The Navigator

It had been a successful, if tumultuous, ride for Alynda Segarra, who's been spreading a new kind of roots-conscious folk music across the country from her adopted hometown of New Orleans. After many years in New Orleans, Segarra found herself getting antsy. Hurray for the Riff Raff had four albums under its belt, with the last one, Small Town Heroes, featuring 'The Body Electric', a song that NPR's Ann Powers called "The Political Song of the Year" in 2014. Yet even though her musical career had begun by running away from home at 17, busking for survival and honing her craft through dreams of Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, Memphis Minnie and Woody Guthrie, Segarra realised she is a Puerto Rican kid from the Bronx with a different story to tell.

Like a song-cycle from an imaginary Off-Broadway musical, The Navigator rises from the ashes of loneliness and striving, honky tonks and long walks by the river of urban dreams. From the wistful melancholy of 'Life to Save' to the stubborn resignation of 'Nothing's Gonna Change That Girl', Segarra's voice speaks with a husky weariness that coexists with a naïve curiosity. It's the voice of a rebel who wanted everyone to think she was so tough, and nobody could take her down, but at the same time was yearning for love and magic, some kind of an awakening.

Long-time Riff Raff fans should feel at home in The Navigator's World. There's always been a little bit of syncopated Caribbean strut to down home rock and roll, Appalachian rags share a similar root with Spanish troubadours and the blues is the same in any language. On The Navigator, Segarra's voice has never been more soulful, whether she's decrying urban gentrification on 'Rican Beach' or mourning the lies people tell on 'Halfway There'. Like the moment we're living in, The Navigator is as much about the past as it is the future.