In the race for our collective musical attention, rap is currently enjoying a victory lap. And with this dominance comes abundance or, more precisely, overabundance. There are so many different artists and so much music to choose from that the catchalls “hip-hop” and “rap” strain to contain all of the genre's permutations. We have surveyed this sprawling landscape for the most innovative, meaningful, and singular rap releases of 2018.
The following alphabetically arranged list of albums includes rap releases found on Pitchfork’s main year-end list as well as 20 additional albums that did not make that list but are just as worthwhile.
Listen to selections from this list on our Spotify playlist and Apple Music playlist.
Armand Hammer: Paraffin
As Armand Hammer, Elucid and billy woods have strung together a series of densely packed rap opuses weighing the perils of black existence under late capitalism and American racism. Don’t mistake them for self-serious pedagogues, though. They’re charmers and they don’t talk at you, they talk around you, leaving you to soak up game for yourself. Paraffin is by far their most penetrating work yet, not only boasting a strengthened connection between its two MCs but also an even more permissive ideological framework, one untethered to too-simple binaries. The writing can be cryptic but it’s never incomprehensible; it’s undiluted to make sure you’re paying attention. –Sheldon Pearce
Listen: Armand Hammer, “Ecomog”
Bbymutha: Muthaz Day 3
On “R.I.P,” the centerpiece of Bbymutha’s Muthaz Day 3, she offers up a seesawing, succinct four-bar chorus: “Fuck that nigga/Take his bread/Fuck his homies/Leave him dead.” It could double as the running theme of the Chattanooga rapper’s 2018, with three mixtapes and slew of one-offs on which she regularly laid waste to bozos in her woozy, magnetic drawl. Here, she flips Britney Spears’ “Toxic” into a twinkling, barbed diss against toxic men; calls out industry vultures for taking advantage of upstart artists on “D.I.Y”; and still makes time to turn up and talk her shit with the irrepressibly delightful “Sailor Goon.” MD3 finds her sharpening her many talents down to a fine point, crafting an eerie, distinctly Bbymutha-flavored world. –Eric Torres
Listen: Bbymutha, “D.I.Y”
Benny the Butcher: Tana Talk 3
Benny the Butcher’s Tana Talk 3 is a throwback to an era when street rap wasn’t defined by melodic Youngboy Never Broke Again ballads, but by gritty bars from rappers like Mobb Deep. A member of Buffalo, New York’s Griselda Records crew, Benny doesn’t have the lively personality of his counterparts Westside Gunn and Conway the Machine, but he compensates for it with confidence—even if it means comparing himself to a post-Reasonable Doubt JAY-Z on “'97 Hov.” Producers Daringer and the Alchemist supply chilling instrumentals for Benny to let loose with his prideful bars, as he honors tradition without sounding stale. –Alphonse Pierre
Listen: Benny the Butcher, “'97 Hov”
Cardi B: Invasion of Privacy
After breaking out last year with “Bodak Yellow,” Cardi B had a lot to live up to. But with her debut album, Invasion of Privacy, she didn’t just meet expectations: She soared over them. The project cements her evolution from self-described “stripper hoe” to bonafide rap star, without losing any of the infectious personality that made her a cultural beacon in the first place.
The full complexity of her Cardi-ness is on display here. She teams up with fellow boss-bitch SZA on “I Do,” where she deploys brash one-liners about not needing a man for anything. She’s just as charismatic while flashing her vulnerable side on “Be Careful,” when she warns a cheating partner that he’s on his last strike, and spills out words of gratitude on the wholesome “Best Life” with Chance the Rapper. That sense of range also transfers to her exploration of genre, as she expertly flips between boogaloo-inspired Latin trap, Southern hip-hop twerk anthems, tender R&B jams, and neck-snapping freestyles. It’s not so much a question anymore whether you like Cardi or not: it’s which Cardi you like most. –Michelle Kim
Listen: Cardi B, “Be Careful”
Chris Crack: Just Gimme a Minute
Chicago’s Chris Crack is a rapping whirlwind. Swept up in his stream-of-consciousness rhymes are pimp credo, shameless humor, real-life epiphanies, and forlorn confessions. He’s like a stand-up comedian whose hilarity is grounded by an undertone of melancholy. Just Gimme a Minute, the fifth of six projects he has dropped in 2018, features 21 songs—20 of which hover around the one minute mark. Crack delivers potency via this brevity, spitting his non-sequiturs with a flow that is unmistakably from his city’s West Side and giving us a peek into a mind where song titles like “Don’t Subtweet Your Friends” and “Turning Down Pussy Builds Character” make perfect sense. –Timmhotep Aku
Listen: Chris Crack, “Lil Mama, Baby Mama, Sugar Mama”
CupcakKe: Ephorize
As CupcakKe, Chicago rapper Elizabeth Eden Harris alchemizes high raunch and vigorous navel-gazing. On her third album, Ephorize, her prickles have sharpened and her introspection has gotten more vivid: It’s like watching a flowering cactus grow tall and bloom. Her songwriting is also at its most generous, attending to her own insecurities on “Self Interview” and giving a messy group-hug to queerdom on “Crayons.”
