His LP offers enough lyrical courses to chew through. What it lacks is minor and, given his immense talent, a tad comical: vocal delivery that follows through on the words’ emotion.

Backed by production from Murda Beatz, Purps, Cardo, Zaytoven and Nard & B, co-pilots Quavo, Offset, and Takeoff sustain the hubris, excess, and immediate gratification adored by fans of gutter rap machismo while somehow bottling the very particular charm necessary for them to capture the hearts of pop-loving teens across the globe and carry rapping children’s lit live on the radio.

The record surges without slowing down, expanding without adding burden. Moreover, it proves that, out of the old class, Kreator are among the strongest, crushed not by ego or commercial temptations.

The album sincerely embraces every dark corner of the brain, not just the ones that are easiest to sum up. Nothing Feels Natural is daring, sincere, and intimate, somehow more universal in its particularity.

Even when he doesn’t break new ground, Segall and Ty Segall remain solid investments. There’s definitely something to be said for getting exactly what you pay for with a new album.

After nearly a five-year wait, Japandroids could have written a record with more wind beneath its wings, but the pace of Near To The Wild Heart Of Life is consumable enough to warrant repeat listens. It just won’t be a record that saves you when you need it to.

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.

France and Rado steer into the skid of the cliché, taking something old and making it their own, unafraid to veer into Pinterest board territory if it means it will get their point across. And the point of Hang is to feel something unapologetically.

It’s hard to place Oczy Mlody into a direct political context, as the record was finished before the election results, but the grim Lips seem ever more at home in this climate.

Levi expertly evokes the story and emotion even without any visual cues.

What makes The xx and I See You so enthralling, then, may not be a particular combination of lyrics and melodies, but the notion that there’s a secret life playing out here--one we may not be entirely privy to, but one that still rings with the sound of truth in all of its complexities.

On Reflection, Brian Eno chases the endlessness of thought through music and comes to terms with that same endlessness simultaneously--and by doing so, he allows listeners to do the same.

So the blessing and the curse of Run the Jewels 3 is that it’s still a Run the Jewels album, a promise that every song is good, nothing is bad, and depending on your mood you’ll either bask in the lack of tempo changes, pulchritudinous song structures, and surprising hooks, or you’ll seek out a more colorful record.

Telefone shows a great sense of promise and complex beauty.

The concept works for Cole, and he does a stellar job diving into the mind of a seasoned criminal, who despite his seemingly impenetrable outer shell, is still human after all. It’s a narrative that allows Cole to retain his reputation as a gifted MC while displaying his own growth and maturity as a human being at the same time.

WORRY. feels like the true start of Rosenstock’s solo career, with a backing band that is finally locked in, a record label 100 percent behind him, and a tower of critical accolades growing taller each day.

Harlequin is the product of five years of writing, refining, and arranging, and yet the record runs on a sleepy, easy vibe--at once one of its greatest strengths and potential stumbling blocks.

Young’s prolificness and penchant for producing in the moment often makes for mixed bag records, and Peace Trail is no exception. But if the execution flails in spots, the intention behind these 10 tracks is still plenty inspiring.

Some of the same issues that dogged Childish Gambino’s previous attempts at this sort of powerful expression linger here, but Glover’s anguished wail strikes a far more resonant chord than his impish punchlines.

As a companion to the musical, it’s indispensable. As a standalone piece of art, it’s as flawed, complex, and sometimes dazzling as the historical figure on which Hamilton centers, to say nothing of the country he helped to create.

It would help if more of the album were idiosyncratic that way, but as is, Starboy is still the sound of Tesfaye knowing he has what it takes to be a major figure in pop music for a very long time.

With Positive Thinking, The Pack A.D. outdo their past, the new facets and layers revealing themselves further with each listen.

Häxan takes Dungen’s psychedelic experimentation and storytelling into a further realm, one at once more fantastic and more rooted in the subconscious. It’s not a definitive statement of who Dungen are, but rather an interesting insight into their ability to connect with who we are.

