Becoming an adult ultimately means accepting one's imperfections, unimportance, and mortality, but that doesn't mean we stop striving for the ideal, a search that's so at the center of our very being that our greatest works of art celebrate it, and often amplify it. Anguish and despair rightfully earn more Grammys, Emmys, Tonys, and Pulitzer Prizes than sweetness and light ever do, but West Coast rapper Kendrick Lamar is already on elevated masterwork number two, so expect his version of the sobering truth to sound like a party at points. He's aware, as Bilal sings here, that "Shit don't change 'til you get up and wash your ass," and don't it feel good? The sentiment is universal, but the viewpoint on his second LP is inner-city and African-American, as radio regulars like the Isley Brothers (sampled to perfection during the key track "I"), George Clinton (who helps make "Wesley's Theory" a cross between "Atomic Dog" and Dante's Inferno), and Dr. Dre (who literally phones his appearance in) put the listener in Lamar's era of Compton, just as well as Lou Reed took us to New York and Brecht took us to Weimar Republic Berlin. These G-funky moments are incredibly seductive, which helps usher the listener through the album's 80-minute runtime, plus its constant mutating (Pharrell productions, spoken word, soul power anthems, and sound collages all fly by, with few tracks ending as they began), much of it influenced, and sometimes assisted by, producer Flying Lotus and his frequent collaborator Thundercat. "u" sounds like an MP3 collection deteriorating, while the broken beat of the brilliant "Momma" will challenge the listener's balance, and yet, Lamar is such a prodigiously talented and seductive artist, his wit, wisdom, and wordplay knock all these stray molecules into place. Survivor's guilt, realizing one's destiny, and a Snoop Dogg performance of Doggystyle caliber are woven among it all; plus, highlights offer that Parliament-Funkadelic-styled subversion, as "The Blacker the Berry" ("The sweeter the juice") offers revolutionary slogans and dips for the hip. Free your mind, and your ass will follow, and at the end of this beautiful black berry, there's a miraculous "talk" between Kendrick and the legendary 2Pac, as the brutalist trailblazer mentors this profound populist. To Pimp a Butterfly is as dark, intense, complicated, and violent as Picasso's Guernica, and should hold the same importance for its genre and the same beauty for its intended audience.© David Jeffries /TiVo

A guitar held up by the neck, a child's head pressed against the holder's body. Cat Power reveals a lot with the cover of her tenth album. The American is up and running again and now she is a mother. At 46, Chan Marshall seems to be doing... better? Well, It's not as if her life, which has been studded with internal chaos, turbulence, a lot of moving around, depression and addiction is going to be all plain sailing from here on in, but Wanderer contains some of her most beautiful songs yet. Stripped-down compositions. A simple piano. A few notes on a guitar. A lean rhythm section. It's clear that the message here is "less is more."Perhaps her aim is to return to the roots of her old folk and blues mentors. Bringing a child into the world during the Trump era is enough to get anyone thinking again... And Cat Power hasn't sung for years. Her tones with their bluesy style, unmistakeable from the first syllable, reach sublime heights here. After a slightly electro detour with Sun, mixed by Zdar from Cassius, she doesn't give us too many surprises here in terms of the pretty classical form of her songs, but the surprise comes in the sheer quality of the tracks. One of her biggest fans, Lana Del Rey, makes an appearance on the album on the track Woman maintaining the sober feel to this beautiful and honest record. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz 

Following their 2020 record Heaven to a Tortured Mind, which marked Yves Tumor as a modern-day rockstar, they now return with their fourth studio album Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds). Produced by Noah Goldstein (Frank Ocean, Rosalía) and mixed by Alan Moulder (My Bloody Valentine, Nine Inch Nails), the album blends elements of rock, psychedelia, electronica, pop, and grooves with a razor-sharp edge. Tumor is the epitome of versatility, the origins of which are clear when they cited their influences for this album in an interview with Courtney Love. "I grew up with a lot of Motown from my father, so I'd say the Temptations … a lot of classic rock: Kansas, Led Zeppelin, MC5. I listen to a lot of dance music. From a lot of house, to hard, abrasive techno. I even like noise, just ambient noise music." Teaching themselves music production to counter the boredom of growing up in Tennessee, Tumor's rock outlaw personality is ever-present across the sonic landscapes they create: the thudding baseline and shrill screams of "God is a Circle," the far more psychedelic groove of "Lovely Sewer," the classic rock of "Meteora Blues."  There's also the celestial choir of "Interlude" and the tunefulness of the almost pop-punk track "Echolalia."  The songs are catchy enough to be pleasurable, but not predictable enough to be mainstream. So while that first listen of Hot Between Worlds is thoroughly enjoyable, it is on the second listen that you truly begin to piece together the puzzle that is Yves Tumor. © Jessica Porter-Langson / Qobuz

