Passion of the Weiss' Top 50 Albums of 2014

One famous Oscar Wilde aphorism claimed: "if you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise, they'll kill you." Open Mike Eagle lacks the capacity to tell anything but the truth. In a nation that prizes self-aggrandizing buffoons and artful liars, morbid humor might be the sanest response-a tourniquet to stop the toxicity from spreading. If this sounds heavy, it's probably because it is. Dark Comedy, the Mello Music debut from the critically revered Los Angeles rapper, is mostly about the failure of Karl Marx's Proletariat Revolution. Yet its brilliance stems less from the novelty of its ideas than from the ingenuity of its wordplay, its caustic whimsy, and infectious melodies. Opening track "Dark Comedy Morning Show" operates as a shorthand manifesto. For those who haven't heard, Eagle's bad at sarcasm, so he works in absurdity (when trying not to wish death on the upper class). The airing of grievances includes racial stereotypes, inner-city warfare and Facebook logging all of his favorite sandwiches. It's Slug's "Modern Man's Hustle" if the Atmosophere frontman had been haunted by James Baldwin's ghost instead of heavily tattooed exes. Lead single "Qualifiers" finds Eagle subverting the notions of traditional rap braggadocio and lyrical terrain. His revolution isn't just some abstract political ideals, but at the crux of his approach to art. This is intended to dump Coconut Water and whiskey on the unsuspecting heads of those with false ideas of authenticity or what rap should be. Lest you mistake him for a meditating yoga-panted rapper, the rapper raised on the Southside of Chicago, wields wordplay as sharp and weird as any of his peers. He proclaims himself "the King of all rappers who don't condone date rape." Molotov Cocktails are helpfully tossed from fellow conspirators Kool AD and comedian, Hannibal Burress. Former hockey star Luc Robataille is rhymed with the Kobra Kai Dojo from Karate Kid. In the same breath, Eagle cracks about being too old to die. It's absurdity in the sense that Joseph Heller deployed it in Catch 22. He will live forever or die in the attempt. If you're just tuning into Eagle's stellar career on album number four, the LA Weekly anointed him last year as the hottest thing in indie rap. Pitchfork called him a "whiz with matching easy-going hooks to intimate personal reflection." But Dark Comedy could be the best thing he's ever done-a record that captures the perennial struggle between art and commerce, the last half-century of widening class rift, and the need to be funny or die.

Following the liquid beats of his 2010 breakout, *Swim*, Caribou’s Dan Snaith has fallen further in love with the dance floor. In his entrancing follow-up, *Our Love*, Snaith blends house, hip-hop, garage, and vintage soul. On “Can’t Do Without You,” Snaith flips a slowed-down soul sample into a vocal mantra that eventually bursts amidst rave-ready synths, while on late highlight “Mars,” he mixes intricate drum patterns, hip-hop samples, and one very nimble flute melody.

At first glance, the pairing of producer Madlib and rapper Freddie Gibbs seems unlikely. The former is the ultimate crate-digger, known as much for his reclusive tendencies as his endless collection of obscure soul, jazz, rock, and other musical ephemera; the latter is a street-hardened former dealer who rhymes about the perils of the dope game. But they say opposites attract, and in this case their two aesthetics complement one another. Gibbs is a nimble, gifted rapper, his syllables quick-stepping around Madlib\'s many twists and turns, from the grainy \'70s soul-funk of \"Scarface\" to the half-time disco of \"Harold\'s\" to the hazy West Coast G-funk of \"Thuggin.\" The duo\'s credentials are strong enough to pull some of hip-hop\'s finest into their orbit: oddball Danny Brown contributes a verse to the squirming \"High,\" while the crews from The Wu-Tang Clan, Top Dog Entertainment, and Odd Future are all represented (via cameos from Raekwon, Ab Soul, and Earl Sweatshirt, respectively). As a final shot of gravitas, Scarface drops a verse on \"Broken.\" It\'s a deserved blessing from one of hip-hop\'s finest MCs to one of its most unlikely but successful pairings.

FKA twigs’ first full-length album brims with spartan, icy songs that whisk between distorted R&B and ethereal pop. While twigs’ pristine vocals and sensual lyrics are the cornerstone, *LP1* showcases the kind of confident production and instrumentation that play easily alongside celebrated pop minimalists like James Blake. Album highlight “Pendulum\" sees FKA twigs dabbling in manipulated vocals, as wavering guitars and electric drums stutter-step intoxicatingly, while “Video Girl” finds her melodic falsetto fluttering over churning, wobbling synths and creaking percussion.

