. There is nothing new in it. There is a great deal that is warm and loud, which on certain evenings is the more useful quality. Ripple Music continues its patient campaign to keep proto-metal in print.

Nick Granata — My Heart is Running Backwards! A Martial Artist! With a Closed Fist! Woof!

Punch Brothers — The Unsung Adventures of Punch Brothers

For the first time in seven albums, Punch Brothers do not sing. The Unsung Adventures is entirely instrumental, Chris Thile's mandolin taking the narrating role a voice would usually hold. Bluegrass has always been a storyteller's music, and hearing it told without words turns out to sharpen the account rather than blur it. You find yourself listening to the interplay itself: who yields, who pushes, who drags a phrase somewhere the others have to scramble after. Eleven pieces, no lyrics, nothing much lost.

Nathalie Stutzmann & Atlanta Symphony Orchestra — Bruckner: Symphony No. 4 Romantic

Nathalie Stutzmann spent decades as one of the finest contraltos in Europe before turning, relatively late, to the podium. Her Bruckner cycle in Atlanta reaches the Fourth, in the 1878–1880 text, and the singer's instincts are audible throughout. The famous horn call at the opening sits steadily on the strings' faint light, and the long crescendos that sprawl in other hands are paced by someone who knows, from the inside, how to sustain a phrase past the point where the breath should have given out. Patient, unhurried, certain of where it is headed.

Kenneth Woods / Raphael Wallfisch / BBC Scottish SO — John McCabe: Symphonies 2 & 3 and Cello Concerto Songline

Tookoo — Mountain and Ocean

Tookoo, the veteran Mandarin indie-rock band, return with a twelve-track record called Mountain and Ocean. I have spent less time with it than with the rest here, so I will leave it at that and keep listening.