The 50 Best Albums of 2021: Staff List

With Sling, Clairo takes a convincing step further away from TikTok-boosted bedroom pop stardom into the singer-songwriter role that her idols — namely Joni Mitchell and Elliott Smith — once inhabited. Its production, led by alt-pop whisperer Jack Antonoff, evokes warm, nostalgic tones of indie-folk, while the artist born Claire Cottrill peels back intimate layers of herself through gentle vocals and heart-wrenching lyrics (“Why do I tell you how I feel?/ When you’re too busy looking down my blouse”). While listening to the LP may have felt cathartic for fans in relating to such a personal album, it’s clear that making the record was even more purifying for Cottrill. — EJ PANALIGAN

Take three of the finest songwriters from Texas (one of them a chart-topping country star) and give them time to woodshed in a tiny, remote arts mecca in the state’s high desert and you’ve got The Marfa Tapes, a stripped-down, harmony-drenched, just-keep-the-tape-rolling 15-song set whose charms led it to debut at No. 1 on the Americana/Folk Albums chart. The trio, who had previously collaborated on Lambert’s 2018 ACM song of the year recipient “Tin Man,” mix enchanting originals with newly intimate spins on catalog favorites — and they reprise their award-winning hit here in a raw, unpolished, compelling performance. — THOM DUFFY

Listening to Young Dolph and Key Glock’s Dum and Dummer 2 now, mere weeks after the former was murdered in his hometown of Memphis, is like looking at a haunting freeze frame of a triumphant street survivalist who “Went from standing in the trap to standing on stage in arenas,” as he touts on “Penguins,” and was primed to climb even higher. The album captures the warmth, humor and respect between the cousins, with more than a decade between them, as they coolly flip rhymes, share the spotlight and take cracks over their bass-heavy bangers. If it must be the final full-length release of Dolph’s in his lifetime, at least this captures him at his best: as a mentor and friend, deep-voiced and unbothered as he lifts up a new generation of rappers. — CHRISTINE WERTHMAN

While other dance artists embraced the ongoing disco/house revival in ways that were schlocky, derivative or both, U.K. producer SG Lewis raised heart rates with his sophisticated yet fun, fresh yet nostalgic debut LP, Times. Sharing DNA with Disclosure’s 2013 breakout album Settle, and featuring collabs with both legendary vets like Nile Rodgers and Robyn and exciting rising stars like Channel Tres and Lucky Daye, Times is the rare dance album that’s satisfying start to finish — even as it oscillates in tempo while exploring the many moods of clubland. — KATIE BAIN

Sonically, Little Oblivions is alt-rocker Baker’s fullest studio album to date, buoyed by the addition of modular synthesizer and drum machines that she described to Billboard ahead of the project’s arrival in February (“I was like, ‘Wow, why should a drum machine be off limits?’”). She deftly uses both to punctuate the moments directly following some of her most vulnerable, desolate one-liners — like “I had the shuddering thought, this was gonna make me late for work” (“Heatwave”) or “How long do I have until I’ve spent up everyone’s good will?” (“Favor”). Such lyrics hang in the balance before backing instruments come roaring in to temporarily wash them away — though such examinations of self-destructive behavior are often quick to return to shore. — JOSH GLICKSMAN

After notching his first Billboard entry in 2019 with “Si Se Da,” Myke Towers scored countless reggaetón chart hits — but on his third studio album, he stepped away from the commercial sounds and returned to the underground rap that made him a household name. Lyke Mike, which debuted at No. 3 on Top Latin Albums, is primarily an ode to basketball, el barrio and, his biggest inspiration, Michael Jordan — with collaborations from Mikey Woodz, Ñengo Flow, Jon Z, and Sahir. Home to hip-hop, trap, and drill tracks, Lyke Mike sees Towers opening up about his struggles and successes. The album cover even shows Towers standing in front of his childhood home in Puerto Rico, showing both how far he’s come and how important his roots still are. — JESSICA ROIZ

Electronic producer Fred Again’s debut album Actual Life (April 14-December 17, 2020), is a rare, hopeful take on everyday life, created during one of the most difficult years in recent memory. Unlike other quarantine albums that fixate on loneliness and despair, Actual Life is a celebration of random, ephemeral moments — providing a pedestal for the little things in life, many of which we forget over time. Each song is named for a different person — including a few  famous friends like Julia Michaels and Dermot Kennedy — pairing scraps of old voice memos with skeletal but joyful beats to zero-in on the specificity of one person’s experience in a single moment. After writing and producing alongside some of Britain’s biggest musical exports (Ed Sheeran, FKA Twigs, The xx) Fred Again proves with Actual Life that knowing how to write from another’s point of view is his strength, allowing him to make an incredibly empathetic record. — KRISTIN ROBINSON

