Genius - 20 Best Albums of 2015 lyrics

As 2015 comes to a close, it's hard to remember all the great music we heard this year. Why? There was so much of it. 2014 was bookended by astounding years, with 2015 possibly overtaking the number of cla**ic releases 2013 gave us. The enigma from Atlanta, Future, dropped four projects; dreamy duo Beach House released two albums in as many months. Break-outs like Jamie xx caught our attention and hip-hop superstar Kendrick Lamar demanded it. Here are the 20 best albums of 2015. — Michael Heal 20. A$AP Rocky - At.Long.Last.A$AP 2015 began with the pa**ing of Rocky's close-friend and collaborator A$AP Yams, the mastermind behind the A$AP organization, but Pretty Flacko bounced back in May with his long-awaited soph*more album, At.Long.Last.A$AP. Rocky used the tragedy as motivation to deliver one of the best rap albums of the year, dedicated to the late Yamborghini At.Long.Last.A$AP was proclaimed "the return of the God MC," delivering insightful lyrics and fusing elements of psychedelic rock with the promethazine-inspired trap Rocky's become famous for. The majority of the album was recorded in London, where Rocky discovered a protégé and a friend in Joe Fox, who appears on stand-outs “Max B” and “Jukebox Joints,” (which says something on a track featuring Kanye West). However, the best cut belongs to Rocky and Bones, who linked up for a marauding ode to New York's “Can*l St.” The collage of high-quality music elevates Flacko to rap royalty and keeps the memory of A$AP Yams eternal. — Vuk Aleksić 19. Florence + the Machine - How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful Florence + the Machine continue to set baroque-pop standards with their album How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful. Its simple concept—lead singer Florence Welch attempts to break off a relationship—soars thanks to a heap of melodrama and a pinch of restraint. Welch lets her emotions shine through her vocals, whether she's growling on the rage-filled "What Kind of Man," or sighing resignedly on the atmospheric "Long & Lost". By limiting how many times she references water, Welch stretches her lyricism to encompa** even more imagery. The transcendent results include "Delilah," which elevates a missed phone call to Biblical proportions: “I'm calling for my mother as I pull the pillars down /It's a different kind of danger and my feet are spinning around / Never knew I was a dancer —'til Delilah showed me how.” Producer Markus Dravs redirects F+TM's sound, preserving the band's lushness, while giving the guitarists more presence. Goldfrapp's Will Gregory arranges the new horn ensemble, which exhale sharply on the medieval "Queen of Peace." The title track embodies HBHBHB. An acoustic guitar erupts into rueful nostalgia. Welch melts into the words "every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips," and lets out an improv "woo!" The jaunt climaxes with a three-minute instrumental, with hearty trumpets that could score a d**h scene. F+TM might be indulgent as times, but their expansive sound captures love's sweeping emotions. As Welch puts it in "Caught": Old friends have said, the books I've read, say it's the thing to do / But it's hard to see it when you're in it, cause I went blind for you. — Chihuahua0 18. Future - 56 Nights 56 Nights celebrates Future's close friend and collaborator DJ Esco's release from a Dubai prison. Alternately somber and jubilant, the album paints a picture of a drugged out but resilient creative, drowning his pain in codeine to inspire the trappers he left behind. Following on the heels of 2014's breakup record Monster and the innovative Zaytoven collab Beast Mode #FutureHive were in full swarm for fresh heat rocks—they were satiated by tracks like "Trap n***as" and "March Madness," which retain a social conscience in the midst of debauchery and felony. "March Madness," one of 2015's liveliest bangers, comes with a triumphant beat from Tarentino (it's the only track on the tape not produced by Southside)—it's both an ode to lean and an elegy. “All these cops k**ing n***as tragic” somehow doesn't sound out of place on what became a club and radio standard. The anthemic “Trap n***as” is much more than a series of coke rap tropes on a dark brooding beat. Future's shifting between first and third person invites the listener to identify with him and universalizes the dealer's struggle. He offers a message of hope, rooted in a profound belief that whatever one's station in life and the thankless tasks one