24K Magic is his first album that works as a statement, and while it’s unclear if it will see the runaway success Mars has enjoyed in the past, the coherence and variety of the record’s sound and lack of any obvious dud point to the strides that Mars is making as a songwriter.

Before the Dawn is living, breathing proof that Bush still has the creative prowess and unique sensibilities that made her a superstar in the first place.

The resulting material is imbued with an energy and urgency severely lacking in much of the music that he has produced across the last decade and then some.

Thee Oh Sees control the listener’s heartbeat with daft indifference and total control simultaneously. An Odd Entrances shows the band knows how to do so with the fragmented release of a two-part album, too.

While Justice avoided breaking new ground with Woman, the 10 tracks still manage to remind us why we fell in love with them in the first place.

By and large, We got it from Here… has the classic Tribe sound: a warm and crisp confluence of East Coast hip-hop, jazz, and more, all mixed and mastered impeccably. While some aspects of the sound are dated, others feel fresh.

The stakes aren’t high on Devil Music, an album that feels less like a career marker for The Men and more like a simple, straightforward gift that they had a blast making, and something they hope you’ll like too.

Surprisingly, Here doesn’t struggle to balance this range of topics. Keys sings with authenticity and passion, occasionally delving into frustration, which keeps everything connected. What Here does struggle with is an unfinished commitment to order.

The concept is far more ideal than it is practical, and No Waves dips between meaningful highs and shrug-worthy emptiness.

Dixon and Stein’s music is a chance to revisit it, to envelop ourselves in its arms (or claws), and to bask in the glory of something supremely strange and wonderful.

The energy of that debut track [“Basement Queens”] carries over into Slugger, which weaves catchy pop synthesizers around stylized guitar effects and melodic choruses.

They may not have quite hit the mark of a perfect partnership yet, but sometimes progress comes at a price. Jessica Rabbit is at least a step in the right direction.

It is a pleasure definitively for the listener, and from all reports for the musicians as well.

By pushing far outside of his comfort zone, he has imbued his sound with a fresh life that adds another compelling chapter to the chronicle of his rich career.

As McClure and co. look backward, their music only progresses forward.

It’ll be interesting to see how those sorts of lyrics sound 10, 15, or 20 years down the line, but at the very least, Big Baby D.R.A.M.’s melodies and instrumentation are enough to ensure people will be listening to these songs for a while.

The content of Two Vines doesn’t need to truly illustrate that concept to succeed. Empire of the Sun have managed to remain steadfast in the sound they’ve carved out for themselves since day one, which can be a challenge for a band that has pushed as big and wide as these two have.

On Integrity Blues, Jimmy Eat World return to that mood of reverie, with often beautiful and quietly triumphant results.

The producer being so secondary here is certainly a missed opportunity. The album still ends up being a thrill, due to the duo’s sheer talent, but its caution undermines its competence. .Paak has insisted that Yes Lawd! is not an Anderson .Paak album, but it sure sounds like one.

The result is a work that may not close any circles, but instead start the pattern of a new shape: something weird, but compelling, and largely authentic.

This blending of past and present, delivered in the rawest way, makes her promise of Retribution that much more powerful.

If all the covers were as deeply felt as Caroline Says or Julien Baker’s, Say Yes would leap from a covers album to a tried and true tribute, a record that could bring an artist back to life, if only for an hour. If listeners are looking for that, well, then just listen to Elliott Smith’s originals.

She might be conflicted, but Alone revels in the kind of humanity that’s long made Hynde’s best work with the Pretenders tick.

It’ll make you remember that weird, wistful emotion that isn’t quite sadness but isn’t quite anything else, either. Because, while their music may sound as fresh as ever, American Football’s message these days is clear: time takes everything.

Using his remaining time, he’s not only putting his house in order, he’s tidying up ours too. You Want It Darker prepares us for his departure and, in turn, shows us how it’s done, so we have a road map--pockmarked by land mines as it is--in place when we reach that stage.

