Albumism's 50 Best Albums of 2019

Producer, bassist, and Tony! Toni! Toné! cofounder Raphael Saadiq steps away from classic soul (2008’s *The Way I See It* and 2011’s *Stone Rollin’*) to tell a tragic personal story. *Jimmy Lee* refers to his older brother, who was addicted to heroin and died of an overdose in the ’90s. Saadiq draws on the struggles he witnessed and experienced to create the most personal album of his career. “It’s about my brother, it’s about me growing up to be a man versus a boy, and the vulnerabilities and frailties we have in life,” he tells Apple Music’s Ebro. Given the fragile subject matter, the songs on *Jimmy Lee* are dark, leaning on supple soul and gospel as both vessel and confessional. Perspectives move from an addict’s (“Sinners Prayer,” “So Ready,” “Kings Fall”) to those caught in the addict’s crossfire (“This World Is Drunk”). A burst of clarity emerges on “I’m Feeling Love” (“You are my rehab/The only needle that I have/Injections every day/Vein to vein, I’m here to stay”) before returning back to fatal urges. The aftermath begins with “Belongs to God,” a church spiritual that mysteriously ends and opens into the ominous self-examination “Glory to the Veins.” “Rikers Island” is split in two parts: one a gospel-delic protest against the physical and psychological incarceration of African Americans, the second a pleading spoken-word piece voiced by actor Daniel J. Watts. Then an uncredited Kendrick Lamar steps up for the chorus on the album closer, “Rearview” (“How can I lead the world when I’m scared to try/Why should I need the world, we all gon’ die,” he posits). *Jimmy Lee* is a chilling lamentation. Like Sly Stone and Marvin Gaye, Saadiq uses soul music as a transformative tool, embracing darkness in order to shed light.

Pop music feels a lot different in tone, sound, and message in 2019 than when Dido last released an album (2013’s *Girl Who Got Away*). As the “Thank You” and ”White Flag” hitmaker re-enters a crowded pop field after six years, she too has experienced profound change—shunning the spotlight to care for and bond with her son. *Still on My Mind* is filled with warm and patient sketches of life and feelings, bearing confidence and wisdom. Her voice remains flawless and easily identifiable, just as you remember her. And with her brother and longtime producer Rollo Armstrong (Faithless) back in the fold, songs like “Hurricanes,” “You Don’t Need a God,” and “Mad Love” have a sturdy spine. “Give You Up” and “Friends” mirror the mindset of a woman firewalking through bad relationships and emerging scarred but stronger. Dido closes the album with a terrific tribute to her son, “Have to Stay,” which should be used in birthday slideshows henceforth.

Part of the fun of listening to Lana Del Rey’s ethereal lullabies is the sly sense of humor that brings them back down to earth. Tucked inside her dreamscapes about Hollywood and the Hamptons are reminders—and celebrations—of just how empty these places can be. Here, on her sixth album, she fixes her gaze on another place primed for exploration: the art world. Winking and vivid, *Norman F\*\*\*\*\*g Rockwell!* is a conceptual riff on the rules that govern integrity and authenticity from an artist who has made a career out of breaking them. In a 2018 interview with Apple Music\'s Zane Lowe, Del Rey said working with songwriter Jack Antonoff (who produced the album along with Rick Nowels and Andrew Watt) put her in a lighter mood: “He was so *funny*,” she said. Their partnership—as seen on the title track, a study of inflated egos—allowed her to take her subjects less seriously. \"It\'s about this guy who is such a genius artist, but he thinks he’s the shit and he knows it,” she said. \"So often I end up with these creative types. They just go on and on about themselves and I\'m like, \'Yeah, yeah.\' But there’s merit to it also—they are so good.” This paradox becomes a theme on *Rockwell*, a canvas upon which she paints with sincerity and satire and challenges you to spot the difference. (On “The Next Best American Record,” she sings, “We were so obsessed with writing the next best American record/’Cause we were just that good/It was just that good.”) Whether she’s wistfully nostalgic or jaded and detached is up for interpretation—really, everything is. The album’s finale, “hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but I have it,” is packaged like a confessional—first-person, reflective, sung over simple piano chords—but it’s also flamboyantly cinematic, interweaving references to Sylvia Plath and Slim Aarons with anecdotes from Del Rey\'s own life to make us question, again, what\'s real. When she repeats the phrase “a woman like me,” it feels like a taunt; she’s spent the last decade mixing personas—outcast and pop idol, debutante and witch, pinup girl and poet, sinner and saint—ostensibly in an effort to render them all moot. Here, she suggests something even bolder: that the only thing more dangerous than a complicated woman is one who refuses to give up.

Michael Kiwanuka never seemed the type to self-title an album. He certainly wasn’t expected to double down on such apparent self-assurance by commissioning a kingly portrait of himself as the cover art. After all, this is the singer-songwriter who was invited to join Kanye West’s *Yeezus* sessions but eventually snuck wordlessly out, suffering impostor syndrome. That sense of self-doubt shadowed him even before his 2012 debut *Home Again* collected a Mercury Prize nomination. “It’s an irrational thought, but I’ve always had it,” he tells Apple Music. “It keeps you on your toes, but it was also frustrating me. I was like, ‘I just want to be able to do this without worrying so much and just be confident in who I am as an artist.’” Notions of identity also got him thinking about how performers create personas—onstage or on social media—that obscure their true selves, inspiring him to call his third album *KIWANUKA* in an act of what he calls “anti-alter-ego.” “It’s almost a statement to myself,” he says. “I want to be able to say, ‘This is me, rain or shine.’ People might like it, people might not, it’s OK. At least people know who I am.” Kiwanuka was already known as a gifted singer and songwriter, but *KIWANUKA* reveals new standards of invention and ambition. With Danger Mouse and UK producer Inflo behind the boards—as they were on *Love & Hate* in 2016—these songs push his barrel-aged blend of soul and folk further into psychedelia, fuzz rock, and chamber pop. Here, he takes us through that journey song by song. **You Ain’t the Problem** “‘You Ain’t the Problem’ is a celebration, me loving humans. We forget how amazing we are. Social media’s part of this—all these filters hiding things that we think people won\'t like, things we think don\'t quite fit in. You start thinking this stuff about you is wrong and that you’ve got a problem being whatever you are and who you were born to be. I wanted to write a song saying, ‘You’re not the problem. You just have to continue being *you* more, go deeper within yourself.’ That’s where the magic comes—as opposed to cutting things away and trying to erode what really makes you.” **Rolling** “‘Rolling with the times, don’t be late.’ Everything’s about being an artist for me, I guess. I was trying to find my place still, but you can do things to make sure that you fit in or are keeping up with everything that’s happening—whether it’s posting stuff online or keeping up with the coolest records, knowing the right things. Or it could just be you’re in your mid-thirties, you haven’t got married or had kids yet, and people are like, ‘What?’ ‘Rolling with the times’ is like, go at your own pace. In my head, there was early Stooges records and French records like Serge Gainsbourg with the fuzz sounds. I wanted to make a song that sounded kind of crazy like that.” **I’ve Been Dazed** “Eddie Hazel from Funkadelic is my favorite guitar player. This has anthemic chords because he would always have really beautiful anthemic chords in the songs that he wrote. It just came out almost hymn-like. Lyrically, because it has this melancholy feel to it, I was singing about waking up from the nightmare of following someone else’s path or putting yourself down, low self-esteem—the things ‘You Ain\'t the Problem’ is defying. The feeling is, ‘Man, I\'ve been in this kind of nightmare, I just want to get out of it, I’m ready to go.’” **Piano Joint (This Kind of Love) \[Intro\]** “As a teenager, I’d just escape \[into some albums\], like I could teleport away from life and into that person’s world. I really wanted to have that feel with this record. It would be so vivid, there was no chance to get out of it, no gap in the songs—make it feel like one long piece. Some songs just flow into each other, but some needed interludes as passageways. This intro came when I was playing some bass and \[Inflo\] was playing some piano and I started singing my idea of a Marvin Gaye soul tune—a deep, dark, melancholic cut from one of his ’70s records. Then Danger Mouse had the idea, ‘Why don’t you pitch some of it down so it sounds different?’” **Piano Joint (This Kind of Love)** “I used to always love melancholy songs; the sadder it is, the happier I’d be afterwards. This was my moment to really exercise that part of me. Originally, it was going to be a piano ballad, and then I was like, ‘Why don’t we try playing some drums?’ Inflo’s a really good drummer, so I went in and played bass with him, and it sounded really good. I was thinking of that ’70s Gil Scott-Heron East Coast soul. Then we worked with this amazing string arranger, Rosie Danvers, who did almost all the strings on the last album. I said to her, ‘It’s my favorite song, just do something super beautiful.’ She just killed it.” **Another Human Being** “We were doing all the interludes and Danger Mouse had found loads of samples. This was a news report \[about the ’60s US civil rights sit-in protests\]. I remember thinking, ‘This sounds amazing, it goes into “Living in Denial” perfectly—it just changes that song.’ And, yeah, again, I’m ’70s-obsessed, but the ’60s and ’70s were so pivotal for young American black men and women, and it just gave a gravitas to the record. It goes to identity and something that resonates with me and my name and who I am. It gives me loads of confidence to continue to be myself.” **Living in Denial** “This is how me, Inflo, and Danger Mouse sound when we’re completely ourselves and properly linked together. No arguments, just let it happen, don’t think about it. I was trying to be a soul group—thinking of The Delfonics, The Isley Brothers, The Temptations, The Chambers Brothers. Again, the lyrics are that thing of seeking acceptance: You don’t need to seek it, just accept yourself and then whoever wants to hang with you will.” **Hero (Intro)** “‘Hero’ was the last song we completed. Once it started to sound good, I was sitting there with my acoustic, playing. We’d done the ‘Piano Joint’ intro and I was like, ‘Oh, we should pitch down this number as well and make it something that we really wouldn’t do with a straight rock ’n’ roll song.’” **Hero** “‘Hero’ was the hardest to come up with lyrics for. We had the music and melody for, like, two years. Any time I tried to touch it, I hated it—I couldn’t come up with anything. Then I was reading about Fred Hampton from the Black Panthers and I started thinking about all these people that get killed—or, like Hendrix, die an accidental death—who have so much to give or do so much in such a small time. I also love the thing where all these legends, Bowie and Bob Dylan, were creating larger-than-life personas that we were obsessed with. You didn’t really know who they were. That really made me sad, because I don’t disagree with it, but I know that’s not me. So, ‘Am I a hero?’ was also asking, ‘If I do that stuff, will I become this big artist that everyone respects?’—that ‘I’m not enough’ thing.” **Hard to Say Goodbye** “This is my love of Isaac Hayes and big orchestrations, lush strings, people like David Axelrod. Flo actually brought in this sample from a Nat King Cole song, just one chord, and we pitched it around, and then we replayed it with a 20-piece string orchestra packed into the studio. We had a double-bass cello, the whole works, and this really good piano player Kadeem \[Clarke\] who plays with Little Simz, and our friend Nathan \[Allen\] playing drums. That was pretty fun.” **Final Days** “At first, I didn’t know where this would fit on the record, like, ‘Man, this is cool, I just don’t *love*it.’ I wrote some lyrics and thought, ‘This is better, but it’s missing something.’ It always felt like space to me, so I said to Kennie \[Takahashi\], the engineer, ‘Are there any samples you can find of people in space?’ We found these astronauts about to crash, which is kind of dark, but it gave it this emotion it was missing. It gave me goosebumps. Later, we found out that it was a fake, some guys messing around in Italy in the ’60s for an art project or something.” **Interlude (Loving the People)** “‘Final Days’ was sounding amazing, but it needed to go somewhere else at the end. I had this melody on the Wurlitzer, and originally it was an instrumental bit that comes in for the end of ‘Final Days’ so that it ends somewhere completely different, like the spaceship’s landing at its destination. But I was like, ‘Let’s stretch it out. Let’s do more.’ Danger Mouse found this \[US congressman and civil rights leader\] John Lewis sample, and it sounded beautiful and moving over these chords, so we put it here.” **Solid Ground** “When everything gets stripped away—all the strings, all the sounds, all the interludes—I’m still just a dude that sits and plays a song on a guitar or piano. I felt like the album needed a glimpse of that. Rosie did a beautiful arrangement and then I finished it off—everyone was out somewhere, so I just played all the instruments, apart from drums and things like that. So, ‘Solid Ground’ is my little piece that I had from another place. Lyrically, it’s about finding the place where you feel comfortable.” **Light** “I just thought ‘Light’ was a nice dreamy piece to end the record with—a bit of light at the end of this massive journey. You end on this peaceful note, something positive. For me, light describes loads of things that are good—whether it’s obvious things like the light at the end of the tunnel or just a light feeling in my heart. The idea that the day’s coming—such a peaceful, exciting thing. We’re just always looking for it.” *All Apple Music subscribers using the latest version of Apple Music on iPhone, iPad, Mac, and Apple TV can listen to thousands of Dolby Atmos Music tracks using any headphones. When listening with compatible Apple or Beats headphones, Dolby Atmos Music will play back automatically when available for a song. For other headphones, go to Settings > Music > Audio and set the Dolby Atmos switch to “Always On.” You can also hear Dolby Atmos Music using the built-in speakers on compatible iPhones, iPads, MacBook Pros, and HomePods, or by connecting your Apple TV 4K to a compatible TV or AV receiver. Android is coming soon. AirPods, AirPods Pro, AirPods Max, BeatsX, Beats Solo3, Beats Studio3, Powerbeats3, Beats Flex, Powerbeats Pro, and Beats Solo Pro Works with iPhone 7 or later with the latest version of iOS; 12.9-inch iPad Pro (3rd generation or later), 11-inch iPad Pro, iPad (6th generation or later), iPad Air (3rd generation), and iPad mini (5th generation) with the latest version of iPadOS; and MacBook (2018 model and later).*