After sculpting slinky earworms on his 2020 debut album Heaven or Hell, Travis Scott protégé Don Toliver graduates to surefire star status on his sophomore effort, Life of a Don. Drenched with syrupy melodies, Toliver waltzes his way through seduction and temptation on “XSCAPE” before going intergalactic with Baby Keem on “OUTERSPACE.” And though he thrives on sugary hooks, Toliver also flourishes when getting emotional, addressing bouts of isolation (“Ain’t good enough to go and walk to you”) on album standout “Company Pt 2.” — CARL LAMARRE

After finding her way into the hearts and playlists of many through the spring revival of Wizkid’s late 2020 deep cut, “Essence,” fans old and new anxiously awaited Nigerian singer Tems’ next offering. And in September, she delivered: The five-track If Orange Was a Place EP highlights all the reasons we love Tems, including her unmatched ability to fuse genres, her husky, warm vocal tone, and introspective songwriting. Including a lone feature from R&B heartthrob Brent Faiyaz on “Found,” the project is simple, intentional and timeless, setting high standards for Tems’s eventual full-length debut. — NEENA ROUHANI

With the arrival of Willow‘s fourth solo full-length, Lately I Feel Everything, the singer-songwriter leaned all the way into her punk roots and alternative inclinations — and as a result, emerged with her most fiercely confident album to date. She gets support from genre veterans Travis Barker on lead single “Transparentsoul” and Avril Lavigne on the forward-looking “Grow,” but proves just as potent on her own with more pensive solo cuts like the raw “Naive” and longing “4ever.” As a whole, the project helped solidify Willow‘s rightful place in a new class of 20-somethings pushing pop-punk forward — and proving they can do whatever they want from here on out. — LYNDSEY HAVENS

For longtime Drugs fans, writer and bandleader Adam Granduciel’s fifth studio album was a shock to the system. The irresistible guitar hooks, deftly integrated classic rock references (Bruce Springsteen, Bob Seger, Peter Gabriel) and themes of loss, escape and control are still there, but instead of a collection of edible-friendly shoegazer jams, I Don’t Live Here Anymore is an album of polished, carefully constructed songs. The apex of this sonic evolution is the title track, a radio-ready endorphin rush — heightened by the luminous backing vocals of Lucius’ Jess Wolf and Holly Laessig and a guitar-synth pairing that would have guaranteed heavy rotation on MTV in the ’80s. “I’m going to walk through every doorway, I can’t stop,” Granduciel promises on the track, sounding like a man who’s crossed a new threshold. — FRANK DIGIACOMO

On one of the year’s most-anticipated and most-hyped sets, Ye (Kanye West) returns with an avant-garde hip-hop-meets-gospel homage to his late mother Donda, which he revealed (and revised) during a trilogy of stadium listening sessions. Ye confronts his personal demons and yearns for mercy without two key women by his side following his separation from wife Kim Kardashian for nearly two hours on his 10th Billboard 200-topping project. But he doesn’t fight them alone: Ye recruits a cornucopia of emerging and established hip-hop acts, from Fivio Foreign on “Off the Grid” and Jay-Z on “Jail,” and reaffirms his ability to curate monumental moments in the genre that are bigger than Ye himself. — HERAN MAMO

With her latest collection of deeply personal songs, folk/pop singer Joy Oladokun continues to fortify her position as one of the best modern lyricists. On In Defense of My Own Happiness, the Nigerian-American artist reveals her perceived flaws (“I’m starting to prefer the wine/ I drink too much sometimes”) and opens herself up to listeners, asking them to understand and empathize with a young woman coming to terms with her youthful mistakes. With each song, the album feels like stepping one foot deeper into a lake to be baptized through Oladokun’s gospel, as her soothing voice, piano and frequent claps wash over the listener. Her candor creates a sincere space for fans to take in the world from her perspective as she tackles racist biases on “i see america” and double standards on the Maren Morris joint effort, “Bigger Man.” — TAYLOR MIMS

Two weeks after he finalized his debut album Afrodisiaco, Rauw Alejandro began working on his sophomore set, Vice Versa. The 14-track LP contains only three reggaetón songs with the rest of the tracks a rollercoaster (as appropriately represented on the album cover) of new sounds fused with electro-pop, funk, and even Brazilian rhythms. His viral hit “Todo de Ti,” which charted in the top 40 of Billboard’s Hot 100 chart, is the best of all worlds for Alejandro, a Latin pop-funk smash inspired by the sounds of James Brown and Bruno Mars. Vice Versa is home to songs about love, heartbreak, and healing — but also summer jams, which not only demonstrated a new side of Rauw but also secured him his first No. 1 on Top Latin Albums. “This is the music I like to do,” he simply explained to Billboard. — J.R.