Hailing from Chattanooga, Tenn., emcee Isaiah Rashad is the odd man out among the mostly West Coast Top Dawg label roster, which includes Kendrick Lamar, Schoolboy Q, Jay Rock and Ab-Soul. But other than his hometown, he fits right in: his prodigious understanding of hip-hop history is evident on tracks like “R.I.P. Kevin Miller” and “Brad Jordan”, the former a tribute to Master P’s murdered brother, the latter an ode to seminal Houston rapper Scarface. The album boasts a motley crew of producers, most of them newcomers as well; they have Black Hippy’s soul-funk aesthetic down pat, and Rashad’s rhymes explore the tension between hip-hop’s grown-man stoicism and the anxieties that accompany life’s many crossroads. Best of all, the guy can rap, with his dexterous flow flitting its way between somnolent jazz samples and skittering rhythms. From the melancholy soul-searching of “Tranquility” to the confident g-funk of the title track, *Cilvia Demo* is an ambitious, honest and unforgettable debut.

"It's after the end of the world, don't you know that yet..." With recent reports from various think tanks predicting we have somewhere in the range of 15 years left before the collapse of society begins, it would seem like Kevin Martin's sonic predictions of dystopian London that were set out on 2008's London Zoo were pretty accurate. And if we are in fact declining rapidly to chaos, there's no better time then the present to take the focus of that sonic assault from earthly domains and blast it to the netherworlds above and below. The aforementioned London Zoo is where Kevin Martin, found his true voice. Pulling the fringes into a collective, unilaterally hateful assault. A psychological warfare driven by bass that on one hand captured a moment of London, yet also encapsulated a global message influenced by years of timeless and classic out-music. The latest offering from the The Bug, Angels & Devils, escapes the London cage, drawing on it for influence yet blowing it up into a world-view now seen from Kevin Martin's new Berlin home. A record that simultaneously draws on London Zoo, completes a triptych cycle which started with his Bug debut Pressure, and fills the spaces between and inserts what was missing previously. Both a year zero re-set and a continuation of what has been. Like the Bowie/Eno classic Low, or Can's Tago Mago, the album is split into two distinct themes and explorations of light & dark. Bringing the angel & devil voices together under a single common banner. Antagonist at times, but not solely for the sake of being antagonistic, there's a beauty and lush sparseness to be found within, even when at its most chaotic. Truly only The Bug could find the common ground between Liz Harris (of Grouper) & Death Grips and make it seamless. Angels & Devils stretches the polarity of its predecessor in both directions simultaneously and is even more extreme for its new found seductiveness and added intensity. Deep space is explored, and physical assault is administered. In these days of YouTube quick fixes, and single tune memory spans, its a joy to witness Martin actually charting a cohesive narrative that rejoices in celebrating life through sonic sex and violence, beauty and ugliness. This is an audio thriller that delights in pursuing its own singular path/vision. With the Angel side(s) up first, things kick off with Liz Harris (of Grouper) in the submerged lushness that is "Void". Followed by contributions from ex Hype Wiliams half copeland ('Fall'), the blissed out patois of touring partner Miss Red (Mi Lost), two truly zoned Bug instrumentals, and rounded out by Gonjasufi on "Save Me". It's a collection of heady, dubbed out cinematic blissfulness with a lurking darkness before giving way to devils... Devils leads off with the return of long time collaborator Flowdan on the mic and the guitar of Justin Broadrick (Godflesh / Jesu) bringing a complete about face to the proceedings and setting the tone with "The One". Roll Deep's Manga steps up next with the instant Bug classic "Function", which is being currently smashed on dubplate, by Mala, Kahn and Logan Sama. Death Grips raise the antagonistic bar with Fuck A Bitch. Flowdan & Justin Broadrick come back for the cinematic death crawl of Fat Mac. Warrior Queen steps in for hands down the nastiest vocal she's ever delivered (which is saying a lot) for "Fuck You", and finally Flowdan steps up again to round it all off with a Devils battle cry of sorts "dirty, fuck that murky...". The concept is completed by the artistic expression it's packaged in, courtesy of Simon Fowler (Cataract). Known for his work for Sunn O))), Earth, and others, Simon has delivered a stunning hand drawn illustration, that sort that would make Bosch proud, showing the duality of the proceedings. Not one to ease anybody into the proceedings, first out the gate for first listen will be a California combo, misanthropes Death Grips with their first ever outside collaboration "Fuck A Bitch", and and the Warp Records mystic Gonjasufi with the heavy nod-out of "Save Me" Utopian/dystopian, black/white, complexity/singularity, negative/positive... Angels/Devils.

