But for Cibo Matto — the kicky, playfully weird New York art-pop duo behind the late-’90s classics Viva! La Woman and Stereo Type A — a 14-year break between records feels more momentous. For one thing, Miho Hatori and Yuka C. Honda never stepped away from their other creative pursuits; both have worked frequently in multiple media, both solo and in collaboration with others, so their artistic perspectives and talents have morphed and evolved. More to the point, neither seems interested in viewing Cibo Matto as a legacy act or nostalgic throwback, so there’s no effort to simply re-create the environment that produced their best-known works.

Cibo Matto has always been skilled at Trojan-horsing weird art within glossy, goofy songs (often about food), but the new Hotel Valentine isn’t so concerned with disguising its intentions. Though inventive in sound and frequently light in tone, it runs deeper conceptually, as Honda and Hatori build a collection of songs around the nebulous idea of a haunted hotel, complete with a “10th Floor Ghost Girl.” Food isn’t entirely absent from these strange and colorful songs — which the duo performs with the aid of everyone from Nels Cline to Reggie Watts — but the creative palette is bigger and bolder, if not always brighter.

It’s tempting, when assessing artists’ successful return from a long absence, to proclaim something along the lines of, “It’s as if they’d never left!” Hatori and Honda do that one better: It’s as if they’d been making records together the entire time, but only now bothered to tell anyone.

Copyright 2014 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

Some of the artists on Sweetheart 2014 — the fifth installment in a series dating back a decade — sync up naturally with the source material they’ve chosen. Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings and Stevie Wonder‘s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours” fit together seamlessly, for example, while Valerie June serves up a brief but terrific take on the Carter Family classic “Happy or Lonesome.” Other pairings are more surprising, in a your-methods-may-vary sort of way, as Ben Harper attempts a faithfully drowsy take on Mazzy Star’s “Fade Into You” and Vampire Weekend sings in Italian for “Time to Say Goodbye (Con Te Partirò),” a song popularized by Andrea Bocelli.

Nothing here quite matches the highs hit on 2004’s Sweetheart: Love Songs — seriously, track down Iron & Wine’s take on The Marshall Tucker Band’s “Ab’s Song” if you’ve never heard it — though it’s awfully nice to hear Fiona Apple offer a light take on “I’m in the Middle of a Riddle,” performed with her sister Maude Maggart. The words “Starbucks” and “Valentine’s Day” may or may not sound like two strikes against Sweetheart 2014 (again, your methods may vary), but the music itself transcends both institutions nicely.

Copyright 2014 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

As its title suggests, Heart Murmurs mostly traverses the terrain of love, but Messersmith scrutinizes it from as many angles as possible: The album traffics in thwarted desire (“It’s Only Dancing”), stubborn devotion (“Tourniquet”) and bad-boy self-flagellation (“Bridges”) before 15 minutes have passed. Along the way, Messersmith tries on any number of perspectives — never more effectively than in the deceptively titled “I Want to Be Your One Night Stand.” In a ballad worthy of Fountains of Wayne, another act with a gift for giving voice to stubborn strivers just trying to get by, Messersmith crafts a perfect two-minute ode to modest expectations.

But for the singer himself, that’s where the modest expectations end: With its subtle strings and sly infectiousness, Heart Murmurs is no less than an attempt to craft a new batch of pop standards. Whether Messersmith succeeds depends mostly on how many people are lucky enough to hear him.

Copyright 2014 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

Gone is the lithe, limber-voiced ingénue of last year’s “Wedding,” and in her place lies Nadler’s blackest-ever-black album. New songs like “Was It a Dream” and “Desire” benefit from darker hired guns: Eyvind Kang’s strings, Steve Moore’s synths and the guitars of Phil Wandscher lend emotional heft and existential dread to these 11 phantasmagoric love songs. (If you’re still wondering about that seemingly ironic album title, it all starts some two years ago with an Independence Day breakup, as per “Fireworks.”)

Whereas Marissa Nadler’s self-titled Kickstarter disc found her likened to Sharon Van Etten, consider her more of a Jarboe here. She wears her new charcoal glossolalia well.

Copyright 2014 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

But once she started singing, we hardly noticed the noise nearby. Chavez’s voice reflects the one-of-a-kind meshing of cultures and influences that Austin represents: Whether she sings in English or Spanish, Chavez captures a healthy dose of American soul, country and rock music, and she could hold her own with any Mexican ranchera singer, past or present.

It’s all put to great use on her first full-length album, Up.Rooted. Her first EP was a mostly acoustic affair, but this time she’s produced by the prolific Michael Ramos (of Charanga Cakewalk), and he brings along extra instruments to give Chavez’s songwriting a full-bodied treatment of cumbias, boleros and other Afro-Latino rhythms. The result is a great addition to the canon of musicians — of any stripe, in any style — who blend diverse influences to create a sound uniquely their own.

Copyright 2014 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

Since 2004, Berglund has proven himself to be one of the most eccentric “pop music” artists working, a kindred spirit of Ariel Pink and Claire Boucher who wanders the Swedish countryside listening to Chief Keef and Dutch hardstyle. His music, as a member of former group The Tough Alliance and principal creative of the Gothenburg-based label Sincerely Yours, has always been a bewildering and exuberant mix, and Wonderland is no different. What has changed with Berglund’s transition to solo CEO is his willingness to explore deeper into the weird wilderness; to write gentle, McCartney-esque melodies paired with Chicago drill rap synths and lyrics that seem largely based on his own personal obsessions.

Wonderland is, at times, superficially soothing and fun, an almost hedonistic paean. But not far beneath the surface is something more unsettling and challenging: a statement about isolation and loneliness and a delicate search for meaning that’s particularly Scandinavian. Berglund is likely the only artist who will ever claim Kanye West and Swedish soccer player Zlatan Ibrahimovic, both masters of graceful aggression, as two major soulmates in the same sentence. And then, a few sentences later, say that he’s in love with Jennifer Lawrence now that Maria Sharapova has not answered his letters — and mean both statements with total sincerity. These are personal relationships, not idols in Technicolor.

Berglund’s is the modern dilemma of finding real connection in the borderless and unfathomable yet intimate digital world, where your childhood friend from the neighborhood @’s you less frequently than a world-famous athlete or movie star. His music is a perfect example of how the search might never lead to the solution, but at least it’ll provide a pleasant distraction.

Copyright 2014 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.