On her fifth proper full-length album, Sharon Van Etten pushes beyond vocals-and-guitar indie rock and dives headlong into spooky maximalism. With production help from John Congleton (St. Vincent), she layers haunting drones with heavy, percussive textures, giving songs like “Comeback Kid” and “Seventeen” explosive urgency. Drawing from Nick Cave, Lucinda Williams, and fellow New Jersey native Bruce Springsteen, *Remind Me Tomorrow* is full of electrifying anthems, with Van Etten voicing confessions of reckless, lost, and sentimental characters. The album challenges the popular image of Van Etten as *just* a singer-songwriter and illuminates her significant talent as composer and producer, as an artist making records that feel like a world of their own.

It\'s hard to imagine Bruce Springsteen describing a project of his as a concept album—too much prog baggage, too much expectation of some big, grand, overarching *story*. But nothing he\'s done across five decades as one of rock\'s most accomplished storytellers has had the singular, specific focus and locus, lyrically and musically, as this long-gestating solo effort—a lush meditation on the landscape of the western United States and the people who are drawn there, or got stuck there. Neither a bare-bones acoustic effort like *Nebraska* nor a fully tricked-out E Street Band affair, this set of 13 largely subdued character-driven songs (his first new ones since 2014\'s *High Hopes*, following five years immersed in memoir) is ornamented with strings and horns and slide guitar and banjo that sound both dusty and Dusty. They trade in the most familiar of American iconography—trains, hitchhikers, motels, sunsets, diners, Hollywood, and, of course, wild horses—but aren\'t necessarily antiquated; the clichés are jumping-off points, aiming for timelessness as much as nostalgia. The battered stuntman of “Drive Fast” could be licking, and cataloging, his wounds in 1959 or 2019. As convulsive and pivotal as the current moment may feel, restlessness and aimlessness and disenfranchisement are evergreen, and the songs are built to feel that way. In true Springsteen fashion, the personal is elevated to the mythical.

The third album from the LA-based master of timeless acoustic folk is an exercise in restraint. Yet despite its minimalism, there\'s emotional heft: While her 2015 album *On Your Own Love Again* followed the passing of her mother, the end of a relationship, and her upheaval from San Francisco to LA, these songs deal with her putting off a return to San Francisco after falling in love with musician Matthew McDermott (who plays piano on the opener here). The nine songs are compact and rooted in Pratt\'s voice, evoking 1960s French yé-yé singers or Nico, as the chamber pop of short numbers like “Fare Thee Well” and “As The World Turns” lulls with gentle flutes and soft strings. It\'s an intimacy that\'s distinct from any of her singer-songwriter peers, veiled behind a sense of old-fashioned mystique.

For her third album Quiet Signs, Jessica Pratt offers up nine spare, beautiful & mysterious songs that feel like the culmination of her work to date. "Fare Thee Well" and "Poly Blue" retain glimmers of On Your Own Love Again's hazy day spells, but delicate arrangements for piano, flute, organ and strings instill a lush, chamber pop vim. The record's B-side, meanwhile, glows with an arresting late-night clarity; the first single, "This Time Around," pairs the Los Angeles artist's intimate vulnerability with a newfound resolve. Ultimately, this confidence is what sets Quiet Signs apart from Pratt's previous work, the journey of an artist stepping out of the darkened wings to take her place as one of this generation's preeminent songwriters.

What happens when the reigning queen of bubblegum pop goes through a breakup? Exactly what you’d think: She turns around and creates her most romantic, wholehearted, blissed-out work yet. Written with various pop producers in LA (Captain Cuts), New York (Jack Antonoff), and Sweden, as well as on a particularly formative soul-searching trip to the Italian coast, Jepsen’s fourth album *Dedicated* is poptimism at its finest: joyous and glitzy, rhythmic and euphoric, with an extra layer of kitsch. It’s never sad—that just isn’t Jepsen—but the “Call Me Maybe” star *does* get more in her feelings; songs like “No Drug Like Me” and “Right Words Wrong Time” aren\'t about fleeing pain so much as running to it. As Jepsen puts it on the synth ballad “Too Much,” she’d do anything to get the rush of being in love, even if it means risking heartache again and again. “Party for One,” the album’s standout single, is an infectious, shriek-worthy celebration of being alone that also acknowledges just how difficult that can be: “Tried to let it go and say I’m over you/I’m not over you/But I’m trying.”

We’re calling it: In the rock ’n’ roll history books, Gary Clark Jr. will have two eras: before *This Land* and after it. Just get a load of the fire and fury that opens the title track: “F\*\*k you, I’m America’s son/This is where I come from,” he snarls. Clark’s rage is partially directed at his racist neighbor in Austin, Texas, who can’t seem to accept Clark’s sprawling 50-acre ranch, as well as a few experiences from his childhood. “I had a few situations down there with some racism, and some Confederate flags, and people calling me out of their trucks, all that kind of stuff,” he told Beats 1 host Zane Lowe. “I had a beat that I laid down but didn\'t have any lyrics over it and it just came to me. I just went in there and fired off.” But it\'s also, more broadly, aimed at President Trump for fanning the flames of racism across the American South. He’s pissed off, and finally speaking out. *This Land*, which Clark produced himself, confronts these realities head-on, including stressful community divisions (“What About Us”), touring fatigue (“The Guitar Man”), and political activism (“Feed the Babies”). In an effort to find some common ground, he reminds us why we came to his music in the first place: its soulful, spontaneous spirit. The rallying *wooo*s and rip-roaring guitars on the standout “Gotta Get Into Something” recall Stiff Little Fingers as much as they do Chuck Berry. And like any rousing punk anthem, it’s its own form of protest song: a thunderous, gritty alarm that dares you to sit still.

“The whole inspiration for this record was completely and utterly based on going out in Lisbon and trying to make friends,” Madonna tells Apple Music\'s Julie Adenuga. “Portugal is such a melting pot for so many different cultures—there\'s a lot of people from Brazil, Angola, Spain. You can stand out on a balcony and hear some incredible voice carrying through the starlit sky, and it\'s just so magical you can\'t help but be inspired by it.” Fourteen albums in, it may be standard practice for Madonna to immerse herself in new cultures as a way of sparking artistic ideas, but her recent move to Lisbon opened her to incorporating not just different sounds but different languages. As evidence, look no further than “Medellin,” one of two collaborations on the album with Colombian pop star Maluma. “I heard from his manager that he wanted to collaborate with me,” she said. “\[My producer and I\] started listening to his music more closely, thinking, \'Okay, how can we do something slightly different but that still has a connection to the music that he makes?’” This adventurous strategy—as much a cultural bridge as a musical technique—is what makes the sprawling *Madame X* so bold and timely. By fusing some of pop’s trendiest sounds (deep house, disco, and dancehall are a few) with characteristically eccentric imagery and serious subject matter (gun control, narcissism, ageism, and political noise), she doesn’t just acknowledge the current moment, she confronts it. “This is your wake-up call,” she sings on “God Control,” which morphs from spiritual hymn into ironic disco-funk at the sound of disquieting gunshots. “We don’t have to fall/A new democracy.” She seems to find hope in her own perseverance: “Died a thousand times/Managed to survive,” she sings on “I Rise.” “I rise up above it all.”

Tanya Tucker was already singing in a voice that conveyed grit and experience when she scored her first hit at age 13. In the half-century since, the veteran country star has released roughly two dozen albums. But *While I’m Livin’*, arriving on the heels of an extended quiet spell, is the first full-length she’s recorded that reflects—or, more accurately, magnifies—her life experiences and brassy persona. Shooter Jennings and Brandi Carlile, who both grew up with Tucker’s music, made it their crusade to produce an album that would present Tucker as an artist whose undiminished edge and seasoned wit qualify her as a legend. They selected songs, several of them written by Carlile and her frequent collaborators Tim and Phil Hanseroth, that dramatize Tucker\'s headstrong, hard-living ways and the pride she took in weathering hardship. She makes loping outlaw epics like \"High Ridin\' Heroes,\" \"Hard Luck,\" and \"Mustang Ridge\" her own, and sounds more unvarnished than ever delivering soft, sentimental tunes like \"The House That Built Me,\" \"The Day My Heart Goes Still,\" and \"Bring My Flowers Now.\"

An eccentric like Madlib and a straightforward guy like Freddie Gibbs—how could it possibly work? If 2014’s *Piñata* proved that the pairing—offbeat producer, no-frills street rapper—sounded better and more natural than it looked on paper, *Bandana* proves *Piñata* wasn’t a fluke. The common ground is approachability: Even at their most cinematic (the noisy soul of “Flat Tummy Tea,” the horror-movie trap of “Half Manne Half Cocaine”), Madlib’s beats remain funny, strange, decidedly at human scale, while Gibbs prefers to keep things so real he barely uses metaphor. In other words, it’s remarkable music made by artists who never pretend to be anything other than ordinary. And even when the guest spots are good (Yasiin Bey and Black Thought on “Education” especially), the core of the album is the chemistry between Gibbs and Madlib: vivid, dreamy, serious, and just a little supernatural.

“I think everybody was ready to take a hiatus, pull the shades down for a year or so,” The National frontman Matt Berninger tells Apple Music of his band’s state of mind at the end of their tour for 2017’s Grammy-winning *Sleep Well Beast*. “Everyone in the band was exhausted and had no intention of diving back into a record at all. But Mike Mills showed up and had an idea, and then the idea just kept getting more exciting.” Mills—the Oscar-nominated writer and director behind *20th Century Women*, and not, it can’t be stressed enough, the former R.E.M. bassist—reached out to Berninger with the intention of maybe directing a video for the band, but that soon blossomed into a much more ambitious proposition: Mills would use some tracks that didn’t find their way onto *Sleep Well Beast* as the springboard for a short film project. That film—also called *I Am Easy to Find*—features Oscar winner Alicia Vikander portraying a unnamed woman from birth to death, a life story told in picaresque black-and-white subtitled snippets, to the swells of The National’s characteristically dramatic music. Those subtitles in turn informed new songs and inspired the band to head from touring straight into making another full album, right when they should have had their toes in sand. “All the song bits and lyric ideas and emotional places and stuff that we were deep into all went into the same big crock pot,” Berninger says. “We knew there would be a 25-minute film and a record, but it\'s not like one was there to support or accompany the other.” Just as the film is about nothing more and nothing less than an examination of one person’s entire existence, the album is The National simultaneously at their most personal and most far-flung. Don’t be fooled by the press photos showing five guys; though the band has been increasingly collaborative and sprawling over its two-decade run, never has the reach of the National Cinematic Universe been so evident. Berninger is still nominally the lead singer and focal point, but on none of the album’s 16 tracks is he the *only* singer, ceding many of the album’s most dramatic moments to a roster of female vocalists including Gail Ann Dorsey (formerly of David Bowie’s band), Sharon Van Etten, Kate Stables of This Is the Kit, Lisa Hannigan, and Mina Tindle, with additional assists from the Brooklyn Youth Chorus. Berninger’s wife Carin Besser, who has been contributing lyrics to National songs for years, had a heavier hand. Mills himself serves as a hands-on producer, reassembling parts of songs at will with the band’s full blessing, despite never having done anything like that before in his life. Despite this decentralization, it still feels like a cohesive National album—in turns brooding and bombastic, elegiac and euphoric, propelled by jittery rhythms and orchestral flourishes. But it is also a busy tapestry of voices and ideas, all in the name of exploring identity and what it means to be present and angry and bewildered at a tumultuous time. “There\'s a shaking off all the old tropes and patterns and ruts,” Berninger says. “Women are sick and tired of how they are spoken about or represented. Children are rebelling against the packages that they\'re forced into—and it\'s wonderful. I never questioned the package that I was supposed to walk around in until my thirties.” The album’s default mood is uneasy lullaby, epitomized by the title track, “Hairpin Turns,” “Light Years,” and the woozily logorrheic, nearly seven-minute centerpiece “Not in Kansas.” This gravity makes the moments that gallop, relatively speaking—“Where Is Her Head,” the purposefully gender-nonspecific “Rylan,” and the palpitating opener “You Had Your Soul with You”—feel all the more urgent. The expanded cast might be slightly disorienting at first, but that disorientation is by design—an attempt to make the band’s music and perspective feel more universal by working in concert with other musicians and a film director. “This is a packaging of the blurry chaos that creates some sort of reflection of it, and seeing a reflection of the chaos through some other artist\'s lens makes you feel more comfortable inside it,” says Berninger. “Other people are in this chaos with me and shining lights into corners. I\'m not alone in this.”