Rock Bottom, recorded with a star-studded cast of Canterbury musicians, has been deservedly acclaimed as one of the finest art rock albums. Several forces surrounding Wyatt's life helped shape its outcome. First, it was recorded after the former Soft Machine drummer and singer fell out of a five-story window and broke his spine. Legend had it that the album was a chronicle of his stay in the hospital. Wyatt dispels this notion in the liner notes of the 1997 Thirsty Ear reissue of the album, as well as the book Wrong Movements: A Robert Wyatt History. Much of the material was composed prior to his accident in anticipation of rehearsals of a new lineup of Matching Mole. The writing was completed in the hospital, where Wyatt realized that he would now need to sing more, since he could no longer be solely the drummer. Many of Rock Bottom's songs are very personal and introspective love songs, since he would soon marry Alfreda Benge. Benge suggested to Wyatt that his music was too cluttered and needed more open spaces. Therefore, Robert Wyatt not only ploughed new ground in songwriting territory, but he presented the songs differently, taking time to allow songs like "Sea Song" and "Alifib" to develop slowly. Previous attempts at love songs, like "O Caroline," while earnest and wistful, were very literal and lyrically clumsy. Rock Bottom was Robert Wyatt's most focused and relaxed album up to its time of release. In 1974, it won the French Grand Prix Charles Cros Record of the Year Award. It is also considered an essential record in any comprehensive collection of psychedelic or progressive rock. Concurrently released was the first of his two singles to reach the British Top 40, "I'm a Believer."© Jim Powers /TiVo

Though Break Stuff is Vijay Iyer's third appearance on ECM in less than year, it is the debut offering from the longstanding trio on the label. The pianist and composer has been working with bassist Stephen Crump and drummer Marcus Gilmore for more than a decade. They've issued two previous recordings together. Iyer usually works conceptually, and Break Stuff is no exception. In the press release he states that "a break in music is still music: a span of time in which to act." We hear this all the time in modern music, whether it be the sounds that emerge from composer Morton Feldman's extended silences, breakbeats by funky drummers or hip-hop samples of them, or instrumental breakdowns in heavy metal and bluegrass -- they follow a moment where everything previous seems to stop. The Iyer Trio illustrate their concept in a 71-minute program that works from a suite of the same title: three works named for birds were adapted from his multi-media collaboration with author Teju Cole on Open City (illustrating in performance the novel of the same name), three standards, and works that deliver directly on the premise, including the stellar "Hood," which was inspired by Detroit techno DJ Robert Hood. The head patterns are all single-note and chord pulses, fractioned by Gilmore's precise skittering beats, breaks, and martial fills, and accented, stretched, and fragmented again by Crump. Despite its staggered parts and shifting dynamics, it is quite organic. The reading of Thelonious Monk's "Work" commences straightforwardly, following head-solo-head formula, but moves toward the margins in both the pianist's and bassists's solos. The trio's interplay offers a very pointillistic illustration of the composer's coloristic and rhythmic invention. John Coltrane's "Countdown" is taken further afield. While it retains the composer's sense of energy and flow, the pianist breaks down and reassembles its melody and sections with funky snare drops, stop-and-start legato runs, and an exceptionally syncopated bassline. The tune remains utterly recognizable despite their liberties. While opener "Starlings" is the most consciously lyric of the bird pieces, and the band begins to open up into a decidedly internal sense of swing, "Geese," with its arco basslines, intermittently placed choirs, and brushed snares is almost wholly abstract until its lyric side comes into view little more than half-way through. Billy Strayhorn's "Blood Count" is performed as a piano solo and played with a lyricism, spaciousness, and taste that would make the composer smile. The title track opens briskly with fleet statements, yet gradually reveals an inherent lyricism via Crump's solo. Break Stuff is modern jazz on the bleeding edge, a music that not only asks musical questions but answers them, and it does so accessibly and immediately, no matter the form or concept it chooses to express. This trio aims at an interior center, finds it, and pushes out, projecting Iyer & Co.'s discoveries.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