But it’s not all wholesome, thank God: There is sex aplenty on Ephorize, and CupcakKe has not receded from her role as a character annihilator. She relishes in piercing hypocrisies, often to establish her standards. At her most low-voiced and vulnerable on “Total,” CupcakKe starts examining mediocre relationships via their opportunity cost. “Post Pic” praises the timesaving joys of a sexting-only arrangement, with fun, gear-shifting swerves. The album’s standout, the magnificent “Duck Duck Goose,” is a playground of sloppy, bodily thrills. Ephorize is busy and porny, but the deep current of the album asks us to be good to one another. We have time to treat each other well, Ephorize tells us, and still make it to all our dick appointments. –Maggie Lange
Listen: CupcakKe, “Duck Duck Goose”
Earl Sweatshirt: Some Rap Songs
Earl Sweatshirt has a lot weighing on his mind, and Some Rap Songs finds him wading through his thoughts. In this self-exploration, the 24-year-old hip-hop veteran created the most introspective record of his career to date, surveying the widening chasm between his spitfire youth and the family legacy he aspires to honor. This is roots music that repurposes sounds of the past (dusty vintage rap, African jazz, black American soul) in compact loops, influenced by a community of musicians that includes MIKE and Standing on the Corner, and inspired by his parents—especially his late father, the celebrated poet and political activist Keorapetse Kgositsile.
Though primarily written and recorded before his father’s death in January, Some Rap Songs is a profound and often pointed rumination on connection, and in turn a searing personal statement. Few rappers possess Earl’s natural lyrical acumen, but even fewer possess the penetrating, perceptive gaze he has developed over time. Most rare are those who would use such insightfulness to work through their own issues. On “Peanut”—half eulogy, half psyche autopsy—he unscrambles the complex emotional brew that comes with mourning a distant parent whom you barely knew. On “Nowhere2Go,” he burrows through depression and seeks fulfillment. As Earl considers his poetic birthright amid a tangled personal history, things start to come into focus, and he begins a healing process. –Sheldon Pearce
Listen: Earl Sweatshirt, “Azucar”
Freddie Gibbs / Curren$y / The Alchemist: Fetti
The Alchemist-produced Fetti is the album underground indie rap fans have been waiting for since 2011, when Freddie Gibbs made a high-octane guest appearance on Curren$y and ALC’s collaborative album Covert Coup. On Fetti, Curren$y’s slow-and-stoned New Orleans flow is once again juxtaposed with Gibb's gangster-isms and intensity, while ALC sets the mood with beats that could score a Cocaine Cowboys Netflix series. Gibbs and Curren$y, now veterans of the game, exhibit a level of effortless cool that only comes from having been around the block. Gibbs, once the self-serious Vice Lord from Gary, Indiana, is now playful enough to croon out of tune on “Now & Later Gators,” and Spitta is as cozy as ever in his muscle cars and marijuana bag on “No Window Tints.” Good things definitely come to those who wait. –Timmhotep Aku
Listen: Curren$y / Freddie Gibbs / The Alchemist, “Saturday Night Special”
G Herbo / Southside: Swervo
Since spearheading an entire generation of Chicago hip-hop with “Kill Shit” six years ago, G Herbo has always had the respect of his city. But on Swervo, he steps out of his comfort zone of hard-hitting street stories, opting for a flashier style more easily paired with the accessible ATL sound of 808 Mafia producer Southside. Herbo’s energy on the album is frenetic; he always sounds like he's in a rush—even if the beat can’t keep up with him. Through it all, G Herbo never abandons the puns and hater-dismantling bars that have helped him become one of the Windy City’s very best. –Alphonse Pierre
Listen: G Herbo / Southside, “Swervo”
Hermit and the Recluse: Orpheus vs. the Sirens
There are myriad depictions of street life in hip-hop, but few as honest and artful as those that come from Ka, the rapping half of the duo Hermit and the Recluse. On Orpheus vs. the Sirens, Ka uses Greek mythology to reimagine the stories of himself and his past associates as archetypal tales. Where his crime-rhyme counterparts exaggerate their statuses, Ka downplays his own. He’s never claimed to be the untouchable, flamboyant boss we hear about so often in rap fantasies. Instead, Ka’s war stories come from the perspective of the wise, grizzled vet who sees the past through the lens of survivor’s remorse. Producer Animoss provides equally dramatic musical accompaniment for Ka’s dense verses: cinematic loops replete with plaintive strings, enveloping basslines, and wailing guitars. It’s altogether epic in the most literal sense. –Timmhotep Aku