Running Out of Love is absolutely true to the duo’s style and their assessment of today’s Sweden.

Taken individually, the tracks from These Systems Are Failing are refreshingly vibrant for the 51-year-old Moby, who, even after 12 studio albums and countless other releases under his belt, continues to reinvent himself.

Their final record is fittingly cyclical, beginning in the death of love and ending in death alone, full of transportive moments and beauty along the way. And though there may never be another Dillinger Escape Plan record, this one is perfectly suited and deserving of massive replays to come.

That ability to tell stories of varying depth and importance is what rap is really all about, and in that regard, Swet Shop Boys are ascending fast.

Musically, WALLS isn’t some adventurous left turn towards krautrock or no wave. Rather, it’s KOL’s most unified, solid, and direct album since Aha Shake Heartbreak, its arc owing to time-tested AOR more than anything else.

The record retains some of the boundary-pushing and the jazz doesn’t always thrill, but it’s a record on which Jones sounds entirely familiar.

Due to her diverse strengths, Jacklin’s songs differ greatly--but where for some that may result in an inconsistent tone, Jacklin strengthens the album by honoring its emotional core at all costs. Tracks jump from genre to genre without losing their hypnotic quality.

Oberst is best when his guard is down, and this album takes seven songs for that to finally happen.

The transitional record nails the discomfort of feeling out of place or unsure of yourself. Imperfect but impassioned, Joyce Manor astutely capture uncertainty and anxiety throughout Cody.

Big Boat, is wonderfully accessible thanks to its relatable sense of communal fun, as well as the band’s own self-awareness.

Jaar has signature tones--every musician does, and it’s hard to escape them--but he steps past expectations to make a political statement that’s still subdued, jaunty, and sharp.

The interludes are all derived from the same sonic template as the songs, so the borders between tracks can be hazy, giving the album a meandering feel. That said, ultimately there’s something refreshing about Solange’s dreary, almost funereal compositions.

None of the material on The Altar will revolutionize alt R&B, future soul, or whatever awkward label one might apply to this nebulous genre. What is here, though, is proof of an artist still searching for a new direction.

These songs aren’t for everyone, but they stand as some of the most fearlessly created music of the year--even if Brown sometimes sounds petrified for his life.

There are few sonic commonalities between the texture-oriented Love Remains--an album a lot of people loved--and Care. Objectively, though, this is a thoughtful, sincere pop R&B record that at times reaches Krell’s intended gorgeous heights.

While the no-bullshit lyrics and get-in, get-out nature of American Band work to make the band’s politics perfectly clear (at 47 minutes, it’s a contender for DBT’s shortest LP), it still has unique lyrical details that separate it from other protest music, even protest music of the loud and pissed-off variety.

The music’s vision and beauty hold together regardless, a sturdy and unparalleled step of confidence.

RR7349 is a more complex affair than Stein and Dixon’s work on Stranger Things and for obvious reasons, above all being the involvement of Adam Jones and Mark Donica.

With Remember Us to Life, Spektor foregoes some of the whimsical narratives on previous albums and digs back into more personal thoughts, showcasing her inimitable vocals and piano talents.

All that’s left to do is to approach the album the way you would modern art at a museum: with open ears, curious eyes, and a desire to exit with a newfound ability to find beauty in most everything around you.

The return to familiarity is a welcome one.

The production ranges from icy to neon. And yet these tracks all clearly feel cut from a single cloth. The Healing Component evolves Jenkins’ worldview boldly, keeping his messages easy to digest but bursting with meaning.

Chapter and Verse--familiar as it is--also has an ace in the hole that just barely keeps it from being a shameless cash grab: the inclusion of five previously unreleased songs.

For now, as a clue, we have this album of nuances, a revue of a career, where the delight is consistently in the details, some of them random, and others masterfully intentional.

I Had a Dream You Were Mine overflows with satisfying and complex melodic shape.

