Stereogum's 50 Best Albums of 2016 So Far

There’s one moment critical to understanding the emotional and cultural heft of *Lemonade*—Beyoncé’s genre-obliterating blockbuster sixth album—and it arrives at the end of “Freedom,” a storming empowerment anthem that samples a civil-rights-era prison song and features Kendrick Lamar. An elderly woman’s voice cuts in: \"I had my ups and downs, but I always find the inner strength to pull myself up,” she says. “I was served lemons, but I made lemonade.” The speech—made by her husband JAY-Z’s grandmother Hattie White on her 90th birthday in 2015—reportedly inspired the concept behind this radical project, which arrived with an accompanying film as well as words by Somali-British poet Warsan Shire. Both the album and its visual companion are deeply tied to Beyoncé’s identity and narrative (her womanhood, her blackness, her husband’s infidelity) and make for Beyoncé\'s most outwardly revealing work to date. The details, of course, are what make it so relatable, what make each song sting. Billed upon its release as a tribute to “every woman’s journey of self-knowledge and healing,” the project is furious, defiant, anguished, vulnerable, experimental, muscular, triumphant, humorous, and brave—a vivid personal statement from the most powerful woman in music, released without warning in a time of public scrutiny and private suffering. It is also astonishingly tough. Through tears, even Beyoncé has to summon her inner Beyoncé, roaring, “I’ma keep running ’cause a winner don’t quit on themselves.” This panoramic strength–lyrical, vocal, instrumental, and personal–nudged her public image from mere legend to something closer to real-life superhero. Every second of *Lemonade* deserves to be studied and celebrated (the self-punishment in “Sorry,” the politics in “Formation,” the creative enhancements from collaborators like James Blake, Robert Plant, and Karen O), but the song that aims the highest musically may be “Don’t Hurt Yourself”—a Zeppelin-sampling psych-rock duet with Jack White. “This is your final warning,” she says in a moment of unnerving calm. “If you try this shit again/You gon\' lose your wife.” In support, White offers a word to the wise: “Love God herself.”

On this, his first masterpiece, Chance evolves—from Rapper to pop visionary. Influenced by gospel music, *Coloring Book* finds the Chicago native moved by the Holy Spirit and the current state of his hometown. “I speak to God in public,” he says on “Blessings,” its radiant closer. “He think the new sh\*t jam / I think we mutual fans.”

Puberty is a game of emotional pinball: hormones that surge, feelings that ricochet between exhilarating highs and gut-churning lows. That’s the dizzying, intoxicating experience Mitski evokes on her aptly titled fourth album, a rush of rebel music that touches on riot grrrl, skeletal indie rock, dreamy pop, and buoyant punk. Unexpected hooks pierce through the singer/songwriter’s razor-edged narratives—a lilting chorus elevates the slinky, druggy “Crack Baby,” while her sweet singsong melodies wrestle with hollow guitar to amplify the tension on “Your Best American Girl.”

