Forty-five pieces assembled for something harder to describe than a mood — a set about scale, grief and the natural world.

Chilled Soul XI: The Transcendence Collection
This is the strangest volume in the series and probably the most personal. It abandons genre entirely: soul, Indigenous ceremonial song, contemporary classical, folk, film score and ambient recordings all sit together, and the organising principle is closer to a subject than to a sound.
The subject seems to be perspective — the deliberate act of making yourself small against something larger. That is an unusual thing for a playlist to attempt and it mostly works, though it demands to be heard in order.
What to listen for
Meshell Ndegeocello appears three times and effectively anchors the set. "Haditha" is named after the Iraqi town where American marines killed twenty-four civilians in 2005, and knowing that changes the piece entirely.
Joanne Shenandoah's "Prophecy Song" is the boldest inclusion — a Haudenosaunee singer working in a ceremonial tradition, placed in the middle of a soul playlist without apology or explanation.
Max Richter's "On the Nature of Daylight" is the piece most listeners will recognise, and it functions here as the emotional pivot.
Sona Jobarteh's "Saya" from the Motherland score is the kora entry, and Bobby McFerrin and Esperanza Spalding's "Swing Low" is the spiritual reduced to two voices and a bass.
Jade Novah's "Strange Fruit" is the bravest performance on the list — taking on the Billie Holiday recording is close to unwise, and she gets away with it.
Michael Jackson's "Earth Song" is the most divisive thing here and makes more sense in this company than it ever did on the radio.
George Harrison's "My Sweet Lord", Cat Power's "What The World Needs Now" and Leon Bridges' "River" are the devotional selections, and Tash Sultana's "Free Mind" is the one-person-band moment.
Go deeper
Meshell Ndegeocello's Devil's Halo and Comfort Woman are the albums to hear next, and her whole catalogue is one of the most under-discussed in modern music.
Alice Coltrane's devotional recordings and Arvo Pärt's choral work belong in the same emotional register, and Joanne Shenandoah's catalogue is worth exploring properly rather than as a single track.
How to hear it: this volume needs to be played in order more than any other in the series, because the sequence is the idea. Individual tracks here can sound arbitrary — a ceremonial song next to a soul record next to a film theme — and in position they turn out to be building a single argument about scale.
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