Audioxide

El-P and Mike are on the frontline now. Here the duo stand up to be counted for what they really are: rappers, producers, activists, husbands, citizens.

Emotionally vulnerable and creatively restless. The record plays out like a prolonged stream of consciousness, yet every aspect seems carefully constructed.

The end of the 2010s is upon us, which means we are bound by obscure 16th century law to rank our favourite albums of the decade.

The decade had some doozies. Here were our favourites.

Tyler plays against his strengths and manages to push himself to make a good non-rap album. That in itself is pretty fucking fascinating.

Ventura is super consistent hip hop experience, but we can’t help but wonder what might have been achieved with the safety wheels off.

The record stagnates into a smooth R&B mood, though admittedly a rather lavish one. It’s frustrating to hear an album so content with being unrefined.

The album’s craft is a pleasure to experience, luring one's attention rather than commanding it. Listens through have the sensory, slow-motion quality of a dream.

The jams are drawn out in a ceremonious manner, with hooks piled on top of other hooks; each chorus repeated enough for it to become a sing-along.

22, A Million feels like a nondescript blur. It doesn’t deal in structure, but in loose clusters of peculiar sounds and imperceptible words. It’s a pretentious mess.

Shifting smoothly from ’90s R&B to psychedelic funk, Channel Orange is a liberation that Frank Ocean experiences as an artist as well as a man.

Blond flirts with indulgence but just about manages to stay grounded. It’s an account of slight thoughts, vague ideas, and delicate musings.