Audioxide

TBD

The record transcends hip-hop, a buttery fusion of rap, soul, synth-pop, jazz, and a whole lot more. There’s even a reggae section that hits the spot.

Never does the record come off as grandiose or self-important; it’s just that good, and it’s just that much fun. Not a masterpiece, but a master at work.

Relentless and unpredictable, the album's like the spawn of a Satanic ritual in a theme park. It’s oppressive and challenging, but also warm and charming.

A pleasant, consistent, and enjoyable listen. Here’s hoping Nas and Hit Boy build on their clear chemistry with a follow-up.

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.

Thundercat rides the album like a surfer hanging ten on the world’s smallest, smoothest, slowest wave. It’s drifting with style, an uneventful good time.

A distinctive project that showcases exactly what Jay Electronica is all about. With a little help from a friend, of course.

Classic Gorillaz. Buoyant and aspirational, the project feels like a release of tension after the comparative harshness of Demon Days.

The album is enthralling in the same way a vampire's glamouring might be: warm, cold, hypnotic, enticing, and foreboding as all Hell.

There's a glaring sense of lunacy throughout. It's as though JPEGMAFIA is snapping between multiple identities, and yet still manages to be soothing.

Krafty Kuts and Chali 2na seem to lack conviction on this album, never attempting anything overly exciting, content with being serviceable.

The heated, high-tempered attitude that Curry carried on 2018's TA13OO has been replaced by a less hostile outlook. ZUU is a fun ride.

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.

Turning its back not only on the college path, but tropes of gangster rap as well, The College Dropout dares to be different in weird, supremely catchy ways.

Things Fall Apart is a fluid, continuous listen: understated to the point of being an excellent backdrop, which is both a blessing and a curse.

Blake has always been hugely successful at setting a mood, but for the first time in his career he actually exudes genuine emotive qualities.

Midnight Marauders’ tracklist is an exhibition of seemingly boundless creativity, each track distinct, original, and memorable.

An audacious project, FM! sounds like a cartoonish snippet of overblown California radio, with all the pomp and sunshine and shadow that entails.

It has its lulls, but when Straight Outta Compton blows hot it feels unstoppable. N.W.A modelled a spirit of expression impossible to ignore.

Whether the Beasties are rapping or singing, an infectious adolescent vigour radiates throughout. 20 years on and that energy has rarely been replicated.

The Marshall Mathers LP is Eminem’s finest accomplishment, but it’s too maniacal to be a masterpiece. It succeeds mostly as a surreal expansion of his debut.

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.

American hip-hop melded with house, techno, trap, and UK garage is an interesting approach, but as an artistic expression it’s frustratingly restrained.

Growling beats, echoing synths, and dark use of space lend themselves well to El-P and Killer Mike’s delivery: severe, angry, and macho, yet also great fun.

The album’s songwriting is fairly subpar, trying to say everything at once. Humanz is by no means a terrible album, but it’s definitely a disappointing one.

Kendrick explores a multitude of personal predicaments, but it's difficult to stay focused on what the record is actually trying to convey. It feels incomplete.

The record certainly has that classic Tribe vibe, but it lacks the key finishing touches for it to be favourably compared to the material of the early ’90s.

M.I.A.’s fifth and final album is an unfortunate affair. Comprised of lazy lyrics, half-arsed sampling, and grating production, AIM completely misses the mark.

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.

The album is ice-cool summer groove music, with shimmering guitar stabs, slender double bass slides, and silky smooth vocal delivery aplenty.

Illmatic has every element required that goes into making a great hip-hop record, with no gimmicks to intervene. It is, at its core, ten essential tracks.

This still makes for a great listen, especially for anyone with a penchant for hip-hop and breakbeat music looking something slightly different.

Comprised mostly of dabbles and snippets from the formative months of To Pimp a Butterfly, this album embraces its patchwork nature and in doing so manages to sound more complete than many ‘real’ records do.

Uneven, sporadic, and totally erratic; an unfinished version of a potentially great album. Enjoyment and frustration abound in equal measure.

While there’s little wrong with any of the cuts, the album in its entirety can feel a little half-baked. An extra push could have made this Williams' defining work.

A polished, lumbering beast of an album. Not so much concerned with peaks and troughs as with a steady, charismatic drone of all things Compton.

A lot of The Power That B seems like it shouldn't work, and yet it does. It's a huge, crazy wall of sound, and that makes for an exhausting listen.

If Good Kid, M.A.A.D City introduced Kendrick Lamar to the masses, To Pimp A Butterfly cements his place in the hip hop hall of fame. This is an instant classic.