Listen: Hermit and the Recluse, “Golden Fleece”
Jay Rock: Redemption
Jay Rock knows his paradoxical place on the TDE roster as both cornerstone and overlooked star. After a near-death experience, he was granted new perspective, which illuminated every moment of his journey from gangbanger to harbinger of an indie superpower. Redemption, his poignant and introspective third album, is a story of absolution and fulfillment, ruminating on his struggles and how they paved the way for his successes, and the successes of those around him. He is a formidable rapper with acute vision, someone with a rare self-awareness who’s leveraging that understanding of self into razor-sharp personal critiques and perceptive looks into the world nearby. After some personal struggles and career setbacks, Jay Rock gets to reassess his value. –Sheldon Pearce
Listen: Jay Rock, “Wow Freestyle” [ft. Kendrick Lamar]
Jean Grae / Quelle Chris: Everything’s Fine
The most impressive thing about Everything’s Fine is its understanding that grief can mean processing many things at once, and sometimes that requires having a laugh. Jean Grae and Quelle Chris couldn’t be more different as rappers and producers, but they know how they fit together, and they are incisive writers with complementary skill sets. They show off their range and wit working through a messy world. “Fine” is a default emotion, one we invoke to avoid talking about how we really feel. The album unpacks the nuances of “fine” amid our current political hellscape, finding some comfort in being able to still feel anything at all. Everything isn’t fine, but that doesn’t mean some things aren’t still fun. –Sheldon Pearce
Listen: Jean Grae / Quelle Chris, “My Contribution to This Scam”
J.I.D: DiCaprio 2
With a bunch of raw talent and a hell of a lot of Kendrick comparisons, J.I.D has been releasing music for years in pursuit of a big break. The Atlanta rapper has named his last two projects after his personal idol, Leonardo DiCaprio, because his own steady grind reminds him of the actor’s pre-Oscar ascent to fame. But on his DiCaprio 2 mixtape, J.I.D finally establishes a solid artist identity and makes a definitive step into the limelight. He flexes his dexterity when he locks into a rapid, jittery flow on the J. Cole-featuring trap slapper “Off Deez.” But he’s just as great when he’s low-key, strolling over jazz- and soul-sampling beats like on his ode to the women in his life, “Skrawberries” (co-produced by Mac Miller). J.I.D is pushing himself to his extremes: His delivery has never been so tight and precise, his lyrics never so open and vulnerable. The result is a scene stealing performance from an up-and-comer who’s finally ready to collect his trophies. –Michelle Kim
Listen: J.I.D, “Off Da Zoinkys”
JPEGMAFIA: Veteran
First, you notice the beats. JPEGMAFIA—raised in Brooklyn and across the South but established as an artist in Baltimore—is a preternaturally gifted producer, the textures of his beats all jagged and interlocking just so. It’s ordered anarchy, informed by noise music and screeching dial-up modems; on Veteran’s “Real Nega,” he uses a vocal gag from the late Ol’ Dirty Bastard as sonic scaffolding. But what makes “Peggy”—as his cultish and rapidly expanding fanbase refers to him—such a magnetic artist is his ability to gobble up all the broken syntaxes, unhinged YouTube comments, and Senatorial screeds that define this era and regurgitate them back in a focused burst. He has that unique ability as a writer to make verses that are dripping in irony seem, in aggregate, to convey a sincere and unmistakable message. Veteran is the sort of album that will spawn hundreds, if not thousands, of imitators in basements and bedrooms across the country—and not a single one will replicate it. –Paul A. Thompson
Listen: JPEGMAFIA, “I Cannot Fucking Wait Til Morrissey Dies”
Key! / Kenny Beats: 777