It’s old news that Bieber has matured from his bubblegum beginnings into a first-rate mainstream pop hitmaker. Even so, his steady stream of excellent hits from Justice was impressive. “Lonely,” a poignant collab with Benny Blanco, and “Peaches,” a pop/soul jam featuring Daniel Caesar and Giveon, are just two of the standout cuts. The album brought Bieber eight Grammy nods – twice as many as he had previously amassed in any one year — including his first album of the year nod since Purpose, but he’s probably more gratified by his first-ever nod in an R&B category for “Peaches.” – PAUL GREIN 

Between Adele’s 30 and Pearce’s 29, it seems 2021 was the year for numerically titled albums centering on emotional wreckage in the wake of divorce. With Pearce’s EP and subsequent album 29: Written in Stone (which added eight more soul-piercing tracks), she retraces a year of upheaval and pain — in which she got married and divorced, and also lost longtime collaborator busbee to cancer. These songs address neglect (“What He Didn’t Do”), unfaithfulness (“Never Wanted to Be That Girl” with Ashley McBryde) and loss (“Show Me Around”), but ultimately aspire to happier days, with Pearce affirming “I know somewhere somebody’s out there/ And when I meet him he’ll make sense of all this mess” on the closing track “Mean It This Time.” — JESSICA NICHOLSON

With the self-titled Vince Staples, the Long Beach MC aims for the heightened aura of importance that a self-titled record carries. The 22-minute, Kenny Beats-produced LP still leaves listeners with much to process throughout its succinct runtime, as Staples ruminates on his adolescent proximity to gang violence, friends lost to the dangerous lifestyle and contemplations of his own mortality over ethereal yet punchy Kenny Beats soundscapes. Approaching these topics through an intimate lens and in an existential mood – namely in introspective cuts like opener “ARE YOU WITH THAT?”  – Staples reflects the mind of an artist wise beyond his 28 years of age. — EJ PANALIGAN

Listening to Chilean singer-songwriter Mon Laferte Latin Grammy-winning (and now Grammy-nominated) album makes for a cathartic release. The 14-track set includes songs that Mon Laferte wrote “as if the world was coming to an end,” she previously told Billboard, while in solitude and confinement during the pandemic. With this outlook, Laferte decides to open up about personal (and universal) topics on Seis — such as toxic relationships and the healing that comes from them, and lessons she’ll by taught by future lovers – via vulnerable and thought-provoking lyrics. Seis also allowed Laferte to dabble in regional Mexican sounds for the first time, experimenting with mariachi, norteño and the nascent corridos tumbados. A storyteller at heart, Laferte narrates a pivotal moment in a woman’s life, who goes from heartbroken to confident, like the woman she describes in “La Mujer” – making this the type of album that should be listened to from beginning to end.  — GRISELDA FLORES

After toying around with notions of retirement, for his sixth studio album, The Off-Season, J. Cole was on one mission: to obliterate all doubts of him not still being a bloodthirsty MC. Cole torpedoes his adversaries using incredible wit, hurling punchlines like “Could put an M right on your head, you’re Luigi brother now” from opener “95.South” all the way through the set’s dozen tracks. And when Cole isn’t skewering his naysayers, he reminds us why he’s also a sympathetic narrator, reminiscing about when he once idolized his one-time foe Puff Daddy in seventh grade on “let.go.my.hand” — and later inviting him on the track to make proper amends. — C.L.

A leading figure in the recent regional Mexican renaissance, the Sonora-born artist Carin León is as experimental as ever on Inédito, home to 17 sublime meditations on love and heartbreak. Staying true to his core sound — a combination of norteño, sierreño and banda — León also fuses his more traditional-leaning sounds with pop, country and jazz-like beats, resulting in a more wide-ranging mainstream appeal. The 32-year-old artist also leans on unconventional norteño instruments such as the ukulele, a violin and a Wurlitzer (electric piano) for a head-turning effect that will make anyone think twice about pigeonholing León to one genre. — G.F.