The hip-hop industry is largely powered by bluster and bravado, which is why the matter-of-factness of *Hell Can Wait* is so compelling. Often, rappers as intelligent as Vince Staples treat their audience with a high level of sanctimony and condescension. Staples has a ferocious intellect, but he shows absolutely no interest in preaching. *Hell Can Wait* is about how he loves gangsta culture and hates it; how he loves hip-hop and loathes it; and how he\'s proud of his roots but disgusted. He speaks the truth—not only the sensationalistic details but the unbearable contradictions.

Though beset by label delays and Twitter squabbles, no amount of innuendo could stymie the vividly original debut by Harlem pop iconoclast Azealia Banks. The snaking electro-house breakout \"212\" remains essential listening, flanked by a kaleidoscopic mélange of Latin, funk, trap, and hip-hop: forget naming styles, they\'re all here. Rapping and singing with equal aplomb, Banks anchors the spooky U.K. garage of \"Desperado\" as ably as she does the industrial skronk of \"Yung Rapunxel\" (the conflation of \"rap\" and \"punk\" there is no accident). The Ariel Pink collaboration \"Nude Beach A-Go-Go,\" with its echoes of Gidget and \'50s pop, is positively flummoxing in the best way.

Kevin Gates holds nothing back on *By Any Means*, a mixtape released just as the Louisiana rapper was becoming a national star. Backed by dense, thunderous trap beats and horror-movie piano lines, Gates tackles subject matter that most MCs would leave untouched. \"Posed To Be In Love\" paints a disturbing portrait of a man being left by his girlfriend, while \"Wish I Had It\" zooms out, the rapper juggling flows as he narrates a tour of an impoverished \"different city within the city.\"

With 17 songs and over an hour of music, *Pom Pom* reminds us of the daring experiments from Ariel Pink\'s formative DIY releases. But the eclectic songwriting, turn-on-a-dime influences and lush production demonstrate just how much the California musician has evolved. Sure, the album is all over the place—we’re warmed by the ‘60s-influenced pop sunshine of “Plastic Raincoats in the Pig Parade” one moment and tangled in the knotty guitars of \"White Freckles” the next. But the everything-at-once aesthetic is held together by an undercurrent of electro melancholy that’s most evident on icy, synth-based tracks like \"Picture Me Gone” and the ultra-poised “Lipstick\". As the mosaic ends with the bittersweet shimmer of “Dayzed Inn Daydreams”, *Pom Pom*’s kaleidoscopic beauty leaves our head spinning.

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Avant-hip-hoppers Shabazz Palaces finally let it be known that they\'re the master duo of former Digable Planets member Butterfly (now known as Palaceer Lazaro) and instrumentalist Tendai “Baba” Maraire. After the critical success of their debut, *Black Up*, it’s likely the follow-up, *Lese Majesty*, will draw even more critical and commercial interest. The sounds themselves are low-key, letting the various instrumental patches respond to one another or enhance the atmospherics. Maraire excels at minimalism and texture, creating a complete track with the least amount of ingredients and thriving on providing seamless interludes. Lazaro provides a variety of vocals that shift from philosophical quips to word-associated ramblings where seriousness and clever thinking often work together. “Dawn in Luxor,” “Forerunner Foray,” and “They Come in Gold” form an intense opening trilogy, while “Motion Sickness,” “New Black Wave,” and “Sonic MythMap for the Trip Back” close the album with a similar focus.

'Lese Majesty' is the follow up album to 2011's 'Black Up' by Shabazz Palaces.

