Complex's 50 Best Albums of 2012

West Coast hip-hop elders like Snoop and Dre have virtually anointed Kendrick Lamar to carry on the legacy of gangsta rap. His second studio album *good kid, M.A.A.d city*, conceptual enough to be a rock opera, certainly uplifts the genre with its near-biblical themes: religion vs. violence and monogamy vs. lust. Verbally nimble, Lamar experiments with a variety of different lyrical styles, from the Bone Thugz-type of delivery on “Swimming Pools (Drank)” to the more straightforward orthodox G-funk flow on “m.A.A.d. City feat. MC Eiht.” Like prog rock, Lamar’s tracks have songs within songs—sudden tempo changes with alter egos and embedded interludes, such as unscripted recordings of his parents asking for their car back and neighborhood homies planning their latest conquest. These snippets pepper the album providing an anthropological glimpse into his life in Compton.

Stepping away from both the pop songwriting machine and his former crew Odd Future’s stoned anarchy, Frank Ocean guides us on a meandering but purposeful journey through his own vast mythological universe on his major-label debut. *Channel ORANGE* breezes from sepia-toned Stevie Wonder homage (“Sweet Life”) to the corrosive cosmic funk of “Pyramids,” which stretches from ancient pharaoh queens to 21st-century pimps. Rendered in pristine detail with calm, dazzled awe, even his most fantastical narratives feel somehow familiar—at once unprecedented and timeless.

© 2012 The Island Def Jam Music Group ℗ 2012 The Island Def Jam Music Group

Filled with torch songs influenced by hip-hop, Lana Del Rey wrote and recorded *Born to Die* in a chilling fashion. These noir-shaded numbers are mostly built on orchestral accouterments and subtle vocal samples. Del Rey’s husky narrative lingers like smoke clouds, leaving wafts of rhythmic phrasings delivered by an icy, heartbroken femme fatale.

On the acclaimed independent album that preceded his mainstream breakthrough, Quincy Hanley developed his gruff voice and reluctant gangsta persona with complex, emotionally ambivalent songs like “Sacrilegious.” Q and A$AP Rocky also establish what would be a fruitful chemistry on the hedonistic cult hit “Hands on the Wheel.”

An emcee/producer from Brownsville, Brooklyn, with a knack for contemplative verses and low-key, sample-driven beats, KA has been around for a while now. He got his start in the early \'90s as a member of the much-loved NYC underground crew Natural Elements, and he was also half of Nightbreed, best known for the 12-inch \"2 Roads Out the Ghetto.\" After disappearing into the shadows for years, he re-emerged in 2008 with the well-received self-released solo album *Iron Works*. Four years later, KA returns with *Grief Pedigree*, arguably his best work to date. Here he drops vividly lyrical descriptions of everyday life in BK, set to dusty, classic-style tracks that wouldn\'t sound out of place on an early Mobb Deep record. Dark and grimy yet undeniably soulful and compelling, this is ideal for anybody who longs for the days when New York rappers had no use for club jams, Auto-Tune, or techno beats. Check out \"Summer,\" \"Up Against Goliath,\" and \"Born King N.Y.\"

Recorded over three weeks in a darkened room, the third album from Canadian singer/producer Grimes, a.k.a. Claire Boucher, packs an idiosyncratic punch. At once grating and soothing, melodic and dissonant, *Visions* manages to sound like a pop record above all else, with contorted melodies that seep into your brain. Boucher tangles up her eerie falsetto with crackling beats and pinging synths, resulting in a gnarled amalgam of textures—electro-pop rendered as splatter art. It\'s fascinating and wholly original all the way through.

After two albums of harmony-heavy dream pop, Beach House continued its dazzling evolution with 2010‘s *Teen Dream*, which we named Best Alternative Album in iTunes Rewind. The ethereal, hypnotizing melodies are as gorgeous as ever on the duo’s forthcoming *Bloom*. From the jump, a sinewy guitar melody gets blanketed by blissful atmospheric mist on “Myth.” While *Teen Dream* introduced more complexity (which is echoed on the weightless, organic melodies floating from composition like “Troublemaker”), *Bloom*’s “On the Sea” proves that Beach House can also drop our jaws (and give us chills) with stripped-down, piano-driven journeys.