Ask Mitski Miyawaki about happiness and she'll warn you: “Happiness fucks you.” It's a lesson that's been writ large into the New Yorker's gritty, outsider-indie for years, but never so powerfully as on her newest album, 'Puberty 2'. “Happiness is up, sadness is down, but one's almost more destructive than the other,” she says. “When you realise you can't have one without the other, it's possible to spend periods of happiness just waiting for that other wave.” On 'Puberty 2', that tension is palpable: a both beautiful and brutal romantic hinterland, in which one of America’s new voices hits a brave new stride. The follow-up to 2014's 'Bury Me At Makeout Creek', named after a Simpsons quote and hailed by Pitchfork as “a complex 10-song story [containing] some of the most nuanced, complex and articulate music that's come from the indiesphere in a while,” 'Puberty 2' picks up where its predecessor left off. “It's kind of a two parter,” explains Mitski. “It's similar in sound, but a direct growth [from] that record.” Musically, there are subtle evolutions: electronic drum machines pulse throughout beneath Pixies-ish guitars, while saxophone lights up its opening track. “I had a certain confidence this time. I knew what I wanted, knew what I was doing and wasn't afraid to do things that some people may not like.” In terms of message though, the 25-year-old cuts the same defiant, feminist figure on 'Puberty 2' that won her acclaim last time around (her hero is MIA, for her politics as much as her music). Born in Japan, Mitski grew up surrounded by her father's Smithsonian folk recordings and mother's 1970s Japanese pop CDs in a family that moved frequently: she spent stints in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Malaysia, China and Turkey among other countries before coming to New York to study composition at SUNY Purchase. She reflects now on feeling “half Japanese, half American but not fully either” – a feeling she confronts on the clever 'Your Best American Girl' – a super-sized punk-rock hit she “hammed up the tropes” on to deconstruct and poke fun at that genre's surplus of white males. “I wanted to use those white-American-guy stereotypes as a Japanese girl who can't fit in, who can never be an American girl,” she explains. Elsewhere on the record there's 'Crack Baby', a song which doesn't pull on your heartstrings so much as swing from them like monkey bars, which Mitski wrote the skeleton of as a teenager. As you might have guessed from the album's title, that adolescent period is a time of her life she doesn't feel she's entirely left behind. “It came up as a joke and I became attached to it. 'Puberty 2'! It sounds like a blockbuster movie” – a nod to the horror-movie terror of adolescence. “I actually had a ridiculously long argument whether it should be the number 2, or a Roman numeral.” The album was put together with the help of long-term accomplice Patrick Hyland, with every instrument on record played between the two of them. “You know the Drake song 'No New Friends'? It's like that. The more I do this, the more I close-mindedly stick to the people I know,” she explains. “I think that focus made it my most mature record.” Sadness is awful and happiness is exhausting in the world of Mitski. The effect of 'Puberty 2', however, is a stark opposite: invigorating, inspiring and beautiful.

Radiohead’s ninth album is a haunting collection of shapeshifting rock, dystopian lullabies, and vast spectral beauty. Though you’ll hear echoes of their previous work—the remote churn of “Daydreaming,” the feverish ascent and spidery guitar of “Ful Stop,” Jonny Greenwood’s terrifying string flourishes—*A Moon Shaped Pool* is both familiar and wonderfully elusive, much like its unforgettable closer. A live favorite since the mid-‘90s, “True Love Waits” has been re-imagined in the studio as a weightless, piano-driven meditation that grows more exquisite as it gently floats away.

White Lung’s dizzyingly breakneck *Paradise* finds them more fiery than ever, with catchy punk hooks alongside deliriously shred-heavy guitar attacks. Mish Barber-Way’s ferocious vocals steal the show on songs like the dark, metal-tinged “Demented.” Guitarist Kenneth William’s ridiculously quick-fingered six-string heroics burn hotter than a scorpion pepper on furious opener “Dead Weight.” The heavy-hitting four-piece save their raucous best for last with the title track—a thick ‘n’ thrashy rampage about the joys of grabbing your lover and leaving it all behind.

After the critically acclaimed release Deep Fantasy (2014), White Lung return with their fourth album Paradise. Vocalist Mish Barber-Way, guitarist Kenneth William and drummer Anne-Marie Vassiliou, reconnected in Los Angeles to work with engineer and producer Lars Stalfors (HEALTH, Cold War Kids, Alice Glass). In October of 2015, White Lung spent a month in the studio, working closely with Stalfors to challenge what could be done with their songs. “I wanted it to sound new. I wanted a record that sounded like it was made in 2016”, says William of his mindset. Bringing all the energy, unique guitar work and lyrical prowess Rolling Stone, Pitchfork, NME have praised them for in the past few years, White Lung curated their songs with a new pop sensibility. Mixed by Stalfors and later mastered by Joe LaPorta, Paradise is their smartest, brightest songwriting yet. “There’s this stupid attitude that only punks have where it’s uncool to become a better song writer,” says Barber-Way, “In no other musical genre are your fans going to drop you when you start progressing. That would be like parents being disappointed in their child for graduating from kindergarten to the first grade. Paradise is the best song writing we have ever done, and I expect the next record to be the same. I have no interest in staying in kindergarten.”