Mr. Mitch is one of a small group of producers who in the last few years have been re-imagining the decade-old genre of Grime. Miles Mitchell, a 26 year-old South East Londoner, started his own Gobstopper label back in 2010 after having his debut release on Butterz. Last year he started the flourishing Boxed 'Instrumental Grime' night alongside producers Slackk, Logos and Oil Gang. For Mr. Mitch, Grime has "…always been an experimental and progressive genre, taking elements of what came before it and pushing those boundaries to create something new". His debut album is called 'Parallel Memories' and Miles has an intriguing story that explains that title. When listening to his tracks, he sees the same vivid scenes in his head each time he replays the music, often repeated snapshots of his life in various impossible scenarios or distorted situations. This made him think "What if the images I'm seeing are memories from an alternative version of me in a parallel dimension?" A question which reflects his vision of Grime too, as his instrumentals are informed by a quite personal and emotive alter-life, where Grime's famous minimalism gives way to a gentle subtlety and is imbued with a very different feeling to the brash aggression associated with the genre. The album intro 'Afternoon After' is the bleary-eyed sound of the club the night before, broken down into swirling child-like synth melodies, coiling over flattened, but airy kick drums. 'The Night' follows, sounding like something Boards Of Canada might do if they came from S.E. London, its gorgeous flute melodies opening up gracefully over minimal rhythms and shifting static tones. 'Intense Faces' marks a shift in the energy to bassline, synth swoops and sharp claps, a child-like bleep tune playing out over the top. 'Don't Leave' switches the mood to one of sadness, its rising chords evolving over a repeated, slowed-down acapella. Elsewhere 'Sweet Boy Code', a collaboration with fellow Gobstopper artist Dark0, lets spacey kicks propel its gentle relaxed melodies over airy sampled vocals. The midpoint track 'Wandering Glaciers' twists Grime into what sounds like a tense piece of early electronica. Meanwhile 'Bullion' chops up a lumbering sample that sound like a marauding giant. The album finishes on 'Hot Air', with its drum pattern sounding like a slow heart beat and strange, backwards synths, it feels like a voyage around a body. This is an album that deserves to find an audience who are willing to go on a journey into new areas with Grime.

A sonic collage artist with a great sense of flow, Flying Lotus (real name Steven Ellison) is the king of instrumental hip-hop. *You’re Dead*, a shape-shifting album with a sense of story, is best listened to from beginning to end. Virtuoso electric bassist and vocalist Thundercat cowrote several tracks. Pianist Herbie Hancock, rappers Kendrick Lamar and Snoop Dogg, violinist/arranger Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, singer Angel Deradoorian (who’s worked with The Dirty Projectors), and others also contribute to this expansive effort. Jazz, prog-rock, fusion, funk, and other elements are bent and stretched; the intriguing result dissolves genre borders.

BADBADNOTGOOD is a young supremely talented trio of musicians made up of Matthew Tavares on keys, Chester Hansen on bass, and Alex Sowinski on drums. Since their inception at Humber College’s Music Performance program in 2011, the three have challenged the rule book on improvised instrumental music and taken jazz tradition into the future. With early champions including acclaimed BBC broadcaster Gilles Peterson and Tyler The Creator who helped fuel their discovery with a series of live jams that instantly went viral and dubbed them the “Odd Trio”, the band released their first EP BBNG in June 2011 to wide praise. The marriage of jazz virtuosity and hip hop source material offered a fresh take on the traditional “standard” applied to hip hop classics by taking on choice cuts from the golden era rap cannon and writing inspired arrangements for them instead of one-dimensional covers. The band hit a landmark by introducing original material into their composi- tions with BBNG2 in 2012. New songs like “Rotten Decay”, “Vices” or “UWM” carried on the proud heritage of musical juxtaposition by bringing together jazz, hip hop, punk, and dance music into vigorous balance. Since then, they’ve won praise from the four corners of the globe and collaborated with Frank Ocean, Earl Sweatshirt, MF Doom, Pharaoh Monch and RZA among many. Their no- torious live performances have brought fans across the whole musical spectrum together, taking the band around the world from Coachella to Glastonbury. Now, the inseparable friends are prepping to release their biggest project to date III on prodigious young label Innovative Leisure, a highly-anticipated project ushering in the group’s newest explorations which are proving to be limitless.

