Billboard's 50 Best Albums of 2019 (So Far)

In some ways, Aldous Harding’s third album, *Designer*, feels lighter than her first two—particularly 2017’s stunning, stripped-back, despairing *Party*. “I felt freed up,” Harding (whose real name is Hannah) tells Apple Music. “I could feel a loosening of tension, a different way of expressing my thought processes. There was a joyful loosening in an unapologetic way. I didn’t try to fight that.” Where *Party* kept the New Zealand singer-songwriter\'s voice almost constantly exposed and bare, here there’s more going on: a greater variety of instruments (especially percussion), bigger rhythms, additional vocals that add harmonies and echoes to her chameleonic voice, which flips between breathy baritone and wispy falsetto. “I wanted to show that there are lots of ways to work with space, lots of ways you can be serious,” she says. “You don’t have to be serious to be serious. I’m not a role model, that’s just how I felt. It’s a light, unapologetic approach based on what I have and what I know and what I think I know.” Harding attributes this broader musical palette to the many places and settings in which the album was written, including on tour. “It’s an incredibly diverse record, but it somehow feels part of the same brand,” she says. “They were all written at very different times and in very different surroundings, but maybe that’s what makes it feel complete.” The bare, devastating “Heaven Is Empty” came together on a long train ride and “The Barrel” on a bike ride, while intimate album closer “Pilot” took all of ten minutes to compose. “It was stream of consciousness, and I don’t usually write like that,” she says. “Once I’d written it all down, I think I made one or two changes to the last verse, but other than that, I did not edit that stream of consciousness at all.” The piano line that anchors “Damn” is rudimentary, for good reason: “I’m terrible at piano,” she says. “But it was an experiment, too. I’m aware that it’s simple and long, and when you stretch out simple it can be boring. It may be one of the songs people skip over, but that’s what I wanted to do.” The track is, as she says, a “very honest self-portrait about the woman who, I expect, can be quite difficult to love at times. But there’s a lot of humor in it—to me, anyway.”

Aldous Harding’s third album, Designer is released on 26th April and finds the New Zealander hitting her creative stride. After the sleeper success of Party (internationally lauded and crowned Rough Trade Shop’s Album of 2017), Harding came off a 200-date tour last summer and went straight into the studio with a collection of songs written on the road. Reuniting with John Parish, producer of Party, Harding spent 15 days recording and 10 days mixing at Rockfield Studios, Monmouth and Bristol’s J&J Studio and Playpen. From the bold strokes of opening track ‘Fixture Picture’, there is an overriding sense of an artist confident in their work, with contributions from Huw Evans (H. Hawkline), Stephen Black (Sweet Baboo), drummer Gwion Llewelyn and violinist Clare Mactaggart broadening and complimenting Harding’s rich and timeless songwriting.

What do you do when things fall apart? If you’re Ariana Grande, you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and head for the studio. Her hopeful fourth album, *Sweetener*—written after the deadly attack at her concert in Manchester, England—encouraged fans to stay strong and open to love (at the time, the singer was newly engaged to Pete Davidson). Shortly after the album’s release in August 2018, things fell apart again: Grande’s ex-boyfriend, rapper Mac Miller, died from an overdose in September, and she broke off her engagement a few weeks later. Again, Grande took solace from the intense, and intensely public, melodrama in songwriting, but this time things were different. *thank u, next*, mostly recorded over those tumultuous months, sees her turning inward in an effort to cope, grieve, heal, and let go. “Though I wish he were here instead/Don’t want that living in your head,” she confesses on “ghostin,” a gutting synth-and-strings ballad that hovers in your throat. “He just comes to visit me/When I’m dreaming every now and then.” Like many of the songs here, it was produced by Max Martin, who has a supernatural way of making pain and suffering sound like beams of light. The album doesn\'t arrive a minute too soon. As Grande wrestles with what she wants—distance (“NASA”) and affection (“needy”), anonymity (“fake smile\") and star power (“7 rings”), and sex without strings attached (“bloodline,” “make up”)—we learn more and more about the woman she’s becoming: complex, independent, tenacious, flawed. Surely embracing all of that is its own form of self-empowerment. But Grande also isn\'t in a rush to grow up. A week before the album’s release, she swapped out a particularly sentimental song called “Remember” with the provocative, NSYNC-sampling “break up with your girlfriend, i\'m bored.” As expected, it sent her fans into a frenzy. “I know it ain’t right/But I don’t care,” she sings. Maybe the ride is just starting.

There’s one question the Backstreet Boys can’t seem to escape: Do they still consider themselves a boy band? The five-piece, most of whom are now over 40 and married with children, have come to embrace the term. “At this point, ‘boys\' has come to mean more, like, ‘friends,’\" Kevin Richardson told Apple Music’s Arjan Timmermans. “It keeps us young.” There might be some truth to that. On their ninth album *DNA*, the group dabbles in the sounds that are driving mainstream music in 2019: mid-tempo EDM (“Don’t Go Breaking My Heart”), ’80s-inspired synth-pop (“Is It Just Me”), and heart-on-sleeve country (“You’re my daybreak/You’re my California sun/You’re my Memphis, New York, New Orleans all rolled into one,” they croon on “No Place”). Even when they’re experimenting, though, they always feel familiar—they’ve still got those irresistible five-part harmonies, R&B leanings, and swoonworthy come-ons that made fans fall in love with them 25 years ago. The slick and swaggering “New Love” sounds like classic BSB. “There are moments when all five of us are like, ‘Oh, dude, absolutely,’” Brian Littrell said of the moment they first heard the song. “That’s what you’re striving for.”

For a project so shrouded in mystery in the run-up to its release, the origin story behind Better Oblivion Community Center isn\'t particularly enigmatic at all: Phoebe Bridgers and Conor Oberst started writing some songs together in Los Angeles, unclear what their final destination would be until they had enough good ones that a proper album seemed inevitable. Plus, the anonymity and secrecy allowed them to subvert any expectations that might come from news of high-profile singer-songwriter types teaming up. “We just realized that the songs were their own style and they didn\'t sound like either of us,” Bridgers tells Apple Music. “I don\'t think that they would have felt comfortable on one of my records or one of Conor\'s records. And even the band name—Conor came up with it and we didn\'t think about it as a real thing, and then people were like, \'Whoa, clearly it\'s this elaborate concept,\' and we\'re like, \'Really? Cool.\'” Let Bridgers and Oberst guide you through each track of their no-longer-enigmatic debut. **“Didn\'t Know What I Was in For”** Oberst: “When you sit down and write a song with someone, you kind of find out pretty fast—even if you\'re friends with them—if you gel on a creative level.” Bridgers: “I think it\'s really important to be able to have bad ideas in front of someone to create with them, and realizing I could do that with him was really important to our dynamic. We were able to tell each other what we actually thought about style and all that stuff, starting with that song.” **“Sleepwalkin’”** Oberst: “That was one of the first ones we started recording with a rhythm section, and I knew it was gonna be fun and actually be rock music, and I got excited for that.” Bridgers: “We did mostly real live takes of the band stuff, which was really fun. When I record my records, I overdub into oblivion because I like deleting and reworking and rethinking halfway through, so it\'s pretty different for me.” **“Dylan Thomas”** Oberst: “That was the last one we wrote, so we kind of had our method a little more dialed. It immediately felt like a good thing to put out there first, as far as people getting the whole concept quickly: that it\'s two singers and maybe more upbeat than people would think. I guess \[Dylan Thomas\] is a kind of antiquated reference for 2019, but he\'s always been one of my favorite poets.” **“Service Road”** Oberst: “That one is kind of like a heavy song, lyrically. I don\'t know if I would have been able to get to all that stuff without Phoebe\'s help—she\'s very empathetic in her writing.” Bridgers: “It\'s funny, I didn\'t really think about it like, \'Oh, helping Conor write something heavy\'; it was just immediately pretty familiar territory and I didn\'t really have to think twice about it.” Oberst: “It\'s cool when you find someone to write songs with, where a lot of it can go unsaid and you can be automatically on the same page without having to explain a bunch of stuff up front. \'Cause I feel like other times when I\'ve been in co-writing situations, if you\'re coming from super-different places, it takes a bunch of legwork to even get to a starting point.” **“Exception to the Rule”** Oberst: “That one changed the most from the demo to the actual recording. It really came into its own in the recording, with all the pulsing keyboard—that was not at all the way the demo was. That\'s always fun, when something changes in the recording process.” **“Chesapeake”** Bridgers: “I kind of started it as my own song with my friend Christian helping me out. We were getting together, ranting about music, and we were like, \'What if we wrote a song about what we think is stupid in music?\' and kind of ranted for hours over those chords. And then Conor, who was tripping on mushrooms, wanders into the room, like, \'Are you guys gonna just talk about writing this song or when are you gonna actually write it?\' We were kind of brushing him off, and then he started writing with us and then it immediately became real. And yeah, he gave us a run for our money on mushrooms.” **“My City”** Bridgers: “I think it\'s funny when people call LA \'this town.\' It\'s fucking so corny and funny, and the amount that I hear it is really disturbing. Like, \'Yeah, this town spits you out in a heartbeat.\' We started talking about that and then it became a lyric, and then weirdly kind of started being about Los Angeles. One of my favorite ways to write with Conor is just to go on a rant about something and then he spits out beautiful lyrics with whatever I said.” **“Forest Lawn”** Oberst: “Yeah, I guess there are a lot of LA references on this record. Phoebe would talk about when she was a teenager they would hang out and party and smoke weed in Forest Lawn. Every teenager in every town ends up going to a cemetery. Youth and reckless abandon amongst dead bodies—there\'s something kind of nice about that image to me.” **“Big Black Heart”** Bridgers: “I feel like—well, I know—that I subliminally stole the riff from a Tigers Jaw song. An early 2000s emo band...” Oberst: “She\'s like, \'I wanna email them and ask them if we can use it.\' And I was like, \'Damn, Phoebe, you\'re extremely ethical. I really appreciate your ethics.\'\" Bridgers: “They were very sweet, and they were like, \'What the fuck are you talking about? That\'s not stealing it.\'” Oberst: “I think Phoebe has a great scream and she never uses it, so I convinced her to bring that in, which is cool.” **“Dominos”** Oberst: “That\'s a cover. Taylor Hollingsworth is a songwriter from Birmingham, Alabama, a guy I\'ve played with a lot, that we both love as a person and as a musician. We just love that song. I had called him and got him to record those little samples on the phone of him talking. I kind of lied a little bit, like, \'Yeah, Taylor, I\'m making this sound collage for a song I\'m working on.\' When we finally played it for him, he was totally floored and got a little teary-eyed. He\'s like, \'I can\'t believe you guys recorded my song.\' So, that was really sweet.”

