Vibe's Best Albums of 2014

When Beyoncé’s self-titled fifth album landed unannounced on the iTunes store in December 2013, the pop world trembled. Here was one of music’s biggest stars dispensing with the normal prolonged rollout of a major work, instead simultaneously alerting people to it *and* releasing it. That this was a visual album—with every song accompanied by a short film—only made Beyoncé’s flex more impressive, changing the game for how artists would handle releasing new music in the digital era. Surprise drops became something of a norm not just for pop’s top tier, but for any artist with a devoted fanbase—the month’s advance notice for *RENAISSANCE* seems almost quaint by comparison. But *BEYONCÉ* would have been a career achievement even if it had been released in an old-school way. Across its 14 tracks, Beyoncé pushes herself artistically and emotionally, opening up about her insecurities, her sexuality, and her happiness over songs that demonstrate the strength and versatility of her voice. Years after its release, *BEYONCÉ* remains a touchstone not just for Beyoncé, but for any marquee artist who wants to break from expectations, with Beyoncé’s forward-thinking, collaborative approach to creating art aiding its of-the-moment yet not-stuck-in-time feel. Opening with “Pretty Hurts,” a soaring ballad that dives into the body-image issues that even the most revered women have to endure, even as children, and closing with “Blue,” a swaying ode to her first child (who makes a cameo on the track), *BEYONCÉ* reveals where the pop star’s mind had wandered after the release of her monogamy reflection *4* two years prior. Eroticism is a large part of *BEYONCÉ*, both in sound and in subject matter—the spikily giddy duet with husband JAY-Z “Drunk in Love” and the slow jam “Rocket” are two of the most carnally delightful entries in Beyoncé’s catalog, while the massive “Jealous” examines what happens when desire fuels inner strife. The exploration of grief “Heaven,” the ferocious pop-feminist anthem “\*\*\*Flawless,” and the jagged statement of artistic intent “Haunted” fill out the emotional and musical spectrum. The videos, too, run the gamut in both style and feeling, with prestigious directors like Hype Williams, Jonas Åkerlund, and Melina Matsoukas creating companion pieces for each of *BEYONCÉ*’s songs. The Williams-directed video for the gently funky “Blow” is a roller-rink fantasia; the Åkerlund-helmed clip for the dreamy “Haunted” channels Madonna’s groundbreaking 1990 short film “Justify My Love” through Beyoncé’s 21st-century luxe aesthetic. Pop’s sound had shifted at the turn of the decade, with electro-pop-influenced tracks taking the spaces on radio and on the charts where Beyoncé and other R&B-leaning artists had ruled during the 2000s. On *BEYONCÉ*, the singer and mogul showed that, radio play or no, she was still a member of pop’s ruling class—and she did so not by flipping pop’s script, but by drawing inspiration from its most enticing aspects while writing a completely new playbook. *BEYONCÉ* did feature culture-ruling collaborators like Drake, who plays B’s foil on the skeletal “Mine,” and Frank Ocean, who locks up with Beyoncé on the sumptuous Pharrell Williams production “Superpower,” but Beyoncé’s willingness to explore music’s edges and revel in its greatest moments resulted in the album existing on its own plane, aware of the pop world’s trends but diverging from them in thrilling ways. *BEYONCÉ* represents a major turning point for Beyoncé, beginning the stage of her career where she would define “pop stardom” not by chart placement but by following her own artistic path—on her own schedule and on her own terms.

Having stoked expectations via a string of underground mixtapes, rapper Logic is *Under Pressure* to deliver on his debut album—and that\'s exactly what he does. Relating his tale of a hardscrabble upbringing in Baltimore over soulful yet bleak beats (mostly by longtime producer 6ix), he spits rapid-fire rhymes from the POV of his drug-slinging brother on \"Gang Related\" and paints a picture of Section 8 housing on \"Growing Pains\": \"automatics and gang signs/5-0 with their K9s.\" Eschewing celebrity guests or name producers, Logic relies on his considerable skills to carry the day. \"Just my rhymes, my story/It\'s all mine, from the basement to the stadium.\"

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.

