By Scott McLennan

A powerful performer and artist emerges in this ambitious album about being publicly ostracized and maligned — and coming back stronger.

Letters From a Black Widow, Judith Hill

Judith Hill deftly handles some explosive material on her stunning new album Letters From a Black Widow.

At the core of this 12-song manifesto rests Hill’s story of being a presence in the lives of both Michael Jackson and Prince at the time of their respective deaths. Hill was a backup singer and duet partner for Jackson, who died in 2009. Prince co-produced Hill’s 2015 album Back in Time and was heavily promoting the singer before his death in 2016.

Hill’s proximity to the passing of two pop music legends churned up an ugly backlash that produced the degrading “black widow” epithet.

Hill does not exploit this wild backstory in her music by responding to tabloid cynicism with yet more tabloid cynicism in the form of shallow pain. Rather, the singer plunges into some deep and resonant emotional material that not only examines the trauma, but dramatizes the healing and growth that followed.

In the end, a powerful performer and artist emerges in this work.

Hill’s talents have never really been in question. Hill dazzled at last year’s WasFest in Boston singing Aretha Franklin’s repertoire from the Aretha Live at Fillmore West album. She won a Grammy for her work on the soundtrack to 20 Feet from Stardom, a documentary about backup singers that featured Hill alongside Merry Clayton, Darlene Love, and others. Her cover of Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight” is a standout on the soundtrack for the Hulu series Little Fires Everywhere.

On Letters From a Black Widow, Hill blossoms as a writer, arranger, and musician. Beyond her expansive vocal talents, Hill deploys scintillating guitar parts. She holds down the bass line in addition to playing piano, which she considers her main instrument. Adding to the lure and lore of this project, Hill’s parents are among her backing musicians, with Michiko Hill playing organ and Robert “Peewee” Hill on bass.

And family matters to Hill, as we hear on “Dame De La Lumiere,” a jazzy tribute to her grandmother and mother as figures of strength and determination. The refrain “Bad times make strong women” sounds as if it will be Hill’s motto moving forward.

Along with the sentiments of empowerment, the album also reflects on the debilitating effects of being publicly ostracized and maligned. The song “Black Widow” assembles multifaceted perspectives and sounds, bending musical conventions culminating in a woozy effect that leaves Hill herself sounding unsure — is she really cursed?

Singer and songwriter Judith Hill. Photo: Ginger Sole Photography

Some of that uncertainty is also heard on “My Whole Life is in the Wrong Key” but the tone is less harrowing. Instead, this is funkier and off-kilter take on marginalization, more of an outreach to fellow misfits.

This record is driven by a strong concept, but the narrative isn’t linear. For example, the opening track, “One of the Bad Ones,” is an airy, sweeping, and unresolved meditation on the psychological challenges posed by hard times. But the song that follows is the fiercely confident “Flame,” where Hill airs her strength with some of her steeliest vocals and playing on the album. She is also in an exultantly affirming mood on the righteous “We Are the Power,” before the album lurches onto the tormented “Black Widow.”

Hill smoothly slips into another persona to nail the nurturing tone of “Let Me Be Your Mother” and becomes a groovy booster for “You Got it Kid,” relaying lessons and sentiments she likely heard others tell her.

“Downtown Boogie” is a thick-groove dance track that resurrects the black widow imagery, but this time Hill is crushing it rather than being paralyzed by the label.

Hill is no femme fatale, but she is a sharp student. You can hear how, from Jackson, Hill learned how to balance artistic aspirations with making music that is engaging and entertaining. Her songs have plenty to say, but she makes those messages damn pleasing on the ear. From Prince, Hill learned how necessary craftsmanship is to invigorating familiar ideas and themes. “Runaway Train, for example, is the oft-told tale of a musician committing to the road at the cost of committing to a partner. But, in Hill’s hands, this story soars when gospel overtones are infused into the rock ’n’ roll dynamics.

Letters From a Black Widow may have been born out of feelings of alienation, but the album may very well be the calling card Hill needs to become a much more widely known artist.

Scott McLennan covered music for the Worcester Telegram & Gazette from 1993 to 2008. He then contributed music reviews and features to the Boston Globe, Providence Journal, Portland Press Herald, and WGBH, as well as to the Arts Fuse. He also operated the NE Metal blog to provide in-depth coverage of the region’s heavy metal scene.