You have no right to be depressed You haven’t tried hard enough to like it There are two kinds of great lyrics. The first is the banger/anthem catch phrase: "Normal life is borin' / but superstardom is close to post-mortem." The second is more complex (and more rarely found): "Like a bird on a wire / Like a drunk in a midnight choir/I have tried in my way to be free" — with ideas, themes, and personae unfolding over the course of songs, contradicting each other, confronting the listeners' preconceptions, like Pete Townsend, Morrissey, or Kendrick Lamar. Will Toledo, the singer/songwriter/visionary of Car Seat Headrest, is adept at both, having developed them over the course of his eleven college-recorded Bandcamp albums and his retrospective collection last fall, Teens of Style. With Teens of Denial, his first real "studio" album with an actual band, Toledo moves from bedroom pop to something approaching classic-rock grandeur and huge (if detailed and personal) narrative ambitions, with nods to the Cars, Pavement, Jonathan Richman, Wire, and William Onyeabor. "I’m so sick of / (Fill in the blank)" or "It’s more than you bargained for / But it's a little less than what you paid for" are more than smart, edgy slogans. Over the course of Teens of Denial's 11 songs, Will narrates a journey with his mysterious companion/alter-ego Joe that addresses big themes (personal responsibility, existential despair, the nature of identity, the Bible, heaven) and small ones (Air Jordans, cops, whether to have one more beer, why he lost his backpack). By turns tender and caustic, empathetic and solipsistic, literary and vernacular, profound and profane, self-loathing and self-aggrandizing, he conjures a specifically 21st century mindset, a product of information overload, the loneliness it can foster, and the escape music can provide. “Fill in The Blank,” the mission statement of the album, kicks things off — it’s a fist-pumping anthem about feeling lousy in an ill-defined way, the fear of settling into a routine of futility, and not wanting to deal with it. Although it’s oddly joyful sounding, Toledo considers it the introduction to his angriest record yet. In that vein, “Vincent,” “Hippie Powers,” and “Connect The Dots” are about both fighting to hold your place in the crowd and to hold your drink, as well as DIY college house shows, and having no one to dance with, respectively. Initially similar, "Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales” veers off in surprising directions, each piece flush with huge, irony-free hooks. At the heart of the album sits the 11:32 "Ballad of the Costa Concordia," which has more musical ideas than most whole albums (and at that length, it uses them all). Horns, keyboards, and elegant instrumental interludes set off art-garage moments; vivid vocal harmonies follow punk frenzy. The selfish captain of the capsized cruise liner in the Mediterranean in 2013 becomes a metaphor for struggles of the individual in society, as experienced by one hungover young man on the verge of adulthood. Teens of Denial refracts Toledo's particular, personal story of one difficult year through cultural touchstones such as the biography of Frank Sinatra, the evolution of the Me Generation as seen in Mad Men and elsewhere, plus elements of eastern and western theology. The whole thing flaunts a kind of conceptual, lyrical, and musical ambition that has been missing from far too much 21st-century music. I won’t go down with this shit I will put my hands up and surrender there will be no more flags above my door I have lost, and always will be There are two kinds of great lyricists. The first kind is one one you find in books, canonized by time and a lifetime of expression. The second has it all in front of him. Meet Will Toledo. Or at least one version of him.