Singer/songwriter/guitar-shredder Annie Clark\'s fourth studio album as St. Vincent is, simply, her best yet. While her catalog is full of twists and turns, including 2013 David Byrne collaboration *Love This Giant*, this self-titled release is both audacious *and* accessible, a canny balancing of Clark\'s experimental leanings with her pop sensibility. Amid a flurry of sonic textures ranging from the clamoring horn section of \"Digital Witness\" to the subdued balladry of \"Prince Johnny,\" Clark critiques our technology-obsessed culture (\"Huey Newton\"), satirizes suburban ennui (\"Birth in Reverse\"), and shares about her love for her mother (\"I Prefer Your Love\"). Her anxieties laid bare, the songwriter asserts herself via pyrotechnic guitar riffs, rhythmic somersaults, and a wayfaring vocal range, resulting in a vertiginous set that\'s as dizzying as it is captivating.

*Incarcerated* dropped while Boosie Badazz (né Lil Boosie) was serving an eight-year bid on drug charges—but it did increase demand for it. While technically a mixtape, *Life After Death Row* is the first set the Southern rap legend has put out since his March 2014 release. Boosie raps about the degradations of time served and the revelations of freedom, outlining his murder charges on the opener. That\'s followed by a string of songs about reuniting with the opposite sex, including \"Facetime\" featuring Trey Songz. Designed to pacify fans eagerly awaiting Boosie\'s new studio album, *Death Row* is a welcome reintroduction to one of rap\'s biggest talents.

Having won the heavy hearts and minds of indie rock\'s cognoscenti with their 2009 debut, *The Fool*, the L.A. quartet Warpaint set their sites higher on this self-titled follow-up. Here, they enlist veteran producer Flood (U2, PJ Harvey) to help them beef up their sensual and spooky postpunk. The band decamped to Joshua Tree to write the album, and the eerie desolation of the California desert haunts the tracks accordingly. The serpentine \"Keep It Healthy\" features fidgety guitar riffs atop the group\'s lockstep rhythm section of bassist Jenny Lee Lindberg and drummer Stella Mozgawa, while \"Teese\" layers Emily Kokal\'s hushed vocals over a creeping beat and atmospheric synths. The single \"Love Is to Die\" is a gauzy midtempo song with a persistent beat, over which Kokal incants a subtly catchy hook: \"Love is to die/Love is to not die/Love is to dance.\"

Despite his reputation as something of a hard-partying rock prankster (not many musicians play a guitar customized with an old beer bottle cap), Mac DeMarco, on record at least, has always been a hopeless romantic. And here, on his second album, the Canadian singer/songwriter effectively leans into loverman mode (just see “Let My Baby Stay”). But “Passing Out Pieces” is a particular marvel: Cast in cloudy synths and dark humor, it’s the sound of slacker rock’s clown prince getting serious.

“As I’m getting older, chip up on my shoulder…” is the opening line from Mac DeMarco’s second full-length LP ‘Salad Days,’ the follow up to 2012’s lauded ‘Mac DeMarco 2.’ Amongst that familiar croon and lilting guitar, that initial line from the title track sets the tone for an LP of a maturing singer/songwriter/producer. Someone strangely self-aware of the positives and negatives of their current situation at the ripe old age of 23. Written and recorded around a relentless tour schedule (which picked up all over again as soon as the LP was done), ‘Salad Days’ gives the listener a very personal insight into what it’s all about to be Mac amidst the craziness of a rising career in a very public format. The lead single, “Passing Out Pieces,” set to huge overdriven organ chords, contains lines like “…never been reluctant to share, passing out pieces of me…” Clearly, Salad Days isn’t the same record that breezily gave us “Dreamin,” and “Ode to Viceroy,” but the result of what comes from their success. “Chamber of Reflection,” a track featuring icy synth stabs and soulful crooning, wouldn’t be out of place on a fantasy Shuggie Otis and Prince collaboration. Standout tracks like these show Mac’s widening sound, whether insights into future directions or even just welcome one-off forays into new territory. Still, this is musically, lyrically and melodically good old Mac DeMarco, through and through. The same crisp John Lennon / Phil Spector era homegrown lush production that could have walked out of Geoff Emerick’s mixing board in 1972, but with that peculiar Mac touch that’s completely of right now. “Brother,” a complete future classic, is Mac at his most soulful and easygoing but with that distinct weirdness and bite that can only come from Mr. DeMarco.“Treat Her Better” is rife with “Mac-isms,” heavily chorused slinky lead guitar, swooning vocal melodies, effortless chords that come along only after years of effort, and the other elements seriously lacking in independent music: sentiment and heartfelt sincerity. We’re only at Part 2 and 1/2 (one EP and two LP’s in) into Mac’s career.