On April 14, 2018, Beyoncé Knowles-Carter etched her name even deeper into the history books with a transcendent, career-spanning Coachella performance. The show was the first of two headlining sets—the second taking place the following weekend—with Bey making it a point to call out the fact that she was the festival\'s first-ever Black female headliner. The whole thing, in fact, was a year behind schedule: Beyoncé was originally slated to headline in 2017 in the wake of her ultra-personal *Lemonade*, but postponed after announcing she was pregnant. So in 2018, some 10 months after delivering Sir and Rumi, Beyoncé got up on one of the biggest stages in the world, in front of millions collectively freaking out during the livestream, and delivered one of the most memorable live performances in the history of that festival or any other. Her set—presented in full on *HOMECOMING: THE LIVE ALBUM*—which included highlights from the whole of her catalog dating back to her Destiny’s Child days, spoke directly to her moment as historymaker, synthesizing generations (and regions) of Black musicality through the filter of an HBCU-style marching band (members of DrumLine Live, performing here as Queen Bey’s “The Bzzzz”). In the American college tradition, she called the performance “Homecoming,” packing it over the course of nearly 40 songs with the sounds of brass-heavy New Orleans second-line bands (“Single Ladies \[Put a Ring on It\]”); reggaetón (“Mi Gente”); bounce music (“Formation”); Washington, DC’s go-go (“Love On Top”); her native Houston’s chopped and screwed music (“I Been On”); dancehall reggae (“Baby Boy”); and the Dirty South hip-hop she grew up on (“Crazy In Love,” “Diva”). For good measure, there\'s also a duet with her husband (“Deja Vu”), a Destiny\'s Child reunion (“Say My Name,” “Soldier”), and as an added bonus at the end of the album, a backyard-barbecue-ready studio rendition of Maze featuring Frankie Beverly’s “Before I Let Go” that also interpolates Cameo’s “Candy.” You can hear the voice of Malcolm X on “Don\'t Hurt Yourself,” and there\'s an a cappella version of “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” known colloquially as the “Black National Anthem”—beyond blockbuster production values and expert musicianship, it remains an earnest tribute to her experience as a young Black woman working to contribute to the rich musical legacy that inspires her. And according to her mother, this was the plan from the beginning: In an Instagram post the week of the first Coachella performance, Tina Knowles wrote that her daughter told her, “I have worked very hard to get to the point where I have a true voice. And at this point in my life and my career I have a responsibility to do what\'s best for the world and not what is most popular.” But the two are far from mutually exclusive, and that performance—and this vital document of it—is proof.

U.F.O.F., F standing for ‘Friend’, is the name of the highly anticipated third record by Big Thief, set to be released on 3rd May 2019 via 4AD. U.F.O.F. was recorded in rural western Washington at Bear Creek Studios.  In a large cabin-like room, the band set up their gear to track live with engineer Dom Monks and producer Andrew Sarlo, who was also behind their previous albums.  Having already lived these songs on tour, they were relaxed and ready to experiment.  The raw material came quickly.  Some songs were written only hours before recording and stretched out instantly, first take, vocals and all. “Making friends with the unknown… All my songs are about this,” says Lenker; “If the nature of life is change and impermanence, I’d rather be uncomfortably awake in that truth than lost in denial.”

Beginning with the haunting alt-pop smash “Ocean Eyes” in 2016, Billie Eilish made it clear she was a new kind of pop star—an overtly awkward introvert who favors chilling melodies, moody beats, creepy videos, and a teasing crudeness à la Tyler, The Creator. Now 17, the Los Angeles native—who was homeschooled along with her brother and co-writer, Finneas O’Connell—presents her much-anticipated debut album, a melancholy investigation of all the dark and mysterious spaces that linger in the back of our minds. Sinister dance beats unfold into chattering dialogue from *The Office* on “my strange addiction,” and whispering vocals are laid over deliberately blown-out bass on “xanny.” “There are a lot of firsts,” says FINNEAS. “Not firsts like ‘Here’s the first song we made with this kind of beat,’ but firsts like Billie saying, ‘I feel in love for the first time.’ You have a million chances to make an album you\'re proud of, but to write the song about falling in love for the first time? You only get one shot at that.” Billie, who is both beleaguered and fascinated by night terrors and sleep paralysis, has a complicated relationship with her subconscious. “I’m the monster under the bed, I’m my own worst enemy,” she told Beats 1 host Zane Lowe during an interview in Paris. “It’s not that the whole album is a bad dream, it’s just… surreal.” With an endearingly off-kilter mix of teen angst and experimentalism, Billie Eilish is really the perfect star for 2019—and here is where her and FINNEAS\' heads are at as they prepare for the next phase of her plan for pop domination. “This is my child,” she says, “and you get to hold it while it throws up on you.” **Figuring out her dreams:** **Billie:** “Every song on the album is something that happens when you’re asleep—sleep paralysis, night terrors, nightmares, lucid dreams. All things that don\'t have an explanation. Absolutely nobody knows. I\'ve always had really bad night terrors and sleep paralysis, and all my dreams are lucid, so I can control them—I know that I\'m dreaming when I\'m dreaming. Sometimes the thing from my dream happens the next day and it\'s so weird. The album isn’t me saying, \'I dreamed that\'—it’s the feeling.” **Getting out of her own head:** **Billie:** “There\'s a lot of lying on purpose. And it\'s not like how rappers lie in their music because they think it sounds dope. It\'s more like making a character out of yourself. I wrote the song \'8\' from the perspective of somebody who I hurt. When people hear that song, they\'re like, \'Oh, poor baby Billie, she\'s so hurt.\' But really I was just a dickhead for a minute and the only way I could deal with it was to stop and put myself in that person\'s place.” **Being a teen nihilist role model:** **Billie:** “I love meeting these kids, they just don\'t give a fuck. And they say they don\'t give a fuck *because of me*, which is a feeling I can\'t even describe. But it\'s not like they don\'t give a fuck about people or love or taking care of yourself. It\'s that you don\'t have to fit into anything, because we all die, eventually. No one\'s going to remember you one day—it could be hundreds of years or it could be one year, it doesn\'t matter—but anything you do, and anything anyone does to you, won\'t matter one day. So it\'s like, why the fuck try to be something you\'re not?” **Embracing sadness:** **Billie:** “Depression has sort of controlled everything in my life. My whole life I’ve always been a melancholy person. That’s my default.” FINNEAS: “There are moments of profound joy, and Billie and I share a lot of them, but when our motor’s off, it’s like we’re rolling downhill. But I’m so proud that we haven’t shied away from songs about self-loathing, insecurity, and frustration. Because we feel that way, for sure. When you’ve supplied empathy for people, I think you’ve achieved something in music.” **Staying present:** **Billie:** “I have to just sit back and actually look at what\'s going on. Our show in Stockholm was one of the most peak life experiences we\'ve had. I stood onstage and just looked at the crowd—they were just screaming and they didn’t stop—and told them, \'I used to sit in my living room and cry because I wanted to do this.\' I never thought in a thousand years this shit would happen. We’ve really been choking up at every show.” FINNEAS: “Every show feels like the final show. They feel like a farewell tour. And in a weird way it kind of is, because, although it\'s the birth of the album, it’s the end of the episode.”