On 3rd September 2017, director Mike Mills emailed Matt Berninger to introduce himself and in very short order, the most ambitious project of the National’s nearly 20-year career was born and plans for a hard-earned vacation died. The Los Angeles-based filmmaker was coming off his third feature, 20th Century Women, and was interested in working with the band on... something. A video maybe. Berninger, already a fan of Mills’ films, not only agreed to collaborate, he essentially handed over the keys to the band’s creative process. The result is I Am Easy to Find, a 24-minute film by Mills starring Alicia Vikander, and I Am Easy to Find, a 68-minute album by the National. The former is not the video for the latter; the latter is not the soundtrack to the former. The two projects are, as Mills calls them, “Playfully hostile siblings that love to steal from each other” -- they share music and words and DNA and impulses and a vision about what it means to be human in 2019, but don’t necessarily need one another. The movie was composed like a piece of music; the music was assembled like a film, by a film director. The frontman and natural focal point was deliberately and dramatically sidestaged in favour of a variety of female voices, nearly all of whom have long been in the group’s orbit. It is unlike anything either artist has ever attempted and also totally in line with how they’ve created for much of their careers. As the album’s opening track, ‘You Had Your Soul With You,’ unfurls, it’s so far, so National: a digitally manipulated guitar line, skittering drums, Berninger’s familiar baritone, mounting tension. Then around the 2:15 mark, the true nature of I Am Easy To Find announces itself: the racket subsides, strings swell, and the voice of long-time David Bowie bandmate Gail Ann Dorsey booms out—not as background vocals, not as a hook, but to take over the song. Elsewhere it’s Irish singer-songwriter Lisa Hannigan, or Sharon Van Etten, or Mina Tindle or Kate Stables of This Is the Kit, or varying combinations of them. The Brooklyn Youth Choir, whom Bryce Dessner had worked with before. There are choral arrangements and strings on nearly every track, largely put together by Bryce in Paris—not a negation of the band’s dramatic tendencies, but a redistribution of them. “Yes, there are a lot of women singing on this, but it wasn't because, ‘Oh, let's have more women's voices,’ says Berninger. “It was more, ‘Let's have more of a fabric of people's identities.’ It would have been better to have had other male singers, but my ego wouldn't let that happen."

After launching his solo career with 2017’s platinum-selling *As You Were*, Liam Gallagher had a simple mission statement for the follow-up: Do it again and do it better. “I’m never going to change my genre of music,” he tells Apple Music. “I know what the people who come to see me want and I know what they don’t want, so it’s very easy. I’m not trying to make *Sgt. Pepper*, I\'m not trying to make *The Wall*. It is what it is. Neil Young hasn’t changed his sound for fucking 40 years and no one gets on his case. And I’m not saying I’m Neil Young, because I\'m far from it.” Liam is well aware of what he is: the greatest rock ’n’ roll singer of his generation. On *Why Me? Why Not.*, his voice crackles with love, wisdom, vitriol, and hurt. He’s as magnetic as he was when Oasis was in their imperial period—and these are some of the best songs he’s been on in the last two decades. He’s thrillingly barbed on the punchy glam-rock of “Shockwave” and adrenalizing on “The River,” a set of psych-rock jumper cables for the soul. The tender moments are just as stirring, not least when he pledges enduring love for his daughter Molly on “Now That I’ve Found You.” The centerpiece is “Once,” a reflective heart-sweller with the sort of goosebump chorus that he’s been nailing for 25 years. “It’s one of those songs that you come across every couple of years, or once in your lifetime,” he says. “We had a few of them in Oasis. If Noel had wrote it or if it was going out under the Oasis name, I think a lot of people’d be creaming in their pants. It’s up there, I think, with anything Lennon’s ever done, or Pink Floyd or Bowie. I feel like I levitate when I\'m singing that. So if you see me floating about up in the sky, you know I\'m having a good time.” On “One of Us,” he sings, “Come on, I know you want more/Come on and open your door/After it all, you’ll find out/You were always one of us.” It’s an olive branch extended to Noel—not that Liam thinks it will be accepted. “Oh, god, no. No way, man. He doesn\'t want to get in the ring with me again, for many reasons. You know why? Because he knows that he has to share the load, and standing next to me, he becomes very, very small. He’s already fucking small. So he doesn\'t want that, he wants the limelight for himself. But there you go, you keep trying, don\'t you? I think that’ll be the last one. I’m done. I’m going to get on with me shit, man. “But I’ll still dig him out, because he needs to be dug out. And he’ll dig me out because I need to be dug out. But it is love, love, love, it’s not hate, hate, hate. I don’t hate him. I love him, you know what I mean?” The explosive end of Oasis and his subsequent band Beady Eye’s gentler winding down wasn’t what Gallagher had planned for either group. But having found two collaborators “who know exactly what I’m about”—writer-producers Greg Kurstin and Andrew Wyatt—he’s getting on with the business of being the singular, outstanding voice of big, emotive rock tunes. “Listen, man, I had four years in the wilderness not doing anything,” he says of the tough time between Beady Eye and *As You Were*, which included a divorce. “I wasn\'t stranded in the desert with no food. I wasn\'t captured by the Taliban. I was in the pub getting off me tits, but, still, it was a good thing for me to get my personal life in order. You can\'t have an untidy house. I’ve got a lot of making up to do. As long as people want it, I\'ll do it, because there\'s nothing else to do, and it\'s the best gig in the fucking world.” Twenty-five years after he first emerged with Oasis, Gallagher’s in great shape personally and professionally, and he’s doing what he’s always set out to do: “Sing some tunes and have the craic.” *Why Me? Why Not.* is further proof that the world of rock is a better, brighter place with him in it. “I\'m good at being a rock ’n’ roll star. There’s a new generation out there that want a bit, so they\'re getting it.”

“It feels right that our fourth album is not 10, 11 songs,” Vampire Weekend frontman Ezra Koenig explains on his Beats 1 show *Time Crisis*, laying out the reasoning behind the 18-track breadth of his band\'s first album in six years. “It felt like it needed more room.” The double album—which Koenig considers less akin to the stylistic variety of The Beatles\' White Album and closer to the narrative and thematic cohesion of Bruce Springsteen\'s *The River*—also introduces some personnel changes. Founding member Rostam Batmanglij contributes to a couple of tracks but is no longer in the band, while Haim\'s Danielle Haim and The Internet\'s Steve Lacy are among the guests who play on multiple songs here. The result is decidedly looser and more sprawling than previous Vampire Weekend records, which Koenig feels is an apt way to return after a long hiatus. “After six years gone, it\'s a bigger statement.” Here Koenig unpacks some of *Father of the Bride*\'s key tracks. **\"Hold You Now\" (feat. Danielle Haim)** “From pretty early on, I had a feeling that\'d be a good track one. I like that it opens with just acoustic guitar and vocals, which I thought is such a weird way to open a Vampire Weekend record. I always knew that there should be three duets spread out around the album, and I always knew I wanted them to be with the same person. Thank God it ended up being with Danielle. I wouldn\'t really call them country, but clearly they\'re indebted to classic country-duet songwriting.” **\"Rich Man\"** “I actually remember when I first started writing that; it was when we were at the Grammys for \[2013\'s\] *Modern Vampires of the City*. Sometimes you work so hard to come up with ideas, and you\'re down in the mines just trying to come up with stuff. Then other times you\'re just about to leave, you listen to something, you come up with a little idea. On this long album, with songs like this and \'Big Blue,\' they\'re like these short-story songs—they\'re moments. I just thought there\'s something funny about the narrator of the song being like, \'It\'s so hard to find one rich man in town with a satisfied mind. But I am the one.\' It\'s the trippiest song on the album.” **\"Married in a Gold Rush\" (feat. Danielle Haim)** “I played this song for a couple of people, and some were like, \'Oh, that\'s your country song?\' And I swear, we pulled our hair out trying to make sure the song didn\'t sound too country. Once you get past some of the imagery—midnight train, whatever—that\'s not really what it\'s about. The story is underneath it.” **\"Sympathy”** “That\'s the most metal Vampire Weekend\'s ever gotten with the double bass drum pedal.” **\"Sunflower\" (feat. Steve Lacy)** “I\'ve been critical of certain references people throw at this record. But if people want to say this sounds a little like Phish, I\'m with that.” **\"We Belong Together\" (feat. Danielle Haim)** “That\'s kind of two different songs that came together, as is often the case of Vampire Weekend. We had this old demo that started with programmed drums and Rostam having that 12-string. I always wanted to do a song that was insanely simple, that was just listing things that go together. So I\'d sit at the piano and go, \'We go together like pots and pans, surf and sand, bottles and cans.\' Then we mashed them up. It\'s probably the most wholesome Vampire Weekend song.”

Where do you go after you’re nominated for a Grammy for what is only your second proper album? If you’re celebrated North Carolina MC Rapsody, you go only wherever your heart desires—for her, that was down a path forged by historic black women before her. “When I think of why I am who I am, it\'s because I\'m inspired by so many dope women,” Rapsody tells Apple Music. “Dope men, too, but mostly dope women.” The MC’s third album *Eve* (named for that biblical mother of humanity) is a series of dedications to these women—some literal, others figurative, and still others simply named for individuals who embody ideals the artist felt compelled to extol. “It was easy once I had a concept,” she says. “All these women have different energies and they represent different things to me. And the bars just connected on their own, to be honest. Once you have the idea, the basis of what you want to write, everything else is just freedom and truth.” Lead single “Ibtihaj” (as in Olympic fencer Ibtihaj Muhammad, the first Muslim American woman to wear a hijab while competing for the United States in the Olympics) features a sample of GZA’s “Liquid Swords” along with guest spots from D’Angelo and The Genius himself. Elsewhere, the voices of rising New York MC Leikeli47, Los Angeles singer K. Roosevelt, and the legendary Queen Latifah ring out to help Rapsody tell the tales of “Oprah,” “Maya,” and “Hatshepsut,” respectively. *Eve* also features fellow generational talent and early Rapsody supporter J. Cole, who, during the sessions for “Sojourner,” helped distill his and Rapsody’s shared purpose as educators. “That whole song came from a two-, three-hour conversation that myself, J. Cole, and Ninth Wonder had in the studio,” Rapsody explains. “We were talking about Ninth’s generation versus me and Cole\'s. Everything is on the internet; they don\'t have to go and talk to each other face to face. In school they don\'t learn about all our black heroes. Some of them don\'t even want to know who Malcolm X is, who Betty Shabazz is. So that turned into: What is our responsibility as artists? We teach through our music. We should have fun, we should vibe out, but we have a responsibility to be reporting and talk about what\'s going on.” What that means for *Eve* is that the MC gets to honor some of her biggest inspirations as she earns a place among them.