After giving the world a decade of nonstop hits, the big question for Rihanna was “What’s next?” Well, she was going to wait a little longer than expected to reveal the answer. Four years separated *Unapologetic* and her eighth album. But she didn’t completely escape from the spotlight during the mini hiatus. Rather, she experimented in real time by dropping one-off singles like the acoustic folk “FourFiveSeconds” collaboration with Kanye West and Paul McCartney, the patriotic ballad “American Oxygen,” and the feisty “Bitch Better Have My Money.” The sonic direction she was going to land on for *ANTI* was still murky, but those songs were subtle hints nonetheless. When she officially unleashed *ANTI* to the world, it quickly became clear that this wasn’t the Rihanna we’d come to know from years past. In an unexpected twist, the singer tossed her own hit factory formula (which she polished to perfection since her 2005 debut) out the window. No, this was a freshly independent Rihanna who intentionally took time to dig deep. As the world was holding its breath awaiting the new album, she found a previously untapped part of her artistry. *ANTI* says it all in the title: The album is the complete antithesis of Pop Star Rihanna. From the abstract cover art (which features a poem written in braille) to newfound autonomy after leaving her longtime record label, Def Jam, to form her own, *ANTI* shattered all expectations of what a structured pop album should sound like—not only for her own standards, but also for fellow artists who wanted to demolish industry rules. And the risk worked in her favor: it became the singer’s second No. 1 LP. “I got to do things my own way, darling/Will you ever let me?/Will you ever respect me?” Rihanna mockingly asks on the opening track, “Consideration.” In response, the rest of the album dives headfirst into fearlessness where she doesn’t hesitate to get sensual, vulnerable, and just a little weird. *ANTI*’s overarching theme is centered on relationships. Echoing Janet Jackson’s *The Velvet Rope*, Rihanna details the intricacies of love from all stages. Lead single “Work” is yet another flirtatious reunion with frequent collaborator Drake as they tease each other atop a steamy dancehall bassline. She spits vitriolic acid on the Travis Scott-produced “Woo,” taunting an ex-flame who walked away from her: “I bet she could never make you cry/’Cause the scars on your heart are still mine.” What’s most notable throughout *ANTI* is Rihanna’s vocal expansion, from her whiskey-coated wails on the late-night voicemail that is “Higher” to breathing smoke on her rerecorded version of Tame Impala’s “New Person, Same Old Mistakes.” Yet the signature Rihanna DNA remained on the album. The singer proudly celebrated her Caribbean heritage on the aforementioned “Work,” presented women with yet another kiss-off anthem with “Needed Me,” and flaunted her erotic side on deluxe track “Sex With Me.” Ever the sonic explorer, she also continued to uncover new genres by going full ’50s doo-wop on “Love on the Brain” and channeling Prince for the velvety ’80s power-pop ballad “Kiss It Better.” *ANTI* is not only Rihanna’s brilliant magnum opus, but it’s also a sincere declaration of freedom as she embraces her fully realized womanhood.

Say what it is... Its so impossible... Pinegrove’s Evan Stephens Hall drawls on the album’s highlight track. The line’s meant as an examination of language’s intrinsic hardships, but it’s also an apt description of the record itself. Adopting genres and influences at will, *Cardinal* unfolds through lo-fi indie shouts, country twang, and chunky-riffed pop rock choruses. Each turn of phrase, guitar tone, and harmony feels delightfully stripped-down, comfortably unrushed, and well-lived-in.

In the seven years since 2009’s *Gin*, the Colorado duo swapped half its lineup—ex-Lord Mantis frontman Charlie Fell is doing the snarling now—but that’s not all Cobalt changed. Once recognizably black metal, their harrowing sludge now wades waist-deep in gunk-encrusted hardcore, Tool’s open-spaced art-grunge, the sadistic nihilism of Swans, and even primal roots forms. “Hunt the Buffalo” and “Beast Whip” both open as lumberjack-shack blues, “Breath” shimmers like forest-folk Led Zeppelin, and the lone voice on “Iconoclast” is a sampled Ernest Hemingway.

Rapper/singer Anderson .Paak’s third album—and first since his star turn on Dr. Dre’s *Compton*—is a warm, wide-angle look at the sweep of his life. A former church drummer trained in gospel music, Paak is as expressive a singer as he is a rapper, sliding effortlessly between the reportorial grit of hip-hop (“Come Down”) and the emotional catharsis of soul and R&B (“The Season/Carry Me”), live-instrument grooves and studio production—a blend that puts him in league with other roots-conscious artists like Chance the Rapper and Kendrick Lamar.

