Juana Molina Son

Argentina’s favorite avant chanteuse subtly tweaks her signature sound — a kind of ambient folk style — on her latest impressionistic creation.

Imagine bossa-nova progeny Bebel Gilberto (the daughter of João Gilberto) mixing it up with the kings of eerie electronica, The Boards of Canada. Molina’s harmonies, sung entirely in Spanish, are in constant motion, turning back and forth through a rich, occasionally startling collection of sounds. It’s rare to come across an album that continues to mesmerize and give up gold after so many repeated listens. Son is a compact and dazzling arrangement of sonic effects: Molina’s sound loops, glimmering guitar, the nearly imperceptible electronic noodling, the layers of vocal overdubs and the pitter-pat percussion — just spellbinding! Soothing and rejuvenating.

Ben Webster and Harry Edison Ben and Sweets

Alumni of the Duke Ellington and Count Basie bands respectively, Webster and Edison made only two albums together. This is the one that set the high bar for mind-blowing duets. If you like your jazz smokin’ hot and chilly cool, this is the record for your next big summer shindig. A stellar classic.

Sam Prekop Who’s Your New Professor

Though I’ve spent months relishing this cd’s spritely, easy-going spaciness, Sam Prekop‘s second solo outing continues to impress me. Like his band The Sea and Cake, Prekop’s sound is angled 180 degrees away from the slick dullness of most hit-seeking video-ready bands.

As much as I enjoy the pragmatic, traditional edge of rockers Ryan Adams and Jack White (the only two male band leaders I trust next to Radiohead’s Thom Yorke), sometimes you just want to drink lemonade, smoke pot and not feel so earnest and rootsy. And Prekop’s found a way to convey that bubbling, unfettered sort of joy. His songs — economical, airy, sometimes elusive but instantly engaging — stray from the traditional format of verse-chorus-verse and shimmer with flourishes of jazz and electronic undercurrents. One spin and your brain feels lighter, brighter.

Nothing telegraphs summer quicker to me than hearing the first hushed chords of bass and piano on the jazzy “It’s Too Late” from Carole King‘s seminal Tapestry album. Growing up in an area of So Cal, not unlike Hollywood’s Laurel Canyon, I remember every summer day of 1971 would start and end with Tapestry blasting out of windows throughout our valley. Some of you reading this might even have been conceived while the record played in the background of your parent’s love nest — a testament to how ubiquitous the record became as the 70s were ushered in.

Tapestry arrived during the close of the counterculture’s failed, drugged-out visions for the Age of Aquarius. Although King wrote nothing politically pointed for the album, she was a seasoned composer for 60′s girl groups and understood the politics of the heart. Tapestry‘s set of outstanding romantic ballads are matched by King’s more spiritual, universal songs: “Way Over Yonder,” “Beautiful”, and “You’ve Got A Friend.” The later made golden with supporting vocals by Joni Mitchell and James Taylor — doyens of 70s folk-rock.

Tapestry‘s songs are beguilingly simple: Acoustic but soulful. Organic but sophisticated and jazz-inspired. And so emotionally true you can’t help but feel the presence of your own muse or inner poet each time you listen. If you never heard Tapestry — one of the most successful albums in pop music history — now is the perfect time to explore its illuminating glow. Summer’s warmth and relaxed freedom is exactly what the album is about.

Now, please stop thinking about your parents having sex.