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.

August Alsina proves why he\'s one of the most exciting stars in contemporary R&B on this major-label debut. The New Orleans musician\'s talents are manifold, from his scuffed-up tenor to his slinking flow. Yet it\'s Alsina\'s ability to relate tales of his hardscrabble upbringing—\"I had to face it that my daddy was addicted,\" he sings on the opener, \"Testify\"—that distinguishes him from his peers. Though he\'s not averse to waxing romantic (\"Kissin on my Tattoos\"), it\'s tracks like \"Right There\" and \"Make It Home\" that tie Alsina to a legacy of down-on-their-luck crooners, even if his beats are fluttering contemporary trap-n-B. On \"Mama,\" Alsina sings proudly, \"I coulda been locked up/I coulda been gunned down/But I found my own way/I ain\'t gonna stop now.\"

With Common\'s hometown of Chicago reeling from rampant gun violence, his 10th studio album, *Nobody\'s Smiling*, is a meditation on that crisis. Produced by longtime collaborator No I.D., the album features big names like Big Sean and Jhene Aiko alongside Chicago fixtures such as Lil Herb and Dreezy. It takes its cues from both \'90s boom-bap and the darker sound of Kanye West\'s *Yeezus*. Common weaves his own experiences and memories growing up in the Windy City into those of the tracks\' narrators, creating an impressionistic tableau: \"These streets is my religion,\" he raps on the standout \"Kingdom,\" which has a gospel choir that evokes that of \"Jesus Walks.\" The abrasive beats of \"Blak Majik\" and \"Hustle Harder\" are some of Common\'s hardest-hitting in years; they jibe perfectly with the heated, mournful tone of his lyrics.

There\'s a deceptive depth to the title of Chris Brown\'s sixth studio album, *X*. Explaining the name in a 2013 interview, he cited the decade he\'d spent in the music business, an intricate numerology related to his upcoming 24th birthday, and the way \"ex\" connotes progress. X is also a concise way to say he\'s done a lot and he\'ll do more. The 2014 album and its expanded edition attest to that, blending all his hit-making tools with pristine curatorial savvy and the most emotionally transparent songwriting of his career. Beginning with the titular opener, C. Breezy jumps into reflection and dance-floor thrills, lacing a pulsing Diplo-produced EDM beat with an emphatic declaration: \"I ain\'t going back no more.\" Paired with the frenetic instrumental, it\'s the sound of catharsis. He\'s learned from his years of turmoil, he wants us to know. If the title track is an escape powered by reflection, the Akon-assisted \"Came To Do\" is a lust-powered release, and \"New Flame,\" with assists from Rick Ross and Usher, captures the bliss of new affection. Meanwhile, \"Loyal\" is a frank lesson on proper etiquette for unfaithful ladies. With candy-coated West Coast synths, an anthemic hook, and quippy playboy bars from Tyga and Lil Wayne, it\'s a pantheon Breezy anthem. While he dives into disco, EDM, and hip-hop, he\'s just as comfortable in ambient R&B—and his feelings. On \"Autumn Leaves,\" he wades through dazed strings as he remembers a past love, with Kendrick Lamar serving up an alien flow that adds colorful discordance to the affair. For the expanded edition, Breezy dips further into his emotions for a posthumous collaboration with Aaliyah (\"Don\'t Think They Know\"), actualizing what was a theoretical dream team with a spacy sound bed and a hook that emits romantic paranoia. On a more upbeat note, he teams with Nicki Minaj for a buoyant bedroom soundtrack, this one grafted onto a jittery beat designed for the dance floor. Linking with an R&B queen from the past and a rap queen of the present feels like symbolic connective tissue for *X*, but it\'s not some overwrought metaphor; it\'s just the access afforded by dominance. Like the album, the two collabs are a reminder of how he got here—and why he\'ll never leave.