Echoes of emo, vintage thrash, and video game soundtracks collide in this epic and imaginative metal masterpiece.

Front man Erlend Hjelvik on the new album: “We are finally getting ready to release our third album NATTESFERD on the world and however cliché it may sound, I'm not afraid to say that this is our best one yet! An exquisite smorgasbord of riffs infused with everything between the best of classic rock and heavy metal. I'm certain it will blow the minds of both old and new fans. Enjoy!”

Every element of Kendrick Lamar’s *untitled unmastered.* tells you something about the Compton MC’s provocative, multi-layered genius. Take the contrast of the collection\'s ultra-generic title and its attention-grabbing, out-of-left-field release. Take the retro-futuristic, Funkadelic-inspired grooves that simmer under tracks like “untitled 02” and “untitled 06.” These are only the beginning of the album\'s hypnotic, nuanced nod to hip-hop’s deep roots and unstoppable political and expressive currency. Songs like “untitled 03” and “untitled 05”—with layered references, wild-eyed jazz solos, and cutting insight—continue Lamar\'s winning streak.

ANOHNI has collaborated with Oneohtrix Point Never and Hudson Mohawke on the artist's latest work, HOPELESSNESS. Late last year, ANOHNI, the lead singer from Antony and the Johnsons, released “4 DEGREES", a bombastic dance track celebrating global boiling and collapsing biodiversity.  Rather than taking refuge in good intentions, ANOHNI gives voice to the attitude sublimated within her behavior as she continues to consume in a fossil fuel-based economy. ANOHNI released “4 DEGREES,” the first single from her upcoming album HOPELESSNESS, to support the Paris climate conference this past December. The song emerged earlier last year in live performances. As discussed by ANOHNI: "I have grown tired of grieving for humanity, and I also thought I was not being entirely honest by pretending that I am not a part of the problem," she said. “’4 DEGREES' is kind of a brutal attempt to hold myself accountable, not just valorize my intentions, but also reflect on the true impact of my behaviors.” The album, HOPELESSNESS, to be released world wide on May 6th 2016, is a dance record with soulful vocals and lyrics addressing surveillance, drone warfare, and ecocide.  A radical departure from the singer’s symphonic collaborations, the album seeks to disrupt assumptions about popular music through the collision of electronic sound and highly politicized lyrics.  ANOHNI will present select concerts in Europe, Australia and the US in support of HOPELESSNESS this Summer.

KAYTRANADA\'s debut LP is a guest-packed club night of vintage house, hip-hop, and soul. The Montreal producer brings a rich old-school feel to all of these tracks, but it’s his vocalists that put them over the edge. AlunaGeorge drops a sizzling topline over a swervy beat on “TOGETHER,” Syd brings bedroom vibes to the bassline-driven house tune “YOU’RE THE ONE,” and Anderson .Paak is mysterious and laidback on the hazy soundscape “GLOWED UP.” And when Karriem Riggins and River Tiber assist on the boom-bap atmospheres of “BUS RIDE,\" they simply cement the deal.

Following the dizzying success of their breakout 2013 debut, The 1975 aim even higher. The poignantly titled *I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it* is a captivating display of all the UK rock chameleons do so well, blending neon ‘80s art-funk confections (“Love Me,” “She’s American”) and heady 21st-century electro-textures (“Somebody Else,” “If I Believe You,” the gorgeous title cut). Held together by frontman Matt Healy’s bold-yet-earnest vocal performances, the result is as anthemic as it is intimate.

‘…the Sound Of Crenshaw is in everything I touch, from Kendrick to Herbie. So with SOC I’m gonna bring it all back and give y’all the whole package: 100% the Sound of Crenshaw’ Velvet Portraits, a 2017 Grammy Nominee for Best R&B Album, is a wide ranging record with a common distinct style. With a core band of Terrace Martin on sax, Curly Martin on drums, Brandon Eugene Owens on bass, and Robert ‘Sput’ Searight on Keys, Velvet Portraits also features appearances from Kamasi Washington, Robert Glasper, Lalah Hathaway, Thundercat, Rose Gold, Tiffany Gouche, Marlon Williams and more. Recorded in Omaha Nebraska and Los Angeles, Velvet Portraits portrays the evolution of Martin as a player, producer, and a musician with a deep sense of history.

