You can learn a lot about singer/songwriter Cass McCombs from the stories he weaves into his wistful, lovely songs. His 2019 album, Tip of the Sphere, is tinged with weirdness; one of its best tracks recounts a rambling, Melville-esque mystery about a robbery, an explosion, and a whaling ship. McCombs doesn’t let listeners get too romantic, though—later he sings drolly about an “American canyon/Where trucks and homes are bigger/And the cops are mostly white/And they have a recycling center.” Rock might be dead, but McCombs has found a way to reanimate it. ISABEL LYNDON