On his first mixtape, Chicago rapper G Herbo eschews the heavy percussion of Chicago drill. Instead he floats on soulful sounds, like the chopped-up sample that forms the beat of “Fight or Flight” or the sped-up Stylistics loop that drives the somber and touching “Write Your Name.” At its core, the album is massively heartfelt, most notably when Herbo finds his way back to his family, like on “Momma I’m Sorry.”

On his first album in 13 years, Richard D. James, the godfather of cerebral electronic music, is in top form. This isn\'t a comeback, nor a departure of any kind: *Syro* sounds like highly concentrated, classic Aphex Twin, a singular aesthetic that dates all the way back to 1982: beat patterns wiggle into the foreground, then disappear; analog synths snap, crackle and pop; moods vacillate between aggressively percussive and smoothly melodic. These tracks – they work together like one long set -- demand to be listened to with excellent headphones, the better to discern their highly intricate sequencing, arguably some of James\' most ambitious. Each tune is teeming with juicy noise, all of it gleefully arranged. What comes through most is joy: it sounds like James is having so much fun. 

Parquet Courts’ highly flammable third album clinches their place as one of the best—and smartest—rock bands of the post-grunge era. They\'re capable of mixing psychedelic looseness with the muscle of hardcore (“Sunbathing Animal”), odd post-punk experiments (“Vienna II”) with rambling, romantic ballads (“Instant Disassembly”), blues with Black Flag (“Ducking & Dodging”), and poetic visions with moments of hilarious plain-spokenness (“Whoever she might be going to bed with/You can read about that in her Moleskine,” goes a line on “Dear Ramona”). Students of history without being beholden to it, the band manages to synthesize about 70 years of guitar music into a strange, lopsided groove all their own.

The year and change since the release of Parquet Courts monumental Light Up Gold is reflected in ways expected and not with Sunbathing Animal, its sharper, harder follow up. Light Up Gold caught the ears of everyone paying even a little bit of attention, garnering glowing reviews across the board for its weird colors and raw energy, saturated punk songs that offered crystal clear lyrical snapshots of city life. It was immediately memorable, a vivid portrait of ragged days, listlessness, aimlessness and urgency, broadcast with the intimacy of hearing a stranger's thoughts as you passed them on the street. As it goes with these things, the band went on tour for a short eternity, spending most of 2013 on the road, their sound growing more direct in the process and their observations expanding beyond life at home. Constant touring was broken up by three recording sessions that would make up the new album, and the time spent in transit comes through in repeated lyrical themes of displacement, doubt and situational captivity. To be sure, Sunbathing Animal isn't a record about hopelessness, as any sort of incarceration implies an understanding of freedom and peace of mind. Fleeting moments of bliss are also captured in its grooves, and extended at length as if to preserve them. Pointed articulations of these ideas are heard as schizoid blues rants, shrill guitar leads, purposefully lengthy repetition and controlled explosions, reaching their peak on the blistering title track. A propulsive projection of how people might play the blues 300 years from now, "Sunbathing Animal" is a roller coaster you can't get off, moving far too fast and looping into eternity. Much as Light Up Gold and the subsequent EP Tally All The Things That You Broke offered a uniquely tattered perspective on everyday city life, Sunbathing Animal applies the same layered thoughts and sprawling noise to more cerebral, inward- looking themes. While heightened in its heaviness and mania, the album also represents a huge leap forward in terms of songwriting and vision. Still rooted firmly in the unshackled exploration and bombastic playing of their earlier work,everything here is amplified in its lucidity and intent. The songs wander through threads of blurry brilliance, exhaustion and fury at the hilt of every note. Parquet Courts remain, Austin Brown, A. Savage, Sean Yeaton, and M. Savage.

Amen Dunes is the work of Brooklyn-based musician Damon McMahon. Though his previous albums have been largely solo performances, *Love* is produced by Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s Dave Bryant and Efrim Menuck and features the additional support of some longtime friends—drummer Parker Kindred and Jordi Wheeler on guitar and piano—along with Colin Stetson on sax and occasional vocals from Iceage’s Elias Bender Ronnenfelt (on “Lonely Richard” and “Green Eyes”). The nearest comparison might be Bonnie \"Prince\" Billy, who often works a similarly obscure method to get the desired recording effect. “Everybody Is Crazy,” in particular, sounds like a gorgeous lost BPB track. “I Can’t Dig It” uses a deliberately lo-fi approach and sounds like a bootleg recording of a band playing in a cavernous hall. The remaining songs settle into a modest, mystical tone, with the piano-based “Sixteen” sounding as wired as Daniel Johnston and the acoustic “I Know Myself” offering a calmer view.