Bloom is the fourth full-length album by Baltimore-based Beach House. Like their previous releases (Beach House in 2006, Devotion in 2008, Teen Dream in 2010), it further develops their distinctive sound yet stands apart as a new piece of work. Bloom is meant to be experienced as an ALBUM, a singular, unified vision of the world. Though not stripped down, the many layers of Bloom are uncomplicated and meticulously constructed to ensure there is no waste. Bloom was recorded in 2011 at Sonic Ranch Studios in Tornillo, TX and mixed at Electric Lady in NYC. The band co-produced the record with Chris Coady.

*Beach House* takes all the darkest celebrations of trap rap—drugs, guns, sex—and filters them through the vulnerable croon of Ty Dolla $ign. The results are fantastic because of that juxtaposition. Even when Ty is exploring something sinister, his tone makes it impossible not to be drawn in. Produced by Ty’s constant partner DJ Mustard, “Paranoid” and “Or Nah” are no-brainers; with just the right mix of simplicity and eccentricity, these songs will still get play in 50 years. It\'s the slow, slippery “Work,” though, that is the album’s sleeper gem.

By the time the 2010s rolled around, Rihanna was on top of the world. With a handful of hit singles (including 2011’s “We Found Love”, which became her longest-running No. 1 song) and sold-out tours, there was no question that she was a certified pop phenomenon. But the higher her star ascended, the more powerful the microscope looking into her personal life became. Following criticism about her overtly sexual “bad gal” persona and brief reconnection with former flame Chris Brown, Rihanna audaciously brought all these thoughts forward with 2012’s aptly titled *Unapologetic*. Her seventh album is also her most underrated, as it showcases the complexities she was navigating in the public eye. There’s an iciness to the collection, from the production’s overall darker undertone to the intricate songwriting (the singer’s hesitation to peel back her layers is near tangible in her vocals), making it a more adult sequel of sorts to the personal diary that was 2009’s *Rated R*. Coming off singles-based albums like 2010’s *Loud* and 2011’s *Talk That Talk*, *Unapologetic* goes back to more sonic and lyrical cohesion. The *Unapologetic* era was anchored by vulnerability, with the No. 1 lead single “Diamonds” revealing a different side of Rihanna. Rather than choosing a fast-paced club anthem for the first single as she’s done with albums prior, she instead opted to slow the tempo. The choice was similar to the *Rated R* rollout (which was led by the melancholic ballad “Russian Roulette”) and displayed the artist’s growing maturity. Working with Sia for the first time, Rihanna brought her poetic lyrics to life with one of her strongest vocal performances to date. The overarching theme of “Diamonds” is wrapped in love, but Rihanna’s throaty, yearning timbre amps the song’s emotions. The album’s sombre nature continues with “Stay”, a piano-led duet with Mikky Ekko. The ballad and accompanying video find Rihanna stripped bare, revealing a raw tenderness as she begs her lover to not leave her side. *Unapologetic* is more introspective, with songs like “Love Without Tragedy/Mother Mary” detailing a self-awareness with her ever-growing celebrity influence: “Mother Mary, I swear I wanna change/Mister Jesus, I’d love to be a queen/But I’m from the left side of an island/Never thought this many people would even know my name.” The crashing ballad “What Now” finds her searching for answers as she tries to figure out what life path she should take, while the Chris Brown-assisted “Nobody’s Business” and deluxe track “Half of Me” reveal how fed up she is with the media’s perception. “You saw me on a television, hanging out my dirty linen,” she muses on the latter. “You’re entitled to your own opinion/Sit and shake your head at my decisions.” But *Unapologetic* is not all serious. Rihanna finds balance by doubling down on her “bad gal” persona, paired with a heightened version of her signature sex appeal. The hedonistic “Pour It Up” adds a strip-club banger to her party catalogue, and the fashion-forward “Phresh Out the Runway” highlights her edgy charm. What most people adore about Rihanna is how human she is, and *Unapologetic* captures that relatability. She’s not afraid to showcase her imperfections, making her one of music’s most humble divas.