777 is the most ridiculously fun rap project of the year, a sleeper record from an underground Atlanta rap vet and an electronic music DJ turned rising rap beatmaker. The unlikely duo turn out to be a perfect match, pushing each other to do weird and wonderful things. Versatility is a hallmark of 777: The production strobes in the distance or crams right into your ear holes or summons infernal samples from the abyss, all while Key! uncorks absurdist punchlines and ad-libs (“Hey, big head!”), fiddles with just how loose his flows can get, and tests the limits of Auto-Tune’s processing power. This is a smorgasbord of slaps with no regard for calorie intake. –Sheldon Pearce
Listen: Key! / Kenny Beats, “Kelly Price Freestyle”
Leikeli47: Acrylic
A whirl of bright-eyed romance, vamping self-confidence, and unbridled pride in black communities, Leikeli47’s Acrylic is a sequel and companion to last year’s Wash & Set. Drawing on the nail salon as a safe haven, the New York artist dials in to a shapeshifting sound that defies easy categorization, wherein gooey R&B songs and wisecracking, jazz-inflected interludes sidle up next to vivid street tales and four-on-the-floor bangers. With her characteristic breakneck flow and masterful pen, Leikeli47 brought us all into her world with an album tailor-made for anyone looking for the comforts offered by coming together as a community. –Eric Torres
Listen: Leikeli47, “Girl Blunt”
Lil Baby / Gunna: Drip Harder
Drip Harder is the moment when Lil Baby and Gunna officially graduated from being Young Thug’s most popular offspring to becoming stars in their own right. Prior to Drip Harder, each rapper had his own successful mixtape run, with Baby’s Hard series and Gunna’s Drip Season series, and their early collaboration, “Sold Out Dates,” became one of the most imitated tracks of 2018 (see: “Yosemite” and “TIC TOC”). This mostly Turbo-produced album sees the duo exploring their chemistry, as their sharp melodies, MCM backpack full of flows, and knack for finding new ways to flex their drip shines throughout. –Alphonse Pierre
Listen: Lil Baby / Gunna, “Drip Too Hard”
Meek Mill: Championships
Since his pre-Maybach Music Group days of fuzzy braids and scene-stealing freestyles on hip-hop DVDs, Meek Mill has been perfecting his impassioned Philly-bred flow, and “motivational speaker of the streets” persona. Championships is peak Meek—his powers greater than they’ve ever been, his perception at its clearest. The Meek Mill of this album has emerged from the fires of adversity a wiser man and a more mature artist. Where he used to talk tough and brag about status symbols, he now chooses to inspire and inform. Meek, with the help of an all-star cast of collaborators including JAY-Z, Cardi B, and Rick Ross, has moved beyond “shit is rough in the hood” cliches to delve deeper into the machinations at work that make his incarceration-related woes so common—and his success story so rare. –Timmhotep Aku
Listen: Meek Mill, “Championships”
Megan Thee Stallion: Tina Snow
This year saw the proliferation of sex-positive women rappers, with break out moments for City Girls, Rico Nasty, and CupcakKe, just to name a few. But slightly more under-the-radar was Houston’s Megan Thee Stallion, whose rowdy Tina Snow project proved that she could roll with the raunchiest rappers out today. Over trunk-rattling trap beats, Megan wields her cocky Southern energy and acts as the spiritual guide for the modern woman looking to close the orgasm gap. She’s got the rap chops to back up her confidence, too. Each verse on Tina Snow displays Megan’s bulletproof delivery, as she switches up her flows, slips in clever wordplay, and rapidly deploys disses about your side chick’s unimpressive abilities. She might be part of a larger, exciting movement in rap, but Megan Thee Stallion deserves to be recognized as her own singular force. –Michelle Kim
Listen: Megan Thee Stallion, “Big Ole Freak”
Mick Jenkins: Pieces of a Man
Across Pieces of a Man, Mick Jenkins tries to parse who exactly he is by walking through a hall of mirrors. Loosely based on Gil Scott-Heron’s 1971 album of the same name, there are songs about his faith, outgrowing old friends, valuing privacy, and allusions to the work of Heron and poet Gwendolyn Brooks, putting his contemporary spin on timeless ideas. These are snapshots from inside a life, from a man confident enough in himself to know that he’s still figuring out who he is, and willing to share that learning process. The Chicago artist is one of the most accomplished technicians in a city that has produced many such rappers in recent years, and he does his fair share of minding the Ps & Qs, but these raps are subtler in their acuity and clearer in their intent: in search of becoming a more complete man, and finding true peace of mind. –Sheldon Pearce