After a recording hiatus lasting more than a decade, Brooks & Dunn—the Country Music Hall of Famers who\'ve inspired not only the genre\'s modern duo resurgence but everyone from Kacey Musgraves to Ashley McBryde—are back. And this time, they have a few friends in tow: As Lionel Richie and Ronnie Milsap did before them, Kix Brooks and Ronnie Dunn have enlisted artists generations younger on re-recordings of their classic songs with the likes of Luke Combs, Kane Brown, Musgraves, and McBryde. The R&B influence or cosmic cowgirl sounds of these contemporaries might not feel like a natural fit with Brooks & Dunn\'s neotrad stylings, but it all works seamlessly—whether it\'s capturing the honky-tonk spirit alongside Midland on \"Boot Scootin\' Boogie\" or getting funky with Thomas Rhett on \"My Maria.\" *Reboot* might be built on the past, but in these 12 collaborations, it paints a direct line straight to the present—and positions them to head into whatever sort of future they can conjure up.

On *Social Cues*, Matt Shultz tries to make sense of a tumultuous time in his life. The Cage the Elephant frontman not only went through a divorce but also lost two of his best friends to suicide during the recording of the band\'s fifth full-length album. But rather than dwell on his tragic circumstances, Shultz focused on the positives that tend to get dismissed during periods of personal turmoil. “I think there’s the temptation, when you’re going through a tough time, to get stuck in the melodrama of things and be like, ‘Oh, I’m going to write a sad song and it’s just going to explain exactly where I’m at,\'” Shultz said in an interview with Beats 1. “You miss out on other notes and colors of life that are so important.” Cage the Elephant is no stranger to challenging the current rock landscape—their offbeat, genre-hopping approach culminated in the psychedelic-meets-glam rock of 2015’s *Tell Me I’m Pretty* (which earned them a Best Rock Album Grammy in 2017). Likewise, on *Social Cues*, they navigate through different periods of rock history alongside a spooky ambient mood inspired by the horror movie soundtracks of John Carpenter. In “House of Glass,” Shultz combats his paranoid thoughts over visceral garage punk, while on the flip side, the strings-laced “Love’s the Only Way” is a tender ballad where he reflects on his mistakes. He juxtaposes these melancholic sentiments with swagger, exhibiting showmanship over synth-driven grooves (“Skin and Bones”) and stomping blues rock (“The War Is Over).” Thanks to the savvy intuition of his brother, Cage guitarist Brad Shultz—and unbeknownst to anyone else in the band—the reggae-rap fusion of “Night Running” got some help from Beck: “One morning, I receive a text message that says, \'Here’s a couple of verses that Beck put down.\' And I said, \'Huh?\' He was like, ‘I have five other options in case these don’t work for you.\' And we’re like, ‘No, this is good!\'” “Goodbye” sends off *Social Cues* on a solemn note. It’s the rare moment when Shultz puts himself front and center, accepting that it’s time for a relationship to come to an end. “I actually see it as an uplifting song,” he said, “but I find it really interesting that sometimes when we’re confronted with such profound truth we interpret it as darkness. I think the most obvious challenge is trying to find something within the music that reignites that excitement, that passion, that excitement for music again.”

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.”

“Walker Texas Ranger,” the standout single from DaBaby’s 2018 *Blank Blank* album, is also present on *Baby on Baby*. It\'s a stellar example of the Charlotte native’s appeal—the rapper’s husky delivery weaves in and out of paced bell chimes while rapping about his affinity for guns, his disdain for women with little to offer him besides their bodies, and a newfound potential for stardom. “It ain’t like Atlanta, I came out of Charlotte, that s\*\*t took me some time,” he raps. DaBaby once went by Baby Jesus, and the fact that he doesn’t take himself all that seriously is evident. Throughout a healthy stream of threats and braggadocio on “Suge,” you can hear the smirk on his face when he raps, “You disrespect me and I’ll beat your ass up all in front of your partners and children.” His choice of guests and their varying levels of fame (Offset, Rich Homie Quan, Stunna 4 Vegas) likewise says a great deal about what he values in a collaborator: MCs with energy that matches his own, and who can rap well, of course, but who also make it a point to laugh at their haters.

The underground tilt toward ’90s-style grit-rap has been good to DJ Muggs: In addition to bringing back Soul Assassins (2018’s *Dia del Asesinato*), he’s co-fronted a host of albums with contemporary MCs (including Roc Marciano and Eto) that have positioned him not just as an oldie-but-goodie but as a guy whose influence is being worked out in real time. Like Muggs, Mach-Hommy exerts control primarily through understatement: The blurrier and more low-key *Tuez-Les Tous* gets (“Bón Nwit,” “Piotr”), the more psychedelically unsettling—call it the difference between a jump scare and a gnawing sense of dread. And just when they let the air clear, the chant on “The Fowler’s Snare” comes in like a lullaby: “Kill ’em all, kill ’em all, ki-kill ’em all.”

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.

In 2016’s *Private Energy*, Roberto Carlos Lange, a.k.a. Helado Negro, celebrated his identity while highlighting themes like racially targeted enforcement and gender fluidity. The Brooklyn-based singer-producer’s follow-up, *This Is How You Smile*, allows him to wind down and find his center. *Smile* is by turns more self-reflective, a vivid reverie of personal memories bedded in delicate acoustic strums and atmospheric dreamscapes. Lange\'s articulate, compassionate voice softens the album\'s dense arrangements (which are interspersed with field recordings and ambient interludes). On “País Nublado,” a balmy bossa nova groove ambles against Lange’s pithy haikus. Serene piano strokes lead the way over his soulful, whispered baritone on both “Running” and “Please Won’t Please.” “Seen My Aura” is more effervescent by comparison, but just as chill—a lysergic funk jam where Lange’s naturalistobservations take flight.

Helado Negro returns with This Is How You Smile, an album that freely flickers between clarity and obscurity, past and present geographies, bright and unhurried seasons. Miami-born, New York-based artist Roberto Carlos Lange embraces a personal and universal exploration of aura – seen, felt, emitted – on his sixth album and second for RVNG Intl.

It takes a village to raise a child; Holly Herndon’s third proper studio LP, *PROTO*, holds that the same is true for an artificial intelligence, or AI. The Berlin-based electronic musician’s 2015 album *Platform* explored the intersection of community and technological utopia, and so does its follow-up—only this time, one of her collaborators is a programmed entity, a virtual being named Spawn. Arguing that technology should be embraced, not feared, Herndon and her human collaborators, including a choral ensemble and hundreds of volunteer vocal coaches, set about “teaching” their AI via call-and-response singing sessions inspired by Herndon’s religious upbringing in East Tennessee. The results harness *Platform*’s richly synthetic palette and jagged percussive force and join them with choral music of almost overwhelming beauty. The massed voices of “Frontier” suggest a combination of Appalachian revival meetings and Bulgarian folk that’s been cut up over Hollywood-blockbuster drums; in “Godmother,” a collaboration with the experimental footwork producer Jlin, Spawn “sings” a dense, hyperkinetic fugue based on Jlin’s polyrhythmic signature. The crux of the whole album might be “Extreme Love,” in which a narrator recounts the story of a future post-human generation: “We are not a collection of individuals but a macro-organism living as an ecosystem. We are completely outside ourselves and the world is completely inside us.” A loosely synchronized choir chirps in the background as she asks, in a voice full of childlike wonder, “Is this how it feels to become the mother of the next species—to love them more than we love ourselves?” It’s a moving encapsulation of the album’s radical optimism.

Holly Herndon operates at the nexus of technological evolution and musical euphoria. Holly’s third full-length album 'PROTO' isn’t about A.I., but much of it was created in collaboration with her own A.I. ‘baby’, Spawn. For the album, she assembled a contemporary ensemble of vocalists, developers, guest contributors (Jenna Sutela, Jlin, Lily Anna Haynes, Martine Syms) and an inhuman intelligence housed in a DIY souped-up gaming PC to create a record that encompasses live vocal processing and timeless folk singing, and places an emphasis on alien song craft and new forms of communion. 'PROTO' makes reference to what Holly refers to as the protocol era, where rapidly surfacing ideological battles over the future of A.I. protocols, centralised and decentralised internet protocols, and personal and political protocols compel us to ask ourselves who are we, what are we, what do we stand for, and what are we heading towards? You can hear traces of Spawn throughout the album, developed in partnership with long time collaborator Mathew Dryhurst and ensemble developer Jules LaPlace, and even eavesdrop on the live training ceremonies conducted in Berlin, in which hundreds of people were gathered to teach Spawn how to identify and reinterpret unfamiliar sounds in group call-and-response singing sessions; a contemporary update on the religious gathering Holly was raised amongst in her upbringing in East Tennessee. “There’s a pervasive narrative of technology as dehumanizing,” says Holly. “We stand in contrast to that. It’s not like we want to run away; we’re very much running towards it, but on our terms. Choosing to work with an ensemble of humans is part of our protocol. I don’t want to live in a world in which humans are automated off stage. I want an A.I. to be raised to appreciate and interact with that beauty.” Since her arrival in 2012, Holly has successfully mined the edges of electronic and Avant Garde pop and emerged with a dynamic and disruptive canon of her own, all while studying for her soon-to-be-completed PhD at Stanford University, researching machine learning and music. Just as Holly’s previous album 'Platform' forewarned of the manipulative personal and political impacts of prying social media platforms long before popular acceptance, 'PROTO' is a euphoric and principled statement setting the shape of things to come.

