Samora Pinderhughes’ Grief mixes gospel harmonies, simmering post-hip-hop instrumentals and wounded balladry, the music shudders with outrage and vision.

It's fascinating listening to this record from Samora Pinderhughes, like how much softness there is to it at the same time. There's real grandeur and range and reach. Grief is a fantastic record.

Pinderhughes' album, Grief, is at the core of the project. The song "Holding Cell," which vividly explores the two questions, imagines letters written by three inmates.

The opening piano notes are barely sufficient warning to brace for the sweet and powerful voices that transport us to Samora Pinderhughes' Tiny Desk (home) concert, shot on film.

Pinderhughes has become a virtuoso at turning the experience of living in community inside-out, revealing all its personal detail and tension, and giving voice to registers of pain that are commonly shared but not often articulated.

Grief aims to evoke feeling through texture and harmony by underlining the human voice as a bonding agent.

The picture Pinderhughes is painting on Grief is a sullen one, calling out the sufferings caused by racial capitalism; policing and prison systems; and oppressive ideologies.