By the release of Moment of Truth in the spring of 1998, Gang Starr were rap veterans, having spent nearly ten years as professionals. That elapsed time meant that the album was positioned as something of a comeback, since the duo had been inactive for four years, and it had been even longer since they had a hit. They knew they had to come back hard, and Moment of Truth almost accomplishes their goals. Retaining the swing of their jazz-rap fusions, Gang Starr nevertheless have their rhythms hit at a street level, and Guru's rhymes are his best in years. It may not have the thrill of discovery that made their first albums so exciting, and it does suffer from a few slow spots, but on the whole it's a successful return.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Four albums in and still whacked on speed, Finnish five-piece Children of Bodom continue with its highly entertaining, giddy, pogo-stick metal on Hate Crew Deathroll. Attitude-wise, CoB has become the Manowar of melodic death metal, willfully leaping off the cliff of over-the-top metaldom (not unlike Swedish supergroup Witchery) -- which is refreshing, considering the poker-faced seriousness of most acts in the genre, and here, main Bodom-ite Alexi "Wildchild" Laiho keeps his tongue firmly in cheek while tearing through squirrelly cuts such as "Triple Corpse Hammerblow" and "Lil' Bloodred Ridin' Hood." Like its predecessor, Follow the Reaper, Hate Crew finds Laiho firing off frantic speed metal riffs and technical, shred-heavy solos alongside humorously irritating prog/horror movie keyboards; this time, however, he has tightened up the arrangements (most songs clock in under four minutes) and significantly improved the enunciation of his vocal screech, making for a lean, mean, and infectious listen. The album races to the finish of its 36-minute running time, only slowing down for deathly ballad "Angels Don't Kill" and highlight "Sixpounder," which trades busy fretwork for hackle-raising mid-tempo riff chuggery and a monstrous, sweeping, anthemic chorus. Adding to the album's effectiveness is its crisp, crystal-clear, sharp, and mechanical production (Megadeth's stellar Countdown to Extinction is a reference point), which perfectly suits CoB's slice'n'dice songwriting ethic. Hate Crew Deathroll is easily the band's most accomplished, well-rounded, and enjoyable album, thanks to Laiho's playful, frisky approach to metal's clichés; placing Children of Bodom next to comparable European metal acts gives the overtly serious sensibilities of the genre a well-deserved deflating.© John Serba /TiVo

As a veteran group, it would be easy to go through the motions at this point, but for their 16th album, True North, Bad Religion are still fully inspired and delivering sturdy, memorable, and solidly crafted material. Released on guitarist Brett Gurewitz's Epitaph Records, after more than 250 songs, the founding member clearly knows what works for the band, and he sticks to the formula of uptempo, muscular anthems with chunky guitar parts and contemplative lyrics. Vocalist Greg Graffin continues to question the government, Christianity, and American society at large, sounding expressive, with a little less grit than usual, but tireless. True North shows flashes of their earlier work, and is a step up from their last album, 2010's The Dissent of Man, in terms of aggression. No straight-ahead pop tracks to be found here. Just 16 rapid-paced songs in under 35 minutes. Even after lineup changes, this latest edition of Bad Religion -- Graffin, Gurewitz, guitarists Brian Baker and Greg Hetson, bassist Jay Bentley, and drummer Brooks Wackerman -- operates like a well-oiled machine and plays its classic anti-establishment brand of So-Cal punk effortlessly. So well, in fact, that many of the songs on board hold up against the best material they've written since adding a third guitarist. There are some rare moments of lyrical levity too: for instance, when Graffin defends his usage of "fuck you" by explaining that it's just a Pavlovian response that he can't help and a way to pay homage to your bad attitude. While not exactly Bad Religion's deepest sentiment, it's a great summation of their long, long career as angry yet intellectual punks.© Jason Lymangrover /TiVo

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Following up one of the biggest debuts in hip-hop history, crack dealer turned charisma dealer 50 Cent makes some bold moves, recycles plenty of old ideas, and sprinkles in some perfect party singles for The Massacre. Crafty man that he is, 50 must have known following up the massive Get Rich or Die Tryin' was going to be extremely difficult, especially for a rapper rightfully known more for creating headlines than rhymes. To cushion the blow, 50 released an album by his G-Unit crew, made numerous guest appearances on other artist's tracks, and helmed ten mixtapes in his G-Unit Radio series. It kept the debut momentum moving and it's half the reason why The Massacre doesn't feel like Get Rich's proper successor, the other half being the album's effortless attitude. That's the most frustrating thing about the otherwise satisfying Massacre. At worst, it feels unfinished, and at best, it feels like a mixtape cobbled together from mostly choice tracks but without that overseer's polish. At a stunning, slightly overstuffed 78 minutes, it's overwhelming, too, but without a perfect flow to hold the listener's hand the whole way through, it's also a testament to 50 and crew that The Massacre doesn't test your patience until after the one-hour mark. Silly and short intro out of the way, the slinky "In My Hood" gets down to business and gives way to four tracks of the same-old, same-old bravado and beats that are still just as stunning and catchy as hell. "I'm Supposed to Die Tonight" and "Gatman and Robbin" are both great tracks from the quirky/macabre house of Eminem, but it's the Fat Joe-dissing "Piggy Bank" that steals the show. Like "Candy Shop," "Outta Control," "Disco Inferno," and on and on, "Piggy Bank" succeeds because of its serviceable rap, believable swagger, inescapable hook, and phatter than phat beats. For those who've had it with the gunshots, the Shady/Aftermath boasting, and the usual "G-G-G-G-Unit!" shouts, The Massacre has just enough surprises. Besides mentioning Kurt Cobain and Ozzy Osbourne, "A Baltimore Love Thing" is the big shocker as 50 poignantly tells the tale of a heroin-addicted girlfriend destroying all that's good. "Ryder Music" is more easygoing than expected, "Build You Up" (featuring Jamie Foxx) is actually sweet, and "God Gave Me Style" has just about the dreamiest beat in the G-Unit universe. Scott Storch, Dr. Dre, and Eminem are the only big names in the producer's chair, but everyone else serves up fine tracks, especially the great Needlz. Guest spots are kept to a bare minimum and besides the intro, skits are nonexistent. Trim a couple tracks and a couple beefs and rearrange the album and you have what sounds like Get Rich's lesser sequel, but The Massacre doesn't look back. It really just wants to challenge other rappers' albums and not its predecessor. Taken that way, it's an excellent effort.© David Jeffries /TiVo

When she released her EP Tina Show in 2018, few would have predicted that Megan Thee Stallion would become such a musical blockbuster two years later even though her talent aroused much interest. After Cardi B took her under her wing signing her to 200 Entertainment, she released her critically acclaimed album Fever in 2019, then the hits Diamond and WAP in 2020 which opened the way for a real coup de force: this album Good News. Hers is an exemplary, flawless trajectory, well marketed and thought out.  But true talents rarely faulter. With such a fluid rise to fame, we wouldn’t be surprised if Good News, a collection of inevitable future hits, turns out to be a Grammy-winning album. Its raw, trap aspects and slapping TR-808 instrumentals (Do It on the Tip, Movie) make for a satisfying outlet interspersed with a variety of different ideas. An almost disco-funk sound can be heard on Don’t Rock Me to Sleep as well as impeccable rapping on top of high-pitched soul samples on Circles (which samples Jazmine Sullivan’s Holding You Down), and industrial elements on Don’t Stop featuring the unmissable Young Thug… There is also something profoundly retro about this album, especially in the very 2000-sounding instrumentals as heard on Sugar Baby. Raw electronic sounds are plentiful and humanize the phenomenal Megan Thee Stallion and her unstoppable rise. © Brice Miclet/Qobuz

Totally Krossed Out, the debut album by kiddie-rap sensations Kris Kross, is so tailored to a particular audience in a particular time period that it's nearly impossible to judge by any objective standard. So let's try anyway. Producer Jermaine Dupri -- still a teenager himself -- wrote all the songs here, and he delivers a catchy, pop-friendly batch of tracks that manage to stay pretty consistently engaging (perhaps in part because they are short). The album's interview intro disses playground rivals Another Bad Creation (that would have been a great hip-hop feud) before segueing into the irresistible smash "Jump" (oh, just try and listen to it without smiling, you heartless grinch). Actually, the miggeda-miggeda-mack bit proves they're not bad rappers, if they're able to borrow technique from Das EFX -- though they don't keep it up, if for no other reason than that kids want to understand the words to songs they like. And "Warm It Up" is nearly as good. Some of the album tracks are lyrically generic, but the story song "Party" finds Chris and Chris trying to sneak into a club to meet girlies. There are some surprisingly serious notes struck on "Lil' Boys in da Hood" and "A Real Bad Dream," which paint the duo as knowing street kids who are all too aware of the dangers they could easily fall into. There's nothing terribly frightening, but it's more realistic than the innocent bubblegum you might expect. Of course, then there's the self-explanatory "I Missed the Bus." But overall, Totally Krossed Out isn't nearly as obnoxious or cutesy as adults might fear -- even if the lads' MC boasts just make you want to pat them on the head.© Steve Huey /TiVo

On paper, the album The Voice of the Heroes looks very enticing. By bringing together Lil Durk, the historic Chicago drill star, and Lil Baby, one of the new godfathers of Atlanta rap, this collaboration immediately established itself as one of the rap highlights of 2021. The album's streamlined rap and drill provides an excellent canvas for its two stars. Lil Durk gives free rein to his emotional vocals on Who I Want or Please, and Lil Baby deploys his mastery of auto-tune, betraying his debt to Young Thug. Amidst the nostalgic and haunting pieces like the excellent Hats Off featuring Travis Scott, there is a sudden explosion of rage with Man Of My Word or the powerful Lying, which recalls the artists' years spent walking the streets of their respective cities. Lil Baby sums it up nicely on the poignant Make It Out "You don't know how it feels when everywhere you live you get evicted". This is an album whose grace is the fruit of the artists' sorrows and talents. © Brice Miclet / Qobuz