Landing seven years after debut album Worlds, due to a bad case of writer’s block and then a COVID shutdown delay, Porter Robinson‘s sophomore LP still arrived exactly on time. Dropping in April, Nurture came during a moment of cautious optimism, when the world generally (and electronic music scene specifically) was aching for uplifting music that also spoke to the emotional vulnerability most of us were feeling during this phase of lockdown. Embracing pop structures more than ever before, Robinson delivered with a cerebral, occasionally challenging, often delicate and consistently immaculate LP about self-doubt, self-worth and those breakthrough moments of clarity and joy. — K.B.

At 74, Elton John has been a legend longer than most of his guests on this album have been alive. The Lockdown Sessions, recorded during the pandemic after John was forced to pause his Farewell Yellow Brick Road tour, collects previously-released collabs and others created especially for this album. While he teams with a few artists who are more or less his contemporaries (Stevie Wonder, Stevie Nicks and the late Glen Campbell), the bulk of the collabs are with young artists ranging from Charlie Puth to Young Thug, all paying their respects to one of the greatest stars in pop and rock history. The Rocket Man manages to find chemistry and common ground with all of them — and in the case of Dua Lipa, his biggest hit since the ’90s. May these young acts manage to stay relevant, active and engaged even half as long as he has. – P.G.

Daye continues to play an integral role in keeping the flames burning for next-gen R&B. The New Orleans-bred singer-songwriter candidly explores the complexities of relationships and love on this seven-song EP, but in a clever and engaging  twist, also examines both sides of the dating game through insightful duets with various female artists. Standouts include Yebba soulfully posing the question “How Much Can a Heart Take,” and Ari Lennox romantically sparring with the Grammy nominee on the intoxicating “Access Denied.” The high-wattage chemistry these and the other guests spark with Daye’s velvety vocals — alongside his scene-setting spoken-word/rap interludes and melodic storytelling — make this a must-listen. — GAIL MITCHELL

With Glow On, Turnstile released the album that they had been building toward for years — as the Baltimore hardcore group’s pit-ready aggression, musical playfulness and arms-open choruses congeal into a 35-minute listen that feels like a mainlined caffeine injection. Cowbell, piano and trap-influenced percussion are snuck into the hooks and head-banging riffs, allowing listeners to discover new details on repeated listens while shouting along to some of the most, well, fun hard-rock songs of 2021. — JASON LIPSHUTZ

Bedroom indie singer-songwriter Girl in Red had proven herself one of contemporary music’s great narrators of anxiety long before a global pandemic essentially left her stuck in her own head for a year. Long-anticipated debut full-length If I Could Make It Go Quiet sees the rising Norwegian star born Marie Ulven feuding with her brain (“It’s such a liar,” she seethes on “Rue”) while also dealing with the pressures of potential crossover stardom (“Down at times square in the rain/ There’s a billboard with my face,” she gasps mid-“Hornylovesickmess”). The results are spellbinding, as Ulven synthesizes her internal and external claustrophobia into a vivid and varied 13-track journal of her always-palpable frenzy, delving inward lyrically while expanding outward musically — a chronicle rich enough to impress the critics, and accessible enough to get her in heavy radio rotation next to Imagine Dragons and Foo Fighters. — ANDREW UNTERBERGER

If Taylor Swift had just faithfully re-recorded every track from one of her most beloved albums, it surely would have still been scooped up by Swifties eager to support the superstar’s effort to regain ownership of her first six albums. With November’s Red (Taylor‘s Version), however – her second such re-release, following Fearless (Taylor‘s Version) in the spring – she dropped a 30-track package as essential for fans as one of her new studio albums, delivering revelatory new-to-us songs alongside Phoebe Bridgers (the achingly personal “Nothing New”) and Chris Stapleton (the delightfully feisty “I Bet You Think About Me”). Then there’s the crown jewel of “All Too Well,” which rocketed to No. 1 on the Hot 100 thanks in part to its long-rumored 10-minute version, finally materialized in all its brutal TMI glory. With Red (TV), Swift proved she’s taking this re-recording thing way beyond a retrospective hits package to create a whole new album cycle, and she’s proving she can improve on a classic in the process. – KATIE ATKINSON

Karol G’s third album KG0516 cements her as the top female hitmaker in Latin music today. The set includes empowering blockbusters like “El Makinón” and “Bichota,” but also wistful gems like “El Barco” and “200 Copas,” which highlight a more vulnerable (and vocally versatile) Karol. And then, there are the collabs, which range from tried and true (Ozuna, Anuel, J Balvin), to adventuresome (Juanka and Brray, Nathy Peluso, Camilo). As evidenced by her late-year sold-out headlining arena tour, though, the real power here is Karol G’s ability to lead the charge on her own, paving the way for a new generation of Latina stars. — L.C.

