Complex UK's Best Albums of 2017

No MC represents the fluidity and versatility of UK rap better than Momodou Jallow. While the vivacious “Did You See” cements his position as a captain of London’s Afrobeats scene, he constantly escapes pigeonholing on this magnetic debut. The title track offers sax-topped G-funk, “Leave Me” sets brooding guitar riffs to trap beats, and “Plottin” recalls UK garage’s melodic glory days. Over those sounds, J Hus switches from staccato belligerence and joyful bravado to downbeat reflection without missing a beat—or the chance for a sharp punchline.

The album that finally reveals a superstar. Sampha Sisay spent his nascent career becoming music’s collaborator à la mode—his CV includes impeccable work with the likes of Solange, Drake, and Jessie Ware—and *Process* fully justifies his considered approach to unveiling a debut full-length. It’s a stunning album that sees the Londoner inject raw, gorgeous emotion into each of his mini-epics. His electronic R&B sounds dialed in from another dimension on transformative opener “Plastic 100°C,” and “Incomplete Kisses” is an anthem for the broken-hearted that retains a smoothness almost exclusive to this very special talent. “(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano,” meanwhile, makes a solid case for being 2017’s most beautiful song.

Until a late flurry of percussion arrives, doleful guitar and bass are Solána Rowe’s only accompaniment on opener “Supermodel,” a stinging kiss-off to an adulterous ex. It doesn’t prepare you for the inventively abstract production that follows—disembodied voices haunting the airy trap-soul of “Broken Clocks,” “Anything”’s stuttering video-game sonics—but it instantly establishes the emotive power of her rasping, percussive vocal. Whether she’s feeling empowered by her physicality on the Kendrick Lamar-assisted “Doves in the Wind” or wrestling with insecurity on “Drew Barrymore,” SZA’s songs impact quickly and deeply.

R&B singer Kelela’s deeply personal debut LP does just what it says on the label. Over beats from Jam City, Bok Bok, Kingdom, and Arca—which swerve from warped and aqueous to warm and lush to icy and danceable—Kelela turns her emotions inside out with a sultriness and self-assuredness that few underground artists can muster. She’s tough and forthright, tender and subdued on songs about breakups (“Frontline”), makeups (“Waitin”), and pickups (“LMK”)—and the way she spins from one mode to the next is dizzying in the best way possible.

He had a bumpy few years, between the Drake feud, the death of compatriots, and his breakup with Nicki Minaj, but Philadelphia firebrand Meek Mill sounds as determined as ever, rapping in his signature panicked blare, as if he’s just sprinted miles to the booth. *Wins & Losses* mixes dark, gothic beats and punchy, blurting collaborations with younger voices, like Lil Uzi Vert (“F\*\*k That Check Up”) or an emotional Young Thug on the weepy “We Ball.”

David Santan’s second EP is one of 2017’s most accomplished releases. An inventive, impassioned collection, it anoints the south Londoner as UK rap’s next superstar. “Question Time” is the incendiary centerpiece: a state-of-the-nation polemic vocalizing political and societal concerns with level-headed intelligence. The mood might be somber, but the quality across these seven tracks is so high that *Game Over* feels entirely celebratory.

On his full debut, Nines examines the issues faced when journeying from street life to music success. That subject’s coming into sharp focus for him because, on this evidence, he’s talented enough to become one of UK rap’s biggest MCs. His relaxed flow delivers riveting imagery and sharp analogies on “Going In” and “Love 2 the Game”, while some top-drawer features include a swaggering, addictive hook from J-Hus on the woozy “High Rollers”.

The music of London producer Mr. Mitch is tough to pin down: Too beat-oriented to be ambient. Too sensitive for grime. Too abstract for R&B. It just might stand alone. A more song-oriented effort than 2014’s *Parallel Memories*, *Devout* chronicles such unsexy subjects as marital fidelity (“Pleasure”), familial self-sacrifice (“My Life”), and the growing pains of parenthood (“Priority”) in a way that feels rich, understated, and totally idiosyncratic—grime for grownups, maybe.

