Doo-wop was the urban sound of New York City as the 1950s began. It started with teenage black singers harmonizing on street corners and spread to neighboring Italian, Puerto Rican and other youths. As the title of this six-disc set indicates, doowop is recognized as one of rock ’n’ roll’s roots.

The mission of the Arabesque Music Ensemble (formerly the Chicago Classical Oriental Ensemble) is to recreate the sounds of the Near East from earlier periods. They are like early music consorts in classical music and New Orleans revivalists in jazz.

They Might Be Giants have always been the smartest alternative to the gathering cliches of alternative rock. They are the tiny duo willing to go places where rock has never ventured. TMBG began their journey in the early 1980s by composing tight little songs to fit the format of a telephone answering machine. Since then they have written numbers about their own made-up superheroes, obscure American presidents and the conundrum of trying to grasp the moment when the moment keeps slipping away.

The “lost one” that Barton Carroll refers to throughout his third solo album is really several people: a young German girl who survived the Soviet occupation of Berlin, for example, or a misinformed lover. But it could just as easily be the singer/songwriter himself, whose sorrow, sensitivity and selfeffacing wit make these dozen songs a bittersweet symphony of slide guitar, fiddle, harmonica and bassoon.

Under-recognized in most historical accounts, Armenia was a portal between East and West for much of its history and developed a rich culture of its own. The Shoghaken Ensemble is among the best contemporary Armenian folk groups, encompassing a full spectrum of the country’s sonic heritage. Included are the unearthly piping of the duduk, a wooden flute producing the most lonesome sounds in the universe; bewitchingly powerful songs for voice; and the percussive, rhythmic music of weddings and other festivals. Some of the numbers will sound familiar enough to fans of Near Eastern music, but other melodies, especially those associated with the duduk, are probably more ancient in origin than even the Byzantine and Islamic empires that once surrounded Armenia.

For the Jones Street Boys, there surely is bluegrass and country music in them thar streets of Brooklyn. As unusual as the locale might be, the sound of Overcome is convincing enough. These 12 tracks aren’t designed for purists—Hammond organ and drums make sure of that—but the quintet’s loose-limbed down-home style works as well on original numbers like “Julia Belle” as it does on shrewd takes of The Band’s “Twilight” and Bill Monroe’s “Walls of Time.” Amid the clamor of New York City, the Jones Street Boys have staked out a place of burbling mountain creeks and honeysuckle breezes.

Glendale’s Clarke Groholski remembers how 1980s commercial country singers such as Mickey Gilley and Ronnie Milsap reimagined down-tempo ‘50s rockin’ in this tribute to a soldier who has been sent overseas and misses his beloved. Sincere as anything, Groholski sings his heart out over a backdrop made for dancing slow and close. With firmedup production values, Groholski may have a hit that will remain relevant for a long time to come.

Amiability forms part of Willie Nelson’s legend, but it hasn’t always served him well artistically. His willingness to work with just about anybody has resulted in a few of his finest moments (for example, 19)98’s Teatro, produced by Daniel Lanois and featuring Emmylou Harris), but it has also led to many . . .

After releasing nearly a dozen solo albums (and making numerous guest appearances on other artists’ records), it’s fair to say that California-based singer Lana Lane has established her own distinct voice. Unfortunately, more listeners overseas have probably heard that voice than here in the United States . . .

Not unlike Marjane Satrapi from the graphic novel and film Persepolis, Iranian guitarist Pouya Mahmoodi was a child when the Shah was overthrown. He grew up in a house filled with Western rock, but in Parisian exile became homesick for the sound of his lost homeland . . .