Listen: Mick Jenkins, “Gwendolynn’s Apprehension”
MIKE: Renaissance Man
The overarching theme of MIKE’s Renaissance Man is love, whether it’s for his friends and family, or for the world’s black diaspora. On the scatter-brained project, the Bronx rapper is often conflicted by his own musings, toggling between whimsical hopefulness and something darker. His delivery can be intoxicatingly slow. His vocals are monotone and muffled, complementing the jazzy production provided by Daryl Johnson. Not a second of the album’s 33 minutes feels wasted, and that’s thanks to MIKE’s ability to pack in all of his constantly evolving thoughts. –Alphonse Pierre
Listen: MIKE, “Resistant Man” [ft. Adé Hakim]
Noname: Room 25
Room 25 is the soundtrack to Fatimah Warner coming into her own—not just as an artist, but as an adult and self-actualized black woman. Within the 35 minutes of her second record as Noname, she gives us the full range of who she has become: a confident rapper, a passionate lover, a survivor of heartbreak, and a reluctant public figure. On “Blaxploitation,” she expresses a consciousness of her blackness and its meaning in the world without veering into performative wokeness; her personhood isn’t couched in bravado as much as it is steeped in self-awareness. On “Don’t Forget About Me,” she exposes her own hurt and insecurity while finding strength in vulnerability.
The evolution of Noname’s skills matches the evolution of her music itself. Words tumble, somersault, and stick landings in a style that owes its swagger to rap and its cadence to spoken-word poetry. The production straddles genre lines as well, with producer and multi-instrumentalist Phoelix providing sonic backdrops replete with live instrumentation that are part jazz, part neo-soul, and all grounded in hip-hop. If her 2016 mixtape Telefone was the introduction to Noname’s talent, Room 25 is the proof that she’s arrived. –Timmhotep Aku
Listen: Noname, “Blaxploitation”
Pink Siifu: ensley
A smile can be revolutionary; an embrace can provide a moment of much-needed warmth in a cold world. These are the concepts that underpin rapper and producer Pink Siifu’s ensley, his collection of musings on black life, love, and liberation. Each track on the album is a hazy vignette that shows Siifu is keenly aware of all the ills that threaten black being, but he is not defeated by them. Instead of raging against the machine, or giving in to self-destructive impulses, he explores the idea of human connection as sustenance and prayer as an expression of love. Defiance never sounded so sweet. –Timmhotep Aku
Listen: Pink Siifu, “pray everyday” [ft. Ahwlee & liv.e]
Playboi Carti: Die Lit
Playboi Carti’s debut studio album is a little darker and much stranger than the Atlanta rapper’s previous work. Instead of the jovial trap of his 2017 debut mixtape, the mosh pit invades Die Lit’s personal space. Producer Pi’erre Bourne brings a more luxurious version of the manic energy that he bottled on last year’s “Magnolia,” with features from Nicki Minaj, Travis Scott, and Young Thug, who all dig deep into their pools of personality for more exaggerated takes on their signature sounds. The result makes for a take on rap that’s more rambunctious than lyrical—and all the stronger for it. On Die Lit, Carti sounds more alive than ever before. –Trey Alston
Listen: Playboi Carti, “Shoota” [ft. Lil Uzi Vert]
Pusha-T: Daytona
Pusha-T’s long-awaited third solo album also happens to be the most accomplished release of Kanye West’s high-concept 2018 albums series produced in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Across Daytona’s lean 21 minutes, Pusha’s elocution-deliberate, quasi-malevolent midtempo flow jumps out of the speakers, offering up snarling lyrics about street life and clapbacks to Lil Wayne, Birdman, Harvey Weinstein, Donald Trump, and his nemesis, Drake. As producer, West serves up a seven-track array of finely diced ’n’ sliced, gritty soul samples, showcasing head-bopping, hooky production on opener “If You Know You Know” and chilling forlornness on “Santeria,” a track about Pusha’s murdered road manager. Confident and flexing, Daytona is Pusha-T’s most compelling solo album; who says hip-hop MCs can’t do their best work after age 40? –Jason King