The more music Dave makes, the more out of step his prosaic stage name seems. The richness and daring of his songwriting has already been granted an Ivor Novello Award—for “Question Time,” 2017’s searing address to British politicians—and on his debut album he gets deeper, bolder, and more ambitious. Pitched as excerpts from a year-long course of therapy, these 11 songs show the South Londoner examining the human condition and his own complex wiring. Confession and self-reflection may be nothing new in rap, but they’ve rarely been done with such skill and imagination. Dave’s riveting and poetic at all times, documenting his experience as a young British black man (“Black”) and pulling back the curtain on the realities of fame (“Environment”). With a literary sense of detail and drama, “Lesley”—a cautionary, 11-minute account of abuse and tragedy—is as much a short story as a song: “Touched her destination/Way faster than the cab driver\'s estimation/She put the key in the door/She couldn\'t believe what she see on the floor.” His words are carried by equally stirring music. Strings, harps, and the aching melodies of Dave’s own piano-playing mingle with trap beats and brooding bass in incisive expressions of pain and stress, as well as flashes of optimism and triumph. It may be drawn from an intensely personal place, but *Psychodrama* promises to have a much broader impact, setting dizzying new standards for UK rap.

Banks’ *III* is, of course, the beloved singer’s third studio album, but that’s not why she’s titled it as such. “For me, *III* represents a life cycle,” she tells Apple Music. “It\'s like the beginning, middle, and end. It feels like everything that comes to an end is kind of represented by threes, and a big theme on this album is letting go and being able to start a new chapter and be more present.\" The project, which explores the many peaks and valleys of a relationship and the renewal that can come from leaving an unsuccessful one behind, features songwriting and production contributions from BJ Burton, Buddy Ross, and Hudson Mohawke, as well as a duet with Francis and the Lights—the first guest feature of Banks’ catalog. Here, she explains what went into each of *III*’s revelations, track by track. **“Till Now”** “I think I cried when I was singing the first verse. I just felt angry, so I wanted to get rid of the anger that I had been carrying. And I like that it starts the album, because it\'s kind of like this announcement, an ode to where I\'ve been and a declaration of where I\'m at now. It\'s like, \'You\'ve been my see-you-around, till now,\' and \'You\'ve been doing this, till now.\' It\'s a really nice beginning to a new chapter and a new album, just letting go of the old and announcing where you\'re at in the present.” **“Gimme”** “I feel the most badass when I\'m singing. Not always, but sometimes, songs like \[2016\'s\] \'Fuck With Myself\' and \'Gimme,\' there\'s this inherent power in speaking quietly but saying really savage shit. I feel sweet and dangerous on it. So I wanted the beat to feel dangerous, and I met up with Hud Mo, and I mean, I had never worked with him before, but the second I met him I was like, \'I want to dive in with you,\' because he\'s just so fucking dope and brilliant.” **“Contaminated”** “‘Contaminated’ is kind of an ode to being an adult, I guess. It\'s like, when you want something so badly to work out, but it\'s just too fucking toxic. Something feels so good in the moment and it then it feels so bad later. It\'s like a drug. And \'Contaminated\' was me realizing that no matter how much you want something, it\'s just negative, period. You want to find little pockets of belief and hope. And that song is kind of mid-realization that it just can’t.” **“Stroke”** “‘Stroke’ is about a narcissist, first of all. So it\'s like, ‘You want me to stroke your ego, beg for it, die for it.’ Like when someone\'s just like an empty pit of needing validation and kind of sucks you dry. But at the same time, those types of relationships can be sexy and addicting, and \'Stroke\' is singing from the perspective of ‘You\'re a narcissist, and I know that about you, but I\'ll play into your game,’ kind of teasing him, like, ‘Keep begging and I\'ll stroke your ego.’” **“Godless”** “I dated someone and we broke up and I hadn\'t spoken to him in a few months. I wrote about him on *The Altar* and I felt really awkward. It\'s weird when you write about someone and they\'ll probably know—I put everything in my music, and people who I love and love me probably know that I will. But I hadn\'t talked to him in a long time. A few years later, I ended up seeing him again, and he plays me this song that he had started that he didn\'t ever finish, but it was about me, and it was a verse of \'Godless.\' It was just like a little seed of it, and I was like, ‘Oh my God, I need to finish this song.’ It\'s kind of funny—we\'re great friends now, but it\'s like, you couldn\'t get more closure from a relationship than collabing on a song about what you\'ve been through, I guess.” **“Sawzall”** “A Sawzall is actually a tool. It\'s a saw, but in order for it to work, it goes back and forth, push and pull, and that\'s exactly like some relationships—every relationship, really. So \'Sawzall\' is sung from this really loving, unconditionally nonjudgmental place of looking back on a relationship and thinking, like, ‘Was it my fault? Were you just depressed? Is that why? Because you weren\'t you, you were just a depressed version of you? Should I have known that? Am I just overthinking this?’ It\'s just thinking about why things didn\'t work out with somebody that you really, really, truly loved.” **“Look What You’re Doing to Me”** “So, I was in the studio with BJ \[Burton\]. We were in LA. And he\'s super close with Francis \[Starlite\], and I had actually never met Francis. He just ended up stopping by the studio in LA just to chill. And when I needed a break from the song I was working on, I went in the other room and it just...it wasn\'t like he came to write a song with me. I didn\'t even think that was going to happen. I just walked in the other room, and the chords he was playing—he’s so brilliant, and they just inspired this melody. I started singing, like, \'Look what you\'re doing to me.\' It just came out so quick, and then I was like, \'Fuck, this is so good.\'” **“Hawaiian Mazes”** “When I stopped touring *The Altar*, I felt so drained and I just needed a break. I wasn\'t feeling good physically or mentally, and I just needed time to, like, digest how much my life had changed. I went to Hawaii for two weeks with my best friend to try and silence my brain. And the last morning, I went on a walk and I discovered this labyrinth. And it was lined by rocks and it felt like somebody had set it up to be some sort of meditative place. But I walked through it and I had this revelation that I needed to let something go. And then I turned and there are these other people walking up, and I thought to myself, like, ‘Fuck, I don\'t have a bra on. Should I leave?’ And then I was like, ‘Nah, I\'m going to keep going.’” **“Alaska”** “When I write a lot, sometimes I dream melodies. Then, I\'ll wake up and I\'ll be like, ‘Oh my God, I wrote a song in my sleep last night. It was so good.’ And there have been a few times in my life where I wake up and I actually remember what I wrote, and it always trips me out because it feels like it\'s this crazy melody that wouldn\'t have existed if I didn\'t tap into some weird unconscious state. I woke up repeating this one morning: ‘He’s going to leave me for Alaska. He\'s going to leave me for Alaska.’ It just felt so easy. That\'s why it sounds all trippy. Because it\'s from a dream.” **“Propaganda”** “‘Propaganda’ is about feeling like you\'re too deep into something and you need help getting out of it. There\'s one lyric in there that says, \'I decided that suicide is on my side.\' It\'s pretty dark, but it\'s actually not meant to be like that. It\'s supposed to be that unsureness that could possibly be negative for you but it\'s also exciting and intriguing and you\'re like, \'Oh no, I\'m about to fall down this slide,\' like, \'Mom, help me out here, help me out of this.\'\" **“The Fall”** “I only play the piano—I don\'t play other instruments, and I always wrote on the piano. But before I started working with other people and collaborating and going to studios, I would hear a guitar line, a synth line, how the drums should go, and would record them all on my computer in separate takes with my voice. And so I got kind of in the habit of using my voice as background instruments, really. Most of my songs have melodic chants in them, just because it\'s kind of the language I\'m most fluent in. But \'The Fall,\' it started like that. And I like how it\'s got rapping on one end, but on the other hand there\'s this really beautiful acoustic guitar and that type of melodic chant in the back, so it\'s kind of like a whole mix of things.” **“If We Were Made of Water”** “Sometimes when I write, there are certain things—phrases that I sing or say or kind of invent—that mean something to me. And when people ask me what they mean, I\'m hesitant to say what they mean, because for somebody else it could mean something so meaningful but something different. But \'If We Were Made of Water,\' that song was just wishing things could be simple. If we were made of water, we would both be made of the same substance; we can just, like, melt into each other and things wouldn\'t be so complicated or painful.” **“What About Love”** “I don\'t know when exactly I wrote \'What About Love,\' but I wouldn\'t shut up about it after. My management was like, ‘We get it, you like that song.’ I was like, ‘You guys don\'t get it, this song is amazing!\' I don\'t have a favorite song that I\'ve ever written, but there\'s something about that song that felt life-changing to me. I\'ve been listening to a lot of gospel the last few years, and melodically, it feels so full. It feels like it\'s written from the exact thing that I feel like my album is about: the life cycle. It\'s an adult situation—‘I belong to no one, and you belong to someone else’—yet it\'s sung from this really innocent perspective of, but what about love? It doesn\'t matter if that\'s an unrealistic situation, what about love? Love can make it work.”

There’s nothing all that subtle about Jamila Woods naming each of these all-caps tracks after a notable person of color. Still, that’s the point with *LEGACY! LEGACY!*—homage as overt as it is original. True to her own revolutionary spirit, the Chicago native takes this influential baker’s dozen of songs and masterfully transmutes their power for her purposes, delivering an engrossingly personal and deftly poetic follow-up to her formidable 2016 breakthrough *HEAVN*. She draws on African American icons like Miles Davis and Eartha Kitt as she coos and commands through each namesake cut, sparking flames for the bluesy rap groove of “MUDDY” and giving flowers to a legend on the electro-laced funk of “OCTAVIA.”

In the clip of an older Eartha Kitt that everyone kicks around the internet, her cheekbones are still as pronounced as many would remember them from her glory days on Broadway, and her eyes are still piercing and inviting. She sips from a metal cup. The wind blows the flowers behind her until those flowers crane their stems toward her face, and the petals tilt upward, forcing out a smile. A dog barks in the background. In the best part of the clip, Kitt throws her head back and feigns a large, sky-rattling laugh upon being asked by her interviewer whether or not she’d compromise parts of herself if a man came into her life. When the laugh dies down, Kitt insists on the same, rhetorical statement. “Compromise!?!?” she flings. “For what?” She repeats “For what?” until it grows more fierce, more unanswerable. Until it holds the very answer itself. On the hook to the song “Eartha,” Jamila Woods sings “I don’t want to compromise / can we make it through the night” and as an album, Legacy! Legacy! stakes itself on the uncompromising nature of its creator, and the histories honored within its many layers. There is a lot of talk about black people in America and lineage, and who will tell the stories of our ancestors and their ancestors and the ones before them. But there is significantly less talk about the actions taken to uphold that lineage in a country obsessed with forgetting. There are hands who built the corners of ourselves we love most, and it is good to shout something sweet at those hands from time to time. Woods, a Chicago-born poet, organizer, and consistent glory merchant, seeks to honor black people first, always. And so, Legacy! Legacy! A song for Zora! Zora, who gave so much to a culture before she died alone and longing. A song for Octavia and her huge and savage conscience! A song for Miles! One for Jean-Michel and one for my man Jimmy Baldwin! More than just giving the song titles the names of historical black and brown icons of literature, art, and music, Jamila Woods builds a sonic and lyrical monument to the various modes of how these icons tried to push beyond the margins a country had assigned to them. On “Sun Ra,” Woods sings “I just gotta get away from this earth, man / this marble was doomed from the start” and that type of dreaming and vision honors not only the legacy of Sun Ra, but the idea that there is a better future, and in it, there will still be black people. Jamila Woods has a voice and lyrical sensibility that transcends generations, and so it makes sense to have this lush and layered album that bounces seamlessly from one sonic aesthetic to another. This was the case on 2016’s HEAVN, which found Woods hopeful and exploratory, looking along the edges resilience and exhaustion for some measures of joy. Legacy! Legacy! is the logical conclusion to that looking. From the airy boom-bap of “Giovanni” to the psychedelic flourishes of “Sonia,” the instrument which ties the musical threads together is the ability of Woods to find her pockets in the waves of instrumentation, stretching syllables and vowels over the harmony of noise until each puzzle piece has a home. The whimsical and malleable nature of sonic delights also grants a path for collaborators to flourish: the sparkling flows of Nitty Scott on “Sonia” and Saba on “Basquiat,” or the bloom of Nico Segal’s horns on “Baldwin.” Soul music did not just appear in America, and soul does not just mean music. Rather, soul is what gold can be dug from the depths of ruin, and refashioned by those who have true vision. True soul lives in the pages of a worn novel that no one talks about anymore, or a painting that sits in a gallery for a while but then in an attic forever. Soul is all the things a country tries to force itself into forgetting. Soul is all of those things come back to claim what is theirs. Jamila Woods is a singular soul singer who, in voice, holds the rhetorical demand. The knowing that there is no compromise for someone with vision this endless. That the revolution must take many forms, and it sometimes starts with songs like these. Songs that feel like the sun on your face and the wind pushing flowers against your back while you kick your head to the heavens and laugh at how foolish the world seems.

