Polaris Music Prize, day 2: Fet.Nat, Dominique Fils-Aimé

My annual pre-Polaris summation, day two of five. Day one is here.

The shortlisters: 

Fet.Nat – Le Mal (Boiled Records)

The album:
From my February review:

This band sound like the wheels falling off Deerhoof’s touring van. Their second album, Le Mal—“the sickness”—opens with a staggered, stuttering groove that recalls Mary Margaret O’Hara’s “Not Be Alright,” if it was arranged by Mike Patton and featuring Kid Koala on turntables. The rest of the record gets weirder from there.

Vocalist JFno is muttering and snarling about something, but even if he was singing in English (he’s not) the meaning would be secondary to the way he’s integrated into the interplay between everyone else. Killer drummer Olivier Fairfield (Timber Timbre, Last Ex, Andy Shauf) is the principal driver here, his art-damaged Tony Allen licks challenging guitarist/bassist Pierre-Luc Clement to a rhythmic game of chicken, each daring each other to land on an unpredictably syncopated beat. Saxophonist Linsey Wellman skronks sporadically, popping up like a Whac-a-Mole in the rare spaces left open by Fairfield and Clement.

The most traditional track here is the dark post-punk of “Soft Purse,” and it’s less than two minutes long. It’s also the only composition that doesn’t appear here twice—ostensibly, anyway. The titles of the second half of the record are variations of the first, and though there are similarities between each version of each title, they have about as much in common as Agent Dale Cooper’s doppelgangers in Twin Peaks: The Return. Which is another way of saying: this glorious mindfuck of an album makes as much sense as you let it, depending on your willingness to surrender. "Your world is my mystery gift," sings a small chorus of women here. Right on.

Looking forward to seeing this band baffle and blow away the Toronto gala crowd on Monday. What I'd give to see them come out and play this Canadian classic, on a similar wavelength.

The chances: Normally, I’d say slim, but ever since Lido Pimienta’s win, I’d say all bets are off. It’s a strange new world, and this strange record could well climb on top. Which on the one hand would be amazing, but on the other it would further marginalize Polaris in mainstream discussions. Which is fine—maybe that would finally put an end to the think pieces about why Drake never wins. (The record-breaking pop star didn’t even longlist this year.)


Dominique Fils-Aimé – Stay Tuned! (En Soul)

The album:

From my May review:

This Haitian-Canadian Montreal singer has an audacious plan to release a trilogy exploring nothing less than “the history of African-American music,” of which this album is the second instalment. That’s a tall order, but at the very least she’s made a captivating song cycle here that showcases her spine-tingling vocals and some ace players. “There is Probably Fire” opens with gospel-tinged choral singing over minimal hand drums and clapping, before a long muted trumpet note announces a shift into an Ernest Ranglin-esque reggae groove with upright bass and jazzy piano. Each of those players are as integral to this album’s success as Fils-Aimé’s vocals, although she’s the obvious focal point. As the only credited vocalist, she’s also responsible for the layered harmonies throughout; this album’s one drawback is that she’d likely sound even better feeding off the energy of other live singers, rather than her own multitracks.

Fils-Aimé’s 2018 debut, Nameless, focused on the blues. Stay Tuned is ostensibly rooted in jazz and early R&B, with lyrics drawing from the contemporaneous civil rights movement and feminism (“You don’t treat me like the queen you keep telling me you see,” goes one line.) The next instalment will apparently delve into disco and hip-hop. But there’s a consistency between these first two records, a sound that is very much her own, a sound that pulls from modern R&B and Massive Attack descendants, albeit played on acoustic instruments. That third instalment will likely sound a lot like this one—which is to say, it will be a major work by an important new artist poised to transcend genres and generations.

Stay Tuned closes with a straight-up gospel song with the chorus, “I’ve got joy like a river in my soul.” So will the listener by the time the album’s over.

The chances: Fair. I loved this record the moment I heard it (at the suggestion of another Polaris juror). I championed it and voted for it. And yet I was shocked to see it make the shortlist. I can’t recall anything since Sarah Harmer’s I’m a Mountain, way back in Polaris’s inaugural year, that draws from pre-punk pop traditions. Fils-Aimé is steeped in jazz and blues, albeit with a decidedly modern bent, but there’s way too much upright bass, hand percussion, gospel harmonies and jazz trumpet for this to be on the shortlist, right? Maybe there’s enough resemblance to the ever-cool Sade for this to have wide cross-generational appeal; maybe those inexplicably enamoured by Charlotte Day Wilson will hear this and see the light. The closest Polaris ever got to jazz before this was the drastically different Colin Stetson and perhaps BadBadNotGood. Nothing like this. But for all my pleasant surprise, this record’s differences may well help it stand out against the competition. 