With fizzled record deals and forced image makeovers in his past, a frustrated Miguel Jontel Pimentel took control of his career and creativity on *Kaleidoscope Dream*. As a result, his second album not only sounded utterly singular—a swirling, moody mix of hip-hop, rock, and psychedelic soul—but it also placed the Southern Californian singer in a vanguard of new artists redefining the idea of the male R&B star (see also Frank Ocean, the Weeknd). Though just as sex-obsessed as the smooth lovermen who came before him, Miguel here projects a far more fractured and colorful view of romance tinted by deep self-reflection, hallucinogenic augmentation, and spiritual yearning. All of which tracks for a guy who grew up idolizing artsy types like Prince, Bowie, and Hendrix, but whose voice happens to sound like crushed velvet. To that last point, there’s “Adorn,” a tribute to wholehearted love that evokes Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” and shows just how sweet a Miguel album of simple, throwback R&B would be. But *Kaleidoscope Dream* is not that album—and it’s better for it. The next song, “Don’t Look Back,” lays shuffling ’60s pop over throbbing electro-house as Miguel warns a partner to run before the moon turns him into a womanizing beast. And then comes “Use Me,” where, over a plush blanket of grinding guitar, he cops to being nervous in bed. Whether he’s likening coitus to ballet (“Arch & Point”) or vamping with Alicia Keys over a tumbling drum loop (“Where’s the Fun in Forever”), Miguel proves himself a thrillingly unpredictable host. It’s no wonder this breakthrough LP led to sonic trysts with artists as wide-ranging as Kendrick Lamar, the Chemical Brothers, and Beyoncé.

Take a cue from biting tracks like \"Pineal Gland\" and \"SOPA\"—rapper Ab-Soul is as clever as he is crass, as sharp as he is straight-forward. Indeed, *Control System* is the high-concept dramedy to the unflinching drama of fellow Black Hippy member Kendrick Lamar\'s *good kid, m.A.A.d city*. (The refrain from \"Mixed Emotions,\" for example, is \"Who got a Sprite?\") Ab\'s rhymes can be unapologetically out-there at times, such as when he\'s rapping about Sumerians or nodding to *Seinfeld* on \"Nothing\'s Something,\" a song about, well, nothing. But a heart beats resoundingly at the center of *Control System*. You hear it most affectingly on \"The Book of Soul,\" on which Ab mourns the suicide of ex-girlfriend Alori Joh; she guests on multiple tracks here.

At first blush, Mac DeMarco’s second album, released in 2012, is almost comically unassuming. For starters, it’s called *2*, which is the album-naming equivalent of referring to a pet as “Cat” or “Dog.” Then there’s the cover, which features a black-and-white snapshot of DeMarco, six-stringer close to his chest, flashing a toothy grin and a peace sign in a manner that brings to mind *Fast Times at Ridgemont High*’s chilled-out surfer-dude, Jeff Spicoli. And as for the music itself? Well, there are at least two songs about smoking cigarettes, while another one is simply called “Dreaming”—which, true to its title, sounds like someone lazily looking out the window during a hot summer day. (For what it’s worth, DeMarco has since claimed that most of the record was made while he was in just his underwear.) Of course, all of this plays into the deceptive brilliance of DeMarco’s entire deal: He looks and feels like *just some guy*—your good friend at the bar, maybe, or the lovable class clown from your childhood. And he’s content to let your assumptions take hold as he casually unspools warm, warped guitar baubles that possess a simple and deeply affecting tenderness—not unlike Paul McCartney’s solo work, or the reveries of indie-pop greats Felt. Released the same year as *Rock and Roll Night Club*—DeMarco’s shaggy, after-hours debut—*2* was an undeniable breakout moment for the Vancouver singer-songwriter, who would go on to become one of the 2010s’ biggest indie-rock stars. The album’s 11 songs possess a charming timelessness to them, like floating down a lazy river in a big inner tube. The lovely and romantic “My Kind of Woman” is the closest we’ll likely get to a modern indie-music standard, while the peppy beat and tangled guitars of “Freaking Out the Neighborhood” represents *2*’s most explicitly *rock* moment, as DeMarco offers a lyrical apologia to his assuredly weary mother: “I know it\'s no fun/When your first son/Gets up to no good.” Such a sentiment is key to understanding DeMarco’s appeal—and it sums up the essence of *2* as a whole: His goofball side may be endearing and immediately apparent, but the more he hangs around, the radiance of his sincerity grows brighter.

