LEYLA McCALLA Sun Without the Heat (Anti-) — For her fifth solo album, Leyla McCalla gave herself over to a creative flow. She had only the vaguest beginnings of some new songs when she assembled her crack backing band — percussionist Shawn Myers, guitarist Nahum Zdybel, and bassist Pete Olynciw — at Dockside Studio, in Maurice, Louisiana. Egged on by producer Maryam Qudus, Leyla and her crew collaboratively finessed the different sonic ideas until melodic miracles shimmered into being like mirages made real. Then McCalla would slip away to pen lyrics, the bayou chipping in suggestions with its chorus of sounds. The resulting work, Sun Without the Heat, understandably moves with unpredictable dynamics. Individual songs crackle with invention, as if one musical genre can easily flitter into another at the speed of thought. “Tree” starts as swinging jazz and swirls and shape-shifts into a swarming, undulating, concussive bon bon that’s sort of industrial soul. Maybe? In defiance of the album’s title, there’s a prevailing warmth to the material here, the spirit of camaraderie McCalla nurtured at the studio coming through no matter how thrillingly discombobulating the music might be, whether the warping lilt of “Scaled to Survive” or the discordant, energetic “Take Me Away.” The title track’s comfy neo-folk celebrates the complications of what McCalla’s team has made as it lays out the challenge to anyone who expects life — and presumably McCalla’s music — to be easy and simple: “You want the crops without the plow/ You want the rain without the thunder/ You want the ocean without the roar of its waters/ Can’t have the sun without the heat.” Let the Sun shine in with the following cuts: “Open the Road,” “Tower,” “Give Yourself a Break” and the stately, moving closer “I Want to Believe.”

MAGGIE ROGERS Don’t Forget Me (Capitol) — For her third full-length studio album, Maggie Rogers enlisted Ian Fitchuk as co-producer and co-writer. Those are the same duties he’s regularly taken up with Kacey Musgraves, so it’s no surprise that Don’t Forget Me often comes across as the indie chic version of what spacey Kacey gets up to when she’s leaning gently away from her country roots. According to Rogers, the album’s songs are arranged in the sequence in which they were written, which provides a narrative arc for anyone who listens intently enough. It’s okay, and maybe advisable, to just luxuriate in the soft pop comforter that Rogers has fluffed up here. The elegant and precise title cut is the true standout, drawing a line from Rogers straight to the great singer-songwriters of bygone eras. Such pristine simplicity doesn’t always prevail, and there are hints that Rogers has been listening to left-of-the-dial artisans of the gloried past. “Drunk” sounds like what Bonnie Tyler would have come up with if she tried to sound like New Order and Echo and the Bunnymen at the same time, and “So Sick of Dreaming” could be the result of Paul Westerberg emerging from his basement to write a Bonnie Raitt record. The hour might not be fully golden, but it’s got some shine on it. Remember these tracks: “If Now Was Then,” “On & On & On,” and “All the Same.”