performs, "God blessing all the trap n***as.” —Shaz 17. Clarence Clarity - No Now If you're thinking Clarence Clarity sounds like an internet meme, you're not entirely wrong. No Now is the debut album by multi-instrumentalist, singer, and embodiment of the internet age. The maximalist atmosphere of No Now entertains even those with the shortest attention spans, as sounds from seemingly countless genres clash, glitch, and mold into one to create the most serene aura. Clarence's musical style likely derives from his drive to be different, something made abundantly clear on the second track, “Will to Believe,” as he breaks through a dense wall of sound to denounce the non-risk takers and those who attempt to appear “cute." In the modern era where songs rarely stick to one pure genre, artists are boxed in by a myriad of sound-defining labels. Clarence Clarity has managed to create his own box. No Now is hectic. It's unpredictable. It's ever-changing. From the poppy melodies of “Those Who Can't Cheat” to the gritty guitar work of “p**n Mountain,” to the completely glitched-out mess of “Hit Factory of Sadness,” Clarence Clarity creates a unique journey. In a way, No Now represents the world we live in. Nothing is guaranteed in the future—all we have is now. We can choose to sit back and let the universe take its path, or we can evolve and become one with the erratic atmosphere. Take a step into Clarence Clarity's beautifully insane world with No Now; you'll find the unknown to be quite exhilarating. — Matt Witkowsky 16. Wolf Alice – My Love Is Cool “Keep your beady eyes on me”, warns 23-year-old Ellie Roswell over shimmering synths and intricate guitar arpeggios, and it would be hard to resist. The album's opener, “Turn to Dust," is a seductive, enigmatic number which sets the tone of the London four-piece's debut: cool, accomplished, and never failing to surprise the listener. No two tracks sound the same; indeed, in the middle of the album, we're transported on a whistle-stop tour from the smooth and considered “Silk” to the jazzy slap ba** of “Freazy," and then to the energetic single “Giant Peach," which sounds like it could've been written in the mid-90s. Producer Mike Crossey's versatility is commendable; his sound knowledge of dynamics is especially prominent on songs like “Fluffy," tracks are spacious and reflective when necessary, and the incredible diversity of styles makes it all the more impressive that one man has achieved such a feat. All four members of the band lend their vocal talents to the project, with Joel taking full creative reign and lead vocals on the reverb-drenched “Swallowtail." “I never thought we'd hit this hard," he sings in the verses, before breaking into an a**ured falsetto for the chorus. A cynic could call this sort of variation inconsistent, but the eclectic styles allow the band members' individual sk**s to flourish. If you appreciate unique lyricism, innovative structure, and great replay value, don't sleep on My Love Is Cool. — Luke Ballance (UnBalanced) 15. Miguel - Wildheart Miguel begins his third LP with the words “Don't ever sell your self short for acceptance.” It's a drastic change from what we've come to expect on the opening of a Miguel album. It follows a heartfelt Instagram post in which he detailed the spark behind Wildheart. As well as the personal and emotional sentiment, he takes inspiration from his home town of L.A, with every song having a connection to the City of Angels. This concept allows Miguel to expand his horizons and showcase the improvement in his writing sk**s, with themes of power, fame, childhood insecurities and at his most daring, alluding to L.A's adult film industry on “The Valley.” The infusion of electric guitars layered over heavy ba** lines and synths results in a psychedelic rock-r&b sound reminiscent of Prince's Sign O' The Times. The atmospheric vibe beautifully meshes over his more pa**ionate songs, with “FLESH” and the deluxe edition cut “gfg” showcasing his breathtaking falsetto. Over a pulsating ba**, backed by an electric guitar riff, the lead single “Coffee” seamlessly acts as a successor to “Adorn.” It follows his guilty pleasure of morning after s**, and the transformation of a purely s**ual relationship into one of greater intimacy. Although it faltered commercially, the album was highly praised by critics and fans alike. However, had everything gone according to plan, “waves” would have likely topped the charts and Miguel's praises would be ringing even higher. But as contemporary R&B continues