Countless young artists have emulated iconic predecessors like Bob Dylan, but Kenyan-born singer-songwriter J.S. Ondara is a Dylan disciple who managed to recenter his idol’s influence by applying a 21st-century immigrant’s perspective to his debut album. In songs like the a cappella “Turkish Bandana,” the sinuously bluesy “American Dream,” and the prayerful “God Bless America,” Ondara earnestly interrogates how the nation’s promises of welcome and prosperity can exclude outsiders. During the latter tune, he fingerpicks an acoustic guitar and quietly appeals, “Will you let me in, or are you at capacity? Will you set me free, or are you holding on to history?” Ondara sings with softly accented clarity over the warm glow and rootsy rustle of his production, drawing on Dylan’s poetic mystique and idealism rather than his trickster tendencies.

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.

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.”

Chicago rapper Juice WRLD’s ascent happened so quickly that in the same year he released his 2018 debut *Goodbye & Good Riddance*, he was able to scratch an item off his career bucket list: creating *WRLD on Drugs*, a collaborative project with Future. Just five months after that, anxious to reacquaint the listening public with his own voice, Juice WRLD has delivered *Death Race for Love*—22 tracks, with only Brent Faiyaz, Clever, and Young Thug as guests. The significance of extra, unadulterated Juice WLRD is not lost on the MC, who raps on the project’s opener, “Empty”: “I was put here to lead the lost souls.” As operating practice, Juice WRLD trades in the dramatic—singing or rapping about love as the force powering his will to live, and also the one responsible for his inevitable undoing. He reaches his poetic peak on “Won’t Let Go,” crooning, “You can bury me with her/And if she die before me, kill me/And carry me with her.” Conversely, the love interest of “Make Believe” meets a grim fate, with Juice WRLD admitting, “I figure she was gonna break my heart regardless/So I took her out and dumped her in the garbage.” Elsewhere on the album are dramatically drawn-out beat changes (“10 Feet”), multiple flows within single songs (“The Bees Knees”), studied introspection (“Flaws and Sins”), and even a touch of flowery dancehall (“Hear Me Calling”). The cover of *Death Race for Love* features an illustrated version of Juice WRLD hovering over a demolition derby of sorts, likening the album to a video game. And not unlike a popular gaming title, there’s enough to explore within *Death Race* to keep all who engage it entertained for untold hours.

With a natural versatility not unlike that of fellow Colombian artist Shakira, Karol G’s opulent second album luxuriates in its genre exploits. While reggaetón and trap play their part here—as on “Sin Corazón” and the vivid dembow-laden pop of “Bebesita”—she branches out on more surprising moments like the rootsy groover “Love with a Quality” with Damian Marley. In stark contrast with “Culpables,” her previous duet with Anuel AA, their “Dices Que Te Vas” showcases more of the pair’s shared range with its moving balladry. Later, an extremely faithful cover of Danay Suárez’s “Yo Aprendí” brings the Cuban vocalist herself right to her side as yet another display of humility and humanity.

*While We Wait* serves as a tasty amuse-bouche before Kehlani’s follow-up to *SweetSexySavage*. The Oakland R&B singer sounds refreshed and fed up with the games—taking lazy lovers to task on “RPG” and “Nights Like This” (6LACK and Ty Dolla $ign, respectively, provide stinging rebuttals). Moments of levity appear in “Nunya,” which takes on exes who can’t mind their business. And “Morning Glory” is like a peak TLC track with Kehlani playing all the roles; she presents the too-real image of herself without makeup, nails, or hair done, asking: Would you still ride? *While We Wait* possesses equal measures of moxie and vulnerability, framing Kehlani as a wise young woman navigating love and life, eager to leave the past behind.

At 2018’s Coachella festival, Kevin Abstract (performing as a member of BROCKHAMPTON) wore a bulletproof vest with the word “f\*ggot” emblazoned across the front. The same word appears frequently on *ARIZONA BABY*, the rapper’s third proper solo project; according to Abstract, who frequently raps about being gay, the word was leveled at him often growing up in Texas. He lays bare some of that backstory on the ultra-confessional “Corpus Christi,” while also addressing the stresses of life as a burgeoning rap/pop star. “None of my boys know how to cope with this shit,” he raps over the soft guitar plucks that open the song. “We was on tour in Europe, I tried coke with this kid/See, I need anything that make me feel less lonely/I get called a snake, a liar, a f\*ggot, and a phony.” But Abstract gets the last laugh on his bullies: The main thing he\'ll surely be called after *ARIZONA BABY* is a truly gifted rapper. Former BROCKHAMPTON member Ameer Vann (who gets a shout-out on the aforementioned “Corpus Christi”) was often touted by fans and critics as the group\'s strongest MC, but here Abstract bests much of his bandmates\' previous work—as well as his own—in detailing what it’s like growing up young, gifted, Black, and gay. Rapper, however, is maybe too confining a title for Abstract, whose vocal inspirations leapfrog from *ATLiens*-era André 3000 (“Big Wheels”) to Prince (“Baby Boy”) to Frank Ocean (“Crumble”). Acclaimed songwriter and arranger Jack Antonoff produced *ARIZONA BABY*, and his influence is most apparent in the wealth of live instrumentation. The one clearly audible sample (New Jersey Mass Choir’s “The Harvest Is Ripe”) comes by way of “Use Me,” a song in which Abstract gives testimony about his life and “generational trauma” before assuring himself that “everything gon’ be OK.” With *ARIZONA BABY* as a testament to how far he\'s come, it’s hard not to believe him.

“I wrote *American Teen* at 17 years old,” Khalid told Beats 1 host Zane Lowe. “Now I get to release this at 20-21, so it\'s a completely different mind frame.” His much-anticipated second album, the 17-track *Free Spirit*—and its companion film of the same name, created by Khalid along with director Emil Nava—is a soulful, sober meditation on what he\'s learned in those intervening years and about what happens when you long for personal freedom but aren\'t yet totally sure what to do with it. Khalid talked through the stories and inspiration behind each song with Zane, so read along as you take it all in. **“Intro”** “I wanted people to find their own name for this song and what it means to them. It was made to be the intro: I\'m naming it \'Intro.\' No other name popped up in my head. It\'s so cinematic and it washes over you, and I\'m like, \'People have to hear this first.\'” **“Bad Luck”** “*American Teen* started a little bit more up, a little bit more happy. For *Free Spirit*, overall, the vibe\'s completely different—the melancholy tone, the melodies. \'Bad Luck\' was so fitting to the intro it had to go right after. That intensity—it\'s literally like it\'s punching you in the face.” **“My Bad”** “It\'s so crazy because that song floated out of me. I wrote that in less than 10 minutes flat. So I was obviously in my bag for real.” **“Better”** “I was in LA, I was at the studio. I was surrounded by my friends. Good energy. I was just in the pocket. I think I was fresh off of tour and I was like, I gotta create, I gotta. I held all of that energy that I had on tour and it was just like, boom boom boom boom. All the songs just flew out of me, and \'Better\' was definitely one.” **“Talk”** “I love Disclosure so much, and they were on my wish list of people I wanted to collaborate with since I started music. It\'s like a gift to myself. It was a little naive of me to go into the session expecting to walk out with a house record. This beat was my second pick—until I sang on it and was like, \'Oh OK, this makes so much sense.\' This song is so huge, it\'s just one of my favorite songs I\'ve ever done. And there is definitely another Disclosure song floating out there somewhere in the world.” **“Right Back”** “I love working with \[producers\] Stargate because every time I work with them, the melodies just flow right out of me. It gives me this level of nostalgia from one of my favorite areas of music, the \'90s. The way that it sounds, the way that I see my friends dance to it, and the fact that my mom really, really loves it—that was the tipping point. If my mom doesn\'t like a song, it\'s not making the album.” **“Don\'t Pretend” (feat. SAFE)** “I think I did this song with SAFE in like 2016, 2017. I love his tone, I love his melody. And this was actually one of the last songs I recorded for the album. It got brought back to my attention and I was like, \'I love this song so much, it has to find a way out.\'” **“Paradise”** “I feel like having enough songs for people to see different sides of me as an artist. I could\'ve gone forever—there were like 30 more songs. Although there were some that didn\'t make the album, that doesn\'t mean those won\'t have a life. I could hit up some of my favorite artists and be like, \'Yo, do you want to turn this into a collab and you want to hop on it?\'” **“Hundred”** “\'Hundred\' is the soundtrack of my life. When I\'m in the mix of everything, I\'m on autopilot and I can\'t stop. I swear I could get into car crash after car crash, I\'m making my way through wherever I got to go and I\'m getting the job done. I hate canceling anything. I performed shows sick. If I gotta walk onstage with a broken foot, I\'m going to do it. Keep it a hundred. I got a hundred things I got to do.” **“Outta My Head”** “I think \'Outta My Head\' is definitely my favorite because of just how timing came into play. It was ridiculous—I\'m walking out of the studio and I run into John Mayer. And then I\'m like, \'Yo, you want to hear my project?\' Third song in and then he hopped on it and it was great. It\'s such a moment.” **“Free Spirit”** “This is the pivotal point, sonically, of the album. It starts off a little dark and gets a little bit more lighthearted. I feel like \'Free Spirit\' is the start of where everything gets intense and more cinematic.” **“Twenty One”** “I love that my friends and I have such a complete understanding of each other emotionally. I get to talk to them and I get to make time for them, they get to make time for me. Just to hang out and just to live and tell stories. You can\'t write a song if you don\'t have anything to write about. My friends give me something to write about every single day.” **“Bluffin\'”** “This is so heavy and soulful. It\'s almost like that make-up-after-breakup song. If you\'ve gotten into an argument with your bae or whatever you got going on, you play that song. It sets the tone completely. If it didn\'t make the album, if they made another *Fifty Shades*, maybe that song would fit there.” **“Self”** “I had to get ready to be comfortable with allowing myself to literally talk about loss, and talk about losing, and talk about how even though I\'m at this high to the world, mentally I feel like I\'m at a low at that moment when I wrote that song. I wanted to leave my fans with something where they felt connected to me on a different level and they realized, \'Wow, he\'s just like me and he goes through what I go through, and he has his time where he stares in front of a mirror and picks himself apart and then builds himself back together.\'” **“Alive”** “This is the second chapter of everything—chapter two, act two. I felt like ending it giving people a song they can listen to whenever they\'re feeling down, whenever they\'re going through something. Though these songs feel very sad, I feel like they have a brighter message.” **“Heaven”** “Father John Misty wrote \'Heaven.\' That\'s a song he loved a lot and he felt like it was so fitting for me. I feel like my voice is not too far off from his because that\'s a voice I grew up with, and sat with, and lived with. How many people do you know out there who can say they sang a song Father John Misty wrote? The fact that he looks to me like, \'You\'re going to do this song justice, and you\'re going to sing this song the way that it should be sung.\' Amazing.” **“Saturday Nights”** “I don\'t think I really wanted to end the album on such a dark and tense note. It\'s one of my favorite songs I\'ve ever written. The fact that it gets a new life because there\'s going to be a lot of people who listen to *Free Spirit* that didn\'t listen to \[2018 EP\] *Suncity*, and the fact that it plays a big part of the film as well—it was perfect. It had to go last.”