Little Brother's first album in nine years, saw Phonte and Rapper Big Pooh reunite after a surprise reunion show in late 2018. Boasting production from frequent Little Brother collaborators such as Nottz, Khrysis, and Focus... as well as features from Carlitta Durand, Darien Brockington, and new comer Blakk Soul. Executive produced by Little Brother and released through their respective labels in conjunction with Empire, "May The Lord Watch" became Little Brother's first album to reach a number one by debuting at number one on Apple Music.

the new full length CD by The HawtThorns

Beck’s 14th full-length album takes its name from a special feature found in the classic 1979 video game Asteroids. “I remember this point where you’re gonna get killed in the game,” he tells Apple Music, “and \[hitting\] this button would make you disappear and reappear somewhere safe. Just in general, I think we could all use that button.” *Hyperspace* finds the pioneering singer-songwriter joining with Pharrell Williams (who co-wrote and co-produced seven of its 11 tracks) for a set of surrealist synth-pop that feels worlds away from anywhere, let alone the directness of 2017’s *Colors*. Where that record felt like it might burst at the seams, Beck luxuriates in negative space and ambiguity here. “Stratosphere”—which features well-hidden backup vocals from Coldplay frontman Chris Martin—sounds like it was recorded at that exact altitude, its synths coming and going like condensation on glass. The equally haunting “Uneventful Days” feels like a message from the in-between. “I couldn’t quite place what it was,” he says of the song. “It’s like those moments in the aftermath of a period of time. Like a new job in a new town. You’re standing in an empty apartment, staring out the window at a palm tree.”

There’s a reason Taylor Swift sounds so confident and cool on *Lover*, her seventh album and the most free-spirited yet. She’s in *love*—pure, steady, starry-eyed, shout-it-from-the-rooftops love. Arriving 13 years after her eponymous debut album—and following a string of songs that sometimes felt like battle scars from public breakups and celebrity feuds—this project comes off clear-eyed, thick-skinned, and grown-up. It may be a sign that the 29-year-old has entered a new phase of her life: She’s now impressively private (she and her long-term boyfriend are rarely seen together in public), politically fired up (this album finds her fighting for queer and women’s rights), and eager to see the big picture (fans have speculated that the gut-wrenching “Soon You’ll Get Better” is about her mother’s battles with cancer). As a result, she’s never sounded stronger or more in control. She calls out dark-age bigots on the Pride anthem “You Need to Calm Down,” sends up the patriarchy on “The Man,” perfects flippant indifference on “I Forgot That You Existed,” and dares to sing her own praises on “ME!,” a duet with Brendon Urie of Panic! At the Disco. Tonally, these songs couldn’t be more different than 2017’s vengeful and self-conscious *Reputation*. Most of the album is baked in the atmospheric synths and ’80s drums favored by collaborator Jack Antonoff (“The Archer,” “Lover”). And yet some of the best moments are also the most surprising. “It’s Nice to Have a Friend” is daydreamy and delicate, illuminated with laidback strumming, twinkling trumpet, and high-pitched *ooh-ooh*s. And the percussive, playful “I Think He Knows” is a rollercoaster of a song, spiking and dipping from chatty whispers to breathy shout-singing in a matter of seconds.

“It’s a mad, mad world,” Jordan Rakei repeatedly observes on the opening track of his third studio album, but the expat—born in New Zealand, raised in Australia, now based in Britain—refuses to give in to pessimism. *Origin* is an expansive and artful collection of electronic pop songs that dives deep into the chaos of contemporary life and examines both fundamental failings and revitalizing moments of wonder. The record’s palette is vivid and wide-ranging: Funk bass and tingling guitar licks underpin “Rolling Into One,” while “Mind’s Eye” mixes slinky Afropop guitar and dreamy electronic melodies. It’s an album about opening things up, whether it be Rakei’s songwriting or the listener’s perceptions. The lineage these songs tap into is a rich one, taking in Stevie Wonder’s masterful 1970s recordings and the soulful laments of Marvin Gaye through to the evocative textures of James Blake. The common thread is humanity, as Rakei sings about finding it in others on “Wildfire” and remembering to value his own on the bewitching “Signs.” It’s ambitious but always coherent.

Soulful, intimate and expansive all at once, Jordan Rakei’s third album, “Origin”, cuts straight to the point, in every sense of the word. The melodies are brighter, the sound is bigger and the vision behind it more finely-tuned. Switching up from the highly personal and intimate portrait he painted with 2017’s “Wallflower”, which was a way of grappling with his experience of anxiety and introversion, “Origin” is overtly inspired by dystopian visions of our future - notably Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale and David Lynch’s Twin Peaks. “I’m worried that we’re losing a sense of connection,” explains Jordan, with many of the album lyrics exploring technological growth, and how it affects our sense of humanity. For example, new single ‘Say Something’ is “about speaking up for what you believe in”, a call to arms for future humans to stand up against the AI systems which govern a now-dystopian world. It follows recent single ‘Mind’s Eye’, which envisions a future world where malfunctioning tech implanted in the human body has flooded the users mind with projections of chaos. He meditates daily, something he adopted partly in response to his issues with anxiety, and something which has shaped his worldview and informed his writing and production process. Since signing to Ninja Tune and releasing “Wallflower”, Jordan Rakei has stamped his authority as a preternaturally talented songwriter, producer and live performer and cemented his worldwide rep as a modern soul icon in the making. New Zealand-born and Brisbane-raised, Jordan settled in London in 2015 and quickly found himself in a network of like-minded individuals, forming friendships that have spawned many professional collaborations. He is part of the “Are We Live” crew with Tom Misch, Barney Artist and Alfa Mist, who put on gigs, record podcasts and make music together, and Jordan has written, produced and performed on four tracks for Loyle Carner’s new album (including recent single ‘Ottolenghi’ and ‘Loose Ends’ feat. Jorja Smith). He has also found the same passion for experimentation and rhythm in frequent collaborator Richard Spaven (drummer and don of the British jazz scene who has collaborated with Flying Lotus, Jose James and Mala). Likewise, in the founder of the dance party and label Rhythm Section - Bradley Zero - who released Jordan’s “Joy, Ease, Lightness” EP under the pseudonym Dan Kye in 2016. Simon Green aka Bonobo also included an exclusive Dan Kye track on his recent “Fabric presents Bonobo” DJ mix, having previously invited Jordan to perform alongside him at Alexandra Palace in 2018. Beyond the London scene too, there is no doubt that the depth and craftsmanship of Jordan’s music is turning heads worldwide. He recently joined Chic co-founder Nile Rodgers in the studio for a writing session and, following his show at Cape Town Jazz Festival last year, Jordan came off stage to find Robert Glasper and Terrace Martin (producer for Kendrick Lamar, Snoop Dogg and Herbie Hancock) waiting in the wings to commend him for his performance, with Martin wasting no time in inviting him out to LA to record together in his studio. On “Origin”, Rakei has scaled up his ambitions, and is more confident in the way he goes about achieving them. Making tracks that speak more confidently, in brighter colours, and which deal with something bigger than himself. He channeled the classic songwriting and musicality of his heroes Stevie Wonder and Steely Dan, striving to surprise and delight with the form of his work, and always infusing it with the same effortless swing and human feel that he fell in love with listening to A Tribe Called Quest, Pete Rock and 9th Wonder.

With powerhouse pipes, razor-sharp wit, and a tireless commitment to self-love and self-care, Lizzo is the fearless pop star we needed. Born Melissa Jefferson in Detroit, the singer and classically trained flautist discovered an early gift for music (“It chose me,” she tells Apple Music) and began recording in Minneapolis shortly after high school. But her trademark self-confidence came less naturally. “I had to look deep down inside myself to a really dark place to discover it,” she says. Perhaps that’s why her third album, *Cuz I Love You*, sounds so triumphant, with explosive horns (“Cuz I Love You”), club drums (“Tempo” featuring Missy Elliott), and swaggering diva attitude (“No, I\'m not a snack at all/Look, baby, I’m the whole damn meal,” she howls on the instant hit “Juice\"). But her brand is about more than mic-drop zingers and big-budget features. On songs like “Better in Color”—a stomping, woke plea for people of all stripes to get together—she offers an important message: It’s not enough to love ourselves, we also have to love each other. Read on for Lizzo’s thoughts on each of these blockbuster songs. **“Cuz I Love You”** \"I start every project I do with a big, brassy orchestral moment. And I do mean *moment*. It’s my way of saying, ‘Stand the fuck up, y’all, Lizzo’s here!’ This is just one of those songs that gets you amped from the jump. The moment you hear it, you’re like, ‘Okay, it’s on.’ It’s a great fucking way to start an album.\" **“Like a Girl”** \"We wanted take the old cliché and flip it on its head, shaking out all the negative connotations and replacing them with something empowering. Serena Williams plays like a girl and she’s the greatest athlete on the planet, you know? And what if crying was empowering instead of something that makes you weak? When we got to the bridge, I realized there was an important piece missing: What if you identify as female but aren\'t gender-assigned that at birth? Or what if you\'re male but in touch with your feminine side? What about my gay boys? What about my drag queens? So I decided to say, ‘If you feel like a girl/Then you real like a girl,\' and that\'s my favorite lyric on the whole album.\" **“Juice”** \"If you only listen to one song from *Cuz I Love You*, let it be this. It’s a banger, obviously, but it’s also a state of mind. At the end of the day, I want my music to make people feel good, I want it to help people love themselves. This song is about looking in the mirror, loving what you see, and letting everyone know. It was the second to last song that I wrote for the album, right before ‘Soulmate,\' but to me, this is everything I’m about. I wrote it with Ricky Reed, and he is a genius.” **“Soulmate”** \"I have a relationship with loneliness that is not very healthy, so I’ve been going to therapy to work on it. And I don’t mean loneliness in the \'Oh, I don\'t got a man\' type of loneliness, I mean it more on the depressive side, like an actual manic emotion that I struggle with. One day, I was like, \'I need a song to remind me that I\'m not lonely and to describe the type of person I *want* to be.\' I also wanted a New Orleans bounce song, \'cause you know I grew up listening to DJ Jubilee and twerking in the club. The fact that l got to combine both is wild.” **“Jerome”** \"This was my first song with the X Ambassadors, and \[lead singer\] Sam Harris is something else. It was one of those days where you walk into the studio with no expectations and leave glowing because you did the damn thing. The thing that I love about this song is that it’s modern. It’s about fuccboi love. There aren’t enough songs about that. There are so many songs about fairytale love and unrequited love, but there aren’t a lot of songs about fuccboi love. About when you’re in a situationship. That story needed to be told.” **“Cry Baby”** “This is one of the most musical moments on a very musical album, and it’s got that Minneapolis sound. Plus, it’s almost a power ballad, which I love. The lyrics are a direct anecdote from my life: I was sitting in a car with a guy—in a little red Corvette from the ’80s, and no, it wasn\'t Prince—and I was crying. But it wasn’t because I was sad, it was because I loved him. It was a different field of emotion. The song starts with \'Pull this car over, boy/Don\'t pretend like you don\'t know,’ and that really happened. He pulled the car over and I sat there and cried and told him everything I felt.” **“Tempo”** “‘Tempo\' almost didn\'t make the album, because for so long, I didn’t think it fit. The album has so much guitar and big, brassy instrumentation, but ‘Tempo’ was a club record. I kept it off. When the project was finished and we had a listening session with the label, I played the album straight through. Then, at the end, I asked my team if there were any honorable mentions they thought I should play—and mind you, I had my girls there, we were drinking and dancing—and they said, ‘Tempo! Just play it. Just see how people react.’ So I did. No joke, everybody in the room looked at me like, ‘Are you crazy? If you don\'t put this song on the album, you\'re insane.’ Then we got Missy and the rest is history.” **“Exactly How I Feel”** “Way back when I first started writing the song, I had a line that goes, ‘All my feelings is Gucci.’ I just thought it was funny. Months and months later, I played it at Atlantic \[Records\], and when that part came up, I joked, ‘Thanks for the Gucci feature, guys!\' And this executive says, ‘We can get Gucci if you want.\' And I was like, ‘Well, why the fuck not?\' I love Gucci Mane. In my book, he\'s unproblematic, he does a good job, he adds swag to it. It doesn’t go much deeper than that, to be honest. The rest of the song has plenty of meaning: It’s an ode to being proud of your emotions, not feeling like you have to hide them or fake them, all that. But the Gucci feature was just fun.” **“Better in Color”** “This is the nerdiest song I have ever written, for real. But I love it so much. I wanted to talk about love, attraction, and sex *without* talking about the boxes we put those things in—who we feel like we’re allowed to be in love with, you know? It shouldn’t be about that. It shouldn’t be about gender or sexual orientation or skin color or economic background, because who the fuck cares? Spice it up, man. Love *is* better in color. I don’t want to see love in black and white.\" **“Heaven Help Me”** \"When I made the album, I thought: If Aretha made a rap album, what would that sound like? ‘Heaven Help Me’ is the most Aretha to me. That piano? She would\'ve smashed that. The song is about a person who’s confident and does a good job of self-care—a.k.a. me—but who has a moment of being pissed the fuck off and goes back to their defensive ways. It’s a journey through the full spectrum of my romantic emotions. It starts out like, \'I\'m too cute for you, boo, get the fuck away from me,’ to \'What\'s wrong with me? Why do I drive boys away?’ And then, finally, vulnerability, like, \'I\'m crying and I\'ve been thinking about you.’ I always say, if anyone wants to date me, they just gotta listen to this song to know what they’re getting into.\" **“Lingerie”** “I’ve never really written sexy songs before, so this was new for me. The lyrics literally made me blush. I had to just let go and let God. It’s about one of my fantasies, and it has three different chord changes, so let me tell you, it was not easy to sing. It was very ‘Love On Top’ by Beyoncé of me. Plus, you don’t expect the album to end on this note. It leaves you wanting more.”

