A Rare Look at Bob Dylan in the Studio, and 13 More New Songs

“Don’t Fall Apart on Me Tonight (Version 2)” is from the latest deep dive into the Bob Dylan archives, the five-CD “Springtime in New York: The Bootleg Series Vol. 16 1980-1985.” The track is similar in feel — though full of Dylan’s improvisatory variations — to the take that appeared on “Infidels” in 1983, with a new mix that dials back the unfortunate 1980s drum sound. Dylan had a superb studio band, with the Jamaican team of Sly (Dunbar) and Robbie (Skakespeare) on drums and bass, and a conversational interplay between Mick Taylor (formerly of the Rolling Stones) on slide guitar and Mark Knopfler (of Dire Straits) on electric guitar. It’s not the most radical discovery in the set — which also includes rarities like “Enough Is Enough” and “Yes Sir, No Sir” — but it arrives with live footage of the sessions, a rare glimpse of Dylan in motion in the studio. JON PARELES

The War on Drugs trades psychedelic haze for 1980s heft in “I Don’t Live Here Anymore.” Adam Granduciel sings about coming to terms with the past, breaking up, letting go and moving on, deciding — with the voices of Lucius as a choir — “We’re all just walking through this darkness on our own.” Deploying neat, reverberating guitar and synthesizer hooks like Don Henley’s “Boys of Summer,” the song is a booming march toward a willed recovery. PARELES

This stellar duet between the young Nigerian singer Tems and the R&B crooner Brent Faiyaz is saturated with an easy melancholy. On the song from Tems’s new EP, “If Orange Was a Place,” she sounds anxious and unraveled: “I feel I might just be coming undone/Tell me why you can’t be found.” When Faiyaz arrives, he’s alternately soothing and cloying. “Found” has echoes of SZA’s insular angst, and also the robust, earthen texture of mid-1990s R&B. It’s utterly swell. JON CARAMANICA

A stoic and affecting back and forth between Carly Pearce and Ashley McBryde, both coming to the realization that they have a man in common. It’s a timeless trope, and an effective one — neither one attempts to out-sing the other, a gesture of their shared frustration (unlike in, say, Reba McEntire’s blistering 1990s duets with Linda Davis, which delved into throat warfare). CARAMANICA

After dabbling in electronic textures with her 2019 album, “Silences,” Adia Victoria circles back, at least partway, toward bluesy roots-rock on her new album, “A Southern Gothic.” Its songs deal with power, mortality and, in “Mean-Hearted Woman,” heartbreak and revenge. Lingering on one chord, with a plucked guitar and a persistent tambourine, she sings about being dumped and replaced, and while her voice stays quiet and breathy, she moves bewilderment and heartache to fury, with a death threat that’s no less menacing for staying quiet. PARELES

“Under the Sun” is a shape-shifting statement about the journey to self. Cuco immerses us in interdimensional psych rock, only to quickly shift to a cumbia interlude, and then to a wave of lightning guitar licks. In the video, he leaves a lit candle at an altar featuring the artwork for his 2019 album “Para Mi.” Consider this a new era, one where all bets are off. ISABELIA HERRERA

“Why’d you want to erase me?” Lindsey Jordan — the songwriter behind Snail Mail — yowls in “Valentine.” It’s a song about affection, obsession, estrangement, jealousy and bewilderment, with tempestuous quiet-LOUD-quiet indie-rock dynamics that mirror a passionate, messy, still unresolved relationship. PARELES

For years, it has felt painfully imprecise to slap the “hip-hop” label onto the music of Camae Ayewa, a poet, electronic musician and Afrofuturist who performs as Moor Mother. (Not that that’s stopped streaming services and other grid jockeys from trying.) But two confluent things have been happening recently: Ayewa is embracing lower-slung, more head-nodding beats, and hip-hop itself is becoming a spacier, gooier, more abstract zone. The new Moor Mother album, “Black Encyclopedia of the Air,” features guest spots from rising rappers and vocalists, like Pink Siifu and Orion Sun, on most tracks. But on “Rogue Waves,” over a hydraulic swinging beat, Ayewa goes it alone — confronting subject matter that’s sometimes abstract and evocative, elsewhere tender and intimate. GIOVANNI RUSSONELLO

In the same week that he announced his first solo album in 10 years (coming Oct. 8), the pianist Craig Taborn released another collection of music that’s similar in nature, but not quite the same. “60xsixty” contains 60 restive and fleeting pieces, all about a minute each, that play back-to-back at 60xsixty.com in a randomized order that’s different each time you visit the site. You’re unable to pause or skip: The listener’s usual sense of control is stripped away, as is the very notion of a finished product — Taborn has said he may swap out some tracks for new ones in the future, keeping the total number at 60. The current range of tracks varies from 12-tone-scale improvisations on acoustic piano to the kind of squelchy, three-dimensional electronic music that Taborn makes with his project Junk Magic. On other tracks, he’s most concerned with stirring up ambient sound. RUSSONELLO

Leave it to Oneohtrix Point Never and the Cocteau Twins vocalist Elizabeth Fraser to craft the ultimate experiment in glossolalia. “Tales From the Trash Stratum” runs like a New Age seminar on mushrooms: OPN collages glitchy arpeggios, synth crashes and delicate piano keys; Fraser’s echoed sighs and angel-dust melodies flicker in and out of the production. It’s a blast of neurological delirium and decay, rendered as soothingly as possible. HERRERA

Last year, the Ghanaian American artist Amaarae quietly released “The Angel You Don’t Know,” an imaginative, buoyant album that masterfully harnessed all kinds of Afro-diasporic sounds, including R&B, Southern rap and Nigerian highlife. “Sad Girlz Luv Money” was an immediate standout: a breezy Afropop anthem for midnight trysts. On the official remix, the Colombian American singer Kali Uchis whispers hushed, silky come-ons in Spanish, and Amaarae’s sky-high melodies and smoky raps curl over the beat. HERRERA

A frenetic drum loop, like a pummeled punching bag, drives “Swan Song” from Lindsey Buckingham’s new, self-titled album, recorded solo in the studio and released after his severance from Fleetwood Mac and emergency triple-bypass surgery. The mix feels inside-out, with his voice enclosed by percussion while his flamenco-tinged acoustic guitar and wailing electric guitar both poke outward. He taunts mortality — “She says it’s late, but the future’s looking bright”— with fast fingers. PARELES

What a dreamily beautiful song from Iann Dior, a sweet-sounding sing-rapper with just the faintest of barbed edges, and Lil Uzi Vert. Together, they’re boastful and playful, and yet the production has an elegiac edge, as if sadness were an inevitable byproduct of success. CARAMANICA

Ouri — the Montreal composer and electronic producer Ourielle Auvé — sketches a track being assembled and tweaked on the spot with “Chains,” from her album “Frame of a Fauna,” due Oct. 22. She dials in swooping sounds, echoey vocal syllables, a glitchy beat, tentative chords; the dance beat solidifies, falls away and reappears, briefly locking into syncopation with wordless vocal syncopations before evaporating. The video shows Ouri concocting a CGI dancer who leaps out as flesh and blood: virtual efforts turning physical. PARELES