The could’ve/should’ve/would’ve beens:

Fucked Up – Dose Your Dreams (Arts and Crafts / Merge)

The album: This band won the Polaris in 2009 and were shortlisted in 2012. 2014’s Glass Boys didn’t long list, but this one did. It’s also the first Fucked Up record I’ve ever voted for, as it managed to finally convince me of this band’s greatness. Disclosure: I’ve never been drawn to this band’s style of hardcore punk, and even if I was I didn’t think Fucked Up made good studio records. Their live ferocity always seemed compromised and muffled in the studio. This one changed my mind.

An excerpt from my October review:

Dose Your Dreams is a game-changer. It is here that everything this band has worked toward comes to fruition. The production is crisp: the layers of guitars no longer muddied, the drums thunderous, the myriad extra layers expertly woven throughout. The arrangements are more creative than ever, employing atmospheric textures and harsh electronics, as well as Jane Fair’s saxophone and Owen Pallett’s strings. Most important: this record is where Fucked Up find an actual groove, as on the slinky disco of the title track (which owes debts to the Stone Roses), or the mid-tempo Springsteenian rocker “I Don’t Wanna Live In This World Anymore,” or the lilting shoegaze wash of “How to Die Happy,” or the Eno-esque weirdness of “Two I’s Closed.” There’s even a Skinny Puppy influence on the back-to-back electronic detour “Mechanical Bull” and “Accelerate.” Abraham surrenders more lead vocals than he ever has before, and the album is better for it—especially on the duet between Jennifer Castle and J Mascis on “Came Down Wrong.” Meanwhile, the traditional punk tracks (“House of Keys,” “Living in a Simulation”) are visceral, raw and anthemic fist-pumpers; some things never change, and, in fact, even get better.

Why it didn’t shortlist: I’m guessing a generational shift in jurors is one reason; Fucked Up are now a legacy act, one to be taken for granted. There’s also a political shift away from white guitar bands, which puts them at a disadvantage—although that didn’t stop (the much younger, and therefore still novel) Pup this year. Also, there was a lot of strong support for the new Voivod record, considered to be one of the best in that band’s 35-year career; there may have been some vote-splitting among jurors inclined to only have one aggressive act on their ballot. 


La Force – s/t (Arts and Crafts)

The album: This was the first record of the eligibility period that I fell in love with, and it remained at the top of my ballot six months later.

My September 2018 review:

Ariel Engle made my favourite record of 2013, In the Pines, as one-half of the duo AroarA. Five years later, on her debut as La Force, Engle has once again announced herself as a major talent—this time under a new name, and with her alone in the spotlight.

In the interim, she and her friends Leslie Feist and Snowblink’s Daniela Gesundheit formed a trio called Hydra, mainly as a social club with which Engle could play summer festivals with her newborn in tow. She then followed Feist into the latest incarnation of Broken Social Scene; Engle joined the already-crowded band on their comeback record, 2017’s Hug of Thunder, and easily carved out her own space beside the starpower of Feist and Emily Haines. Broken Social Scene also features Andrew Whiteman, who was not only Engle’s partner in AroarA, but off-stage as well. He co-wrote the music for La Force, but this is her project. She’s more than ready for her close-up.

For starters, she’s an arresting vocalist, every bit as compelling—if not more so—as her more famous friends. (The sole distraction on the album is on “Upside Down Wolf,” where she sounds remarkably like Cat Power—for an artist whose voice is so otherwise distinctive, this presumably accidental homage is somewhat jarring. It’s still a great song, though.) Her melodies are lovely, often based—as the best folk songs are—on as few chords as possible, if not just a plain drone (like the opener, “The Tide”).