A successful child actor turned indie-rock sweetheart with Rilo Kiley, a solo artist beloved by the famed and famous, Jenny Lewis would appear to have led a gilded life. But her truth—and there have been intimations both in song lyrics and occasionally in interviews—is of a far darker inheritance. “I come from working-class showbiz people who ended up in jail, on drugs, both, or worse,” Lewis tells Apple Music. “I grew up in a pretty crazy, unhealthy environment, but I somehow managed to survive.” The death of her mother in 2017 (with whom she had reconnected after a 20-year estrangement) and the end of her 12-year relationship with fellow singer-songwriter Johnathan Rice set the stage for Lewis’ fourth solo album, where she finally reconciles her public and private self. A bountiful pop record about sex, drugs, death, and regret, with references to everyone from Elliott Smith to Meryl Streep, *On the Line* is the Lewis aesthetic writ large: an autobiographical picaresque burnished by her dark sense of humor. Here, Lewis takes us through the album track by track. **“Heads Gonna Roll”** “I’m a big boxing fan, and I basically wanted to write a boxing ballad. There’s a line about ‘the nuns of Harlem\'—that’s for real. I met a priest backstage at a Dead & Company show in a cloud of pot smoke. He was a fan of my music, and we struck up a conversation and a correspondence. I’d just moved to New York at the time and was looking to do some service work. And so this priest hooked me up with the nuns in Harlem. I would go up there and get really stoned and hang out with theses nuns, who were the purest, most lovely people, and help them put together meal packages. The nuns of Harlem really helped me out.” **“Wasted Youth”** “For me, the thing that really brings this song, and the whole record, together is the people playing on it. \[Drummer\] Jim Keltner especially. He’s played on so many incredible records, he’s the heartbeat of rock and roll and you don’t even realize it. Jim and Don Was were there for so much of this record, and they were the ones that brought Ringo Starr into the sessions—playing with him was just surreal. Benmont Tench is someone I’d worked with before—he’s just so good at referencing things from the past but playing something that sounds modern and new at the same time. He created these sounds that were so melodic and weird, using the Hammond organ and a bunch of pedals. We call that ‘the fog’—Benmont adds the fog.” **“Red Bull & Hennessy”** “I was writing this song, almost predicting the breakup with my longtime partner, while he was in the room. I originally wanted to call it ‘Spark,’ ’cause when that spark goes out in a relationship it’s really hard to get it back.” **“Hollywood Lawn”** “I had this for years and recorded three or four different versions; I did a version with three female vocalists a cappella. Then I went to Jamaica with Savannah and Jimmy Buffett—I actually wrote some songs with Jimmy for the *Escape to Margaritaville* musical that didn’t get used. We didn’t use that version, but I really arranged the s\*\*\* out of it there, and some of the lyrics are about that experience.” **“Do Si Do”** “Wrote this for a friend who went off his psych meds abruptly, which is so dangerous—you have to taper off. I asked Beck to produce it for a reason: He gets in there and wants to add and change chords. And whatever he suggests is always right, of course. That’s a good thing to remember in life: Beck is always right.” “Dogwood” “This is my favorite song on the record. I wrote it on the piano even though I don’t think I’m a very good piano player. I probably should learn more, but I’m just using the instrument as a way to get the song out. This was a live vocal, too. When I’m playing and singing at the same time, I’m approaching the material more as a songwriter rather than a singer, and that changes the whole dynamic in a good way.” **“Party Clown”** “I’d have to describe this as a Faustian love song set at South by Southwest. There’s a line in there where I say, ‘Can you be my puzzle piece, baby?/When I cry like Meryl Streep?’ It’s funny, because Meryl actually did a song of mine, ‘Cold One,’ in *Ricki and the Flash*.” **“Little White Dove”** “Toward the end of the record, I would write songs at home and then visit my mom in the hospital when she was sick. I started this on bass, had the chord structure down, and wrote it at the pace it took to walk from the hospital elevator to the end of the hall. I was able to sing my mom the chorus before she passed.” **“Taffy”** “That one started out as a poem I’d written on an airplane, then it turned into a song. It’s a very specific account of a weekend spent in Wisconsin, and there are some deep Wisconsin references in there. I’m not interested in platitudes, either as a writer or especially as a listener. I want to hear details. That’s why I like hip-hop so much. All those details, names that I haven’t heard, words that have meanings that I don’t understand and have to look up later. I’m interested in those kinds of specifics. That’s also what I love about Bob Dylan songs, too—they’re very, very specific. You can paint an incredibly vivid picture or set a scene or really project a feeling that way.” **“On the Line”** “This is an important song for me. If you read the credits on this record, it says, ‘All songs by Jenny Lewis.’ Being in a band like Rilo Kiley was all about surrendering yourself to the group. And then working with Johnathan for so long, I might have lost a little bit of myself in being a collaborator. It’s nice to know I can create something that’s totally my own. I feel like this got me back to that place.” **“Rabbit Hole”** “The record was supposed to end with ‘On the Line’—the dial tone that closes the song was supposed to be the last thing you hear. But I needed to write ‘Rabbit Hole,’ almost as a mantra for myself: ‘I’m not gonna go/Down the rabbit hole with you.’ I figured the song would be for my next project, but I played it for Beck and he insisted that we put it on this record. It almost feels like a perfect postscript to this whole period of my life.”

Keane’s fifth studio album *Cause and Effect* is based on two key life moments: a marriage breakup and a night of drinking that resulted in a car accident and DUI arrest. Both happened to Keane songwriter and keyboardist Tim Rice-Oxley. As is Keane’s way, the intimate, if painful, memories (and residual lessons learned) blossom into something transformational and triumphant. But, as he notes, putting such personal and vulnerable moments out in the open is a little easier when you have one of the greatest Britpop singers, Tom Chaplin, interpreting your words. “There\'s no one else I would trust with that information and those songs that are so important to me,” Rice-Oxley tells Apple Music. “For me, it\'s a real pleasure to hear him take that raw material and make it into something heavenly.” Rice-Oxley took Apple Music through *Cause and Effect* track by track. **You’re Not Home** “It\'s about the feeling of being in an empty house that used to feel much more like a home, and how terrifying that can be. We wanted to really create an atmosphere with it. David Kosten, who produced the record, was referencing Björk and Peter Gabriel. It starts with atmospheric leaps that almost appear random, like a collision of stars. It gives you an interesting contrast. It just builds and builds, then you have a huge drop that\'s like an emotional outpouring. By the time you get to the end of that song, you\'ve been on an emotional rollercoaster—and it\'s only the first track. We wanted to turn people on to the drama of the record.” **Love Too Much** “That\'s one of the most pop-influenced songs on the record. I was listening to a lot of Taylor Swift, Dua Lipa, and Ariana Grande, thinking a lot about that groove, but also about the rhythm of the piece. I wrote it early one morning and thought it obviously was pretty catchy. I wanted it to feel meaningful, not be this throwaway thing. I was trying to write about how romance can be really intense. Sometimes it gets so intense that it destroys itself. Like all the songs on this record, it\'s a little look at some aspect of the journey that I\'ve been on in the last seven years since my marriage broke down. I think it\'s something that a lot of people can relate to. When you feel stuff that intensely, it can leave you feeling totally disoriented and lost when it goes away. The truth is, that experience enriches your life in a way that you\'re never going to lose. It\'s really important to hang on to that sometimes.” **The Way I Feel** “A real favorite of ours. I wanted to gather some of the psychological stuff that comes from life taking a left turn. Like, ‘I just want to be normal. I just want to be the same as everyone else and know why I feel this way about love, or about myself, or about anything.’ The message of the song is very sympathetic and trying to say that everybody has shit going on. The way you feel is the way you feel. That\'s totally valid. I think it\'s really important for people to hear that and try and understand that about ourselves and about each other.” **Put the Radio On** We really spent a lot of time thinking about the journey of the album. It\'s not chronological, but it\'s almost psychological. For me, ‘Put the Radio On,’ ‘Strange Room,’ and ‘Stupid Things’ are a trio of songs that tell little stories about me and about my relationship. ‘Put the Radio On” is almost like a jam, this hypnotic, cyclical groove. The first three minutes of the song has only one chord in it, which is the very opposite of a melodic key approach. It\'s basically about illicit sex, like getting sucked into a moat that you know is a battle, but you\'ll slide down into it. You can\'t stop yourself, and it\'s about the beauty and darkness in it. The second half of the song is more romantic, just reveling in the genius of those moments in life.” **Strange Room** “A very romantic song. I had this really lovely group of friends down in Sussex where I live in the UK. We\'d get together at my apartment and sing songs together. That was a really important support network for me after I was first on my own. Then the landlord of a local pub had to move away. On the night of his leaving party at the pub, I drank way too much. I stupidly, stupidly drove my car and crashed into a ditch just up the road. I got arrested and spent a few hours in a prison cell. I was just like, \'Holy shit. How\'d this happen? What am I doing? This is not me at all.\' It\'s a gentle and sympathetic way of expressing what can happen in someone\'s mind to lead them to make terrible decisions. It\'s a really crucial song on the album, not least because it was the one that Tom really latched onto.” **Stupid Things** “’Stupid Things’ is quite unusual for Keane—a storytelling song. Partly, it relates to my own experiences. I\'d just gone off the rails. I loved the idea of telling it, trying to imagine this basically normal everyman sort of a character. He\'s working in the city in London. I imagine him going for one harmless after-work drink. That becomes one more drink. Then, you meet someone, and things spiral out of control. Before you know, you\'ve gone from being a wholesome, honest person who has total control of your life to creating this web of chaos for yourself. It\'s so easy to do that. People do it all the time. We dig these holes for ourselves, from which it can be hard to recover. The chorus is like a litany of mistakes, but the verse is trying to express how easy it is to do that. Just because you start to earn some money, that doesn\'t suddenly make you a different person or a better person. You\'re just the same old person as vulnerable as anyone else.” **Phases** “It\'s a new section of the record. All this happened and all these things go wrong. Then I feel like ‘Phases’ is an introduction. Like, ‘This is a human experience. It\'s okay if life doesn\'t go the way you planned it when you were 22.’ I find that really hard to accept, even now. You think you’ve made a plan for your life. The truth is it rarely works out that way. It\'s fine to say, ‘Okay, that was that, one door\'s closed and another one opens.’ It\'s a really hopeful song, a bit like the way I feel. It\'s like trying to pick myself up and hopefully have that effect on other people.” **I’m Not Leaving** “A love song to my daughters. Just trying to say that I\'m always here. I was imagining them as teenagers and them discovering the more brutal side of life, like heartbreak and drinking too much. Maybe they’ll start to make mistakes that matter, experiencing a little bit of hardness of life. It\'s just a way of saying, ‘Dad’s always here, whatever happens.’” **Thread** “I was just trying to describe how delicately balanced a marriage can be. I totally thought I would be with my wife forever. I was trying to say, ‘I found myself in this place where I felt like I was hanging by a thread, and things were so delicately balanced.’ It\'s about how precious these things are and how easily they can slip away.” **Chase the Night Away** “It\'s a much more positive song. It\'s about the future. It\'s about new love and how it\'s difficult to start again from that place, especially as you get older. It\'s not like being 21, where it\'s one relationship to another. You\'re looking for that right person and planning your future. When you\'re in your forties and you\'re starting again, it\'s different, it\'s complicated. There\'s still beauty there, and there\'s still possibility. I wrote those songs to someone that I\'ve met and was trying to say, ‘There\'s hope. Thank you for showing me the light as well as the shade.’\" **I Need Your Love** “That was written in a time of desperation. It\'s a very Lennon-Springsteen anthemic love song. I think the aches of desperation that you feel in the lyrics, it\'s almost humiliating. It\'s almost like that, ‘I\'ll do anything to make things right, I\'ll humiliate myself to make you happy,’ which is not a healthy way to live. The album ends with that quite nuanced look at relationships. The whole album is a breakup album. We didn\'t want it to have an easy resolution. I love that we\'re all singing together on it by the end, much like a chant, a mantra of needing that love. It’s very meaningful to us and hopefully to people who hear it.”

