Some people have compared Philaldephia singer Santogold to hipster indie goddess M.I.A., but that is a pretty unfair comparison. Unfair because even though M.I.A. has some pretty amazing iconography and visual style, she is a one-trick pony. She can't sing, she can't dance. Hell, she can barely carry a tune over all her sampling.

But Santogold can definitely sing. While her visual style might be similar to M.I.A., that's where the similarities end. Even the most remiscent song on her recently released eponymous album, "Creator," blows M.I.A. out of the water. First of all, Santogold's rhythms sound fresh and new. They also sound like she created them herself, rather than relying upon a very talented producer boyfriend. Her voice holds her own over the rhythm, and most striking of all, she is singing, rather than just talking melodicly.

Santogold is also a woman of many different musical emotions. "L.E.S. Artistes" is a delightful rock song, full of great drumming and guitar work and even hand claps. "You'll Find A Way" is post-ska. "Shove It" is probably the best fusion of all of the different sounds on her album. It is both a pounding street anthem, while also clearly influenced by rock.

While the different genres might lead one to think the album is disjointed: it isn't. Instead, it is fun and creative and channel's the singer's multifaceted new Brooklyn hometown.

Once upon a time, as a much younger and more impressionable child, I would while away my Saturdays in the local Virgin Recrods store, listening to the sample CDs. On one particular Saturday, the luminous face of a black woman with her eyes closed yet the strangely French and romantic name Gigi blasoned across her face.

Gigi, in fact, turns out to be the stage name for Ethiopian singer Ejigayehu Shibabaw (try saying that five times fast!). In her self-titled 2001 album, Gigi, she reinterprets traditional Ethiopian music to a much more contemporary setting. But unlike so many such "reinterpretations" that fail miserably to sound like anything grander than something that belongs at Epcot, Gigi truly succedes at creating music that sounds both contemporary and ancient. 

Sung entirely in Amharic, the album begins with the energetic "Gud Fella," which is full of drums and string drums. But the album quickly takes a slower, jazzier tone. Unfortunately, I cannot understand a word, but "Sew Argen" is brilliant with its saxophones.

Apparently, she has even gotten into trouble with the Ethiopian Orthodox Church for singing what is unquestionably the best song on the album, the closing "Adwa," because it is a traditional lament for dead soldiers only sung by males. Way to go!