In 2018, Carlile saw a career breakthrough with her album By the Way, I Forgive You — a project that led to several Grammy wins, production for Tanya Tucker, forming The Highwomen, and a best-selling memoir. With follow up In These Silent Days, she expands the breadth of her sturdy, perceptive writing and compelling, dark-hued vocals with moments that recall the piano pop constructions of Elton John (“Letter to the Past,” “Sinners, Saints and Fools”) but also Joni Mitchell on “You and Me on the Rock.” Carlile reunites with longtime collaborators Tim and Phil Hanseroth (and co-producers Dave Cobb and Shooter Jennings) to craft an album that easily synthesizes music and message, including the near-lullaby melody of “Stay Gentle,” the raw verve of “Broken Horses,” and the near-operatic power of “Right on Time” — a track recently nominated for three awards at the 2022 Grammys. — J.N.

Breakout R&B phenomenon Giveon combined his two 2020 EPs and added a new track, “All To Me,” to land his full-length mainstream breakthrough with When It’s All Said and Done…Take Time.  It’s not easy being smooth and edgy at the same time, but Giveon, also known for his collaborations with Drake and Justin Bieber, pulls it off on his Mainstream R&B/Hop-Hop Airplay chart-topping hit “Heartbreak Anniversary” with his raw vocals gliding over a minimalist slow groove.  It’s that yin and yang that makes the album so seductive, as the Los Angeles crooner’s rich baritone takes on disenchanted affairs of the heart with an irresistible slinkiness and regret. — MELINDA NEWMAN

Named after a loose metaphor for starting over, The House is Burning marks the rebirth of TDE’s Isaiah Rashad. Following a five-year hiatus plagued by crippling alcoholism and financial ruin, the Chattanooga rapper returned with a polished, 16-track boom-bap set that sees him at his most relaxed. Recruiting artists like Lil Uzi Vert, Smino and 6lack for pensive tracks and bangers alike, The House is Burning finds Rashad simplifying his approach to music, through freestyling and channeling the sounds of the music that he grew up on — Texas and Louisiana bounce and neo-soul. (“It feels good since a n—a been back, but a n—a done changed, changed, changed, changed, changed,” he expresses on “Headshots (4r Da Locals)”). Rashad came out swinging for his highly anticipated resurgence, paying off with his first top 10 album on the Billboard 200. — CYDNEY LEE

While alt-rock revitalist Lindsey Jordan’s pained voice on her debut album, 2018’s Lush, crackled like dry tinder, on 2021 sophomore LP Valentine it is a fully realized blaze, multi-hued and emitting undeniable heat. Over nearly 32 minutes and 10 tracks, Jordan brings in swelling strings, pop-forward hooks and sleeker production while recounting intense bouts of heartache, adoration, jealousy, relapse and recovery. “Time tends to pass and make a joke of things, but/ Eleven months and still/ Some nights I reach for you,” she confesses on “Forever (Sailing).” The sounds may have gotten bigger, but Jordan doesn’t neglect the smaller, knife-twisting details. — C.W.

The fourth album from British rapper Little Simz is nothing short of a masterful emotional journey, starting with the rallying and declarative lead song “Introvert” and winding through the free-flowing and vibrant “Protect My Energy” and the slinky, assertive “Point and Kill” with rising artist Obongjayar. Yet behind each disparate sound is a cohesive narrative that proves Little Simz is, above all, a woman who knows herself better than you could ever know her — no matter how much time you spend with these songs on loop. — L.H.

Certified Lover Boy, Drake’s sixth studio album, sees the latest chapter in the Toronto rapper’s ongoing struggle to balance fame, vulnerability — and at the center of it all, love. Clocking in at an hour and 26 minutes, the 21-track project brings together a range of high-profile features including Jay-Z, Young Thug and Kid Cudi, showing where Drake’s business and personal relationships stand. CLB marked Drake’s tenth No. 1 album on the Billboard 200, living up to its considerable pre-release hype with the best first-week numbers of the year to that point, while breaking the record for the most top 10 Hot 100 singles from one album with nine — led by the endearingly silly chart-topper “Way 2 Sexy.” Certified not only cemented Drake’s enduring star power, but it also defined him 15 years into his career still as just The Boy, on a never-ending quest to be understood in ways he swears no one ever will. — THANIA GARCIA