But where Engle truly shines is in her rhythm: not just in the live and/or electronic percussion behind her, but in the role that every instrument plays on this record, starting with her own guitar playing. Latin rhythms often percolate underneath, not always in recognizable ways, though the bossa nova vibe of “Mama Papa” is undeniable. The overall production aesthetic is that of slick, art-rock torch music with more than a few nods to ’80s new wave (see “Epistolary Love Song”), with thoroughly modern technology; there’s nothing retro here, other than a sheer devotion to craft. As perfect as this record is, it also leaves the future of La Force wide open. This is an artist who could easily pivot in any which way: into darker corners, into sunnier settings, situated anywhere in the world.

Even though all her other projects have been with dear friends and loved ones, once this record makes the rounds, Ariel Engle’s own work will never be seen as an adjunct to someone else. Viva La Force!

Why it didn’t shortlist: There may well be juror fatigue with Broken Social Scene and their satellite projects, which is a shame because this truly does tower above anything from that camp in the last decade, with the exception of Feist. (I’m also partial to Kevin Drew’s 2014 Darlings.) Polaris is also not typically kind to mid-career artists, particularly women. The only shortlisters this year on the other side of 35 are Shad and Elisapie; the latter was previously unknown enough to be considered a new artist to most people this time out. Too bad: your forties is when life really starts to get interesting. Engle’s writing certainly confirms that.


Tomorrow: Les Louanges, Haviah Mighty, and two more should've-beens.

Polaris Music Prize longlist prediction 2019

-->

Marie Davidson – Working Class Woman

Every year I attempt to predict the Polaris Music Prize long list, based on past juror behaviour, current conversations among jurors, and entirely subjective intuition. Usually I get about 30/40 correct. This year I won’t bother with the longest end of the tail and focus on the 35 I’m almost certain we’ll see when the list is announced next Thursday, June 20. These are records I believe have broad juror appeal beyond the usual confines of genre and geography. 

There's about 20 records that might fill the five empty spots I've omitted below; I won't bore you with those, I will say only three of them have any real name recognition—and none of them are the Arkells. I expect that, for most people, this year's Polaris pool will be rich for discovery. 

(Apologies in advance to anyone who sees themselves on this list and not the real one next week.)

In alphabetical order, by artist:

Akua – Them Spirits

Black Mountain – Destroyer

Tanika Charles – The Gumption

Clairmont the Second – Do You Drive?

Marie Davidson – Working Class Woman

Digawolf – Yellowstone

Elisapie – The Ballad of the Runaway Girl

Fet.Nat – Le Mal

Dominique Fils-Aimé – Stay Tuned

Fucked Up – Dose Your Dreams

Haviah Mighty – 13^th Floor

Yves Jarvis – The Same But By Different Means

Jayda G – Significant Changes

Carly Rae Jepsen – Dedicated

Kaia Kater – Grenades

Kimmortal – X Marks the Swirl

La Force – s/t

LAL – Dark Beings

Laurence-Anne – Premiere Apparition

Salomé Leclerc – Les choses exterieures

Lee Harvey Osmond – Mohawk

Murray Lightburn – Hear Me Out

Les Louanges – Le nuit est une panthere

Loud – Tout ça pour ça

Motherhood – Dear Bongo

Doug Paisley – Starter Home

Orville Peck – Pony

Pup – Morbid Stuff

Jesse Reyez – Being Human in Public

Shad – A Short Story About War

Snotty Nose Rez Kids – Trapline

Alexandra Stréliski – Inscape

Sydanie – 999

Voivod – The Wake

Hawksley Workman – Median Age Wasteland

Prediction for eventual shortlist, assuming all of the above make the longlist:

Marie Davidson – Working Class Woman

Fucked Up – Dose Your Dreams

Haviah Mighty – 13^th Floor

Carly Rae Jepsen – Dedicated

Kimmortal – X Marks the Swirl

Orville Peck – Pony

Pup – Morbid Stuff

Shad – A Short Story About War

Snotty Nose Rez Kids – Trapline

Alexandra Stréliski – Inscape

Not that I want to jinx anything, but prediction for eventual winner:

Snotty Nose Rez Kids – Trapline

This record is as musically and lyrically strong as it is timely. It gets better every time I put it on. Prime Polaris bait, right here. If they do win, they’d be the first straight-up hip-hop act to do so (some heads questioned Kaytranada), and the Kitimaat duo would be the first Polaris champ from west of… Cambridge Bay, Nunavut. (Unless you count Saskatchewan-born, Boston-raised Hawaii resident Buffy Sainte-Marie.)

