‘Jeanuis’

‘Jeanuis’

Jean Grae, “Jeanius” (Blacksmith Records/ Warner Bros.)

For most indie-rap diehards, pairing producer 9th Wonder (Jay-Z, Erykah Badu) with South African-born, Brooklyn-bred rapper Jean Grae is an ideal match-up. Formerly of underground hip-hop darlings Little Brother, 9th Wonder’s known for subtly textured, retro-sounding beats — looped, dusty soul samples and drum kicks that pop. Meanwhile, Grae’s respected for being among a species of rapper facing extinction — the female MC.

Her immodestly titled disc “Jeanius” fulfills much of the promise of the vaunted collaboration. (An early version of “Jeanius” surfaced as a bootleg in 2004). Grae’s conversational flow is packed with equal amounts boasting and poignant insight. She’s as adept at punchline rapson “2-32’s” she explains: “Impeccable rap flow/ second to that wordplay/ akin to a verb hitting a pi ±ata on the eve of its birthday.”

Yet Grae’s also willing to reveal details of a past abortion on the solemn “My Story” and her indie rap struggles on “Don’t Rush Me.” On the latter, she rhymes: “There’s nothing like knowing yourself/ Like the way I know that smoking’s kinda broken my health/ Like the way I know my flow don’t make appropriate wealth.”

By mid-disc, it becomes more evident that mainstream success has eluded Grae in part because her dense, deliberate flow — now over Wonder’s hypnotic, midtempo tracks — is strictly headphone music. Her songs require close listening to be fully appreciated. But that suits a lyricist such as Grae, a cult heroine who’s sorely needed in today’s hip-hop world.

— Brett Johnson, Associated Press

‘The Stoop’

Little Jackie (S-Curve Records)

There’s nothing small about Little Jackie’s debut.

The Brooklyn-based duo of singer/songwriter Imani Coppola and programmer Adam Pallin go hard on “The Stoop,” a solid collection of 11 tracks. The CD has both a contemporary and classic sound, thanks to its funky Motown vibe mixed with hip-hop beats.

Coppola can be comical and quirky, and that’s reflected lyrically on “The Stoop.” On the first single, “The World Should Revolve Around Me,” she sings, “I’ve had a lot of failed relationships/I don’t get involved cause I’m not equipped/I believe that the world should revolve around me.”

Coppola is even bolder on the sensuous “Guys Like When Girls Kiss,” where she says she may “get with a woman” because she’s “perplexed by the opposite sex.”

Whether she’s pushing boundaries or being introspective, Coppola is always worth a listen.

— Mesfin Fekadu, Associated Press

‘Vol. 1: Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails’

The Baseball Project (Yep Roc)

More people may watch football, but baseball is arguably our most beloved sport.

Football fans take six months off and basketball fans ignore their sport until the playoffs. True baseball fans, however, suffer a year-round obsession, can talk today’s stats and the merits of yesteryear’s stars at the drop of a sweat-rimmed billed cap and have a greater sense of right and wrong than anyone this side of the pulpit.

That’s why The Baseball Project’s “Vol. 1: Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails” is like a drive to the gap with the bases loaded. Released by a group of veteran indie rockers as the All-Star game approaches, “Frozen Ropes” confronts the sport in all its glory and infamy.

This is no twangy “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” vanity project. Steve Wynn (Dream Syndicate, Miracle 3) and Scott McCaughey (R.E.M., Young Fresh Fellows, Minus 5) have created a tapestry of baseball mythology all their own, chronicling the sport as it stands in the new century — at times tarnished but still completely irresistible.

With the help of R.E.M.’s Peter Buck and drummer Linda Pitmon, Wynn and McCaughey craft 13 original songs that take on the sport’s history of racism in “Jackie’s Lament,” “Satchel Paige Said” and “Fernando,” its flawed greats (“The Death of Big Ed Delahanty” and a song about Ted Williams with an unprintable title) and its broken heroes (“Long Before My Time” and “Gratitude [for Curt Flood]”).

The album is full of jubilant musical moments and amusing turns of phrase, but it’s no sing-a-long. The songs are dense, filled with more baseball lore than you can shake a maple bat at. The crowning achievement is Wynn’s “Harvey Haddix,” a lament sung about the Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher whose bid for a perfect game ended with a hit in the 13th inning.

Wynn manages to include the names of all 17 pitchers who’ve thrown perfect nine-inning games in baseball history and closes with the oft-asked question, “Why don’t we add Harvey to that list?”

— Chris Talbott, Associated Press

‘Modern Guilt’

Beck (Geffen)

In 1994, Beck was a baby-faced 24-year-old riding into the sun on the coattails of his tongue-in-cheek funk anthem “Loser.”

He’s now a father of two, a husband and nearing 40. On “Modern Guilt,” his aptly named eighth studio album, the singer sighs with the sentiment of a 21st-century man whose fantasies have lapsed into frustration.

Beck’s last album, 2006’s pop/hip-hop “The Information,” hinted at this kind of existential anxiety in its lyrics, and 2002’s somber “Sea Change” showed that Beck was capable of serious introspection.

Produced by DJ Brian “Danger Mouse” Burton, one half of eclectic duo Gnarls Barkley, the new album fuses Burton’s minimalist beats with Beck’s bleak words. Tunes range from catchy to meandering, even with most songs pared down to under three and a half minutes.

“I feel uptight when I walk in the city/ I feel so cold when I’m at home,” Beck intones on the uptempo title track, interlaced with electronic blips and understated guitar.

The album is at its best when the funk flies, dipped in Burton’s blend of psychedelic loops and echoed riffs.

Environmental shout-out “Gamma Ray” sounds like Gnarls Barkley, propelled forward by a garage-pop refrain. “Youthless,” despite its depressing lyrics, is all sophisticated funk, complete with finger-snaps and staccato strings.

Still, Beck’s disillusioned words, as on the album’s airy closer “Volcano,” make one wonder how far down the blue-eyed troubadour can go.

“I’ve been walking on these streets so long/ I don’t know where they’re going to lead anymore/But I think I must have seen a ghost/ I don’t know if it’s my illusions that keep me alive,” he sings.

— Solvej Schou, Associated Press

‘Two Men with the Blues’

Willie Nelson and Wynton Marsalis (Blue Note)

There’s a newcomer to the jazz scene by the name of Willie Nelson.

Prediction: He’s going to be big.

“Two Men with the Blues” features Wynton Marsalis and his quartet with Nelson and his harmonica player, Mickey Raphael, during a two-night stand recorded in January 2007 at Jazz at Lincoln Center. The site is New York City, but the music is New Orleans jazz and R&B, with only occasional nods to Nashville and Austin.

The question is not why Nelson chose to record this sort of album, but why he waited so long. His distinctive phrasing and easy delivery make him a natural jazz vocalist, as he has long showed when covering pop standards, and the gravity-defying intervals he sings are perfect for the genre.

Nelson’s unorthodox style might lead a lesser band over the cliff, but Marsalis and company mesh with their vocalist beautifully. Marsalis is in top form as a soloist and in tandem with saxophonist Walter Blanding, and Raphael turns out to be a darned good Dixieland harpist.

Less successful is guitarist Nelson. Although there’s a certain rustic charm to his rudimentary solos, his picking sounds out of place here. But when he sings, all is forgiven.

— Steven Wine, Associated Press