Don’t believe the title — on Summer Walker’s sophomore album, she’s definitely not over it. And how could she be? On the melancholic R&B record, she laments that her former partner and father of her child, producer London on da Track (who also helmed about half of Still Over It), “made [her] spend [her] whole f–king pregnancy alone.” The record is full of her palpable anguish, and Walker processes these betrayals in real time over the course of the album’s 20 tracks, singing through her own five stages of grief. Despite it all, however, Walker still finds moments of resiliency and empowerment. Following the instruction of Cardi B’s voicemail on the album opener “Bitter,” Walker “put her drama into the music,” unlike some of the mothers of London’s other children who she says took to “The Shade Room” and “Insta” with their troubles. The result was a record so captivating it became the first R&B album by a woman to top Billboard 200 in more than five years. — K.R.

“How’s it feel to stand at the height of your powers…projecting your visions to strangers who feel it, who listen, who linger on every word?” Michelle Zauner asks herself on her third album’s exhilarating opener, before answering, “Oh, it’s a rush.” Jubilee sounds like she feels. By the end of track two, the lyrically direct and disco-friendly “Be Sweet,” it’s clear Zauner has moved on from her lo-fi beginnings to an enthralling new phase of artistic maturity. Even in the album’s melancholy moments, Jubilee is lush with strings, horns and irresistible ‘80s synth sounds that counter the desire and longing found in her lyrics, more candid than ever about lust, love and commitment. She gets points, too, for closing the album with a near three-minute guitar solo — a flex befitting an artist exploring the height of her powers. — F.D.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely to feel somethin’ for once?” If this line off proper LP opener “Hurt” was a mission statement of sorts for Arlo Parks’s stellar debut album Collapsed in Sunbeams, then mission accomplished. Over the course of 12 songs, the 21-year-old London-based auteur creates an atmosphere of subtly performed and empathetically penned music that felt like a tight embrace at the end of a long, hard year when it was released in January. Almost a full year later, Sunbeams still taps into that same vein — not always feel-good, but always good to be feeling. — S.D.

No pop release of 2021 was as immediately or efficiently gratifying as PinkPantheress’ debut set, a 10-song, 18-minute intro to an artist whose brilliance is already fully realized, while still feeling practically incidental. To Hell With It is the extremely rare LP — L-ish, anyway — that both reaches back to the past (with its sweet-spot samples of early ’00s house, garage and drum-n-bass classics) and pushes into the future (with its TikTok-friendly song lengths and IG caption-ready lyrics) without the usual wistful nostalgia of the former or self-serious pretension of the latter. Instead, To Hell With It takes a punk attitude towards its diaristic sighs of heartbreak, obsession and light stalking, including as much sonic and lyrical detail as needed for each song to motor your feet and twist your insides, then moving on before roteness becomes a consideration. It’s a stunning achievement delivered as a coy shrug, and it would no doubt laugh at a blurb this long and effusive. — A.U.

It’s a shame the conversation about star-crossed has orbited around the myopic ‘country or not’ genre debate — especially with the Recording Academy officially concluding “no” — as Musgraves’ fifth is one of the most nuanced, emotionally balanced breakup albums in recent memory. For every generous sentiment (“no one’s to blame” she states on the finger-picked title track) there’s mischievous shade (sample the “Breadwinner” lyrical morsel “He wants your dinner until he’s not hungry anymore”) and wistful regret (admitting “I wish I would have known we didn’t have it so bad” on the country-folk lament “Hookup Scene”). Anyway, who says a smokin’ hot flute solo (“There Is a Light”) doesn’t belong in Nashville? — JOE LYNCH

For many, it seemed like Baby Keem arrived out of nowhere: In the last three months and change, the Vegas-made artist and producer catapulted to the top of the rap scene, thanks to his witty bars, futuristic sound and dynamic delivery. With pgLang founders Dave Free and Kendrick Lamar by his side, helping to mold the burgeoning talent, Keem perfected The Melodic Blue‘s theatrical, seemingly effortless marriage of compelling narrative and fresh production, telling the world exactly who the MC is and what he has come to do. On the more straight-forward rap cuts, he still weaves between voices and characters, often resetting within the same track, but also keeps it simple on poppier tracks like “16.” Like his cousin Lamar, the 21-year-old has no interest in doing what’s already been done — and his potential seems nearly as sky-high as a result. — N.R.