to stray towards a drug induced sound with repetitive themes of lust and narcotic abuse, one of the genre's finest continues to challenge his sound and breathe new life into the genre with what may be his finest work to date. — zk123 14. Beach House - Thank Your Lucky Stars When discussing Thank Your Lucky Stars, one fact is inescapable: it's not the album Beach House were trying to make. And whilst the search for a context-free album may be a fool's errand, if Stars were a debut album from an up and coming band, it would be celebrated as evidence of a great emerging talent. It's true that most of these songs probably wouldn't have worked on Depression Cherry, but they're still great songs – indeed, “Elegy To The Void," with its dark lyrics and chilling outro, may be their best since “Take Care." Beach House aren't a conventional band, but they have a very defined sound which these songs push against. There's much more going on in the lower registers here than on any Beach House album since Devotion, at least. The lyrics, too, are much more grounded; while Legrand usually speaks directly to the listener about grand themes, Stars makes much more use of the third person. Mysterious women lead you to pools of water, lovers bend at the altar, schoolgirls pray by fading lace curtains – it's all quite reminiscent of Ishmael Butler. This is as close to traditional storytelling as Beach House has ever come. We're dropped into real lives and given snippets of information that are just enough to construct a portrait of who they really are. There is an obvious temptation to dismiss this as an afterthought to a masterpiece, but it's much more than that. It's almost like the eccentric second disk of one of the great double albums of the seventies. It's not Depression Cherry, but it more than stands alone. — Vesuvius 13. Natalie Pra** - Natalie Pra** In an era of surprise releases and casual DIY mixtapes, it's hard to imagine a label taking two years to release a great record, but that's exactly what Spacebomb Records did with Natalie Pra**. Trey Pollard's string arrangements accentuate Pra**'s delicate delivery, whilst the horns in the instrumental bridge of “Bird Of Prey” bare Matthew E. White's fingerprints. Break-up records are a dime a dozen, but these breathtaking arrangements are all too rare in contemporary pop. Pollard and White deserve a great deal of credit for the album's overwhelmingly positive reception. But Pra**'s songwriting is what lifts this record above White's Big Inner. Her songs are much more accessible and charming than those of her label mate. Her use of metaphor is constantly delightful – break-up as predation, as a fantasy novel, as a train pulling away from a platform - and some of her imagery is visceral. She may knock her singing voice, but Pra** provides plenty of intriguing inflections, and her vocals simultaneously convey her heartbreak and confidence. The crescendo of “My Baby Don't Understand Me” is so affecting because of the synergy between arrangement, performance, and the train station goodbye metaphor Nobody wants a needless two year delay before they can hear a record – but if it allows Pra** and Spacebomb to keep making records like this, it's completely worthwhile. — Vesuvius 12. Lupe Fiasco - Tetsuo & Youth Lupe struck that elusive balance between beautiful instrumentals, intelligent lyrics and vivid storytelling with Tetsuo & Youth. Fans and critics alike have praised the album – it's even been referred to as "a Rap Genius wet dream." Yet T&Y is so much more than just complex, annotation-worthy lyricism (though there's plenty of that too). Lupe organised the album into three distinct sections separated by “sonic palate cleansers” named after the four seasons. Songs are feel-good and upbeat from "Summer" to "Fall," more melancholy leading into "Winter," and then quite ominous (though by "Spring" things start to look up again). While every track is brilliantly executed, of particular note are the three monsters, each exceeding 8 minutes in length. Summer's "Mural" is an all-bars-no-hook lyrical a**ault that will leave you physically tired (in a good way) by the end. Fall's "Prisoner 1 & 2" is the most musically complex track on the album, with lyrics drawing a parallel between prison inmates and guards and a striking foundation of string and piano arrangements. Winter's "Chopper" is a ratchet, ba**-heavy beast featuring 6 artists that most wouldn't think team up with Lu. Few contest that Lupe Fiasco is a lyrical and creative genius, and his ability