With so many co-existing styles, what could have been a disjointed listen is reigned in thanks to intelligent songwriting, contemporary production, and, most importantly, an intensity that elevates everything with impenetrable confidence and cool.

For those who have paid close attention to the band’s evolution, it seemed inevitable that he would get to this point. Accordingly, A Corpse Wired for Sound feels like a culmination.

The Sides and in Between is an honest attempt at reviving rock ‘n’ roll, transforming it without the cheesy “those were the days” vibe.

Much of what makes Touché Amoré a success remains intact: the band jamming away behind Bolm, supporting and expanding his “slam poetry.” But, oh what wonderful poetry it has become, as Bolm dives into the depths of his cortex as he comes to terms with the death of his mother in 2014.

It’s this fusion of generations that partly makes Loud Bash such a fresh and exciting record. There’s plenty of Replacements hero worship going on with the loud, tumbling arrangements and sweeping vocal hooks, but that’s what being a teenager is all about.

As an artist, he needed to release the record in just this way in order to process his pain. Skeleton Tree was released for us, but it’s for him.

Preoccupations does away with the murkiness, sounding remarkably clear in contrast to its predecessor.

As a cohesive work, Shape Shift with Me lacks the level of urgency and revelation of its predecessor. ... As listeners, we might not be able to carry the same things away from it, but maybe that’s okay---at the end of the day, it’s for her, not us.

Traditionally, M.I.A. peaks when she melts her musical influences, but on AIM, there’s this lingering feeling that too many of the songs were left half-baked. As such, the album feels less like a farewell and more like a preview for her next reinvention, a midday snack before the full-course government takedown.

Local Natives’ original components are still in fine working order, but evolution shouldn’t sound this unnatural. They tried, but their discomfort with the equipment stops the songs from fluorescing.

It’s not as ambitious as it could have been, but it works due to its sheer expressiveness, one man going through the motions and chronicling every movement, a tirade in the purest sense.

Though the album came out of the same sessions as last year’s looser, wilder, and intentionally irreverent Star Wars, there’s now a deliberate quietness and gentleness to the core instrumentation.

The album is a tremendous achievement that captures sentiments of loss, isolation, and searching for a belonging in a way that only a writer with a keen eye and empathetic nature as Sheff’s could fully articulate.

While the instrumentation may change here and there, and the beats per minute may move up or down a few clicks, the general groove and melodic pattern of each song tread too similar a path and the winking references to earlier ideas feel just like the same song played over again.

Although her bio insists that the narratives within the record aren’t intended to comment on gender roles, My Woman strikes down the notion that neither Olsen’s artistry nor her womanhood can be limited.

The tracks flit between genres with little regard for thematic continuity. Still, the album makes up for that absence with a barrage of raw humanity.

Take It, It’s Yours, dresses 10 classic punk songs from artists like Wipers, the Gun Club, and Blondie in gorgeous, shimmering hues that sparkle and wink with double entendre.

It’s not perfect, but Banks and Steelz take risks many other artists might avoid, more than proving their worth.

Stay Gold isn’t going to change the world and it won’t kickstart a new rock revolution, but it’s a terrific pop rock record about boys and girls in America.

While and the Anonymous Nobody won’t resonate with everybody, it’s still a glimpse into who De La Soul are today, where they’ve been, and what they’ve learned.

Think of the tiny overhead fan gently blowing air that keeps you halfway between sleep and consciousness. Between Waves delivers that same kind of soothing yet neutral sensation. Luckily, it also delivers some left turns here and there that stand out simply by virtue of being different.

For the first time in a long time, an artist riding on hype surfaced with an album that lives up to the very hype that lifted it. Better yet, in time, Blonde will surpass its hype. The album’s greatest feat is its ability to expand when it’s listened to in a new mindset, each reveal seemingly so apparent that you wonder how you missed it the first time.

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 dynamic range of this record, both lyrically and musically, makes it one of his most versatile and assertive releases yet.

While Endless makes its visual implications clear, the whopping 18 tracks that soundtrack it muddle his intent.