Talk about a teaser. Rather than follow the all-too-brief speaker-clobbering beats of last summer’s *Satin Panthers* EP with a proper full-length, Hudson Mohawke has taken a detour with the equally promising EP transmissions of *TNGHT*, by his duo of the same name. A sample-flinging standoff between the groove-riding Glaswegian and Montreal’s own rising bass cadet Lunice, it’s off to the races as soon as the snake-charmer shudder and shake of “Top Floor” slips into a puddle of liquefied low-end lashings and manic melodies. From that point on, *TNGHT* is a hands-in-the-air moment waiting to happen, whether it’s triggered by bleach-stomping breaks and breathless cheers (“Goooo”), bubble gun blasts and baby-dropping Aaliyah allusions (“Bugg’n”), or apocalyptic calliopes made from compressed chorus lines (“Easy Easy”). It’s controlled chaos at its best, really, and quite the palette cleanser for whatever Mohawke has on deck next.

There\'s not a whisper of second album jitters on this follow-up from fearsomely singular childhood friends Jamie Smith, Oliver Sim and Romy Madley Croft. But—while opener “Angel” plays like an even leaner take on their signature witching hour sound—there’s discernible evolution in all those sonic spaces. “Reunion” boasts the unexpected calypso of synthesized steelpan, and “Our Song” is a warped, strangely intimate duet that lets Madley Croft and Sim’s vocals intertwine like tangled limbs.

A teen rapper from Chicago\'s South Side, Chief Keef seemingly came out of nowhere in 2011, releasing the mixtapes *The Glory Road* and *Bang*. His track \"I Don\'t Like\" blew up locally and led to a Kanye remix that tremendously inflated his profile and earned him a deal with Interscope. With a rhyme style that could generously be described as basic, his over-the-top, super-violent, cash-obsessed songs have won him respect from youthful gangsta fanatics, as well as scorn from more established, nonconfrontational Chi-Town artists like Lupe Fiasco and Rhymefest. Ongoing legal issues and various online shenanigans have kept his name in the news. On *Finally Rich*, he presents us with a dozen bass-heavy tracks that focus on getting paid (\"Laughin\' to the Bank,\" \"Diamonds\"), staying lit (\"Hate Bein\' Sober\"), and living in the moment (the relentlessly catchy \"No Tomorrow\"). 

In 2009, Cleveland’s Dylan Baldi began writing and recording lo-fi power-pop songs in his parents’ basement, dubbing the project Cloud Nothings. His music quickly started making the Internet rounds, and fans and critics alike took note of his pithy songcraft, infectiously catchy melodies, and youthful enthusiasm. Baldi soon released a string of 7”s, a split cassette, and an EP before putting out "Turning On"—a compilation spanning about a year’s worth of work—on Carpark in 2010. January 2011 saw the release Cloud Nothings’ self-titled debut LP, which, put next to Turning On, found Baldi cleaning up his lo-fi aesthetic, pairing his tales of affinitive confusion with a more pristine aural clarity. In the interval since the release of Cloud Nothings, Baldi has toured widely and put a great deal of focus on his live show, a detail that heavily shapes the music of his follow-up album, "Attack on Memory." After playing the same sets nightly for months on end, Baldi saw the rigidity of his early work, and he wanted to create arrangements that would allow for more improvisation and variability when played on the road. To accomplish this desired malleability, the entire band decamped to Chicago—where the album was recorded with Steve Albini—and all lent a hand in the songwriting process. The product of these sessions is a record boasting features that, even at a glance, mark a sea change in the band’s sound: higher fidelity, a track clocking in at almost nine minutes, an instrumental, and an overall more plaintive air. The songs move along fluidly, and Baldi sounds assured as he brings his vocals up in the mix, allowing himself to hold out long notes and put some grain into his voice. Minor key melodies abound, drums emphatically contribute much more than mere timekeeping, and the guitar work is much more adventurous than that of previous releases. For all of early Cloud Nothings’ fun and fervor, Baldi admits that it never sounded like most of the music he listens to. With "Attack on Memory," he wanted to remedy this anomaly, and in setting out to do so, Baldi and co. have created an album that shows vast growth in a still very young band.

