John Murph

On an itchy masterstroke, I.G. Culture leads a group called Quango, channeling George Clinton's Mothership Connection by exhuming "Frantic Moment," an obscure 1977 gem from Parliament-Funkadelic's late guitarist, Eddie Hazel.

For all the song's double-entendres and social politics, Patricia Barber's "Narcissus" doubles as one of those sensual rhapsodies that seem perfect for a late night on some honky-tonk bar's jukebox.

Many jazz artists have mined Prince's songbook, but few explore the seedier side of his repertoire. Leave it to slide trumpeter and bandleader Steven Bernstein to offer a jazz take on the infamous "Darling Nikki."

As a singer, rapper, multi-instrumentalist and producer, Aloe Blacc is a remarkably inventive experimenter, defying easy categorization on "Nascimento (Birth)," which begins as an aria and concludes as broken-beat hip-hop.

In the right hands, remixes have tremendous power: Producers can transform mediocrities into masterpieces, and they can recontextualize music outside its original genre. Djinji Brown approaches Kahil El'Zabar's "Running in the Streets" with an appropriately light touch.

On his transfixing debut, Nik Bartsch creates a five-part song cycle that highlights his immaculate piano playing and keen accord with his band Ronin. The Swiss-born pianist and composer calls Ronin's music "Zen-funk," an apt description for the magnetic "Modul 35."

With so much emphasis on virtuosity in jazz, artists who pare their musical arsenals down to the soul-baring essentials usually prove the most alluring. Such is the case with Gretchen Parlato, who taps into Wayne Shorter's adventurism with her thoughtful lyrics, which touch on the joys of inward search.

Luisito Quintero's Afro-Latin-inflected "Love Remains the Same" captures the carefree bliss of strolling through crowds on a warm, breezy afternoon, when everyone sparkles with a sun-kissed glow and each hour unfolds with newfound wonder.

Matthew Herbert employs the dripping sounds of petrol pumps to ignite "We're in Love," a subversive lament for the end of the oil age. The song is distinguished by sweeping strings, a gentle piano melody, dreamy horns and Dani Sicilliano's winsome voice.

If Herbie Hancock, Kraftwerk and Alan Lomax embarked on a field-recording expedition in Senegal, their collaboration might resemble Flügelschlag!'s exhilarating "Mendiani." The song's bluesy phrasing and unpredictable group interaction fit somewhere between hard-bop and early jazz-funk.