Listen: Pusha-T, “Infrared”
Rico Nasty: Nasty
Nasty marks the capstone in a breakout year for DMV upstart Rico Nasty. The album blends her sugar-rush raps with a mosher’s fury for maximum thrash, all while she perfectly balances the aesthetics of her awesomely named alter-egos (primarily Tacobella and Trap Lavigne). It can be dizzying to keep pace with her many styles throughout the record, from sing-song teases to punchy romps with blistering flows. Soundtracked in large part by one of the year’s most impactful producers, Kenny Beats, doing some of his most dynamic work, Nasty pushes Rico to the front of a class of rap shapeshifters. And in running the full gamut of her talents, she reveals more of herself than ever before. –Sheldon Pearce
Listen: Rico Nasty, “Trust Issues”
Roc Marciano: Behold a Dark Horse
In his intricate rhymes, Roc Marciano is as flamboyant and opulent as the cherry red Bentley he considers purchasing, yet cavalier and disrespectful enough to dine and dash at P.F Chang’s without a second thought. Behold a Dark Horse is cinematic—part Blaxploitation flick and part Bond movie—with Marciano coming off like a method actor who forgot to stop playing his role. And although Roc’s flows are more rooted in Rakim’s style than Young Thug’s, his persona fits snugly into a 2018 scene that embraces larger-than-life characters. –Alphonse Pierre
Listen: Roc Marciano, “Consigliere”
Saba: CARE FOR ME
Saba’s CARE FOR ME is transporting. It goes back in time, out of body, across perspectives. Within its songs, a talented young rapper finds new power in mourning, becoming a force in the meantime. Tragedy can have a profound impact on the artistic process, on heightening one’s perspective and honing their voice, and few have been more transformed by its pangs than Saba. After losing his cousin, Walter, a founding member of his rap crew and watchful figure in his young adult life, he reevaluates Walter’s place in his memories and considers loneliness amid the connectivity of the social media age. He wonders aloud why being more connected to the world than ever still feels so solitary, all while weighing Walter’s absence from it. Self-produced with multi-instrumentalists Daoud and daedaePIVOT, CARE FOR ME is a trenchant work of intimate storytelling, layered with gorgeous soundscapes. As Saba cycles through the stages of grief, he realizes his cousin will always be watching over him. –Sheldon Pearce
Listen: Saba, “PROM / KING”
Sheck Wes: MUDBOY
When some people hear the words “New York” and “rap” in the same sentence, the first things that come to mind are “lyrical” and “boom bap”: terms that speak to both revered and reviled styles of rap, with roots in the late-’80s to mid-’90s Golden Age of Hip-Hop. But the sound of New York rap in 2018 isn’t monolithic, nor is it trapped in a time capsule. Sheck Wes, the son of Senegalese immigrants and a Harlemite, is an example of this diversity. His debut, MUDBOY, contradicts any notion of what New York is supposed to sound like. Propelled by “Mo Bamba,” Wes’ smash with the producers 16yrold and Take a Daytrip, the sound of MUDBOY is a melting pot of the 20-year-old Wes’ influences. Largely produced by homegrown teen beat-makers Lunchbox and Redda, the record features robotic post-EDM synthesized highs (“Gmail”) and thunderous low ends (“Live Sheck Wes,” “Wanted”) in the vein of the 808 sound that old-school New York producers introduced and Southern producers perfected. As for Wes the rapper, his nasal baritone is used to great effect to exclaim “Bitch!” and tell stories of mobbin’ through the city, causing mayhem and being banished to Senegal (“Jiggy on the Shits”). Looking for New York rap? This is what it sounds like. –Timmhotep Aku
Listen: Sheck Wes, “Gmail”
SOB X RBE: Gangin
The quiet miracle of friendship is that it is almost always accidental. Adjacent seats, matching hats, shared cul-de-sacs—any random moment of connection can be the beginning of a lifelong bond. SOB X RBE formed in Vallejo, California, around shared commitments to Call of Duty, basketball, and rap—and on their debut album, Gangin, you can feel both the looseness of those links and their intensity. Lul G, Yhung T.O., DaBoii, and Slimmy B make ruffian rap that bruises and bounces in equal measure; their record is a marvel of perpetual motion and brotherhood.