Spanish rapper C. Tangana had many ambitions for El Madrileño: He wanted it to sound Spanish, independent of genre, and contemporary — despite incorporating traditional sounds and styles. He wanted it to gain critical acclaim despite being an urban album, and he wanted his guests to not be multi-million streaming superstars in the Latin realm, but a mix of up-and-comers and old-timers. That it all came together is a testament to a completely unique artistic vision and aesthetic, superb production (courtesy of Alizzz) and dazzling collabs. El Madrileño digs deep into the roots of Tangana’s hometown Madrid’s essential music, but smartly incorporates global genres, from Cuban son (with help from veteran guitarist Eliades Ochoa) to Mexican norteño (with rising Mexican acts Carin León and Adriel Favela), all with a modern flair that incorporates rap and electronic elements. Tangana won four Latin Grammys and is now up for a Grammy award for best Latin rock or alternative album. It shouldn’t surprise anyone if he gets it. — L.C.

The R&B singer-songwriter reclaims her time and the “heaux” (read as “ho”) title, in order to uplift women within a patriarchal society that tries (but ultimately fails) to diminish their power and sexual prowess. Interwoven with spoken-word interludes from women confessing their romantic and personal hardships, the tracks on Jazmine Sullivan’s cohesive Grammy-nominated EP Heaux Tales allows Sullivan & Co. to flaunt themselves to the world however they please, while letting their unapologetic tales about trash men taking themselves out on “Pick Up Your Feelings” or proving themselves worthy of being kept around only for the D on “Put It Down” come to the forefront of an all-too-relatable storyline. Heaux Tales bands together Sullivan’s female R&B peers like Ari Lennox and H.E.R. for a triumphant tale of sisterhood, with impressive heft for a project of just a half-hour runtime. — H.M.

Billie Eilish is trying to figure it all out, as any 19-year-old is, on her sophomore album, Happier Than Ever. She dyed her hair blonde and seemingly prepared fans for a brighter, more confident new era with the release of the refreshingly hopeful “My Future” a year before the album’s release. But the 16-song, musically spacious set still finds the Grammy winner navigating heartbreak, trying to take the high road instead of talking “s—t about [exes] on the Internet,” taking on the heaviness of adulthood and wearying of the toxic male gaze. Through her thoughtful lyricism and richly emotive vocals, Eilish starts to understand, just like the rest of us, that being “Happier Than Ever” isn’t a straightforward process. It’s growth — which can be uncomfortable — but the self discovery along the journey makes it worth it.  — RANIA ANIFTOS

If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power, Halsey’s masterful pivot to a darker alt-rock focus, can partially be credited to Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, the Nine Inch Nails veterans who produced the project and helped locate its industrial center. Yet few pop artists in recent memory have been able to shapeshift with Halsey’s dexterity, and they spend the album hopscotching across jittery electronica (“Girl is a Gun”), brash pop-punk (“Honey”), grooving R&B (“Lilith”) and lullaby balladry (“Darling”), all while reflecting on the challenges and revelations of her recent journey as a new mother. While Halsey found the perfect support system to bring If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power to life, the songs shine because of the complex, daring — and, yes, powerful — artist at their center. — J. Lipshutz

Doja Cat erases any doubts about her multi-faceted versatility as a singer, rapper, songwriter, producer and visionary on her third studio album. Working again in the pop, rap and R&B realms, she peppers that mix with dollops of reggaetón, afrobeat, dancehall and other global genres. Adding the final touches to this sonic stew are Doja Cat’s shape-shifting vocals and moods, playful sense of humor and sixth sense for choosing guest features — such as SZA for the sexy “Kiss Me More” and Young Thug on the falsetto-propelled “Payday.” She’s more than capable of shouldering the album’s additional hits by her lonesome, however, which she does on the sultry “Need to Know,” the empowering “Woman” and “Get Into It (Yuh),” a tribute to her pop-rap idol Nicki Minaj. A Grammy nominee for album of the year and best pop vocal album, Planet Her validates Doja Cat’s mission to become an essential star in the pop galaxy. — G.M.

From the album’s opening line, “I’ll be taking flowers to the cemetery of my heart,” it’s clear that Adele once again opens a vein and let her feelings flow in a way that few mainstream performers have the courage to do. As she mines the depths of despair from her recent divorce and her ultimate healing with 30, she also cements her status as a timeless artist who has no desire to cater to trendy whims. She’s just at ease as a ‘40s jazz chanteuse gently singing to a delicate Erroll Garner piano interlude on “All Night Parking” as she is vamping over  the handclapping rhythms of “On My God,” or playfully trilling over Max Martin and Shellback’s syncopated beats on the peppy “Can I Get It.” It’s to her credit that a dozen years into her global superstardom, Adele still feels like the bestie confessing her most intimate, vulnerable thoughts over a glass (ok, several glasses) of wine. Let the countdown to 35 start now. — M.N.