Following in the footsteps of fellow Black Hippy member Kendrick Lamar, ScHoolboy Q makes his major-label debut with *Oxymoron*, an album as thematically ambitious and sonically adventurous as Lamar\'s celebrated *good kid, m.A.A.d city*. Detailing Q\'s days as a drug dealer, hustler, and father, the record doesn\'t just open a vein; it practically bleeds to death, as on the album centerpiece \"Prescription/Oxymoron,\" a menacing track about the litany of bad vibes caused by drug use: \"I cry when nothing\'s wrong.\" Not that *Oxymoron* is a downer–far from it. \"Collard Greens\" is addictively rambunctious, daring listeners to not bounce with its circular bassline and jittery beat. And Q\'s flow is a thing to behold. He snarls, wheezes, croons, coos, barks, and caws, playing the lascivious lothario on \"The Studio,\" the boisterous party-starter on \"Man of the Year,\" and the unapologetic recidivist on, well, pretty much on every track. Indeed, Q more than lives up to his rep as Black Hippy\'s unhinged id.

Get the limited edition vinyl over at the Backwoodz Studioz website!! billy woods and Elucid are Armand Hammer, the NYC rap duo whose 2013 debut, RACE MUSIC, made waves with its blend of aggressive, experimental production and uncompromising lyrics. Their new EP, Furtive Movements, is both a continuation of, and departure from, their previous work. Fragmented musings of an imagined diaspora. Brooklyn bullshit in the shadow of construction scaffolding. Summer’s dog days set to the hiss of dusty vinyl. Drums wobbling drunkenly over ethereal loops. Elucid and woods hold down the lyrics with only one guest, the effusive Curly Castro, but Furtive Movements features an array of production from Blockhead (Aesop Rock, Ninja Tune), Von Pea (Tanya Morgan), Messiah Musik, Steel Tipped Dove and Elucid himself. This is not an addendum to RACE MUSIC but a fully realized project in its own right with its own distinct aesthetic, mood and perspective. The EP will be available digitally and limited-edition colored vinyl (transparent orange).

If Riff Raff didn\'t exist, pop culture would have to invent him. Gleefully tipping hip-hop\'s sacred cows, he\'s as much a meme as a musician and equally talented at being both. On his official debut, *Neon Icon*, he pours salt on everyone\'s game (even his own), chopping up styles like an Iron Chef. \"Introducing the Icon\" sounds like Run-DMC, while \"Kokayne\" is built around an electric guitar riff and a punk beat. There\'s slinking trap throughout, but \"Time\" is a curiously fluid slow jam. Much of the record scans as an inside joke: What\'s an \"Aquaberry Dolphin\"? Or a \"Versace Python\"? Through it all, Riff dares you to take him seriously: \"When I wake up, it\'s a mystery/Every time I open my mouth? History.\"