arguably shines brighter on T&Y than on any of his previous albums. Its seasonal transitions mean you can start listening to any track, come around full circle and experience the album in a completely different way. And just when you think you've digested everything T&Y has to offer, take our word for it and listen once more -- backwards. — Treflip 11. Courtney Barnett - Sometimes I Sit And Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit Courtney Barnett's debut album is quirky and awkward, much in the vein of getting the title of it: taking it from a poster that hung in her grandmother's bedroom. Abrasive guitar riffs simultaneously flow and jag behind Barnett, who sing-talks about, well, everything. Her breakout single “Avant Gardener” puns off of “avant garde." You can guess where that goes. Topics include trying to impress someone while swimming and accidentally fainting, a rambling rant about anything to get someone off her mind, and a home-buyer's depressing first time looking into the market. However, it also explores concepts like her newfound fame and self-worth. What really makes the album great is its lack of inhibition. Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Sit is poignant, but not forced. Her lyrics paint of picture of seemingly anything. It's an album you can sit and think to--or at least just sit. Even if she doesn't know who she is, she surely sounds good trying to find out. — Babu Sea 10. Tame Impala - Currents Currents is a stunning, near-perfect sonic achievement, made all the more powerful by the clash between its precise instrumentals and hazy lyrics. The LP announces Tame Impala as the rare group whose work isn't linked by rehashes of the same familiar sounds, but consistent mood, themes, and ethos present at the core of everything they record. The band's third offering has been hailed as a departure from their previous work. More accurately, it's an amplification of every shift Kevin Parker and co. made between their debut Innerspeaker and follow-up release Lonerism. After the magnetism of pop music shook up the group's lo-fi sound, Currents pushes the needle even further from psychedelia and towards an R&B/disco sound that only threatened to claw to the surface on Lonerism. Instead of hesitantly stripping back a few more guitars, Parker all but phased them out for the synths that form the backbone of this LP. Rather than resist his his growing auteur-like tendencies, the group's frontman/writer/producer Parker cut out all collaborations and added another responsibility to his ever-growing list: mixing. Yet the remarkable thing about Currents isn't how indistinguishable the record is from the band's previous releases; it's how perfectly it blends into the rest of their discography. Despite marked sonic and lyrical changes, it only takes a few notes from the ma**ive intro track “Let It Happen” to realize this could only be a Tame Impala album. Whether this trilogy's narrator slides into the past or embraces the healing properties of the future, puts on a false bravado or gets crippled by anxiety, we are never left feeling that the inconsistencies are the result of Parker conjuring up new narrators to deliver one-off tracks. Rather, we're reminded a person is more than their current mindstate, just as a band isn't defined by the amount of fuzzy guitars it's employing in any given moment. — Nick Ferguson 9. Joanna Newsom - Divers Call this her My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy moment, minus the controversy. One of music's greatest auteurs collects the stunning aesthetic signifiers of her previous cla**ic works and imagines what they'd sound like all meshed together. Lacking the featured players from whom Kanye derived greatness, the lyricism instead is the most important guest star. Era-hopping, the loose concept album threaded by time visits a restless pastoral resident (“Leaving the City”), pre-Revolutionary America (“Sapokanikan”), and a futuristic militia on the outskirts of the Fourth World War (“Waltz of the 101st Airborne”), to name but a few. Maneuvering unconventional rhyme schemes is nothing new to her, and doctoral-level literary devices are played with the precision usually reserved for her harp. But like MBDTF before it, Divers is an extraordinarily listenable album, a populist masterpiece offered up by the only genius capable of creating it. — Brian Duricy 8. Susanne Sundfør - Ten Love Songs When Susanne Sundfør released her third album, The Brothel, Norwegian newspaper Dagbladet said it would reduce