For all the fun they have as the house band for *The Tonight Show*, The Roots get down to business when they enter the studio. Billed as a concept album, *ATYSYC* features rappers Black Thought, Dice Raw, and Greg Porn relating vignettes about income inequality and spiritual bankruptcy within the African-American community. Brooding amid layers of soul breaks and the kind of erudite samples that fans have come to expect from music encyclopedia ?uestlove (\"Black Rock\" borrows funk chestnut \"Yeah Yeah\"), the album is more meditation than celebration. With its mournful piano and slumping beat, \"When the People Cheer\" is a representative sample: \"Everybody asks if God is all that/But I got a feeling he ain\'t never coming back,\" sings a children\'s choir on the hook. Longtime fans will be familiar with this somber side of The Roots, while newcomers used to them as Jimmy Fallon\'s sidekicks will discover a whole different side of this legendary hip-hop troupe.

Just in case you thought actor/novelist/reality-TV star/hip-hop kingpin T.I. might be slowing down, his ninth album is his biggest yet. *Paperwork* is the first in a planned trilogy; it\'s executive-produced by Pharrell Williams and features a GRAMMY® ceremony\'s worth of guests. As sleek as a Maybach, the production is a mix of classic and cutting edge, from the flashy soul of the Pharrell-produced title track to the bumping ratchet of DJ Mustard\'s \"No Mediocre.\" Tip\'s skills are in full effect on \"New National Anthem,\" where he spits a rapid-fire critique of current events over a wild, bumping beat.

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.

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.

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.\"

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.

When it comes to millionaire-kingpin raps over lushly orchestrated, ultra-grandiose production, few can do it like Rick Ross. The MMG head honcho returns here with his sixth album, generally following the same script that made him one of hip-hop\'s biggest superstars. Overflowing with A-list features (Jay Z, Kanye, Lil Wayne, Jeezy, Scarface, French Montana, etc.) and overseen by platinum producers like Diddy, Jake One, Mike WiLL Made It, and J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League, there\'s no doubt that *Mastermind* will end up in the same place as his previous five albums: topping the charts. As a criminally minded storyteller, Ross continues to impress, while the beats display a stylistic diversity not generally found in today\'s pop-rap. \"Thug Cry\" tweaks Souls of Mischief\'s classic anthem \"93 Til Infinity,\" while \"Supreme\" finds Scott Storch pairing rat-a-tat-tat 808s with some absurdly funky horns and flutes. Other highlights include \"The Devil Is a Lie\" and \"Mafia Music III.\"

Teyana Taylor\'s been flirting with her big break for years, releasing the single \"Google Me\" in 2008 and singing on a number of mentor Kanye West\'s tracks. She\'s officially arrived with her studio debut, *VII*. A sultry throwback to \'90s R&B with modern flourishes, the album highlights Taylor\'s powerhouse pipes, with skeletal tunes like \"Sorry\" and \"Request\" placing her vocals front and center. \"Just Different\" is a slinking slow jam. \"Maybe\" blends woozy atmospherics into the mix, and \"Put Your Love On\" toys with dancehall. Compared to the avant-garde R&B of 2014 breakouts like Tinashe and FKA Twigs, *VII* is more traditional, but it\'s no less compelling.

A slow-burning seduction from the start, Trey Songz’ sixth full-length album presents the prodigiously talented vocalist on a richly produced, hook-laden set of nocturnal R&B. On the club-ready opening track, “Cake,” he expresses his omnivorous interest for ladies through a playful metaphor, while candidly debauched slow-jams like “All We Do” and “Touchin, Lovin” cut right to the chase. On the latter tune, Songz sings one of his most spine-tingling hooks over a lurching beat and reconnects with *Passion, Pain & Pleasure* guest Nicki Minaj, whose lightning-fast verse offers a dozen brilliant and blush-inducing come-ons in 20 seconds. Among the steamy talk and big cameos (including Ty Dolla $ign, Juicy J, and Justin Bieber), Songz’ perceptive storytelling (most evident on the remorseful psychodrama of “SmartPhones”) adds thoughtful substance to his gracefully executed pillow talk.