Gangin plays like a cartoon fight cloud set to music: At any given moment, you can snap your fingers or a neck. The record often feels limitless and unbound; the members appear on songs in unpredictable order, sometimes alone, other times as a trio or duo. In lieu of ad-libs or layered vocals, there’s constant fluidity. Flows are passed along and riffed. Verses are packed toe-to-toe, the ideas firing too quickly to pause. The beats are smooth but fleet, complementing and contrasting the group's harried delivery. Now the future of the group is uncertain, but perhaps that, too, is par for the course. Entropy is enabling until it isn’t. –Stephen Kearse
Listen: SOB X RBE, “Once Upon a Time”
Tierra Whack: Whack World
Fifteen songs, 15 minutes: Tierra Whack did that. Whack World is a surreal audio-visual album that reveals the vivid imagination of the Philadelphia-raised artist, jumping from ideas with the snap of a finger. In her debut record’s short runtime, Whack explores the power of less as more, using every chance to land a new style, flow, or sound. She taps into her moody, sing-rap side on songs like “Flea Market,” then she gets on her Philly street-tale spitter tip with “4 Wings,” then widens her sound entirely, floating into the realm of current pop-rap radio stars on “Fruit Salad.” The 15 minutes thing isn’t a gimmick; it’s Tierra cutting all the fat, getting straight to the point, and giving everyone the rare album that demands instant replay. –Alphonse Pierre
Listen: Tierra Whack, “Hungry Hippo”
Travis Scott: Astroworld
Young rap fans and radio programmers have loved Travis Scott for awhile, but Astroworld propelled awareness of his sound-design flair to a new level. Critics had previously tended to view Scott as a skillful convenor of other talents, rather than a talent in his own right. While that networking and curatorial skill was still evident on Astroworld—which recruits everyone from Stevie Wonder to the ghost of the Notorious B.I.G.—what’s striking about the album is how it all sounds like Travis Scott. The host rarely gets overshadowed by the guests; the broth is never spoiled by the ridiculous number of cooks.
“Sicko Mode” splits its song publishing between 30 names and involves five producers, yet still triumphs as the album’s banger. “5% Tint” is another killer, with its stereo-panning growls and vocals like anesthetic gas seeping under the door in a ’60s spy movie. Doubts persist about Scott ever becoming the Kanye-level major artist he aspires to be; his lyrics, rarely memorable, mostly traffic in hollow hedonism. But you don’t turn to Scott for insights into our contemporary decadence, you come for the exquisitely intricate ear candy: queasy stereo-sculpted effects, dilated smears of texture, startling vocal treatments. More about mood than meaning, Scott’s music is a glistening vapor that fills headphones and car interiors with cocooning unreality. File under “ambient.” –Simon Reynolds
Listen: Travis Scott, “R.I.P. SCREW”
Vince Staples: FM!
Dropped in angst-ridden, pre-midterms early November, Vince Staples’ FM! is the exact length of a television sitcom—22 minutes—and as snappily edited as one. “We gon’ party til the sun or the guns come out,” Staples sings on the opener, “Feels Like Summer,” tire-slashing the idyllic illusion of California, his home. Throughout FM!, he applies that sardonic, pitch-perfect wit to a wild, compressed experiment of twitchy songs made with California collaborators Ty Dolla $ign, Earl Sweatshirt, Kamaiyah, and more, in a format that mimics the iconic rap radio show “Big Boy’s Neighborhood.”
With the album’s cover art, Staples deliberately borrows the gleeful, cartoonish vibe of Green Day’s Dookie, playing up the contrast between those anthems of teenage angst and his own. He may sing “We just wanna have fun,” but references to “dead homies” resurface in song after song; what purports to be party jams become hymns to the fallen. Reality inevitably intrudes: “My black is beautiful, but I’ll still shoot at you,” he says, unflinching. Experimental and abrupt, the album ends all too soon, yet it feels convincing and complete, and Staples’ sobering revelations linger. –Rebecca Bengal
Listen: Vince Staples, “FUN!”