After releasing 2016’s *The Colour in Anything*, James Blake moved from London to Los Angeles, where he found himself busier than ever. “I’ve been doing a lot of production work, a lot of writing for other people and projects,” he tells Apple Music. “I think the constant process of having a mirror held up to your music in the form of other people’s music, and other people, helped me cross something. A shiny new thing.” That thing—his fourth album, *Assume Form*—is his least abstract and most grounded, revealing and romantic album to date. Here, Blake pulls back the curtain and explains the themes, stories and collaborations behind each track. **“Assume Form”** “I\'m saying, ‘The plan is to become reachable, to assume material form, to leave my head and join the world.’ It seems like quite a modern, Western idea that you just get lost. These slight feelings of repression lead to this feeling of *I’m not in my body, I’m not really experiencing life through first-person. It’s like I’m looking at it from above*. Which is a phenomenon a lot of people describe when they talk about depression.” **“Mile High” (feat. Metro Boomin & Travis Scott)** “Travis is just exceptionally talented at melodies; the ones he wrote on that track are brilliant. And it was made possible by Metro—the beat is a huge part of why that track feels the way it does.” **“Tell Them” (feat. Metro Boomin & Moses Sumney)** “Moses came on tour with me a couple years ago. I watched him get a standing ovation every night, and that was when he was a support act. For me, it’s a monologue on a one-night stand: There’s fear, there’s not wanting to be too close to anybody. Just sort of a self-analysis, really.” **“Into the Red”** “‘Into the Red’ is about a woman in my life who was very giving—someone who put me before themselves, and spent the last of their money on something for me. It was just a really beautiful sentiment—especially the antithesis of the idea that the man pays. I just liked that idea of equal footing.” **“Barefoot in the Park” (feat. ROSALÍA)** “My manager played me \[ROSALÍA’s 2017 debut\] *Los Ángeles*, and I honestly hadn’t heard anything so vulnerable and raw and devastating in quite a while. She came to the studio, and within a day we’d made two or three things. I loved the sound of our voices together.” **“Can’t Believe the Way We Flow”** “It’s a pure love song, really. It’s just about the ease of coexisting that I feel with my girlfriend. It’s fairly simple in its message and in its delivery, hopefully. Romance is a very commercialized subject, but sometimes it can just be a peaceful moment of ease and something even mundane—just the flow between days and somebody making it feel like the days are just going by, and that’s a great thing.” **“Are You in Love?”** “I like the idea of that moment where neither of you know whether you’re in love yet, but there’s this need for someone to just say they are: ‘Give me assurance that this is good and that we’re good, and that you’re in love with me. I’m in love with you.’ The words might mean more in that moment, but that’s not necessarily gonna make it okay.” **“Where’s the Catch?” (feat. André 3000)** “I was, and remain, inspired by Outkast. Catching him now is maybe even *more* special to me, because the way he writes is just so good! I love the way he balances slight abstraction with this feeling of paranoia. The line ‘Like I know I’m eight, and I know I ain’t’—anxiety bringing you back to being a child, but knowing that you’re supposed to feel strong and stable because you’re an adult now. That’s just so beautifully put.” **“I’ll Come Too”** “It’s a real story: When you fall in love, the practical things go out the window, a little bit. And you just want to go to wherever they are.” **“Power On”** “It’s about being in a relationship, and being someone who gets something wrong. If you can swallow your ego a little bit and accept that you aren’t always to know everything, that this person can actually teach you a lot, the better it is for everyone. Once I’ve taken accountability, it’s time to power on—that’s the only way I can be worthy of somebody’s love and affection and time.” **“Don’t Miss It”** “Coming at the end of the album was a choice. I think it kind of sums up the mission statement in some ways: Yes, there are millions of things that I could fixate on, and I have lost years and years and years to anxiety. There are big chunks of my life I can’t remember—moments I didn’t enjoy when I should have. Loves I wasn’t a part of. Heroes I met that I can’t really remember the feeling of meeting. Because I was so wrapped up in myself. And I think that’s what this is—the inner monologue of an egomaniac.” **“Lullaby for My Insomniac”** “I literally wrote it to help someone sleep. This is just me trying to calm the waters so you can just drift off. It does what it says on the tin.”

Maggie Rogers spent the first three years of her career retracing one chance encounter: In 2016, a video of her singing a song that moved Pharrell to tears during a master class at NYU went viral, earning her a record deal, magazine features, and headlining tours (watch it and you’ll understand). But the Maryland native, then 22, was still figuring out who she was, and this sudden flood of fame was a lot to bear. Determined to take control of her own narrative, she assembled a debut album powerful enough to shift the conversation. Measured, subtle, and wise beyond her years, it feels like the introduction she always wanted to make. Like her 2017 EP, *Now That the Light Is Fading*, *Heard It In A Past Life* is a thoughtfully sewn patchwork of anthemic synth-pop, brooding acoustic folk, and soft-lit electronica, the latter of which was inspired by a year spent dancing through Berlin’s nightclub scene. But here, her vision feels both more daring and more polished. On “Retrograde,” long stretches of propulsive synths are punctuated by high-pitched *hah-hah-hah*s; “Say It” blends R&B with light, breathy indie-pop; and “The Knife” could be a sultry come-on or a daring confession. On the Greg Kurstin-produced “Light On,” Rogers seems to make peace with her surreal story. “And I am findin’ out/There’s just no other way/And I’m still dancin’ at the end of the day,” she sings, a bittersweet hat-tip to the moment that got her here. And to her fans, a promise: “If you leave the light on/Then I’ll leave the light on.”

RELEASE DATE OCTOBER 18TH 2019 The High Anticipated album by JAY-Z's Soul Hurricane HANNAH WILLIAMS & THE AFFIRMATIONS produced by award-winning composer and multi-instrumentalist SHAWN LEE. Hannah Williams, British Soul Sensation Sampled By Jay-Z, Stands Tall On New Album '50 Foot Woman' Hannah Williams, the British soul hurricane who sensationally became part of Jay-Z's chart-topping 4:44 album, is primed and ready for her own national and international breakthrough. Williams turned heads worldwide when the hip-hop superstar sampled her heart-stopping vocals on 'Late Nights & Heartbreak' for the title track, ‘4.44’ on his 2017 album. Now Hannah and her exemplary, Bristol-based band the Affirmations deliver a definitive career statement with the drop-dead soulful new album 50 Foot Woman which will be released October 18th on the Milan based imprint Record Kicks. The album captures all of the visceral power of the band's increasingly legendary live performances. Shades of classic Soul and Psychedelic Funk blend uniquely with modern-day flavours on a record destined to set the soul agenda for 2019 and far beyond. “I've never been as proud of anything in my entire career” says Hannah. Born in High Wycombe in Buckinghamshire, Williams' father was a musically gifted minister, and her mother let her join the church choir at the age of six. Hannah could read music before she could properly read words, and when she discovered soul by listening with her mum to Motown and Bill Withers, there was no turning back. After a 2012 debut with her previous band the Tastemakers, it was 2016's Late Nights & Heartbreak that announced the arrival of Hannah Williams and the Affirmations. But little did she know that Jay-Z was listening. One day, at her then-day job running the music department at the University of Winchester, he sent her a text. Once she'd established that it wasn't a wind-up, and summoned the courage to call him back, she learned that JayZ's producer, No I.D., had played him Hannah's track to inspire his response to Beyoncé's Lemonade, on which she sang of his infidelities. Williams was as in the dark about how 'Late Nights & Heartbreak' would be used until 4:44 dropped. But the substantial sample of her voice opened doors she never dreamed of. “It was an incredible catalyst,” she says, “as a change in our collective career, and getting a global audience. Suddenly, there were millions of predominantly American hip-hop fans listening to my voice, going 'Is this from the '60s? Is she dead?'” What followed was a year of the band's widest-ever touring including an invitation to perform at Central Park Summer Stage NY, Toronto Jazz Festival and Brooklyn Bowl NY and expanded audiences in continental Europe where she and the Affirmations had already made a mark. Then came the burning determination to make the record of their lives. The captivating 50 Foot Woman is that album, produced by Shawn Lee, a respected presence on the funk/soul scene whose credits include Amy Winehouse, Lana Del Rey and Alicia Keys. Lee has released five solo albums as Shawn Lee’s Ping Pong Orchestra on San Francisco label Ubiquity Records and is also one half of the cool melodic pop duo Young Gun Silver Fox. Now the world will hear what the cognoscenti have known for a while: that Hannah Williams is the real deal, and sings from her very soul. “I feel like my performance comes from my solar plexus,” she says. “The emotional side of it is so intrinsic; I can't take it away from what I do.”

Kelsey Waldon works in the country, folk, and bluegrass songwriting tradition of depicting rural life—but has zero interest in romanticizing or simplifying her subject matter. On her third full-length—and first for John Prine’s Oh Boy Records—the Nashville singer conjures the rustic places and resourceful people of her upbringing in all their complexity. “Kentucky, 1988” and “Black Patch” are tales of stubborn self-reliance—one autobiographical, the other historical. In the title track, “Anyhow,” and “Lived and Let Go,” she locates enlightenment in plainspoken country wisdom, and in “Sunday’s Children,” she draws a connection between many kinds of people dwelling at the social margins. The album’s sinewy, down-home, occasionally rocking folk-country arrangements revolve around the vinegary stoicism of Waldon’s singing and the plaintive potency of Brett Resnick’s steel guitar playing.

The first song on *One of the Best Yet*—Gang Starr’s seventh studio album and the group’s first since 2003, and since Guru’s passing in 2010—features a DJ addressing a crowd while cycling through snippets of Gang Starr hits. Of these there are many, and the highlight reel makes a case for the album title as a declaration of the group’s well-earned status in hip-hop. “You know what fuckin’ time it is,” the DJ exclaims at the end of the track. And in case you still didn\'t, *One of the Best Yet* is here to hammer the point home. Guru’s voice—one of the most distinct in hip-hop—is particularly unmistakable coupled with DJ Premier’s mid-1990’s era-defining sample chops and scratching. Whether Guru left room for guests or Premier made some, an extended list of collaborators like Q-Tip, Jeru the Damaja, Big Shug, Freddie Foxxx, and M.O.P. are present, reinforcing the group’s place in the culture. Even MCs a few generations removed like J. Cole (“Family and Loyalty”) and Nitty Scott (“Get Together”) pay respects, relishing the opportunity to kick verses with the man whose name stood for Gifted Unlimited Rhymes Universal. To be clear, the Gang Starr legacy was cemented long before *One of the Best Yet*, but Premier has made it one of his life’s missions to keep the group’s name alive. And if that isn’t reason enough for you, Guru himself offers a posthumous cosign on “Lights Out,” rapping, “I told y’all, this is the one I owe y’all.”

Full of lush, sweeping arrangements and deeply vulnerable self-examination, ‘Desert Dove’ is Michaela’s most expansive work yet. The album, produced by Sam Outlaw and Delta Spirit’s Kelly Winrich, is still very much rooted in the classic country she’s come to be known for - but the record represents something of a sonic shift for Michaela, incorporating more modern production elements than ever before in pursuit of a sound that owes as much influence to indie rock as honky tonk. Despite the bolder, more adventurous arrangements, Michaela’s crystalline voice remains front and center, as do her subjects: complex, three-dimensional characters who, through Michaela’s empathetic portraits, revel in exploring the gray areas between good and bad, joy and pain, love and regret. In the end, that vivid grounding in real experience coupled with outstanding songwriting and musicianship is what makes ‘Desert Dove’ such an incredibly powerful record.

