Although still a little too in thrall to his influences, there’s enough personality here to set him apart.

A generous 21-track double mixtape, divided between grime (Days) and R&B raps (Nights). Both playlists have plenty of the wit, grit and authenticity that made them famous, but 7 Days is the runaway winner.

Although Monét is still finding her voice, her production, overflowing with euphoric horns and silky melodies, fits her soft cadence and carefree lyrics like a bespoke suit.

Though it’s all new, the weirdness of ancient folk is ever present; he’s a true original.

Rare, Forever rewards engaged listening, though, and intriguingly it’s the classical and jazz influences that are most persuasive, particularly on album bookends Ecce! Ego! and All I See Is You, Velvet Brown, and Mothra’s majestic orchestral techno crescendo.

Tthe magnificent Sugar weighs up the power of cliche while seeking its sweet reward; and America recoils in horror from, well, America. But the rest of the album returns to the spiritual and physical passions of previous, myth-heavy Stevens works; his penchant for classical and biblical allusions recalls Bob Dylan’s.

The longer you listen, the more these disparate influences and structured elements coalesce into a very cogent record.

As hinted at by the release of its majestic and disquieting title track last autumn, Little Dark Age finds MGMT finally rediscovering their mojo. Irresistible pop hooks abound.

Fredo may not yet be the GOAT (greatest of all time) for storytelling, but with his dark wit and wordplay, he’s now grazing in the same field.

Earle's vocals are often a cryptic Texan growl, but the playing is immaculate and the songcraft admirable.

Bloom is a bare-faced record, thrillingly honest and defiantly queer, proving Sivan is one of pop’s most essential voices.

Jarrett's piano and Haden's bass take an affectionate, inquisitive tour through a set of jazz classics and old ballads, revealing fresh beauties at every turn.

While there’s nothing as obviously stellar as Grammy-winning US Top 5 hit Boo’d Up or its even better sequel, Trip, Ella has always had a gift for parsing the everyday dramas of twentysomething relationships in relatable (and sometimes 18-rated) language.

No easy answers are found, but the new energy here suggests Honesty--the title of a standout techno’n’sax track--has set Tune-Yards free to keep asking.

The results are frequently beautiful, the new settings making even the most familiar texts (Ode to a Nightingale or The Lady of Shallot, say) sound fresh.

Sometimes, as on "Let Them Talk", the blend is finger-snappingly fluent, but more often it is deliberately disjointed to match Mathambo's fragmented tales of township life.

This relatively curt 40-minute set--the Montreal multi-instrumentalists’ second recording since their lengthy hiatus ended in 2010--ranks among their most immediate.

In a world of diminishing returns, not many artists hit their peak 11 (or so) albums into their career. That only makes Jump for Joy even more of a triumph.

It's inevitable that the usual litany of labels and put-downs dominates Jay-Z's concerns; Shawn Carter's wraps-to-riches story is the meta-narrative to all his albums and only fades a little in the umpteenth retelling. ... [But] it's the varied production – the sinuous work of Timbaland, in the main--that really elevates Magna Carta Holy Grail beyond the usual Jay-Z document.

Absorbing.

Throughout, these 11 songs give the impression of being sweet nothings. They are, instead, substantial and salty with tears.