The 1975 – I Like It When You Sleep, For You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware of It
I don’t really know anything about the 1975 other than that they’re British, have very poorly named album titles, and aren’t worth any of the hype they’ve gotten. The record comes off like the worst Duran Duran cover band imaginable followed by some of the most boring and derivative material put out this year. The only saving grace is that the track “Please Be Naked” didn’t have any lyrics, because I really didn’t need whatever horror that would have been caked on as well.
Lady Gaga – Joanne
Joanne is about as all over the place as LadyGaga.com, from songs about pleasuring yourself to deceased relatives leaving too soon, drinking pinot grigio, John Wayne, smoking pot, and police shootings. Writing some bad country-pop here, Gaga is done as far as I’m concerned.
Vince Staples – Prima Donna
Vince Staples is like rap’s angsty little brother. Penning one of the darkest records with lyrics that would even make Vic Mensa ask if he was alright, I don’t really see a time where I’d ever want to listen to it or where the phrase “put on that angry-sad new Staples tape, I’m ready to have a meltdown!” would be called out.
De La Soul – and the Anonymous Nobody…
The magic of De La Soul was that they were kids rapping positive messages over game-changing samples in a time where gangsta rap ruled and the Berlin Wall came down. and the Anonymous Nobody… is more of a borderline-rock record than it even is rap, the genre-bending works like teenagers still finding their sound more than legends of the game.
James Blake – The Colour in Anything
Unlike his massive critical appraise, I’ve never once been a fan of James Blake except for on “Forward” and some of Overgrown. If you ask me, James Blake sounds like he was trapped in a box for 10 years and is just dealing with all that now. His music is so undeniably depressing that it’s not anything you can sympathize with beyond phantom pain.
Macklemore & Ryan Lewis – This Unruly Mess I’ve Made
When I say that I don’t like Macklemore, it’s not because he’s white, or because of some belief that he’s “stealing black culture.” The problem with Macklemore and Ryan Lewis is that they seem to not understand how hard it is for white rappers to be respected. Their blatant disregard of that fact, as well as their apparent need to be as douchey about it as possible, is the cause of their sophomore album’s downfall.