Indie-pop miniaturist Frankie Cosmos makes music like minimal sculpture or haiku: radically simple but deceptively complicated at the same time. Her second studio album, *Next Thing*, is by turns tender and funny, innocent and wise, often within the space of the same brief line. (Take this one, from “Fool”: “Once I was happy, you found it intriguing/Then you got to me and left me bleeding.”) And though her songs are brief and the arrangements simple, the album feels surprisingly complete—the product of someone who knows exactly what they want to say and doesn’t waste time with one word more.

Astronoid is: Brett Boland Daniel Schwartz Casey Aylward Matt St. Jean Mike DeMellia Written by Brett Boland & Daniel Schwartz. Mixed by Brett Boland & Daniel Schwartz. Mastered by Daniel Schwartz. Cover art by Lully Schwartz. ***PLEASE NOTE*** This album is downloadable for free - as we do not want pirates to profit from this music. Please donate as you see fit if you enjoy the music. Our suggested pricing scheme: Low budget = 3-4 EUR Average budget = 7-8 EUR High budget = 10-15 EUR Please tell everyone to download from the official sources only.

A brooding, brawny hunk of hardcore that boasts beautiful stillness alongside face-melting riffs. It sounds like a paradox but it’s an exhilarating bait-and-switch that’s evident throughout this New York quartet’s breakneck second record. From the surfy bassline of “Capitalized” and the halting, loudhailer glam on “Knight” to the way “Negative” sparks and sputters, this is heavy rock played with a deft lightness of touch. And grand finale “Yawp” is a menacing masterclass in loud-quiet-loud.

This artfully discombobulated quintet evoke the ecstatic vitality of experimentalists like Melt-Banana and Deerhoof on their fifth album. Intense pleasure-pushing is a theme both sonic and lyrical: On “Multibeast TV,” lead vocalist Kassie Carlson barks “Chocolate! Cinnamon! Sugar! Eat it!” over the sort of hard, in-the-pocket leftfield funk DFA is known for. Multipart ramshackle raves like “Grass Shack\" find the New York crew blending tough tribal rhythms with post-punk derangement and loads of cowbell. The power-poetics and wild beats reach a shuddering, Beefheart-ian climax in \"Doll Face on the Calico Highway.\"

Eraser Stargazer was written and recorded in 6 weeks of winter isolation in upstate New York. Fans of the group will hear all of the beloved hallmarks of the Guerilla Toss sound - solid bass grooves, squealing guitars, and kitchen sink percussion. Each instrument now occupies its own part of the audio spectrum, with vocalist/poet Kassie Carlson’s spirited incantations brought into focus. Album centerpiece Grass Shack is a perfect example of this leaner, yet tougher Toss. It traverses nearly seven minutes of game- show-winner keyboard stabs, mutant funk basslines, and time signature changes - all grounded by Peter Negroponte’s virtuosic drumming. Carlson describes the themes of the song as “A deep analytical depiction of a small unit of time, with heightened senses, Ripping yourself out of bed even though it might be harsh and overwhelming. Seeing patterns in the little things that make life beautiful.” Heavy subject matter permeates the rest of the record - but that doesn’t mean it’s a downer. Lead single Diamond Girls casts Carlson as a no-wave cheerleader over instrumentation reminiscent of DFA alumni Black Dice and The Rapture, culminating in the group’s catchiest chorus yet. Album closer Doll Face On The Calico Highway is the perfect summation - angular guitars, bells, and low-end vibrations interject and decompose as quickly as they appear, until a hissing cymbal is all that remains.

