Entering the realm of composer Meredith Monk is like stepping into the folk music of an undiscovered country, only to find that its language feels uncannily familiar. With a group of chamber musicians and kindred singers, she croons, ululates, and shrieks her way through a tapestry of sound such as only she can weave. Even at her most comical, as in the witchy cackling of The Tale, she brings meticulous artistry to every word. The album’s final 24 minutes are devoted to the title composition, ending on a darker, more liturgical note—and somewhere in that aphasia, we find meaning.