In the three years since her seminal album *A Seat at the Table*, Solange has broadened her artistic reach, expanding her work to museum installations, unconventional live performances, and striking videos. With her fourth album, *When I Get Home*, the singer continues to push her vision forward with an exploration of roots and their lifelong influence. In Solange\'s case, that’s the culturally rich Houston of her childhood. Some will know these references — candy paint, the late legend DJ Screw — via the city’s mid-aughts hip-hop explosion, but through Solange’s lens, these same touchstones are elevated to high art. A diverse group of musicians was tapped to contribute to *When I Get Home*, including Tyler, the Creator, Chassol, Playboi Carti, Standing on the Corner, Panda Bear, Devin the Dude, The-Dream, and more. There are samples from the works of under-heralded H-town legends: choreographer Debbie Allen, actress Phylicia Rashad, poet Pat Parker, even the rapper Scarface. The result is a picture of a particular Houston experience as only Solange could have painted it — the familiar reframed as fantastic.

“Yes! That’s it! They’re luxurious pop songs.” Will Young and Apple Music have reached an agreement on how best to describe *Lexicon*’s 12 tracks. “I’m stealing that.” The singer/actor/podcaster\'s seventh studio album arrives four years after *85% Proof* and after periods of challenging mental health. “Having been so ill, I really didn\'t think that pop was going to be something that I was really going do again,” he says. “But I surrounded myself with people I love and people I trust. And you need a bit of fight. I feel like what I\'ve gone through personally, it\'s a kind of success story.” Young decided to open up the album to a fleet of songwriters and truly enjoy being a singer. “About 15 years ago, you were dismissed as an artist if you didn’t write every line,” he says. “You were a pop puppet. The artistry of singing became immaterial in pop. This album celebrates that—and celebrates the team that worked on the record together.” Explore *Lexicon*’s team effort with Young’s track-by-track guide. **“All the Songs”** “I do a podcast called *Homo Sapiens* with my friend \[and filmmaker\] Chris Sweeney, and he called this song ‘melancholic pop.’ I love that dichotomy of an upbeat song but with a very sad lyric. It\'s unashamedly a pop song. The chorus lyric is mentioned lots of times. It\'s fully embracing what a pop song should be.” **“My Love”** “Straight onto the dance floor for this one. I like how it suggests me desperately trying to woo someone back by performing some sort of crap dance moves. I feel like we might be at a wedding. There might be a sort of square, light-up disco dance floor somewhere there.” **“Scars”** “I think the lyric is beautiful—talking about how we become attached to people and addicted to people. There\'s a sadness to that, because I don\'t know if there\'s a resolution in this song.” **“Get Me Dancing”** “I\'ve worked with Eg White for 16 years. He wrote ‘Leave Right Now.’ He basically gave me a career. Sometimes you just find people where you just click creatively. There\'s something about the sadness and the pathos and the empathy in Eg\'s songs that just get me. They choke me. I think \'ballad\' has sort of become a dirty word in the last 10 years, like they dumb down what a beautiful song should be. And this is quite an odd, beautiful, and generous song.” **“Ground Running”** “I love this song. The guy that\'s written it, Danny Shah, he\'s a new star. He is like the male Sia. This has a really interesting melody in its timing. His timing\'s very different than how I would write the song. I think there’s a yearning here to try and get a relationship going. It\'s like, ‘When are we going to start being in the flow rather than having this awful bit of picky arguments?’ It\'s quite euphoric.” **“Dreaming Big”** “Richard \[X, the album’s producer\] is so hot on vocals. He\'s really in tune with singers, and I love that because he\'s always getting me to do really nuanced things, which I\'ve got to really work hard to do it. But for this one, I was like, ‘I\'m giving you Annie Lennox.’ I will often say different singers. So I\'ll be like, ‘Right, this one I\'m Róisín Murphy. This one I\'m Grace Jones.’ I could sing this kind of song every day of the week. It\'s really honest and vulnerable but somehow not self-pitying: \'If you were my lover, I\'d do anything for you.\'” **“I Bet You Call”** “It\'s another Eg song where he just hits the nail on the bloody head. I love the line about an ex calling to ask you out for a Wednesday afternoon drink and knowing what that means. They’re clearly not a nice person. They dance on tables and it\'s all about them. And so it makes it even doubly painful \'cause you\'re in love with an arsehole.” **“Forever”** “This has been around for about three years, and I love it. At the time I was having really bad insomnia, so I would drive around London very late at night or early in the morning. I don\'t know what else to do. So that\'s why the first line is about being alone in the city. The lights are shining. Everyone\'s waking up but I am not. There\'s a weird time in a city between like one and five in the morning when the people you see are coming out to do these vital but unseen jobs.” **“Freedom”** “This song and ‘I Bet You Call’ are the fulcrum around which the album centers. It’s what Richard does so well as a producer. Even though it\'s a more upbeat pop song, he still gets the space in the record. He\'s giving my vocal the space.” **“Faithless Love”** “A fantastic Tom Walker song. I was doing some radio shows at that stage on Radio 2, so I was playing his songs a lot, quite unaware that he was doing so well. And then this song came in, and I was like, ‘Oh, I recognize that incredible voice.’ I wasn’t initially quite sure how I was going to make it fit, but I needed to sing it.” **“Say Anything”** “It\'s a dreamy one, isn\'t it? It\'s got a rhythm and a lilt to it. I remember being with someone once, and he would just not express anything. And those kind of relationships are impossible, because how can you find any kind of sense of joining or coupling, or teamwork, which you have to have in a partnership. So I think there is a lot of bleeding particularly towards men, I think, who just cannot talk. And this song communicates that.” **“The Way We Were”** “This is another Danny Shah track, and I think he had someone like me in mind when he wrote it. He was very protective of that song but was honest about why—and how vulnerable he had been writing it. So Richard and I really approached that song with a lot of care and attention because we really respected the manner and the context of which it was written.”

Over the decade-plus since he arrived seemingly fully formed as the platonic ideal of indie DIY made good, Justin Vernon has pushed back against the notion that he and Bon Iver are synonymous. He is quick to deflect credit to core longtime collaborators like Chris Messina and Brad Cook, while April Base, the studio and headquarters he built just outside his native Eau Claire, Wisconsin, has become a cultural hub playing host to a variety of experimental projects. The fourth Bon Iver full-length album shines a brighter light on Bon Iver as a unit with many moving parts: Renovations to April Base sent operations to Sonic Ranch in Tornillo, Texas, for much of the production, but the spirit of improvisation and tinkering and revolving-door personnel that marked 2016’s out-there *22, A Million* remained intact. “This record in particular felt like a very outward record; Justin felt outward to me,” says Cook, who grew up with Vernon and has played with him through much of his career. “He felt like he was in a new place, and he was reaching out for new input in a different way. We\'re just more in the foreground inevitably because the process became just a little bit more transparent.” Vernon, Cook, and Messina talk through that process on each of *i,i*\'s 13 tracks. **“Yi”** Justin Vernon: “That was a phone recording of me and my friend Trevor screwing around in a barn, turning a radio on and off. We chopped it up for about five years, just a hundred times. There’s something in that ‘Are you recording? Are you recording?’ that felt like the spirit that flows into the next song.” **“iMi”** Brad Cook: “It was like an old friend that you didn\'t know what to do with for a long time. When we got to Texas, a lot of different people took a crack at trying to make something out of that song. And then Andrew Sarlo, who works with Big Thief and is just a badass young producer, he took the whack that broke through the wall. Once the band got their hands on it, Justin added some of the acoustic stuff to it, and it just totally blew it wide open.” **“We”** Vernon: “I was working on this idea one morning with this engineer, Josh Berg, who happened to be out with us. And this guy Bobby Raps from Minneapolis was also at my studio just kind of hanging around, and he brought this dude named Wheezy who does some Young Thug beats, some Future beats. So I had this little baritone-guitar bass loop thing, and Wheezy put his beat on there. All these songs had a life, or had a birth, before Texas, but Texas was like graduation for every single one. That\'s why we went for so long and allowed for so much perspective to sink into all the tunes. It\'s a fucking banger; I love that one.” **“Holyfields,”** Vernon: “The whole song is an improvised moment with barely any editing, and we just improv\'d moves. I sang some scratch vocals that day when we made it up, and they were weirdly close to what ended up being on the album. We didn\'t really chop away at that one—it kind of just was born with all its hair and everything.” **“Hey, Ma”** Vernon: “It just felt like a good strong song; we knew people would get it in their head. A couple of these tunes, and some of the tunes from the last album, I sort of peck around the studio with BJ Burton from time to time, and 90 percent of the stuff we make is death techno or something. So, there\'s another one that sort of just hung around with a stake in the ground, so to speak. And then our team—the three of us and the rest of everyone—just kept etching away at it, and it ended up becoming the song that felt emblematic of the record.” **\"U (Man Like)\"** Cook: “We had Bruce \[Hornsby\] come out to Justin\'s studio for a session for his *Absolute Zero* record. Bruce was playing a bunch of musical ideas that he had just sort of done at his house, and that piano figure in that song—I feel like we were tracking 15 seconds later. It was like, \'Wait, can we listen to this again?\'” Vernon: “I\'m not so good at coming up with full songs on the spot, but I can kind of map them out with my voice, or inflection. Then it takes a long time to chip away at them. Messina might have an idea for what that line should be, or Brad, or me. The melody that I sang that first day probably sounds remarkably like the melody that\'s on the album.” **“Naeem”** Vernon: “We did a collaboration with a dance group called TU Dance, and that was one of the songs. So we\'ve been performing \'Naeem\' as a part of this thing for a while. It\'s in a different state, but it\'s the finale of this big collaboration. And it just seemed very anthemic, and a very important part of whatever this record was going to be. It feels really nice to have a little bit more straightforward—not always bombastic, not always sonically trying to flip your lid or something.” **“Jelmore”** Vernon: “Basically an improvisation with me and this guy Buddy Ross. Again I probably didn\'t sing any final lyrics, but it\'s based on an improvisation, much like the song \'\_\_\_\_45\_\_\_\_\_\' from \[*22, A Million*\]. And when we were down outside El Paso, me and Chris were over on one part of this studio and Brad was with the band in a big studio across the property, and they sort of took \'Jelmore\' upon themselves and filled it in with all the lovely live-ness that\'s there. As the record goes on, it feels like there\'s a lot of these things that are sort of bare but have a lot of live energy to them.” **“Faith”** Vernon: “A basement improv that sat around for many years; maybe could have been on the last album, was for a while. I don\'t know, man—it\'s a song about having faith.” **“Marion”** Chris Messina: “I think that\'s one that Justin\'s been noodling around with for a while; for a few years, he would pick up that guitar and you would just kind of hear that riff. And we didn\'t really know what was going to happen to it. It\'s another one that exists in the TU Dance show. But what\'s cool about the version that\'s on the record is we did that as a live take with a six-piece ensemble that Rob Moose wrote for and conducted, and it was saxophone, trombone, trumpet, French horn, harmonica, and I think that\'s it that we did live. And then Justin was singing live and playing guitar live.” **“Salem”** Vernon: “OP-1 loop, weird Indigo Girls/Rickie Lee Jones vibes. I got really into acid and the Grateful Dead this year, so there\'s definitely some early psych vibes in there. The record really is supposed to be thought of as the fall record for this band, if you think of the other ones as seasons. Salem and burning leaves—these longings and these deaths, it\'s very much in there in that song, so it\'s a really autumn-y song.” **“Sh’Diah”** Vernon: “It stands for Shittiest Day in American History—the day after Trump got elected. It\'s another that sort of hung around as an improvised idea, and we finally got to figure out where we\'re going to land Mike Lewis, our favorite instrumentalist alive today in music. He gets to play over it, and the band got to do all this crazy layering over it. It\'s just one of my favorite moods on the album.” **“RABi”** Messina: “Justin\'s singing a cool thing on it, the guitar vibe is comforting and persistent, but we just weren\'t really sure where it needed to go. And then Brad and the rest of the dudes got their hands on it and it came back as just a dream sequence; it was so sick. We all kind of heard it and it was like, whoa, how can this not close out the record? This is definitely \'see you later.\'” Vernon: “Just some ‘life feels good now, don\'t it?\' There\'s a lot to be sad about, there\'s a lot to be confused about, there\'s a lot to be thankful for. And leaning on gratitude and appreciation of the people around you that make you who you are, make you feel safe, and provide that shelter so you can be who you want to be, there\'s still that impetus in life. We need that. It\'s a nice way to close the record, we all thought.”