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.

Ed Sheeran’s 2011 debut album, *+*, introduced the world to an unassuming pop star. Sheeran, who cut his teeth sofa-surfing and playing gigs in pubs, was a relatable everyman: His tunes combined singer-songwriter melodies with slippery hip-hop rhythms, and his lyrics were imbued with recognizable references and down-to-earth imagery. Sheeran came across as the guy you saw perform at an open mic night, and felt compelled to buy a drink for afterwards—mainly because he *was* that guy. Even when *+* began selling millions of copies, Sheeran was still showing up at gigs wearing a lumberjack shirt, loose-fitting jeans, and chunky sneakers. He was dressing for comfort; as a result, he sometimes looked like he’d wandered onto stage by accident. That approachability is maintained on *x*, his 2014 follow-up. But peel back Sheeran’s modest take on pop, and there’s a quietly experimental thread running through the record—best evidenced on the wanton lead single, “Sing.” Producer Pharrell Williams draws Sheeran away from his nice-guy persona, adding snapping beats, sonar-like electronics, and a grooving rhythm guitar. “I want you to be mine, lady/And to hold your body close,” Sheeran spits on the verse, sounding like a tequila-soaked playboy. Then he slides into a seductive falsetto for the chorus: “If you love me/Come on, get involved.” Such subversion is repeated on “Don’t,” which finds Sheeran taking aim at an adulterous ex-flame, and “The Man,” which is Sheeran at his most bitter. Elsewhere on *x*, he’s seduced by the allure of hedonism (“Bloodstream”) and forced to confront familial trauma—which he does with empowered sassiness (“Runaway”). Sheeran doesn’t abandon his duties as a swooning balladeer, of course: “Photograph” is an aching meditation on the realities of a long-distant relationship, “Tenerife Sea” is a sensuous ode to a lover, and “Thinking Out Loud” remains Sheeran’s most romantic song, forever destined to soundtrack first dances at weddings. The album’s amalgam of adventurous and innovative musicianship with crowd-pleasing reliability now feel synonymous with Sheeran’s music. But it was *x* that first hinted at an artist willing to test the limits of what people expected from him.

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.

There\'s a long history of teens becoming pop stars after gaining fame on TV. What sets Ariana Grande apart from the Justins and Britneys of the world is her force-of-nature voice, which rivals Mariah Carey\'s in its strength and range. While Grande\'s first album was an R&B-pop effort helmed by Babyface, *My Everything* enlists almost *every* A-lister in music (Zedd, Iggy, Nicki, etc.) for an EDM&B hybrid that showcases the full breadth of Grande\'s talents. This is a perfect picture of pop in 2014, from the soaring Ryan Tedder–penned ballad \"Why Try\" to Zedd\'s Vegas-bright \"Break Free\" to the pulsing midtempo groove of \"Love Me Harder,\" featuring The Weeknd. Even One Direction\'s Harry Styles gets a writing credit on \"Just a Little Bit of Your Heart.\" That Grande ably anchors such an all-star lineup is a testament to her gifts, not to mention her staying power.

The magnitude of Michael Jackson’s talent is evident in every track of his second collection of previously unreleased posthumous material. The roster of hit-making producers involved—including Timbaland, John McClain, Stargate, and Rodney Jerkins—add a dazzlingly modern sheen to Jackson’s original sessions. The album’s most fascinating offering comes with “A Place with No Name,” which is inspired by “A Horse with No Name” by ’70s rock act America.

