When she was a child and he a young father, Marc Ribot’s daughter drew a map of a city in deep, rich, vivid blue. When he praised her blue map, she corrected him: It's not a blue map, but a map of a blue city. That distinction stuck with him and eventually inspired a curious song called “Map of a Blue City.

Map of a Blue City ruminates on what it means to be lost—the confusion and fear, of course, but also the excitement of so many undreamt-of possibilities. Its history is an odd map of its own, full of false starts, blind alleys, dead ends, and one inconceivable tragedy, all leading to what may be his definitive statement as an instrumentalist, as a songwriter, and even as a singer. While it’s not a singer-songwriter album, it is his first to center his plaintive, wise voice quite so prominently.

Map of a Blue City bears the weight of its history gracefully, incorporating recordings made over nearly half of Ribot’s life and reflecting on how he got to this particular moment. “Working on this album for so long, I’ve seen the world change dramatically and not really change at all. Some of the issues today are the same ones I thought about when I was just starting the album, but some are things I couldn’t have dreamt of at the time. But I think that’s why I was so determined to get the production values right. Recording production is really complicated, but it all boils down to what kind of room the listener feels they’re standing in. There are some hard truths and cold observations in these songs. I wanted the room to be small enough so that we couldn’t turn away: but warm enough to feel like you’re hearing it from a friend.”