The long list will be announced in Winnipeg on Thursday, June 20, at 11 a.m. local time (noon Eastern, 9 a.m. Pacific, 1 p.m. Atlantic), and broadcast on the official FB page. 

Fucked Up - Dose Your Dreams

Fucked Up – Dose Your Dreams (Arts and Crafts/Merge)

The band with the name that almost guaranteed them a niche audience has somehow become one of the most venerable rock groups in the country, and their new album is easily an artistic pinnacle in their wide-ranging career.

Fucked Up are a Toronto sextet who started out as anti-corporate hardcore punk kids, with singer Damian Abraham barking like a death-metal screamer. With 2008’s The Chemistry of Common Life, they landed the Polaris Music Prize, international success, and opening slots for everyone from Arcade Fire to Foo Fighters. They wrote album-length rock operas. They worked with a wide variety of guests, from Gord Downie to Owen Pallett to Jennifer Castle to J Mascis and Kurt Vile. Here, they add to the mix Mary Margaret O’Hara and Lido Pimienta and... John Southworth?! They became pillars of their local music community, promoting a wildly eclectic music series called Long Winter, which represented the best of both what Toronto is and what Toronto could be.

And yet: for all their ambition and critical acclaim, the records fell flat, to this critic’s ears: the production oddly muted for such a ferocious live act, Abraham’s amelodic monotonous vocals wearing thin quickly, the band’s prog tendencies clashing with their core strength as a straight-up punk act best consumed in small doses. My opinion was a minority among my peers, but even Abraham himself was musing aloud about how long his band could last.

Dose Your Dreams is a game-changer. It is here that everything this band has worked toward comes to fruition. The production is crisp: the layers of guitars no longer muddied, the drums thunderous, the myriad extra layers expertly woven throughout. The arrangements are more creative than ever, employing atmospheric textures and harsh electronics, as well as Jane Fair’s saxophone and Owen Pallett’s strings. Most important: this record is where Fucked Up find an actual groove, as on the slinky disco of the title track (which owes debts to the Stone Roses), or the mid-tempo Springsteenian rocker “I Don’t Wanna Live In This World Anymore,” or the lilting shoegaze wash of “How to Die Happy,” or the Eno-esque weirdness of “Two I’s Closed.” There’s even a Skinny Puppy influence on the back-to-back electronic detour “Mechanical Bull” and “Accelerate.” Abraham surrenders more lead vocals than he ever has before, and the album is better for it—especially on the duet between Jennifer Castle and J Mascis on “Came Down Wrong.” Meanwhile, the traditional punk tracks (“House of Keys,” “Living in a Simulation”) are visceral, raw and anthemic fist-pumpers; some things never change, and, in fact, even get better.

Credit here goes to guitarist Mike Haliechuk and drummer J. Falco, who seized the creative helm at a time when the band wasn’t sure they would even make another record. This is beyond a doubt their London Calling, their Zen Arcade (there’s more than a bit of Husker Du throughout this album), their The Suburbs. Ten years from now, we’ll be talking about some new young band in a fit of creativity who will have made their own Dose Your Dreams. (Oct. 19)

Stream: “Raise Your Voice Joyce,” “Dose Your Dreams,” “Came Down Wrong”

More May 2014 reviews

And Then You Shoot Your Cousin

Highly recommended: The Roots

Worth your while: Nels Cline Singers

These reviews ran in the Waterloo Record between May 22 and June 5. Other May 2014 reviews ran here.

Blondie – Ghosts of Download / Blondie 4(0) Ever: Greatest Hits Deluxe Redux (Universal)

Never saw this coming: Blondie, circa 2014, covering Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s “Relax”; the first half of this six-minute version is set to a morbid pace and features just piano, Debbie Harry and backing singers. After that, it really gets weird: a guitar and synth interlude then gives way to what sounds like the original backing track with an EDM makeover. By the time Harry starts pleading with us to hit her with laser beams, I’d be shocked if anyone is still listening.

Between that and the head-scratching album title, Blondie are choosing to celebrate their 40^th anniversary as a band in strange style. On this, their fourth album since their 1999 comeback, they seem a tad, well, desparate: this is a double album, the second half of which features the band rerecording all of their greatest hits, without any major reinvention or imagination—so why bother?