Jordan Lee’s latest collective serve up sumptuous folk fare. Inspired by both life on tour and Lee’s adopted New York home, his band of friends and associates have lovingly pieced together a staggeringly gorgeous and resolutely timeless album. Twinkling into life through the shimmering “Madrugada”, *Skip a Sinking Stone* assumes a dream-like quality and rarely threatens to disrupt your reverie. “Skipping Stones” uses a swirling orchestra beautifully, while the sultry “Lost Dreamers” asks us (very politely) to “throw away our phones”.

“It takes more than just a fleeting dream to set us free,” sings Jordan Lee on “Skipping Stones” the titular track on Mutual Benefit’s newest album, Skip a Sinking Stone. It’s a truism that still holds power, and it acts as a sort of missive for the entire album: a two-part meditation on impermanence that also acts as a portrait of growing up. Skip a Sinking Stone takes place after the success of Love’s Crushing Diamond, with Lee settled into a life that passes as steady. The first half of the record, awash in warm string arrangements and hope, is written about the year that followed: Mutual Benefit’s rotating cast of friends and collaborators is touring non-stop, playing professional stages and festivals (including Pitchfork and FORM Arcosanti), and Lee is in love. “Getting Gone” chugs along with the easy rhythm of a van pulling onto the freeway, settling into the zen-like blankness of rolling along from city to city, show to show. “We can see stars from here / why would we go back anywhere,” sings Lee from the glowing swells of “Lost Dreamers,” taking solace in moments of freedom on the road even as touring routinizes from a utopic pursuit into a day job. The album title is itself pulled from such a moment: pulling off the road to skip stones with the band, seeing how long they could be kept above water before finally sinking. The second half of the album finds Lee in New York, in a rare position of having the time and resources to work on the new record full-time. Lee lives and records at the Silent Barn, breaking from his usual nomadic lifestyle to explore staying in one place, reflected musically by a comparative stillness and introspection. However, New York life presents another kind of unreality: one colored by growing depression, a downturn in the relationship, and a city in turmoil, the atmosphere heavy with grief and anger in the wake of the Eric Garner verdict and resulting Black Lives Matter protests (an environment which informed “City Sirens”). The closing track, “The Hereafter,” returns to the image of the skipping stone, following it as it sinks. “I kept coming back to how nice that was, throwing these stones against the water,” says Lee. “I thought it was a fitting metaphor for the endeavors I have in my life—sometimes they work out and sometimes they don’t. I think it’s a good exercise in accepting impermanence and failure and these things that are constant, and yet the activity of skipping stones is really relaxing and beautiful. But in another sense you’re just letting these stones sink each time.” Mutual Benefit’s debut LP Love’s Crushing Diamond was praised for being vulnerable and warmhearted and Skip a Sinking Stone is equally so, patiently built from carefully chosen lines illustrated by lush astral folk and intricately composed arrangements that manage to appear effortless. Each stone ultimately sinks, but, as Lee sings on the album’s zenith—a comforting folk track first written for the Shaking Through series—as the cycle ends and repeats again all we can do is maintain the hope that it’s “Not for Nothing.” The bulk of Skip a Sinking Stone was recorded during Lee’s residency at the Silent Barn in Brooklyn, both on his own and in Gravesend Recording Studios with Carlos Hernandez and Julian Fader from Ava Luna. Stone is shaped by collaborations with friends and recurring members of Mutual Benefit’s rotating cast: further recording work was done with Mutual Benefit drummer Dillon Zahner in Boston and violinist Jake Falby in New Hampshire, and the record contains guitar by Mike Clifford, vocals from Lee’s sister Whitney (also a touring member of the band following Diamond), flute by Noah Klein (Cuddle Formation) on “Getting Gone,” and keys by Dan Goldberg (The Spookfish). The record was mixed by Brian Deck (The Moon and Antarctica, The Shepherd’s Dog, Ugly Casanova).

