Silja Rós sends us “Letters from my past,” and it’s as if one has been handed a velvet pouch of smoothed sea glass, each piece a shard of memory polished by time. Listening feels like sorting through them, the Icelandic musician’s neo-soul and pop songwriting unfurling narratives from what must be deeply personal old diaries. There’s an intimacy here akin to deciphering faded ink...

Listening to John Keenan’s “Wreckage of the Past” feels like being handed the audio diary of a ghost who is not yet dead. This is an 18-song excavation of a psyche at war, made all the more intense by the knowledge that Keenan is the sole architect—producer, writer, mixer, and tormented protagonist. The whole project has the hermetically sealed, slightly feverish quality of a...