Australian musician Kevin Parker is a bit of a musical savant. Although Tame Impala tours as a band, the group\'s psychedelic trip-pop is pretty much due to Parker\'s writing, playing, and even producing. Parker sidekick and collaborator Jay Watson shares songwriting credit this time around, notably on two standout tracks: \"Elephant\" (an impossibly delectable blend of Sabbath stomp and Syd Barrett trippy-ness) and \"Apocalypse Dreams\" (a gorgeous, chameleonic tune that reflects Parker\'s noted influence, Todd Rundgren). And though it\'s hard to hear the opening \"Be Above It\" or \"Mind Mischief\" without detecting some *Revolver*- and *Sgt. Pepper\'s*–era Beatles in the songs\' DNA, *Lonerism* is loaded with more synthesizers and ambient sounds than guitars. It\'s definitely a more pop-oriented album than the crunchy *Innerspeaker*, and it reveals another compelling side to Tame Impala. (Check out Watson\'s other band POND, and its LP *Beard, Wives, Denim*, for another dose of satisfying psych-rock.)

Joey Bada\$$\'s breakout debut *1999*, initially released in 2012 as a free mixtape, reveals the then-17-year-old as a true rap prodigy. Over jazzy production from his PRO ERA crew and repurposed beats from MF DOOM, Lord Finesse, and the late J Dilla, Bada\$$ delivers couplets with fervor, confidence, and a clear intent to impress—the same way he would have at his Brooklyn high school’s lunch table. Young Joey favors a vintage New York boom-bap aesthetic far beyond his years, forged by influences like Boot Camp Clik, Wu-Tang Clan, and Nas. The album\'s official release here, six years later, is as much a testament to its staying power as to the timeless sound of Joey Bada\$$\'s forefathers.

*Local Business*’s opening lyrics are: “Okay, I think by now we’ve established that everything is inherently worthless, and there’s nothing in the universe with any kind of objective purpose.” It’s grim to read, but when performed it sounds like life-affirming rock \'n\' roll meant to crush such existential dread. Patrick Stickles has a lot to say, and he’s not afraid to bare his own insecurities and personal frustrations while he’s at it. Eating disorders, consumerism, nihilism, and the absurdities of human nature are explored from various angles. Yet Stickles can pull it off and make his point of view thought-provoking, relatable, and even funny due to his odd mix of hopelessness and lust for life. *Local Business*, Titus Andronicus\' third full-length, isn\'t a concept album like the Civil War–themed *The Monitor*, but it\'s ambitious in its own right. Rather than featuring a large group of revolving musicians as before, here the band is stripped down to five members: three ragged, crunching guitars and a steady drum-and-bass rhythm section. The sound is tightened up and tough, with fist-pumping choruses and sharp tempo breaks. This is workingman’s punk delivered with a jolt.