Before the relatable *CTRL* and the deeply self-aware *SOS*, there was *Z*. SZA’s breakthrough EP, released in 2014, is where the R&B artist’s singular songwriting skills started to take form and become an entity of their own. *Z* followed a pair of self-released projects (2012’s *See.SZA.Run* and 2013’s *S*) that highlighted SZA’s penchant for floating her soft-focus vocals over lo-fi production. Upon signing with indie-turned-hip-hop-behemoth Top Dawg Entertainment, the singer, born Solána Imani Rowe, went to work on *Z*, which presents itself as an early checkpoint in the marathon of her complex life. A profound longing—for knowledge of self and love from another—has persisted throughout SZA’s discography, and it starts here. “Ur,” the opening song, sounds as if it’s starting in reverse before breaking into a stuttering, staticky atmosphere, complete with dark, lackadaisical horns that make way for SZA’s hushed purr. She immediately hits us with lyrics that beg to be interrogated: “Clarity is a state of mind/Freedom ain’t real—who sold you that lie?” SZA takes her time with self-expression, never rushing toward an answer but rather searching for her place along the journey. She moves throughout the EP at varied tempos: “Childs Play,” which samples XXYYXX’s experimental track “About You” and features an animated Chance the Rapper, continues the languid pace set by “Ur.” Elsewhere, songs like “Julia” and “HiiiJack” veer toward glimmering, upbeat territory, as SZA blends irreverence with thoughtfulness in her now-signature lyrical approach. “Sweet November” sees her singing over Marvin Gaye’s expansive “Mandota” instrumental, a tall task that she ambitiously tackles head-on. While the EP stands at 10 tracks, the project incorporates many more unexpected moments of sonic shifts that allow SZA to explore and experiment with her breathy voice and heady lyrics. (See “Warm Winds,” which sounds like a jolly giant trekking through a meadow made of dense synths, before a midway beat switch to light boom bap and neo-soul; and “Green Mile,” which starts out pensive and spacious before collapsing into a twinkling, starry end). *Z* brims with anxious thoughts and second and third guesses, but SZA manages to make it sound like she’s taking it all in stride.

In 2014, Prince released two LPs simultaneously: the 3RDEYEGIRL collaboration *PLECTRUMELECTRUM* and this solo outing. Ostensibly a concept album about a man who wakes up 45 years in the future, *ART OFFICIAL AGE* is a sprawling, spacey R&B fantasia. While the techno beat and airhorns that adorn the playful “ART OFFICIAL CAGE” slyly wink at the era’s fascination with digital recording technology, the album is also a return to form: The slinky, funked-out stunner “CLOUDS” and the pop-ballad odyssey “BREAKDOWN” feel like classics from a bygone era.

Early comparisons to Eminem may have helped Asher Roth break through the doubters’ ranks pretty quickly with his surprise hit “I Love College,” a funny and smooth-flowing ode to partying and college life with zero pretentions to be anything else. But that comparison gives way to faint evocations of Macklemore on *RetroHash* (an anagram of Roth’s name), the follow-up to Roth’s 2009 set *Asleep in the Bread Isle*. It feels like all of its five years in the making; it\'s smart and broad and deep. R&B, pop, indie rock, and hip-hop vibes permeate with equal enthusiasm. It\'s also fun, but with less of the dumb-youth kind of fun. It’s the sound of a talented artist growing up, sharpening his lyrical prowess and pulling musical memories and influences out of their dark corners and into the light. The lead single, “Tangerine Girl,” is a blissed-out, slinky tune that merges styles and ideas with utterly delicious morsels in a similar way that Beck did 20 years ago on *Mellow Gold*. “Tangerine Girl” is surrounded by moody soul, the warmth of vinyl hiss, speedy and sassy word gymnastics, and pop culture nods (he works in references to everything from *Soul Train* to TED talks). It has more sexiness than his weed-smoking, testosterone-loaded younger self could ever have mustered.

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.