An album like RTJ2 is rare. Decades from now, this album may just be revered as one of the best hip-hop records of our era, the total synchronicity of two talented artists reaching the apex of their prime.

When I Get Home is universal because of Solange’s deep respect for her own home. The way she switches beats and flows constantly surprises, even on a tenth listen, unraveling new riches each time. Solange’s latest mystifies and stuns, leaving you awestruck as she cements her legacy as a true generational voice.

With the stunning Burn Your Fire For No Witness, she deftly captures the terrifying dread of being in limbo, stuck in the sludge of a transitional period. But even with the existential doubt, the loneliness, and the angst, there’s still a resilient beacon of hope.

Negro Swan is a grand work that gives credit to the pioneers of the culture while building a path forward within that framework, placing Hynes firmly in the canon as one of the most insightful musicians of his generation.

As with anyone complaining of love lost between pleas for it to return, it begins to become tiresome — no matter how smooth your voice may be. But Blake manages to make a whopping 17-song album transition seamlessly, holding your attention thanks to a careful execution of space between those very keys.

After sees her returning, confidently, to her role as a modern-day pop experimentalist.

Goon vocalizes a timelessness through the mouth of a man playing simply to start over, earnest as he’ll ever be--and getting to hear it from inside the practice room, not outside the door, makes all the difference.

It’s Redcar’s most challenging album yet, in which he addresses an entity that could be either himself, or a lover; the production still leans heavily into the delicate, baroque synth-pop and irresistible melodies he has become so lauded for, but the emphasis remains on Redcar’s vocal delivery and texturally succulent lyrics.

With High Crimes, The Damned Things arrive at a truly unique blend of styles. They also marry heaviness and melody without sacrificing the punch or attack of the music, providing a refreshing new twist on heavy rock that came straight from left field.

The songs on Crash may be about self-destruction and sabotage, but the intoxicating brightness and power of them suggests that her journey of self-discovery deserves to be a celebration rather than a cautionary tale.

Infinite Granite is a stunning journey from beginning to end, as Deafheaven continue to refine, develop, and even experiment with their identity. Undoubtedly, it contains some of their boldest and most heavenly material to date, and it peppers in just enough heaviness to embody the other side of their sound.

Iridescence is full-to-bursting; it’s like almost eating too much food, almost drinking too much booze; it’s getting close to too much, and still asking for more.

While the individual songs have peaks and purpose, the album winds up functioning on the same level.

It’s a grief we hope to avoid and yet a grief we can’t help tasting. Saba makes it near impossible to turn away.

Entering Heaven Alive, along with Fear Of The Dawn, stands as a shining reminder of what White can accomplish when you hand him a guitar. ... Entering Heaven Alive now reminds us of his range, his playfulness, and his deep understanding of the music that inspires him.

Born Against is a triumphant collection of tracks from one of modern music’s most gifted storytellers.

Expectations were exceedingly high for Grief’s Infernal Flower, and Windhand delivered a minor masterpiece and the best doom metal album of the year.

Are We There functions best as the portrait of an artist coming into her own, while hopefully putting some of her demons to rest.

While not a perfect album, Renaissance is pretty damn close. It’s infectious and not overbearing, elegant, but not shallow.

From beginning to end, Bandana is a perfectly-paced album. Madlib never lingers on a single musical idea as he chops samples and switches beats, often midway through songs. Meanwhile, Gibbs, an expert in flows and rhythms, glues each song together with his undaunted, straightforward performances, which offer an illusion of effortlessness.

This is music that also stands on its own, a work by turns eerie and sparse, but also tinged in the warm nostalgia of bike rides at dusk and the loyalty of friends.

The album could stand to be 10 minutes shorter, but who’s to complain about having too much of a good thing? Recorded pre-pandemic, the joy and enthusiasm of the reunion tour is captured here and the results are immensely entertaining. If you like thrash, then the Raging Wrath of the Easter Bunny Demo is mandatory listening.

On record or in concert, Deacon offers escapism at its finest.

It’s a chugging, nimble-footed affair, showing a matured and restrained group; no more eight-minute-plus pounding, slashing jams, replaced instead with a sense of clarity and focus, a driving, raw sonic thesis statement.

After Visions, the only thing Grimes could do was to grow as big as the landscape around her. Here’s her mountain.

For fans who were sucked in during the time of “Dynamite” or “Butter” and haven’t dug into their back catalogue just yet, they might be surprised to discover just how broad of a range these songs can stretch. ... Disc 3 is a whole different kind of time capsule: there are 11 unreleased demos, two brand new tracks (“Quotation Mark” and “For Youth”), and one previously-shelved track (“Young Love”) that peel back the curtain on BTS as artists like never before.

Listeners will still delight in how The War on Drugs can filter recognizable elements — the beats, the riffs, the spirit of artists like Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Born in the U.S.A. Springsteen, and even Bryan Adams — into something fresh and grand.

American Head stands alongside The Soft Bulletin and Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots as one of the very best records The Flaming Lips have recorded and should be required listening for anyone who’s gone on their own quarantine-induced walk down memory lane in search of a way to survive this year.