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.”

Maddie Ross's debut album! Read more at www.maddieross.com/sentimental-magazine

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.”

Even before the rhythm of reggaetón became a truly global pop phenomenon, Maluma proved himself especially skilled at massaging música urbana for the masses. A hit on multiple continents, the Colombian singer’s risqué “Felices los 4” made a strong case for his potential to bring Latin pop worldwide. Released almost one year to the date after his *F.A.M.E.* LP, the colossal sonics of *11:11* continue that work with a cross-cultural and intergenerational selection of guests, including seminal veteran Ricky Martin and Medellín urbano great Farina. With Nicky Jam along for the ride, they drop references to other big Spanish-language singles of this moment on the similarly ambitious “No Puedo Olvidarte.” All but named in that particular song, like-minded boundary pusher Ozuna duets with grace on the dembow ballad “Dispuesto.” Leaving the door graciously open for apprehensive English-speaking listeners, he again matches wits with Madonna on the booming and bilingual “Soltera” and echoes romantic anxiety alongside the coincidentally concerned rap lothario Ty Dolla $ign on “Tu Vecina.” Even without the high-profile features, Maluma justifies his top billing among these players with virtuosic flair as persuasive reggaetonero on “Déjale Saber” and surprise salsero on “Te Quiero.”

After Maren Morris released her blockbuster debut album *Hero* in 2016, she embarked on a series of unorthodox cross-genre collaborations that, at a different time in country music, could have easily ended her career. Instead, she scored near-simultaneous hits in dance, country, and pop, and established a new breed of Nashville superstar. “It’s a testament to how much the city has changed,” she tells Apple Music. “It’s become an exciting melting pot.” She is being modest: Much of that change is thanks to Morris. Her free-spirited sophomore effort continues to push the limits of contemporary country-pop, infusing it with energy and texture from hip-hop, R&B, and psychedelic rock. \"I wanted to be braver with production and get really weird with it,” she says. \"The lyrics were becoming really assertive and independent and sensual, all these empowering elements. I wanted the music to amplify that.” As the title suggests, womanhood is a theme, but the album steers clear of rallying cries and hear-me-roar tropes; these songs are more about learning to embrace all sides of yourself. By singing about her conflicting emotions and life experiences, she frames her complexity as a kind of power: She can be both romantic and in charge (**“The Bones\"**), pissed off and poised (**“Flavor”**), successful and uncertain (**\"To Hell & Back”**). The latter was the first song she wrote on *GIRL* after wrestling with the explosive success of *Hero*. “It was the bitter and the sweet going on in my head,” she says. “I opened up to this other person and felt like they accepted all my broken pieces. They didn’t try to fix me.” At some point, Morris’ independence and progressive point of view caught the attention of Brandi Carlile, a fellow disrupter in Americana and folk. “She wrote me a note about how she’s got two daughters and she’s proud to know they look up to me,” Morris says. The exchange led to their duet, **“Common”**—a pleading, impassioned ballad about setting aside our differences—and eventually, a supergroup with singer-songwriter Amanda Shires called the Highwomen. (Morris has gently tackled politics before, most notably on “Dear Hate”, her response to the 2017 Las Vegas mass shooting.) The album’s other collaboration, **“All My Favorite People”** featuring the Brothers Osbourne, is Morris off duty. “It’s a slapping, trashy party song but has all these descriptive, intricate lyrics,” she says. “It’s my favorite kind of song to write: airtight and very country.” She co-wrote the song with her husband, musician Ryan Hurd, who gets a playful tribute on **“Make Out with Me,”** written to mimic a drunken voicemail. “That\'s one of my favorites,” she says, \"because it’s *so me*.\" Just when you think you’ve got Morris figured out, she serves up R&B curveballs (**“RSVP”**), pop-ified love songs (**“Gold Love”**), and lighters-in-the-air sing-alongs that hat-tip her influences, which include Bruce Springsteen and Katy Perry (**“A Song for Everything”**). No song packs as much zing as **“Flavor,”** a growling send-up Morris has dubbed \"an F U to your haters.” In her case, they’re mostly online. “This is my middle finger to the trolls, the body-shamers, the slut-shamers, the women-haters, the people who rain on my parade,” she says, pointing out that despite her fame, she still manages her own social media accounts. \"I wanted to tell them: You know what, I\'m cooking up my own flavor, and you don\'t have to like it, but I promise you\'ve never tasted anything like it.\"

Houston\'s status as a fertile and influential rap mecca is still thriving as the rest of the world continues to catch up with the city\'s historically insular greatness. So consider Megan Thee Stallion an ambassador of what’s happening there now. From the blaxploitation vibes of its cover art to its loaded contents, her proper debut album builds upon the filthy flows that made her preceding *Tina Snow* project and its breakout single “Big Ole Freak” such an essential listen. Over live-wire beats informed less by purple drank and slab cars than by Cash Money and Hypnotize Minds, she doles out sex positivity and hustles wisdom about female empowerment in anthems like \"Dance\" and \"Money Good.\" Boasting a rare and deadly approach both lyrical and diabolical, she clowns hopeless imitators on “Realer” and provides ample ratchet motivation on the bassbin ruiner “Shake That.” Academy Award winner Juicy J, who produced three of *Fever*\'s cuts, doles out his legendary cosign with Southern pride, dropping a few raw bars himself on “Simon Says” alongside Megan’s characteristically raw ones.

Though she’d been writing songs in her head since she was six, and on the guitar since she was 12, it took a long time for Nilüfer Yanya to work up the courage to show anyone her music. “I knew I wanted to sing, but the idea of actually having to do it was really horrifying,” says the 23-year-old. When she was finally persuaded to do so, by a music teacher in West London where she grew up, she says “it was horrible. I loved it”. At 18, Nilüfer – who is of Turkish-Irish-Bajan heritage – uploaded a few demos to SoundCloud. Though she’s preternaturally shy, her music – which uniquely blends elements of soul and jazz into intimate pop songs with electronic flourishes and a newly expressed grungy guitar sound – isn’t. And it didn’t take long for it to catch people’s attention. She signed with independent New York label ATO, following three EPs on esteemed london indie label Blue Flowers, and earned a place on the BBC Sound of 2018 longlist. She also supported the likes of The xx, Interpol, Broken Social Scene and Mitski on tour. Now, Nilüfer is ready to release her debut album, Miss Universe. Though she recorded much of it in the same remote Cornwall studio she used to jam in as a much younger person, it is bigger and more ambitious than anything she has done before. ‘Angels’, with its muted, harmonic riffs, channels ideas “of paranoid thoughts and anxiety” – a theme that runs through the album, not least in its conceptual spoken word interludes which emanate from a fictional health management company WWAY HEALTH TM. “You sign up, and you pay a fee,” explains Nilüfer of the automated messages, which are littered through the album and are narrated by the titular Miss Universe. “They sort out all of your dietary requirements, and then they move onto medication, and then maybe you can get a better organ or something… and then suddenly it starts to get a bit weird. You're giving them more of you and to what end?”

