Alice Smith
She

There’s an audacious naturalness to Alice Smith’s second album, “She” (Rainwater/Thirty Tigers). Her voice is human scale, not inflated or roboticized, which is fine. It’s convincing enough, capable of soulful belting or cooing intimacy, whether it’s on its own or overdubbed into sisterly backup choirs. The arrangements behind her are mostly keyboard centered and played on physical instruments, though they don’t rule anything out. And her songs stand outside current pop’s alliances with hip-hop and dance music; they hint at girl groups, 1970s soul, lightly orchestrated early-1960s pop and the go-go beat from Washington, without playing up to retro nostalgia. The songs ponder affection and honesty, desire and independence, rightly confident that their modesty makes them all the more approachable.