her domestic rivals to tears. It was beautiful, but it would also make the chasm in talent that stood between them absolutely clear. No upcoming artist, and precious few established ones, could hope to compete with her. The Brothel set a high bar, but Ten Love Songs is a clear step up again. Sundfør set out to write an album of songs centred on violence, but found each of them morphing into a song about love. The result is a startling album full of conflict, between narratives as well as characters. Our narrators are unreliable, often unsympathetic, and highly flawed, which makes them all the more compelling. On “Delirious," Sundfør threatens to push her victim “over the edge” because she believes him to be “the one holding the gun". Meanwhile, “Silencer” is set in the aftermath of a jealous murder; Sundfør compares the swimming pool in which she disposes of the corpse as “an aquarelle of coral blue and red, like the colours of your lover's pretty eyes and hair." Sundfør's vocal performances bring life to her lyrics. Her range is staggering, spanning octaves and emotions almost casually, even within songs. She convinces with everything from a breathy whisper to the unhinged power of Freddie Mercury in Queen's early prog-metal stage. Although the album has an electronic backbone, the instrumentation is varied, with cla**ical instruments blending incredibly seamlessly with ultra-modern dubstep. The transitions between songs are similarly masterful, pulling the listener deeper into the album. The Brothel showed that Sundfør was leagues above other Norwegian artists. Ten Love Songs goes one better and establishes her in the upper echelon of pop musicians internationally. As a singer, songwriter, and visionary, few can match her. — Vesuvius 7. Father John Misty - I Love You, Honeybear For two albums, the sarcastic, witty, Josh Tillman has marauded both on wax and off as the pseudo-clerical persona Father John Misty. 2013's Fear Fun, and its oft-referenced hallucinogen birth, marked a new creative outlet for a 21st century cynic. No longer bound by the serious shackles of a name he never cared for, or the dull “J. Tillman” his previous eight albums debuted under, Our Father uses the new name as a mask that counter-intuitively allows an album truer than before. This mask questions the amount of oil it takes to make a record; trolls the music press with singular post-irony; parodies whiskey commercials and social media; and hip shakes with post-postured confidence that predates “Hotline Bling” during eccentric live performances. Consumerism, irony, and technological dependence return in his latest release, I Love You, Honeybear,through the bourgeoisie-bashing “Bored In The USA,” and “True Affection,” touching on the isolation and dissonance of digital communication. But at ILYHB's core sits Tillman's immutable motif – a struggle with identity. Falling in love only heightened the existential battle, creating what seems like a fourth iteration of the man. Now married, Emma Tillman is his “Honeybear.” Not something he actually calls her off-record, the pet name is a respite from the love songs that the misanthropic narrator so unexpectedly finds himself creating. In the middle tracks, loathsome ways introduced in Fear Fun return, yet, despite himself, he finds beauty through brutal honesty. He conceals nothing from Emma, nor the captive audience; “The Ideal Husband” rattles off ineptitude upon ineptitude, finishing with the accept-me-as-I-am “Let's put a baby in the oven / Wouldn't I make the ideal husband?” On “Holy sh**,” the magnitude of his wedding day sinks in, as he simultaneously commits to the marriage while pointing out its institutional absurdity. Bookending the strange loop, “I Went to the Store One Day” is the truest “love song” here, recalling the words and place that spawned the relationship, but not without the self-aware lyrical outline “Insert here a sentiment re: our golden years.” Raw and unfiltered, for better or for worse, right? — Brock Chenier 6. Grimes - Art Angels The disconnect between artist and consumer is rarely more apparent than when clear works of excellence are disregarded by their creator. When Grimes revealed her apprehensions about early single “REALiTi”'s quality, critics and fans collectively reacted in disbelief. How could one of the year's best songs be a mere throwaway? And then we heard Art Angels. An album with alienation as a core inspiration containing some of the most zeitgeisty pop of the decade. Grimes told NME of “California," “I wanted