HANA VU Romanticism (Ghostly International) — For songwriters and performers, it might be more accurate to measure age in recordings than years. Hana Vu is still in her early-to-mid-twenties according to the calendar, but her new release, Romanticism, places her four albums deep into her career. The latter seems a better yardstick for the sort of world weariness she totes along with her. The existential ennui of her lyrics is pairs with indie pop that is elegant and buoyant, placing her nicely within the modern clique headed by Soccer Mommy and Snail Mail, both artists she’s shared bills with. “Care” practically shimmers with a tone of purpose and power as Vu intones pummeling sad lyrics such as “The more I think about it now, I’m just a book you throw away/ ‘Cause you don’t know what I’m about, yeah, you don’t know.” She employs anxious synths on “Dreams” and gives and has a verve that suggests a less sunny version of the Cardigans on “Play.” It’s like pop music for people who’ve given up on the idea that songs can soothe their wounded inner being but also can’t quite break the habit of huddling under their headphones in search of escape. “Hammer” hits with the cracking impact of its title object, and the sweeping “Alone” suggests where Arcade Fire would have landed if they had never earned indulgent recording budgets. Romanticism is imbued with a maturity that gives it real emotional urgency, even when — maybe especially when — those emotions are at their most forlorn. Fall under the thrall of the following cuts: “Look Alive,” “How It Goes,” “Airplane,” and “Love.”

YAYA BEY Ten Fold (Big Dada) — Yaya Bey had already established she knew how to winningly use her creative process to fight through personal tumult. Her 2022 breakthrough album, Remember Your North Star, was forged into being while she was still feeling the sting of a rough divorce. While she worked on her new follow-up, Ten Fold, she was beset by grief. Her rapper father, Ayub Bey, better know as Grand Daddy I.U., died in late 2022, and the album implicitly asks if mournfulness can be defiant and even jubilant. On “the evidence,” Bey might be singing “Sometimes it feels like I won’t make it (hey, yeah)/ Sometimes it feels like I can’t go (hey, yeah)” but the track’s thick groove provides a counterpoint of focused endurance. The neo-soul material grabs attention with its insistent catchiness and spirited energy. There’s sometimes an intoxicating cheeriness tot he music, as heard on the buoyant “chrysanthemums” and “all around los angeles,” with its lithe, lively undercurrent straight from a vintage Tom Tom Club record. Mainly, Bey continues to position herself as a worthy successor to Neneh Cherry as she crafts tracks that still firmly grounded in her chosen genre while deftly employing little jazzy flourishes. Both “chasing the bus” and “carl thomas sliding down the wall” are soul songs as smooth as unruffled silk. Bey addresses her father most directly on “yvette’s cooking show”: “I know how shit get real/ I hope you get to rest/ You somewhere chillin’, laid back, knowing you did your best.” Grand Daddy I.U. was a musician, too, so there’s no greater tribute than his daughter sending him off with sturdy beats. Expand your pleasure exponentially with “sir princess bad bitch,” “slow dancing in the kitchen,” “iloveyoufrankiebeverly,” and “career day.”