Katie Kate, Nation (Aug. 5, self-released, katiekatemusic.com) For an artist who’s openly struggled with self-confidence and the need to prove herself on the rap scene, Katie Kate’s second album tells a different story. It’s a narrative that seems to take and impart advice all on its own, a self-contained manifesto to and for the artist herself—who, after months of shopping it unsuccessfully to labels, simply released it on her own. From the lyrics of the trap-beat-amped second track “Canyon” (“Canyon’s calling you/Close your eyes and jump with me/I can hear her say, ‘Be brave, child, be brave’ ”), the rapper, aka Katherine Finn, leaps headfirst into these 10 songs, laying bare a range of fears, desires, and strange visions. Some of them reflect a period of intensely vivid dreams during which Nation was written, and the material shares similar spacey vibes with fellow Seattle-based avant-rapper Ishmael Butler. Also like Butler, Finn eschews conventional rap braggadocio for more obscure, soul-mining wordplay, a move that not only helps elevate and push the art form, but also reveals the full scope of her talent. A Cornish grad who can reportedly play roughly 15 instruments, Finn produced and wrote this album herself, with minimal contributions from friends like Nacho Picasso and Jarv D, who offer a certain street cred to “Persephone,” and live drumming from Trent Moorman, who adds to the album’s underlying spastic, frantic edge. Overall, this is Katie Kate’s baby: dark, strange, and often catchy as hell; even the album’s title implies a sense of self-autonomy. This is best heard on “Rushmore,” when she sings in a voice that’s both sweet and don’t-even-try-to-fuck-with-me, “I change for no one.” As in the famous monument, there’s a real feeling of stoicism and resolve in those words. They’re ones she’s dug deep for, and now can rightly claim as her own. GWENDOLYN ELLIOTT

Naomi Punk, Television Man (Aug. 5, Captured Tracks, naomipunkmusicgroup.com) Despite all efforts to shroud itself in mystery, Olympia’s Naomi Punk keeps raising its profile. Its scorching 2012 debut record, The Feeling, was quickly picked up by Brooklyn indie label Captured Tracks, home to trending acts like DIIV and Mac Demarco. But the group’s jagged guitars and noise-heavy jams don’t have the friendly pop tone of many of its label-mates, making its music some of the least accessible out there. Many tracks bear names similar to those on The Feeling (“Linoleum Tryst” vs. “Linoleum Tryst #19”; “Eon of Love” vs. “Eon of Pain”), and as before, each fades into the next with clashing guitars and minimalist drums. Yet the band plays up such monotony as a strength; and while its guitar technique doesn’t vary much from track to track (aside from sanguine instrumental interludes like “Plastic World No. 6” and “Whirlpool of Anguish”), it all builds to a strangely therapeutic drone, culminating in the astounding eight-minute closer, “Rodeo Trash Pit,” which combines all the previous relentless guitar chopping and thudding drums into a sweltering noise-rock anthem. Elsewhere, vocalist Travis Coster is hard to discern, obscured by layers of watery reverb and sputtered lyrics. When he finally elongates his phrases on the choruses of tracks like “Linoleum Tryst #19,” it feels like a well-earned revelation. (Sun., Aug. 3, Vibrations Festival, Volunteer Park) DUSTY HENRY

The Pharmacy, Spells (Aug. 12, Old Flame Records, thepharmacyband.com) Throughout its 12 years, The Pharmacy has experimented with just about every genre, from fuzzed-out punk to alt-rock. Now with Spells, the band’s fifth full-length, the trio wades deeper into the psychedelic waters it dipped into on 2012’s Stoned & Alone. A quick listen, six of Spells ’s 10 songs clock in at less than three minutes. Tracked live with producer Kyle Brunette (Night Beats), there’s a raw yet mellow energy to it. Some songs, like “Anna Bella,” play at a leisurely pace, while tracks like “Masten Lake Lagoon” pick up the tempo. And though the majority of Spells, written in a cabin in Big Sur and recorded in the basement of a used-car museum in Tacoma, is hazy in nature, there are a few surprises throughout—like the doo-wop-influenced vocals on the punky “Cool and Calm.” There’s a relaxed vibe to singer/guitarist Scottie Yoder’s voice, and drummer Brendhan Bowers and keyboardist Stefan Rubicz follow suit, letting the band’s easy rapport shine through. (Wed., July 30, Sunset Tavern) AZARIA C. PODPLESKY

Shabazz Palaces, Lese Majesty (out now, Sub Pop, shabazzpalaces.com) Palaceer Lazaro (aka Ishmael Butler) is a rapper unconcerned with being easily understood. Which isn’t to say he’s not communicating. For example, Lese Majesty—the second release (not including two mini-albums) from the avant-rap group Butler shares with Tendai Maraire—refers to a French phrase for antagonizing a sovereign power. That’s just the first and most obvious clue to his message here. To get the rest, you’ll need to sift through dense layers of obscure sampled dialogue, synthesizers, and Butler’s often abstracted vocals. As Lese Majesty is 18 tracks long, that may be difficult. This is a sprawling album that doubles down on its predecessor’s (2011’s Black Up) sonic eccentricities. But here Butler, Maraire, and cohort Erik Blood have opted for something quieter. The textures are there, just as on Shabazz’ previous albums, only now they’re more ambient. And if Lese Majesty is more successful at drawing you in, that’s due in no small part to Butler, who dials down the wordplay. There are no lyrical fireworks here, no density that could be described as a “triple entendre.” If you want a primer, there’s no better example than the following from “Solemn Swears”: “I’m very nice like Jerry Rice/I make ’em dance just at a glance.” It’s a simply constructed phrase set against a string of pops, whizzes, and bass drum fused into one beautifully cryptic whole. VERNAL COLEMAN

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