“This album is an open diary of someone in their early twenties,” Nina Nesbitt tells Apple Music. It’s been five years since her folk-pop debut *Peroxide* (inspired by her on-off relationship with a certain Ed Sheeran), leaving the Edinburgh singer-songwriter a lot of time to reflect. “I wrote a lot of the first album when I was 17, 18 and I didn\'t really know who I was or what my sound was or what I wanted,” she says. “I think you can hear that in that album—not in a bad way—but it just represented where I was. I really wanted to make an album with a cohesive sound to it.” This is a follow-up dripping with lush vocals and synth textures across songs on self-discovery (“The Moments I’m Missing”) to sassy odes to singledom (“Somebody Special”). “In a lot of the songs on the first album, I\'m a victim,” she says. “Whereas in this album I wanted to take control and give my music an empowering feel to it.” Part of that empowerment was taking a step back from writing about love. “I often hear songs just about relationships, and that’s cool, but I want to cover a lot of different subjects,” she says. Her own aspirations take center stage on standout “Empire.” “It’s a song about taking control of your own career and your own path,” she says. “Which is something obviously I did—being dropped from a major label, having to work my way back in the music industry and get signed again.” There’s a rawness to Nesbitt’s vocals here that adds to the album’s intimate, confessional style. Alanis Morissette, she admits, is “someone that has influenced my storytelling.” So much so that the breathless “The Best You Had” is her own tribute to “You Oughta Know,” telling the story of an ex moving on a little too quickly. “I love how brutal she is with her lyrics,” she says. Throughout *The Sun Will Come Up, The Seasons Will Change*’s polished production, there’s a cohesive sound palette that taps into the nostalgia of ’90s R&B. “It\'s definitely an album for album listeners,” Nesbitt says. “I\'d like people to listen to the journey. I know that\'s quite a tall ask in this day and age, but I wanted to make an album that made people feel something.”

“Members of the LGBT+ community that wouldn’t necessarily be at a country show. Mega-fans in Orville Peck masks. Couples in their 80s who are huge country fans. Drag queens. Five-year-olds!” Orville Peck is describing his average audience for Apple Music. “Maybe there are a million reasons for these people to be a room together,” he says. “But it’s lovely that I’m one of the reasons for them to be together.” It’s unsurprising that the fringe-masked, pseudonymous Toronto-based cowboy crooner’s debut album has attracted a broad church. *Pony* offers a very modern subversive spin on expertly informed country, tender torch songs of homoerotic desire and raw rock ’n’ roll decorated with his rich, sonorous voice. Peck may not want to show you his face, but here he’s happy to take you through his extraordinary debut, track by track. **Dead of Night** “This is a song about unrequited love. It\'s about being with somebody you know ultimately cannot give you what you want, and is only going to break your heart. But even just that is better than being without them, so you torture yourself with the inevitable demise. It was the first song I wrote for the album, and I wanted it to sound like something familiar, but something completely new as well. I wanted to provoke the kind of sensation of torturous nostalgia. I think we all go through somewhere where you remember a moment and you think that thinking about it is going to torture you, but you do it anyway, because we have this weird human nature of putting ourselves through emotional pain. That\'s kind of why I wanted the lonely guitar sound, and I wanted to go from very low to very high. I just wanted to give that same feeling sonically that the emotion is about in the song.” **Winds Change** “‘Winds Change’ is a song about traveling around not letting too much moss on your stone. I\'ve lived in many, many different countries, and I\'ve just felt like a drifter my entire life. The song is also about the things that you give up when you live that lifestyle. The benefits are adventure and freedom, but there are things—important things—that you have to leave behind.” **Turn to Hate** “I wrote the lyrics for this song about seven years ago when I was in a really low place. It\'s one of my favorite songs on the album. It\'s about the struggle I\'ve had feeling like an outsider and an outlaw my whole life and not letting that turn into resentment. Like I say in the song, ‘Don\'t let my sorrow turn to hate.’ Anyone who\'s ever felt like a weirdo should remember that is your power, and that\'s what makes you powerful and unique. This song is a mantra to remind myself not to let it go dark.” **Buffalo Run** “I’m not a very skilled technical musician, because I just teach myself everything I play. So I write all my music from a visual or emotive place. Here, I wanted to have my version of a driving train beat: I wanted it to feel like a stampede, essentially, so it needed to start peaceful and calm and slowly build and finally you get that release. I wanted it to feel cinematic. There’s a place in Alberta, Canada, I was thinking about called Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, which is this huge canyon where they would do buffalo runs. Canada’s indigenous people would essentially herd the buffalo off cliffs and then gather them. Every time we play it, I genuinely am picturing buffalo stampeding.” **Queen of the Rodeo** “This is about a Canadian drag queen friend of mine called Thanks Jem. It’s funny, because when we first met, we did not get along. But interestingly, she really taught me a lot about myself. She’s from a small town in Canada and moved to Vancouver to pursue her drag artistry. I wouldn’t want to speak on her behalf about her stories, but the general theme of the song is around pursuing something you love, and even if it’s maybe not as fruitful as you’d hoped, it’s the act of chasing what you love in the face of adversity that’s important.” **Kansas (Remembers Me Now)** “This is a tricky song to talk about, as it’s the only song on the record that isn’t connected to my own life. I don’t want to give it away because I’m always proud when someone figures it out and tells me their version. But I’ll give a couple hints: It’s a song about something pretty dastardly. It’s my murder ballad. They have a very long history in country music. It’s about a real-life murder story which also involves a very interesting kind of homoerotic romance. This is my ode to that.” **Old River** “I wrote this very shortly after the death of a family member. It’s a cathartic song for me that I wrote literally driving through the mountains in winter on the way to the studio. I wanted sonically for it to be what is known in Appalachian country as a field holler, which is a mix of the old haunting Appalachian mountain music with a gospel influence. The Carter Family would do it really well. I also wanted it to be just short enough to annoy people. It’s an uncomfortable song for me, and I wanted everyone listening to it to feel uncomfortable too.” **Big Sky** “I grew up a very chatty, outgoing person and I was always performing. I’ve never felt insecure, socially. But the older I’ve gotten, I’ve realized I’m a very closed person with regards to sharing things about myself—real things about myself. I never knew how closed I was for a long time. The song is about three relationships I’ve had, and the funny thing is people tend to think it’s about those people. It is, sort of, but all of the lyrics are actually me exposing my own shortcomings, exposing myself and my role in those relationships, rather than holding anyone else at fault. The second verse deals with a pretty tumultuous relationship that I was pretty fearful of and had never even talked to anybody about before. It’s a really liberating song, as somebody who internalizes a lot.” **Roses Are Falling** “A song about loving somebody so much that they drive you crazy. You know that being with them is not good for you, but at the same time maybe that’s what we all need every now and again. I wanted to give a nod to the era of Santo & Johnny—that pedal-steel Hawaiian influence which moved into country—with a cheeky twist.” **Take You Back (The Iron Hoof Cattle Call)** “There is a classic trope in country music that used to be known as hokum. It\'s funny, because I think it\'s—for people that don\'t really know country today—almost what gave country a stigma for being shallow. But there’s a long tradition in country to incorporate humor, wit, and Southern charm into the music. Dolly Parton is very famous for that, of course, and I love the very famous George Strait song called ‘All My Ex’s Live in Texas.’ So this is my hokum song with gunshots, whip cracks, and yeehaws. It’s a rootin’-tootin’ song about leaving somebody and that great feeling of telling them you’ll never take that back.” **Hope to Die** “Although I sing a lot about relationships, this is the only song on the album that’s about true heartbreak. It took a long time to record and I kept making revisions lyrically and to the production because I really wanted to capture a feeling within it. It was that feeling when you’re so at a loss that something fell apart. For me, it was that I was so heartbroken and spent months walking in slow motion. So I wanted to capture that sensation of feeling numb and watching the world pass you but all you can do is think about whatever it may be. It’s strange, because it’s almost a divine, serene feeling, but it’s so negative. It’s very still and peaceful, but it’s so very lonely. That serene unhappiness is something that I imagine people could probably get stuck in.” **Nothing Fades Like the Light** “This song is about the feeling of knowing something is coming to an end, and how that feeling can be more painful than when it does actually end. Embarrassingly, I still really choke up and cry in this song when I perform it. Which sounds conceited, but it’s not because I’m so moved by my performance. It’s very funny, as like I said earlier, I didn’t realize how closed I was emotionally for a very long time. A friend of mine passed away when I was quite young, and I remember being at the funeral and being incapable of crying. It dawned on me, ‘You know, I don’t cry very often. What makes me cry? Should I be crying? Do I feel things? Am I crazy?’ It’s nuts, because after that moment something clicked in my brain and I didn’t cry for about five or six years, at all. I think it became a compulsion where I just could not seem to cry. I eventually did, and it was actually a moment of bliss. Now I cry all the time.”