The good news is that Blondie’s new originals sound exactly as you might hope they would: much like their 1999 hit “Maria,” this material will fit in seamlessly beside their greatest hits in a live set, even if it errs on the fluffier side, and these recorded versions have occasionally unfortunate nods to Max Martin-style modern pop production. Harry is in fine voice, while the subtle cumbia touches (including accordion) are no more out of place than the reggae that would have coloured earlier material. But between the rerecorded bonus disc, the too-long running length and the seeming inability to trust their best instincts on everything but the actual songwriting, Blondie seems to chasing ghosts rather than forging a future. (June 5)

Download: “Rave,” “Euphoria,” “Backroom”

Nels Cline Singers – Macroscope (Mack Avenue)

Pronto – The Cheetah (Butterscotch)

Rumour has it Wilco is reconvening in September. Its members have hardly been idle. Drummer Glenn Kotche put out his second album of solo percussion; Jeff Tweedy produced Low and Mavis Staples; bassist John Stirratt and multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone put out a new Autumn Defense album. Now keyboardist Mikael Jorgensen follows up his 2013 colllaboration with Greg O’Keeffe with a reissue of The Cheetah, an album he recorded at Wilco’s Chicago loft, with O’Keeffe and members of the Chicago Underground Trio, around the time he joined the band in 2001. And Wilco’s lead guitarist, Nels Cline, has put out his third album of 2014 (the only one leading his eponymous instrumental trio, however).

Cline had a prolific career before he joined Wilco; listen to any of his lyrical guitar solos in that band and it’s clear he’s much more than just another sideman. Cline plays guitar solos for people who don’t like guitar; indeed, often it doesn’t even sound like he’s playing guitar. He’s one of the only modern guitarists who can accurately be called Hendrixian: not just for technique or style or capacity for innovation, but for soul—you can feel every note Cline plays. Here he’s joined by longtime drummer Scott Amendola, new bassist Trevor Dunn (Mr. Bungle), his wife Yuka Honda (Cibo Matto), harpist Zeena Parkins and percussionist Cyro Baptista—all but Amendola are frequently collaborators with John Zorn, the king of the improv scene in Cline’s newly adopted hometown of NYC. Together, they move through somewhat traditional jazz-rock fusion to beatless noise soundscapes and everything in between (sometimes, like on “Hairy Mother,” all in the same song). Playing in a somewhat conventional rock band as a day job has hardly dulled Cline’s creatively restless spirit.

Much like in Wilco itself, Jorgensen takes a back seat to Cline when comparing these two albums. Cline belongs up front; Jorgensen works best in the background. Pronto dips into jazzy textures not unlike a lot of Tortoise-related projects in Chicago in the late ’90s, but Jorgensen’s real love is synth soundtrack work: he admits that the ’80s film and television work of Stewart Copeland and Jan Hammer were big influences when he was growing up. What sets Pronto apart is his tendency to drop a banjo in the middle of a glitch electronic track—something that no doubt appealed to Jeff Tweedy when he was casting about for new bandmates in 2001.

Download Nels Cline: “Red Before Orange,” “The Wedding Band,” “Hairy Mother”

Download Pronto: “Marsella Rambla,” “Tectonics,” “Tardigrades”

Fucked Up - Glass Boys (Arts and Crafts)

“Punk is dad.” This phrase—a play on the early ’80s rallying cry of The Expoited, “punk’s not dead”—has become a popular meme lately, and it certainly applies to Toronto band Fucked Up. Yes, some of them are dads. And even though their very name distances themselves from the mainstream, they’ve won major prizes, receive government arts funding, opened for Arcade Fire and have shown themselves to be essential cultural catalysts in their hometown and beyond. The anti-melodic growlings of singer Damian Abraham may still be repellant to many, but Fucked Up is downright respectable. As they should be: they do great work—outside the studio.

Glass Boys is an unusually concise record for this ambitious band: 43 minutes. It suits them well. And yet, they still manage to outstay their welcome. For such an explosive live act, the layers of guitars lack any attack. As always, Abraham writes some fine lyrics—and then does everything he can to make sure we can’t hear them. The band sounds like they’re running on autopilot; there are none of the temporary flashes of brilliance scattered throughout the 2011 rock opera David Comes to Life or 2008’s genre-busting Chemistry of Common Life—both flawed records, but both at least more musically interesting than this one. This is a band usually overflowing with ideas, for better or worse. Here, the only good ideas are the psychedelic Tom Petty-ish guitar solo on “Warm Change,” and hiring Gord Downie to sing a chorus about “the privilege of mass delusion.” J Mascis is on here somewhere; you’d never know it without glancing at liner notes.

