Noname, Room 25

If hip-hop were a rowdy room dominated by shit-talkers and attention-seekers, as it sometimes feels, Noname would be the quiet one in the corner who, when prompted, torches everyone with a quick, understated line. People lean in when she speaks her mind, partly because of the easy way she delivers sharp, heady observations and partly because she raps at the volume of an intimate conversation. Technically her debut LP, Room 25 finds her opening up about her newfound success, sex life, and home in L.A.—a coming of age in jazz-rap watercolors. [Kelsey J. Waite]

Pusha T, Daytona

From deep within the dust-choked pocket of “The Games We Play,” Neighborhood P offers Daytona as his “purple tape.” It’s not quite that—for one, it’s short as a sneeze compared to Raekwon’s kingpin epic—but the menacing verve is there, as are references to “[doing] the Fred Astaire on a brick.” Kanye has always excelled as an editor. Daytona is him paring the sharpest nihilist in the game down to novella length: nothing but action, barbs, and heat. [Colin McGowan]

Saba, Care For Me

Saba’s been one of Chicago’s hardest-working rappers for years, turning every mixtape or cameo alongside friends like Chance The Rapper into opportunities to raise his profile and his game considerably. But even after a strong solo debut in 2016, few could’ve predicted the impact of follow-up Care For Me, a devastating meditation on loss that marks Saba’s much-deserved breakthrough. Here his agile, emotive flow and life-and-death lyricism reach new heights, nowhere more so than on the epic eulogy “Prom/King.” [Kelsey J. Waite]

Vince Staples, FM!

Few people can do more in eight bars than Vince Staples, whose verses are always these diamond-tight pieces of craft, every syllable placed exactly where it should be. The 22-minute FM! finds our crown prince of concision at his most caustic, turning a stretch of spring-loaded tracks and exclamatory song titles (“Outside!”) into a bracing snapshot of Long Beach life, full of evil-genius hooks (“No Bleedin,” “FUN!”) and hauntingly taut verses (“When Johnny died, all I had was shows booked,” from “Tweakin’”). [Clayton Purdom]

Tierra Whack, Whack World

It feels a little like cheating to call Whack World a rap album, so elastic are Tierra Whack’s style and flow. It’s even weird to call it just an album when it’s an equally brilliant visual experience and shrewd marketing move, its one-minute tracks tailor-made for Instagram. This subversion of expectations is essential to Whack’s art, of course—is she mourning an actual “dog” in “Pet Cemetery” or her “dawg” Hulitho?—and it’s why we’ve all been returning, beguiled, to push Whack World past 2 million views this year. [Kelsey J. Waite]

Honorable mentions

Cupcakke, Ephorize and Eden
Chicago’s queen of sex-positive rap self-released two albums this year, both full of her signature hi-hat beats and funny, filthy couplets. [Katie Rife]

Hermit And The Recluse, Orpheus Vs. The Sirens
Ka raps exclusively in 70mm, here turning the myth of Orpheus into another midnight saga of lonely samurai, scorched landscapes, and bars that deserve to be whispered, like a prayer. [Clayton Purdom]

Jay Rock, Redemption
Jay’s the bedrock of Kendrick’s longtime label, Top Dawg Entertainment, and Redemption is his best album, an unflashy, haunted, and ultimately triumphant Watts come-up story. [Clayton Purdom]

J.I.D., DiCaprio 2
The very music of DiCaprio 2 seems to defer to J.I.D., its big, opulent productions morphing and making way for his snaking black-out flow. [Clayton Purdom]

Maxo Kream, Punken
For all its skittering trap hi-hats, Punken’s got a surprisingly old heart, full of recurring characters and shaggy-dog stories and hyper-specific, diaristic detail. [Clayton Purdom]

Nipsey Hussle, Victory Lap
After a decade of grinding out mixtapes, Los Angeles stalwart Nipsey Hussle finally took his Victory Lap, full of exuberant beats and verses wrenched out in that inimitable, weathered howl. [Clayton Purdom]

Rico Nasty, Nasty
Kenny Beats throws Neptunes funk, screaming electric guitars, and atomic bass booms at Rico Nasty, and she tears literally every one of them to shreds. [Clayton Purdom]

Sheck Wes, Mudboy
Mudboy’s the rare massively hyped debut that delivers on its promise, introducing a wild-eyed shit-starter of an emcee with a killer ear for beats. [Clayton Purdom]

Travis Scott, Astroworld
Travis Scott finds the middle ground between Grimes and Rae Sremmurd, somehow making the Beastie Boys, Thundercat, John Mayer, Drake, and Stevie Wonder all melt together like hallucinations in a never-ending Houston night. [Clayton Purdom]

SOB X RBE, Gangin
Gangin is the type of shit you crash a rental car to, a careening, headlong blast of music delivered by four young rappers who, in the tradition of so many young men before them, keep egging each other on to increasingly delirious heights. [Clayton Purdom]

 
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