Combining the lulling ambiance of shoegaze with the iconic melodies and vocal prowess of classic American country music, outlaw cowboy, Orville Peck croons about love and loss from the badlands of North America. The resulting sound is entirely his own. He takes the listener down desert highways, through a world where worn out gamblers, road-dogs, and lovesick hustlers drift in and out of his masked gaze. Orville’s debut album, Pony, delivers a diverse collection of stories that sing of heartbreak, revenge and the unrelenting tug of the cowboy ethos. Warm lap steel guitars and echoing drums move through dreamy ballads and sometimes near frantic buzzsaw tunes - all the while paying homage to his country music roots. Pony’s lead single “Dead of Night” is a torch song about two hustlers traveling through Nevada desert. Their whirlwind romance takes us on a dusty trail of memories - racing down canyon highways, hitchhiking through casino towns and ultimately, ending in tragedy. Orville recalls the adventures of his young love, as he watches the boys silently pass him on the strip, haunted by the happy memories of his past. On the campfire lullaby, “Big Sky,” Orville sings about his past lovers - an aloof biker, an abusive boxer and an overly protective jailor in the Florida Keys - and the inevitable demise of each one, as he leaves them for the wide open, big sky. Meanwhile “Turn To Hate” finds Orville struggling to keep his resentment from building into hatred. A continuous battle between embracing the strength and freedom of being an outsider, and the inevitable struggle of wanting normalcy and familiarity. It encapsulates Orville's dilemma as a cowboy. He sings about having to constantly repair situations in his wake, and fighting with himself over his decision making. To stay or go; to cry or not; whether to leave without saying goodbye in order to soften the blow; All the while wishing someone would tell him that they "can't stay," and to make the decision for him. And “Buffalo Run” acts as a warning, a song built around the imagery of stampeding buffalo in the badlands of the Northern Plains. It’s one that begins peacefully enough but soon transcends into a kinetic charge that crescendos as the buffalo are headed off the cliffside. Pony was produced by Orville Peck, recorded and mixed by Jordan Koop at The Noise Floor on Gabriola Island, British Columbia and mastered by Harris Newman at Grey Market Mastering in Montreal, Quebec.

“*Hurts 2B Human* was sort of a pebble that rolled downhill and became this boulder,” P!nk told Beats 1 host Zane Lowe. “It just kept steamrolling.” In 2018, while touring her seventh album, *Beautiful Trauma*, the singer found herself in spontaneous recording sessions with musicians she’d never worked with before (Beck, Sia, Chris Stapleton, Cash Cash, Wrabel, Imagine Dragons’ Dan Reynolds, and many others). Eventually, she realized she\'d made album number eight—a lightly political package of sentimental ballads and pregame bangers that feels like classic P!nk. The topical numbers speak to the times. “The news will try to make you believe that everybody hates each other, and it’s just not true,” she said about the inspiration behind the title track, which features Khalid and was written by Teddy Geiger (best known for authoring some of Shawn Mendes’ biggest hits). “I am a woman, Khalid is a man, he’s African American, I’m Jewish... Everybody has their own experience and is going through something, so it’s all about the circle you create around you to get through all the bullshit in this world. That’s where this song came from.” In the EDM-inspired \"Can We Pretend” featuring Cash Cash, she asks rhetorical questions in an effort to escape reality: “Can we pretend that we will fight the president?/Can we pretend that we all end up okay?” Dizzying synths storm in before there’s time to ponder the answer, nudging listeners to let go and live in the moment.

The most punk moment of 2019 is Rico Nasty screaming “Kennyyyyyy!” in a voice like a revved-up chainsaw. The DMV rapper reestablished her signature sound with producer Kenny Beats in 2018 through an alter ego called Trap Lavigne, recalibrating the “sugar trap” style of her early hits into devil-horns missives shouted over heavy metal beats. *Anger Management* is Rico and Kenny’s first full-length collaboration, and it begins in sheer chaos: “Cold” and “Cheat Code” sound like primal screams from the soul. But the mood mellows out over the course of nine bite-sized tracks—a conceptual journey of catharsis from two of the most inventive names in rap right now. It’s like a therapy session, if your therapist was prone to hollering, “I got bitches on my dick and I ain’t even got a dick!” over JAY-Z samples.

2018’s “Bloxk Party” was Sada Baby’s big break: a bouncy track that introduced the world to the Detroit rapper’s powerhouse flow, highly entertaining dance moves, and fondness for obscure NBA references (“Big ass shotgun look like Lauri Markkanen!”). The rising star’s *Bartier Bounty* tape changes very little about this formula, and thank god for that. Sada oozes charisma over classic East Detroit productions (think murderous piano beats with a similar DNA to West Coast gangsta rap), dropping witty references to everything from the Pacers’ Victor Oladipo to ’90s J.G. Wentworth commercials. “Skuba Says” and “Mutumbo” are particularly bonkers examples of how to succeed by being completely yourself.

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.

“You can’t be positive without knowing what sadness really is,” Sigrid tells Apple Music. “You\'re not either/or, and I guess that comes from me as well.” The Norwegian’s breakthrough track, “Don’t Kill My Vibe,” perfectly captured this sentiment. A pop rocket detailing a bruising experience of being belittled as a young female writer, its DNA runs strong through her debut. There are as many middle fingers to record label execs and terrible boys as there are joyous odes to her band and self-empowerment. Join Sigrid for a tour of her head, and *Sucker Punch*. **“Sucker Punch”** “I chose this track to start the album as it was the intro for our show on tour and it felt really good. *Sucker Punch* is the album name and it summarizes it in a pretty cool way, because all of the songs are a sucker punch. Whether it\'s a ballad or a big pop song—they\'re very in your face.” **“Mine Right Now”** “This track is inspired by ’80s music. I don\'t know who, I just wanted it to be big! I was definitely imagining playing this at a huge festival on a big stage. I want people to be joyful and happy when they leave the show.” **“Basic”** “With this song I wanted to bring people down and then bring them up. It’s a song that has been in the mix for two or three years as one of the earlier demos. We wrote it on the piano and ended up just having that version. We were producing it and thought it would be nice to let people into the studio session. We had an iPhone and put on Voice Memos while I was singing—we didn\'t even have a proper microphone.” **“Strangers”** “I love romantic films, but it\'s never as it is on film. I had a personal experience where I thought something was very magical but then it wasn\'t, and that\'s okay. That’s just real life. It was a really sad ballad when we started, but I thought, ‘I don\'t want to make a soppy song, let’s make this fun.’” **“Don’t Feel Like Crying”** “I share the most on this song. It’s about going through a breakup. I prefer to stay private about my private life, but I also write about it. That\'s not my whole diary. I guess I\'ve just shared a few pages. That balance is always hard to find: How much should you share and how much do you want to keep to yourself? That\'s something that I need to be more aware of now.” **“Level Up”** “We were recording in my hometown and for some reason didn’t even go to the studio to finish. We stayed in the kitchen and wrote it there. It\'s such a kitchen song! I listen to it while cooking. It’s an homage to gaming. If you\'re going through something difficult and you get through it, that\'s when you level up and go to the next level. It doesn\'t need to just be relationships, it can be a friendship or whatever.” **“Sight of You”** “This track is about my band and the crowds at our shows. It was written with Electric Picnic in Ireland in mind. That\'s one of the best festivals we\'ve played. I had the time of my life. You can hear that it\'s not just happiness in the song. With touring, sometimes you have to wake up really early, you don\'t get enough sleep, and you\'re away from home for a long time.” **“In Vain”** “I wrote this song in London two years ago. It was never finished and was on my computer forever. I thought, ‘What the hell do I do with this song?’ It\'s so good and we were playing it so much live, but we didn’t know how to finish it. We brought the band into a studio in Norway, they just played what they play live, and it worked.” **“Don’t Kill My Vibe”** “It\'s about a writing session I was in that was difficult. I didn\'t feel welcome or like they respected me, and I thought, ‘Why the hell am I here if we\'re not going to work together?’ I was really annoyed because I didn\'t know how to let them know I wasn\'t okay with it. I called my mum, who is my biggest idol—she\'s a really cool, empowered woman. She said, \'Go back, finish the studio session, and then maybe you\'ll get something good out of it.\' She was right. I got this song.” **“Business Dinners”** “I wanted to make something that sounded like Studio Ghibli, the Japanese film company behind *Spirited Away*. That soundtrack is wonderful. It’s one of the few songs where I\'ve been very visual with my inspiration. I wanted to talk about business but in a fun, quirky way.” **“Never Mine”** “*Sucker Punch* is a roller coaster. It\'s up and down in every second. This is definitely the most ‘static’ song I’ve done. I wanted to give myself a challenge and try to make something smooth where you just get in the groove. For me, this is the last song at a school dance.” **“Dynamite”** “It\'s hard to make whatever is happening in private life work with my job. That\'s relatable to a lot of people, not just my profession. Everyone\'s so busy all the time. I always feel empowered when I listen to this song, and that\'s how I wanted to finish the album—end it on a strong note.”