So much cultural capital, so little to spend it on. That’s Fucked Up. (June 5)

Download: “The Art of Patrons,” “Paper the House,” “Sun Glass”

Coldplay – Ghost Stories (Warner)

Celebrity rags will be parsing the lyrics here to find out if this is Chris Martin’s divorce album. Who cares? Ever since the musical crime that was their breakthrough single, “Yellow,” nobody has ever listened to Coldplay for the lyrics, and they won’t now, either: “All I know is that I love you so / so much it hurts”; “In a sky full of stars, I think I saw you.”

No, the real news about Ghost Stories, their third album with producer Brian Eno, is that Coldplay sound like they’ve stepped out of the rat race, no longer shamelessly trying to be The Biggest Band in the World. Ghost Stories is a lovely, quiet, intimate album capable of converting crossed-arm skeptics (right here)—if they stay awake, that is. Ghost Stories doesn’t even feature anything resembling a fist-pumping stadium anthem or power ballad until the second-last song, "A Sky Full of Stars"; otherwise, it’s all about Eno’s trademark ambience, Martin’s falsetto and mostly electronic grooves not far removed from U2’s Zooropa—though I’m not sure that’s a comparison their record company wants to hear. (May 22)

Download: “Midnight,” “Another’s Arms,” “Magic”

Royksopp & Robyn – Do It Again (Arts and Crafts)

It’s been four years since Robyn’s breakthrough album, Body Talk, the rare electro bubble-gum pop record that never seems to get old: more than any of her other talents, it’s Robyn’s songwriting that sets her apart from all her peers. Too bad that’s not obviously evident here, a five-track collaboration with fellow Scandinavians Royksopp. The album’s centrepiece, the nine-minute “Inside the Idle Hour Club,” doesn’t even feature her vocals; the strongest song, the sultry, 10-minute “Monument,” complete with breathy sax solo, is far removed from anything she’s done before. But more power to her: the point of any collaboration is to exit your comfort zone. If the rest of this EP sounded like that, instead of a less interesting take on her usual sound, this might have worked. (May 29)

Download: “Monument,” “Every Little Thing,” “Do It Again”

The Roots – And Then You Shoot Your Cousin (Universal)

Can you imagine if Doc Severinsen made Bitches Brew? If Branford Marsalis made Voodoo? Now that the Roots moved on up with Jimmy Fallon to The Tonight Show, they’re more mainstream than ever, and are in a position to cash in big time—and yet they don’t. This is a band that always craved acceptance, to the point where they once installed stripper poles and hired dancers to “inspire” them during the making of 2004’s The Tipping Point, in hopes of conjuring a more commercial sound. So what now? Guest spots from Justin Timberlake, Jay Z and Katy Perry? Maybe even Elvis Costello, with whom they were last heard together on the full-length 2013 collaboration Wise Up Ghost?

Hardly. As we’ve known since 2009’s How I Got Over, their job as Fallon’s musical foils has freed them up to be as weird as they want to be on their own time. That means lots of minor-key piano, trippy beats and Biblical gloom and doom from MC Black Thought.  The guest list is decidedly either close to home (long-time extended crew members Dice Raw and Greg Porn) or avant-garde. Jazz pianist D.D. Jackson unleashes torrents of dissonant clusters over a furious string section on "The Coming," while singer Mercedes Martinez coos soothingly in the background. It’s not John Legend singing on "Tomorrow," even though it sure sounds like it; it’s the considerably lesser-known Raheem DeVaughn. For all its left turns, however, And Then You Shoot Your Cousin is remarkably concise—clocking in at an old-school length of 43 minutes and small change.

The Roots have always been outliers: as a full live band in a DJ culture; as music historians in a rapidly changing hip-hop world; as egoless musicians able to collaborate with anyone and everyone. Now that Black Thought and Questlove—the only two remaining original members—celebrate 20 years together, they continue to push their artform and solidify a reputation as perhaps the only hip-hop artists in history who continue to improve with age. Actually, never mind hip-hop: how many artists of any genre make one of their best records 11 albums into their discography? (May 29)

Download: “Never,” “Understand,” “Tomorrow”