2011’s *Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming* was a gargantuan album to add to the canon of gargantuan M83 albums. *Junk* is rather different, but no less thrilling. Out go the blown-out anthems and in their place, nostalgically candied pop, disco and soul gems. It bobs merrily between gloriously indulgent (“Do It, Try It”, “Go!”), gloriously silly (“Moon Crystal” sounds like a ‘70s TV theme), and deeply romantic (“For the Kids”, “Atlantique Sud” and \"Sunday Night 1987”). “Solitude”, meanwhile, is gorgeous, cinematic and blessed with a spellbinding keytar solo. It’s that sort of album.

Julianna Barwick\'s third album embraces synths to striking effect. Comprising field recordings and studio work, the buzz of traffic encircles *Will*, interwoven with Barwick\'s haunted choirgirl voice. She sounds submerged on “Nebula,” where striking synths dapple the surface of the water, but comes into focus on “Someway”, her voice chiming like church bells. On closing song “See, Know”, her long coo guides jazz percussion and a strident synth lead, the aggression positioning her music in the thrum of the real world.

This Los Angeles-based trio combine warm synth textures, rich vocal harmonies, and an anything-can-happen attitude on their heady, self-produced debut. Quiet Storm sultriness and the pillowy softness of dream pop intermingle on tracks like the otherworldly “Love Song” and the swaying “Right One”; romantic victory lap “The Greatest” calls back to R&B’s past while keeping an eye trained on its possibilities. Colossal yet feather-light, KING’s meticulously crafted music breathes new life into soul.

The Range is a digital archaeologist, unearthing deep musical emotion from the obscure sounds he digs up on YouTube. For *Potential*, the Brooklyn producer searched for voices in particular, incorporating them into his alternately lush and dank masses of beats and bass. Anonymous singsong flits ethereally through “Florida,” which skips and struts over thick kicks accessorized with clipped steel-drum ping and banjo pluck. Others, like “1804,” revolve around rapping or toasting by unknown MCs whose words cut a path through nostalgic yet novel combinations of jungle, dubstep, grime, and ambient music.

*Dangerous Woman* is an outing that showcases Ariana Grande’s increasingly ferocious voice and a newfound edge—in fact, it’s a swaggering step forward. She joins forces with Nicki Minaj for the devilish reggae of “Side to Side,” seduces Lil Wayne on the breathy “Let Me Love You,” and, expertly harnessing those extraordinary vocals, turns slinky Max Martin cut “Into You” into one of 2016’s most glorious pop moments.

Brooklyn art-rockers Parquet Courts have sometimes obscured their warmth under a cover of discord, challenging song structures and sardonic detachment. Their fifth album simplifies and purifies their sound to thrilling effect though. Whether they’re dovetailing or duelling, Andrew Savage and Austin Brown’s punchy riffs sublimate into the band’s poppiest hooks yet. There’s emotional engagement too, with Savage opening up his heartache and isolation on the bittersweet “Human Performance” and “Berlin Got Blurry”’s collision of thrumming post-punk and surf guitar licks.

Recorded over the course of a year against a backdrop of personal instability, "Human Performance" massively expands the idea of what a Parquet Courts record can be. They've been one of the most critically acclaimed bands of the last 5 years; this is the record that backs all those words up. “Every day it starts, anxiety,” began the first song on 2014’s "Content Nausea." Those were essentially the song’s only lyrics, but "Human Performance" picks up where that thought left off, picking apart the anxieties of modern life: “The unavoidable noise of NYC that can be maddening, the kind of the impossible struggle against clutter, whether it's physical or mental or social,” says singer, guitarist and "Human Performance" producer/mixer Austin Brown. There has always been the emotional side of Parquet Courts, which has always had an important balance with the more discussed cerebral side, but Savage sees "Human Performance" as a redistribution of weight in that balance. "I began to question my humanity, and if it was always as sincere as I thought, or if it was a performance,” says Savage. “I felt like a sort of malfunctioning apparatus,” he says. “Like a machine programmed to be human showing signs of defect.” The sonic diversity, time, and existential effort that went into its creation makes "Human Performance" Parquet Courts' most ambitious record to date. It's a work of incredible creative vision born of seemingly insurmountable adversity. It is also their most accessible record yet.