Now here is some amusing, candy-coated anarchy. For the blown-out punk-rap act’s second record and (somehow!) their major-label debut, Death Grips fuse abrasive techno with shouted and amped-up hip-hop and crazed distorted backing loops. The Sacramento, Calif.–based group brings together producer Zach Hill of the avant-metal act Hella with vocalist Stefan Burnett and coproducer Andy Morin. Lyrically, there’s a bit of the Rage Against the Machine problem at work here. Songs like “I’ve Seen Footage” and “Get Got” icily remark on the proliferation of violence and the way it desensitizes youth. It’s also easy to see how desensitized youth would just think it’s cool. Two of the least venerated forms of the \'90s—electroclash and digital hardcore—are resuscitated in a way that will cause parents the world over to politely ask that that music be turned down. Yet it\'s undeniably good—always layered and frequently strange.

On Dirty Projectors sixth album, Swing Lo Magellan, songwriter and leader David Longstreth shows he really doesn't know how to do the same thing twice. Where prior Dirty Projectors albums investigated 20th-century orchestration, west African guitar music and complex contrapuntal techniques in human voices, Swing Lo Magellan is a leap forward again. It's an album of songs, an album of songwriting. Swing Lo Magellan has both the handmade intimacy of a love letter and the widescreen grandeur of a blockbuster, and if that sounds like a paradox -- it's because it was until now.

Arguably the biggest West Coast rap superstar since Snoop and Tupac, Game hit the scene like a 10-megaton bomb with his 2005 debut album, *The Documentary*. Originally down with G Unit (which was absolutely running things at the time) and mentored by Dr. Dre (after some early work with Bay Area legend J.T. the Bigga Figga), he was hailed as the new voice of the California streets. Fast-forward seven years, with the industry dramatically changed. Yet Game is still huge, with millions of units sold, a clutch of awards, and his own reality show. *Jesus Piece* is his fifth full-length. It\'s definitely a family affair, with high-profile features from just about everyone in hip-hop, including Rick Ross, 2 Chainz, Lil Wayne, Kendrick Lamar, Wiz Khalifa, J. Cole, Kanye, Common, Meek Mill, Chris Brown, and Jamie Foxx. The slow-to-midtempo production (from Cool & Dre, Boi-1da, and Jake One, among others) lends a reflective vibe, as Game and friends sound off on the usual topics. There are plenty of great tracks here, especially \"All That (Lady),\" \"Can\'t Get Right,\" \"Celebration,\" and \"Blood Diamonds.\"

*Home Again* is the accomplished debut by Londoner Michael Kiwanuka. Lush and mellow, the album blends acoustic folk and retro soul with jazzy embellishments. It’s an easy album to get into. The first track, “Tell Me a Tale,” opens with a brisk flurry of notes from a flute before acoustic guitar, bass, piano, and drums fall in. By the time Kiwanuka’s smooth, honey-rich voice rings out, you’re hooked. Joining later are horns, organ, and strings, making an organic template that’s used for the rest of the recording. Each song is well-crafted and carefully arranged, and they sound familiar and fresh all at once. “Bones” is a clever cross between countrypolitan and doo-wop. “Always Waiting” and “I Won’t Lie” are densely textured ballads, while “Rest” and the title track are sophisticated, laid-back pop tunes that would have worked on AM radio in the \'70s and certainly work now. Even songs with world-weary lyrics, such as “Worry Walks Beside Me,” come across as more redemptive than downer thanks to the melody\'s easy flow. *Home Again* is a strong debut from an undeniable talent.

When Norah Jones began covering Wilco’s “Jesus, Etc.” live, it was a signpost: just as “America’s greatest band” has transformed from alternative country heroes to renowned rock experimentalists, so too has the singer/songwriter morphed from piano-based acoustic jazz/folk crooner to guitar-playing alternative pop vocalist. On her fifth album, she cowrote songs with Brian “Danger Mouse” Burton, who produced the sessions at his Los Angeles studio. Having first worked together on *Rome* (his and Daniele Luppi’s ode to Italian cinematic music), Jones and Burton recorded all the vocal and instrumental tracks themselves before bringing in supplemental musicians like drummer Joey Waronker (Beck, Air) and Sonus Quartet. From the hypnotically unsettling “Good Morning” to the plaintive single “Happy Pills” and the blissfully hazy “All a Dream,” *Little Broken Hearts* is a new type of chillout album for an artist previously known for her warm, comforting sounds.