The pseudonymme of DIY pop diva/producer Kelsie Hogue, Sir Babygirl mixes and matches inspirations as sundry as Charli XCX, Hole, Hey Arnold!, and Tim And Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! into unabashedly bubblegum, unashamedly queer pop for a future free of genre boundary and the gender binary. Born in Silicon Valley and raised in Hanover, New Hampshire, Sir Babygirl collected slumber party guests in the form of the bass, piano, guitar, along with formally studying voice. After attending Boston University’s School of Theater, she began to synthesize all her interests in the local Allston scene—fronting a hardcore bubblegum band, collaborating with local musicians, and tinkering with self-production on demos that would lead her to Sir Babygirl project. Sir Babygirl quickly swapped diploma for a microphone to explore Chicago’s DIY and comedy scenes, but was ultimately visited in a dream by pop princesses Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and dear departed high priestess Whitney Houston. The three divinities implored: pop was the pure plastic expression and cartoon catharsis for which Sir Babygirl was meant. She returned home to the woods of New Hampshire to convert her childhood bedroom into a makeshift studio. Little by little, she applied her sharpening musical tools to emerging past selves, childhood traumas, and a joyous curiosity for herself. Sir Babygirl chronicled each revelation in song, reclaiming and celebrating all the deep dives, detours, and divas that led her to her debut album Crush on Me. Crush on Me dances through discovery—from opener and debut single “Heels,” which sets Sir Babygirl as a bewildered, bisexual Cinderella bailing on the ball, all the way to the gentle self-courting of the closing title track. Along the way, Sir Babygirl rages through the agony and ecstasy of queer flirting (“Flirting with Her”), peels past layers of latent shame (“Cheerleader”), parties with old ghosts (“Haunted House”), trudges through social anxieties (“Everyone is a Bad Friend”), and basks in the glow of neon-lit nights out (“Pink Lite”). On the other side of the journey, Crush on Me ultimately celebrates the silliness and sanctity of a second adolescence, a rite so quintessential to the queer coming-of-age experience. Imagine Karen O performing Robyn’s “Dancing On My Own” with Courtney Love strumming the synth line… or maybe a Max Martin-produced cover of Lauryn Hill’s “Ex-Factor” performed by My Chemical Romance’s Gerard Way. Wrap it all up in an aesthetic that marries Grimes to Ashlee Simpson in the uncanny valley of celebrity culture and neo-Absurdism. Somewhere out there, in between a girl group and a boyband, is Sir Babygirl… and her pug Baby Diva. Along her journey, she has discovered the sugar-rush sweet spot between melodic emo confessionalism, cartoon character plastic-is-fantastic vocals, and PC music-adjacent synthpop fantasia. That place is real, and its lord is our knight Sir Babygirl. Crush on Me will be released February 15, 2019 on Father/Daughter Records.

slowthai knew the title of his album long before he wrote a single bar of it. He knew he wanted the record to speak candidly about his upbringing on the council estates of Northampton, and for it to advocate for community in a country increasingly mired in fear and insularity. Three years since the phrase first appeared in his breakout track ‘Jiggle’, Tyron Frampton presents his incendiary debut ‘Nothing Great About Britain’. Harnessing the experiences of his challenging upbringing, slowthai doesn’t dwell in self-pity. From the album’s title track he sets about systematically dismantling the stereotypes of British culture, bating the Royals and lampooning the jingoistic bluster that has ultimately led to Brexit and a surge in nationalism. “Tea, biscuits, the roads: everything we associate with being British isn’t British,” he cries today. “What’s so great about Britain? The fact we were an empire based off of raping and pillaging and killing, and taking other people’s culture and making it our own?” ‘Nothing Great About Britain’ serves up a succession of candid snapshots of modern day British life; drugs, disaffection, depression and the threat of violence all loom in slowthai’s visceral verses, but so too does hope, love and defiance. Standing alongside righteous anger and hard truths, it’s this willingness to appear vulnerable that makes slowthai such a compelling storyteller, and this debut a vital cultural document, testament to the healing power of music. As slowthai himself explains, “Music to me is the biggest connector of people. It don’t matter what social circle you’re from, it bonds people across divides. And that’s why I do music: to bridge the gap and bring people together.”

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.

From the outset of his fame—or, in his earliest years as an artist, infamy—Tyler, The Creator made no secret of his idolization of Pharrell, citing the work the singer-rapper-producer did as a member of N.E.R.D as one of his biggest musical influences. The impression Skateboard P left on Tyler was palpable from the very beginning, but nowhere is it more prevalent than on his fifth official solo album, *IGOR*. Within it, Tyler is almost completely untethered from the rabble-rousing (and preternaturally gifted) MC he broke out as, instead pushing his singing voice further than ever to sound off on love as a life-altering experience over some synth-heavy backdrops. The revelations here are mostly literal. “I think I’m falling in love/This time I think it\'s for real,” goes the chorus of the pop-funk ditty “I THINK,” while Tyler can be found trying to \"make you love me” on the R&B-tinged “RUNNING OUT OF TIME.” The sludgy “NEW MAGIC WAND” has him begging, “Please don’t leave me now,” and the album’s final song asks, “ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?” but it’s hardly a completely mopey affair. “IGOR\'S THEME,” the aforementioned “I THINK,” and “WHAT\'S GOOD” are some of Tyler’s most danceable songs to date, featuring elements of jazz, funk, and even gospel. *IGOR*\'s guests include Playboi Carti, Charlie Wilson, and Kanye West, whose voices are all distorted ever so slightly to help them fit into Tyler\'s ever-experimental, N.E.R.D-honoring vision of love.

“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.”

Led by fearless ringleader Luz Elena Mendoza, Y La Bamba fuses tropical beats and ethereal pop with colorful accents in *Mujeres*. Mendoza makes a lateral move from the whimsical folk of her project’s breakthrough release, 2016’s *Ojos del Sol*, by nurturing her inquisitive nature to deliver a savory amalgam of earthy Latin sounds with cheerful abandon. But she approaches this new chapter in her career with a bigger purpose in mind—she wrote *Mujeres* for her mother, and womanhood at large, pointedly addressing the misogyny that continues to plague generations upon generations. “Somos mujeres poderosas” (“we’re powerful women”), she rallies with a chorus of women’s voices over frenetic, Carnival-esque percussion and flamenco palmas on the infectious title track. But Mendoza’s reach extends far beyond her celebratory protest. Her moods ebb and flow like wild currents—“Lightning Storms” and “Una Letra” both speak of the value and patience of love over genteel, reverb-laced ambiance, while on “Conocidos,” she fully surrenders her control over a frantic pairing of tribal psychedelia and cumbia rhythms. “Hay que mover la sangre del cuerpo” (“we have to get that blood flowing”), she urges on album closer “De Lejos,” ending the party with a bang while also staying on message.

Y La Bamba has been many things, but at the heart of it is singer-songwriter Luz Elena Mendoza’s inquisitive sense of self. Their fifth record, Mujeres, carries on the Portland-based band’s affinity for spiritual contemplation, but goes a step further in telling a story with a full emotional spectrum. Coming off Ojos Del Sol, one of NPR’s Top 50 Albums of 2016, Mujeres exhibits the scope of Mendoza’s artistic voice like never before. “Soy como soy,” Mendoza says, and that declaration is the bold— even political— statement that positions Mujeres to be Y La Bamba’s most unbridled offering yet. Mendoza forges new narratives from old stories of heritage and family, tracing history while forging modern chicana feminism. The raw honesty of Mujeres is in fact the raw honesty of Mendoza. Armed with the emotionality of traditional música mexicana and the storytelling of American folk, Y La Bamba’s artistry is not just their musical ability but Mendoza’s search for unadulterated truth. It is in an ancestral journey in which Mendoza comes to terms with the influence and limitations of her upbringing. While there is a celebration of the Mexican creativity that has informed Mendoza’s life, there is a darker side to reconcile with. Where do mujeres fit in to the American story? What are the sins for which we are all guilty? How do different generations interact with the world? How can a culture become visible without being tokenized? It is no surprise that in Mujeres, Y La Bamba’s first record with Mendoza at the helm of production, Mendoza contemplates these questions to tell her story. But it is not just Mendoza’s story. Challenging a narrative and dealing with the emotionality of that effort— that is everyone’s story.