Miles Mitchell aka Mr. Mitch releases his second album ‘Devout’ in April. It’s about love, loyalty, family and the start and end of relationships, with an overarching theme about becoming a father, all delivered with warmth and emotion. Miles even sings and so does his eldest son Milo on one track. About the theme he says, “we all know the stereotype of the black dad with multiple children from multiple partners who is absent from the child’s life, we see it consistently in popular culture. I want to champion the alternative, which to me is just normal.” As well as being a producer Miles is the co-founder of the Boxed nights, which have been a tight incubator of a music scene dedicated in the main to re-thinking and expanding what grime means, especially instrumental grime. Mitch has always taken it further than most in a unique direction, defining his music led by his own personality rather than deferring to a scene consensus. An early example was his development of ‘peace edits’ in response to the aggressive ‘war dubs’ craze amongst other grime producers, around the time of his first album. Production-wise Mr. Mitch has always been a minimalist at heart, pushing detailed sound and melody around in space, but on Devout everything is more ambitious, emotive and polished, taking his music in an epic and well defined pop direction, albeit from a sideways angle, re-imagining what an album by an underground producer can be. Devout’s cast of male and female allies, MC’s and singers each deliver songs that cast perspective around the album’s theme. Mr. Mitch sets the scene with the graceful honesty of the piano led intro, then P Money drops a heartfelt and emotional lyric about the charge of love and responsibility experienced on becoming a dad. Denai Moore’s song ‘Fate’ is open about being sceptical in allowing yourself to fall for someone at the start of a relationship, while Palmistry’s track ‘VPN’ explores his feelings after separation. The warm centre of ‘Devout’ is ‘My Life’s heart-tugging Sakamoto-like melody and bent keys, with Miles gently intoning “It’s yours” and final song ‘Oscar’ tells a newborn his brother will be an elder brother. Devout is a beautiful, grown-up pop record with its foundation in grime. (Artwork by Nic Hamilton)

Despite the title, there’s a pronounced sense of nighttime about the hypnotic trap beats on this installment of the South Londoners’ dual mixtape release (R&B-focused *7 Nights* is the companion piece). On the drowsy “Wo Wo Wo,” the pair survey their success with the warm, woozy glow that comes at the end of a particularly satisfying night out, while an eerie synth melody creeps through some typically smart wordplay on Stormzy collaboration “Ask Flipz.” However, J Hus brings extra melodic sparkle to “Get a Stack,” and “Cold Summer (Krept Freestyle)” raises the intensity for a searing examination of religion, race, and social injustice.

After profile-boosting features on Drake’s *More Life*, Giggs returns to the streets of South London with a typically absorbing blend of assurance, introspection, and libido. His measured, steady-pulsed delivery is as compelling as ever, seeping rather than bursting from the speakers. Strengthening his bonds with American hip-hop, he confidently trades verses with 2 Chainz on the steely “Ultimate Gangsta,” while Lil Duke and Young Thug arrive with barrel-chested confidence over the crackle-and-pop beats of “Gangstas & Dancers.” Giggs is always the most gripping presence though, particularly on “The Essence”—a thoughtful, frustrated portrait of his environment set to warm, slo-mo funk.

Emerging during the mid-\'10s, South Londoner Fekky quickly established himself as one of UK rap and grime’s most exciting MCs via some scintillating live shows. Featuring multiple A-list guests, this debut channels the intensity of those performances. Alongside Skepta on “Way Too Much” and Giggs on “Gossip,” he proves he can fire out standard-issue chutzpah with the best of them. But Fekky’s most engaging when he sidesteps bravado, whether he’s calling out keyboard warriors (the woozy “Cappin’ on the Net”) or escaping the perils of the drug trade for musical success (the UK garage-inflected “Avirex”).