to make a song that is so uncool that no cool hipster people would like it,” and yet, what could capture post-808s culture better than “You only like me when you think I'm looking sad”? A lucky few have the artist's mind that could relate to her litmus test of song quality, but for the rest of us, all we know is that it's unbelievably good. — Brian Duricy 5. D'Angelo - Black Messiah Let your days slip away come with me and ride - D'Angelo, "Ain't That Easy." Black Messiah is a gem that was 14 years in the making. When someone as talented and popular as D'Angelo just leaves the music scene at the height of his run and has all the well documented troubles he's had, there are certainly a few questions going into his latest, mysterious release. Could he rekindle that same magic from Voodoo and Brown Sugar? How would D'Angelo fit into today's musical landscape? What we got is a triumphant return and an album that lined up perfectly with today's times. The socially cognizant nature of the album weighs on the racial tension going on in the United States. The Michael Brown situation actually inspired D'Angelo to move up the release date of the album. From samples of Black Panther Party member Fred Hampton, Nation of Islam/New Black Panther Party member Khalid Abdul Muhammad, to the cover for the album that was shot at an Afropunk concert, this album is deeply entrenched in Black culture. “The Charade” in particular captured the thoughts of African-Americans nationwide superbly. The soul and emotion in D'Angelo's voice and personal lyrics resonated as deeply as ever. In this musical endeavor, D'Angelo once again showed his mastery as an artist. From his instrumental performance, which included eclectic, but consistently stellar guitar work, to production, tremendous vocal harmonies, and lyrics, D'Angelo knocks it out of the park in every aspect. The cast he a**embled included the likes of Questlove, Q-Tip, and Kendra Foster. On this record, D'Angelo showed that he still has that magic of years past and may in fact be sharper than ever. A magnificent return album and certainly worth the 14 year wait. — YahwehSolomon 4. Jamie xx - In Colour The highs of Jamie xx's solo debut In Colour are euphoric. The atmospheric introspection of “Loud Places” to the unapologetically bright summer jam “I Know There's Gonna Be (Good Times)” is the best back-to-back punch of the year. “Gosh” is an intimidating introduction, announcing its arrival with harsh jungle MC callouts, before sneaking in a deceptively gorgeous drone. Throw in two more collaborations from his xx bandmates Romy and Oliver Sim, and you have a top-heavy album that, while impressive, may initially threaten to topple the record as a whole. But under a microscope, the less memorable songs flourish in their own right. Even “Just Saying,” the 84-second prelude to “Stranger In A Room,” finds strength as a celestial version of a track from Grouper's Ruins, whose keys keep their individual power in their differentiation, forcing intimacy through the sustained focus of each note. This divisive populist electro may never shake its myriad detractors who cry foul about the glossy repackaging of the scene it's largely indebted to, but it's wrong to dismiss such meticulously crafted production because of its accessibility. The monolithic In Colour will remain a striking affirmation of Jamie's solo chops, long after Jamie xx lays down his synths. — Brock Chenier 3. Beach House - Depression Cherry “There's a place I want to take you,” says Victoria Legrand on “Levitation”, the opening track from Depression Cherry. She and Alex Scally certainly achieve that here. Their fifth studio album isn't as cacophonous as Bloom, and it doesn't dazzle like the peaks of Teen Dream, but it's their most immersive and dream-like album. One can't help but feel that it should switch names with the much more downbeat Teen Dream. It may be dreamlike, but it's not floaty or airy. This is one of those dreams that seem more real than real life, where colors are bolder, every detail etches itself onto your memory, and you find yourself stumbling onto profound truths about mortality, maturity, love, and loss every few minutes. The intensity is a steady 8/10 throughout, largely thanks to Legrand's woozing synths and Scally's guitar flourishes. Scally most shines on the album's opening tracks. On “Space Song," his abrasive guitar sounds like it is popping the bubbles blown by the staccato synth arpeggios. A shimmering riff drives the intro of “Sparks," before Legrand's heavy organ fades in and overwhelms him. The guitar is back in the second half of the song, whining in the background during several musical transitions. That's where the magic of Beach House can be found. They largely eschew traditional song structures. Where most think in beats per minute, Scally and Legrand, like Joanna Newsom, work in songs per minute. Instruments loop hypnotically, dropping in and out unpredictably. There are faster transitions, but even these are smooth, and give the impression that the album arrived fully-formed and immaculate. So do Legrand's lyrics, that say “you will grow old too quick, then you will get over it”, and speak of a universe that “goes riding off with you” too soon. Sure enough, even this blissful record must come to an end. — Vesuvius 2. Sufjan Stevens - Carrie & Lowell Sufjan Stevens has never done the same thing twice. A single glance through his discography reveals as eclectic a collection as one could ever hope for—handbells and pure synth, cla**ical woodwinds and autotuned lamentations. What unites his albums is exactly this—a willingness to play and experiment But this is not those albums. Carrie and Lowell is the sound of Sufjan Stevens distilled and perfected. He's selected the best parts of his most successful styles and fused them into a perfect synthesis—bleak, unabashedly personal, and almost, but not quite, on the edge of low-fi. Those qualities alone are enough to make any album shine. But don't be mislead—just because there's not the same sense of musical playfulness here doesn't mean Sufjan isn't breaking any new ground. Rather than a new musical style, Carrie & Lowell's true genius lies in its lyrics. Carrie & Lowell sees Sufjan on a poetic form unmatched by any of his previous projects. The minimalist wonder of “Sister” or “Futile Devices," the dramatic flourishes of “Palisades"—all of these and more are reflected in his new album, in every song. Whether it's the unalloyed joy he sees in his niece (“My brother had a daughter/the beauty that she brings, illumination”), or his self-destructive behavior in the wake of his mother's d**h (“Should I tear my eyes out now? Everything I see returns to you somehow”) Sufjan infuses each line with the same understated beauty and wonder. Ultimately, Carrie & Lowell is a much more consistently poetic effort than any of his previous projects, and a much more ambitious one. Carrie & Lowell brings to the table a maturity, sensitivity and depth that Sufjan has only ever shown us glimpses of before—all while maintaining the absolutely note-perfect production and orchestration that is Sufjan's forte. The only reason why I continue at all Faith in reason, I wasted my life playing dumb Signs and wonders: sea lion caves in the dark Blind faith, God's grace, nothing else left to impart — nightpool 1. Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp A bu*terfly Kendrick Lamar's near 80-minute epic is a rollercoaster of emotion backed by an eclectic a**ortment of live instrumentation. G-funk to jazz, Compton to Africa, Kendrick navigates his way in search of answers on To Pimp A bu*terfly. A stark contrast to his previous works, the LP draws parallels to an Oscar-nominated feature-length film; Kendrick nominated for best actor and director. Deep cuts like "How Much a Dollar Cost" require the listener to immediately rewind. We're sure President Obama was among them — he named the song his favorite from 2015. Enthralling interludes and dark, brooding tracks like “u” find Lamar grappling with depression and survivor's guilt following his rise to stardom. Buoyancy comes in waves on the likes of “King Kunta” and “You Ain't Gotta Lie (Momma Said)," as Kendrick spits game for whoever's willing to listen — the people listened. “Alright” became an overnight cultural phenomenon in the wake of the #BlackLivesMatter movement, as protestors chanted “We gon' be alright!” in moving scenes just months after the album's release. Even Pulitzer Prize winner Michael Chabon couldn't ignore TPAB, within hours of "The Blacker The Berry" hitting the web, he was annotating the song right here on Genius. Lamar engaged fans past dope drum breaks and hard-hitting lyrics to deliver an ambitious project full of tenacity and conviction — two traits he shares with idols 2Pac and Nelson Mandela. As the former prophesied: “I'm not saying I'm gonna change the world, but I guarantee that I will spark the brain that will change the world.” Enter: Kendrick Lamar. — Michael Heal Check out the Genius Community's 50 Best Songs of 2015 here.