Since bursting onto the scene with “Old Town Road” in 2019, Lil Nas X has commanded an image of pure queer confidence. Never pulling punches and always going bigger, the superstar made his name by being music’s biggest provocateur — whether through sexually-charged lyrics, hysteria-inducing (and hysterically funny) music videos, and/or top-tier online trolling. So, when Lil Nas debuted his long-anticipated debut album Montero two years later, fans and critics alike were stunned to find an album whose most shocking quality was its emotional depth. Rife with rich themes of isolation, self-discovery and acceptance of identity, Montero fittingly stripped back the veneer of Lil Nas X and introduced us to Montero Lamar Hill, a 22-year-old kid who suddenly shot into the spotlight and was handed the expectations of whole communities. Whether he was flexing his status or wistfully looking back on painful past memories, Lil Nas X spent his entire debut showing the world that he is much more than a button-pushing firebrand — he’s an exceptional artist in his own right, and one who “don’t run from nothin’, dog.” — S.D.

Those who came under the spell of Tyler, the Creator’s voice-sublimating and universe-expanding 2019 LP IGOR — a Grammy winner for best rap album, though he understandably felt the award too limiting a designation for its broad appeal — may have been thrown for a loop by the rapper/entrepreneur enlisting mixtape fixture DJ Drama as host for a more conventionally bars-heavy road trip. But this was no back-to-basics exercise for the MC now known as Tyler Baudelaire; rather, Call Me stands as a free-flowing, jet-setting affair from an artist who can still spin effortless-sounding magic on the mic, and now has a near-lifetime’s worth of singular experience to draw from; whether he’s bragging about selling out Madison Square Garden or apologizing to Selena Gomez for past Twitter indiscretions, it’s different, it’s really different.

Tyler sounds firmly in the pocket throughout the feature-heavy set, kicking his feet up alongside heroes like Lil Wayne and Pharrell while offering a lift to next-gen hitmakers like 42 Dugg and YoungBoy Never Broke Again, with no guest knocking him off his own navigation. His confidence (boosted throughout by hypeman Drama) is so intoxicating that the lone time he does really let it drop — towards album’s end, for the self-excoriating honesty of the masterfully related nine-minute love-triangle odyssey “Wilshire” — ranks among the year’s most affecting musical moments. Call Me If You Get Lost is a welcome reminder that while Tyler, the Creator no longer needs to follow any kind of traditional path as a rapper, when he does get to rhyming on record, it’s a lane he still has entirely to himself, and he hasn’t needed to lean on Waze or Google Maps for any kind of direction for well over a decade now. — A.U.

There are enough overt references to singer/songwriter Olivia Rodrigo’s young age on her blockbuster debut album Sour – “I’m so sick of 17” in “Brutal,” Glee nostalgia in “Déjà Vu,” all of “Drivers License” – that you never forget while listening that it is, indeed, a senior-year high schooler who emerged from nowhere (or, rather, from Disney+) in January to become pop’s biggest new success story of 2021. But the project is concurrently so wise beyond its years that it’s far from an exclusively teenage experience – and was far from exclusively enjoyed by teens. The way Rodrigo captures the hopelessness of heartbreak throughout the album makes it hard to believe that she’s only singing about young love and not a lifetime of romantic disappointments, and somehow her very specific references (“I read all of your self-help books so you’d think that I was smart” in “Enough For You,” or “brown guilty eyes and little white lies” on “Traitor”) just lead to a more universal understanding of her pain.

But beyond the emotions laid bare in her lyrics, each song also comes in its own impeccable musical package, thanks in large part to the guidance of co-writer and producer Dan Nigro. From the petty bitterness of “Good 4 U” being channeled through snotty pop-punk to the creepy-crawly beat lurch of “jealousy, jealousy” symbolizing the inescapable resentment of scrolling through social media, it’s clear that as much care was put into the sonic details as lyrical. Basically, as the album title promises, Sour doesn’t sugarcoat things: “I’m a songwriter who writes from a place of authenticity and truth,” Rodrigo told Billboard for her May cover story. “And truthfully, love and happiness and everything weren’t feelings that I was feeling at the time.” So she took those not-so-sweet emotions and instead of keeping them to herself in a diary — like most of the rest of us did at her age — she expertly rolled them into an 11-song pop master class. “Where’s my f—ing teenage dream?” Rodrigo whines on “Brutal.” For scores of new fans, it’s this album. — K.A.