Life can’t always be bratwursts and O’ Douls. Sometimes, you need to calm it down and get a little clarity. Sometimes, you need a little therapy. Sometimes, you need Kenny Dennis. If you’re unfamiliar with the saga of Serengeti’s beloved Bears-worshipping creation, this could seem confusing. You’re essentially a child walking into the middle of a Wesley Snipes and Ving Rhames flick without popcorn or plot. The shorthand is that Kenny Dennis is a cross between Ron Swanson, a Bill Swerski superfan, and the best Golden Age rapper that you never heard. The more nuanced truth is that the KDz is totally singular. Kenny Dennis is the most whimsical, hilarious, and strangely poignant fictional character in hip-hop history—a true blue collar hero of modernity. But on the Joyful Noise-released KD LP III, the thick-‘stached Chicago MC is shouldering a mid-life crisis. He’s afraid that his best times are past him. He’s hanging around new friends to the chagrin of his family. As the record unfolds, we learn about the ferocious Bennies (Benzedrine) addiction that Kenny battled from the 70s through the 90s. Using O’ Douls to cap his addiction, he’d kicked it for good by the time Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, B.J. Armstrong, and Horace Grant led the Bulls to their first run of championships. However, it’s gradually resurfaced as Kenny spends more and more time with his new pal, Joji. The result is the deepest examination into the character’s scarred psyche. What started as a softball-loving and Shaq-hating everyman played mostly for laughs has evolved into a three-dimensional old friend. He’s idiosyncratic but struggling with problems that you can relate to: substance abuse, familial strife, and the struggles of your local sports team. Of course, this is still Kenny Dennis and Serengeti. For all the pathos, it’s one of the funniest and best albums of the year. Narrated by Kenny’s long-time ally and rap partner, Ders (Anders Holm from Workaholics), the KD LP III alternately tells the tale of Perfecto, the pair’s group that sweeps malls across the Midwest. They wear Aeropostale, Abercombie & Fitch, and biker shorts. They put their own spin on the hip-house of Technotronic and Snap. They’re about to be a phenomenon when a phone call changes their career trajectory forever. As always, Odd Nosdam handles production, fortifying Kenny’s frenetic tales with hard slaps and stabbing guitar lines. The record was recorded in early 2014 at Nosdam’s Burnco Studios in Berkeley and Rob Kiener’s studio in East Hollywood, directly after the completion of Sisyphus (Serengeti’s collaborative record with Son Lux and Sufjan Stevens). You can compare Serengeti to Beck or MF Doom or Andy Kauffman. You can bring up effusive praise from The Guardian to Pitchfork to the dean of rock critics, Robert Christgau. But no nodes of comparison or clever similes can grasp the blend of bizarre non-sequiturs, clever references, and heartfelt songwriting that makes this special. So just take a seat, tune in, and have a time.

After more than 25 years of making records, DJ Quik remains relevant because he adheres to a timeless template of West Coast hip-hop and because he always finds new ways to put a twist on that classic sound. In comparison to *The Midnight Life*, many contemporary rap albums sound belabored and hackneyed. With “Back That S\*\*t Up,” “Broken Down,” and “Life Jacket,” Quik exhibits an unparalleled attention to sonic detail while retaining a rap style that\'s casual and uplifting but never dumbed-down. The album is full of little surprises, but nothing is more pleasurable than the smoother-than-smooth “Pet Semetary.”

The star power of the guests on Future\'s second album—Kanye, Drake, Pharrell, Lil Wayne, and André 3000, among others—speaks to the near-insurmountable heights the Atlanta rapper has reached since his 2012 debut, *Pluto*. That he shows them all up explains how he got there. Take \"I Won,\" a solemn beat over which Kanye and Future exult their \"trophy\" wives. Where \'Ye rifles off shallow boasts, Future\'s verses are sincere, almost touching. On the sprightly surprise standout \"Benz Friendz,\" Future\'s ATL bro André 3000 dances around the whimsical beats like a peacock, but it\'s Future\'s husky baritone that brings the party. Dominated by Mike WiLL Made It\'s 16-ton production (tracks like \"My Momma\" and \"Honest\" lumber like they\'re dragging chains), *Honest* demolishes the line between hip-hop and R&B. Its Auto-Tune hooks, rat-a-tat verses, and confessional lyrics exemplify the best of both genres in 2014.

Contemporary R&B is enjoying an embarrassment of riches, with innovative albums by FKA Twigs, Banks, and Kelela stretching the genre\'s boundaries. Tinashe\'s debut raises the bar yet again. Building on the momentum of the roiling summer jam \"2 On,\" *Aquarius* features a who\'s-who of names, from R&B iconoclasts like Blood Orange\'s Dev Hynes to bankable pop pros like Stargate. \"How Many Times\" is a throwback slow jam enlivened by Future\'s staccato vocals, while \"Pretend\" out-Drakes Drake with its liquid production and earworm hook. Tinashe remains the star of the show, cooing, rapping, and ruminating (via several interludes). It\'s one of the year\'s most adventurous pop records.

In late 2013, Preoccupations —then known as Viet Cong— released a small-run cassette EP only available on tour. Over the course of a year, Matt Flegel and Scott Munro worked in their basement studio with a mess of old and run down equipment to build a set of fresh material. Joined by bandmates Daniel Christiansen and Michael Wallace, the band completed work on an debut cassette. What emerged from the studio was a mixture of sharply-angled rhythm workouts and euphoric ‘60s garage pop-esque melodies, balanced with a penchant for drone-y, VU-styled downer moments, and became a hard-to-find classic.