The 250 Greatest Albums of the 21st Century So Far

After lineup changes threatened to derail them, Beyoncé, Kelly, and Michelle delivered a glorious comeback album packed with feminist anthems, surprise beats, gospel detours, and matching cutout bikinis. “Independent Women, Part 1,” “Survivor,” and “Bootylicious” made history as one of the most, if not one of the few, hit records dedicated to female friendship. But it’s Beyoncé’s solo showcase on “Dangerously in Love” that now feels prophetic. The writing was on the wall that this was about to be a one-woman show — a preview of pop music’s next two decades. In hindsight, Survivor is singular in that it captured both the apex of the TRL girl groups and the moment before they became obsolete. —S.G.

Just days into the 2020 Covid lockdown, Bob Dylan dropped “Murder Most Foul,” a 17-minute epic centered around the assassination of John F. Kennedy that touches on everything from the Birdman of Alcatraz to the Who’s Tommy, and the collective power of art to help us endure trauma. It was a tantalizing first glimpse at Rough and Rowdy Ways, which landed two months later with other stunners like “I Contain Multitudes” (“I’m just like Anne Frank, like Indiana Jones/And them British bad boys, The Rolling Stones”) and “Key West (“Twelve years old, they put me in a suit/Forced me to marry a prostitute”) that proved Dylan remained a songwriter without peer even as he approached his 80th birthday. —A. Greene 

“Everything I do is a mutant cross between a challenge and something that comes naturally,” Kevin Parker once told Rolling Stone. It’s a fitting statement for the opening track on Currents, a nearly eight-minute dance odyssey titled “Let It Happen.” And that’s just the beginning. Currents showed the Aussie mastermind branching out from the psychedelic rock of Tame Impala’s first two albums into more palatable synth-pop. It’s a perfect backdrop for his falsetto, with lyrics that grapple with life transitions, heartbreak, and introspection (“Yes I’m Changing,” “The Less I Know the Better,” “Cause I’m a Man”). The album resulted in mainstream success; even Rihanna rerecorded “New Person, Same Old Mistakes” for Anti. —A.M.

Over time, the world Kanye West constructed on Yeezus — full of guttural and chaotic emotion, combined with so much noise — started to feel and sound like the world around us. West’s 2013 album remains one of the most stark sonic departures for any artist, a complete 180 from the melodic, sample-flipping ethos of his first albums, and a full-throated embrace of chaos. The collaborators on the album, from indie electronic musicians like Arca and Hudson Mohawke to icons like Daft Punk and Rick Rubin, helped West construct a blueprint for where popular music was heading, and as time would tell, they were spot-on. —J.I.

A high-water mark of 2000s indie, Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion is a shining example of injecting the avant garde with just the right amount of accessibility. The songs were built from intricate synth and sampler work, recorded with a PA system to give it the energy of a live show, and then laced with Panda Bear and Avey Tare’s cascading vocals and psychedelic harmonies. Themes of grief and parenthood percolate alongside proclamations of summer love and inquiries into restlessness and routine. It all coalesces around “My Girls,” a celebration of, and yearning for, life’s most simple joys. Animal Collective haven’t made another record quite like Merriweather, nor did it spawn many imitators — a testament to its singular greatness. —J. Blistein  

J. Cole traveled to stardom off an extended basketball metaphor from his mixtapes The Warm Up and Friday Night Lights to his debut album, Cole World: The Sideline Story. After establishing himself as one of hip-hop’s most elite and dedicated pros with four more albums, he got back to his ball-is-life ethos with The Off-Season, which delivered some of his most athletic rapping to date. Teaming up with top-tier producers behind the boards, he perfected the rich and moody sound he started forming as his own beatsmith early on. On top of it, Cole dominates a thick playbook of flows, some of the most interesting vocal contortions in his discography, and clear reflections of life in and out of the spotlight. —M.C.

You could say Playboi Carti invented “aura,” the preternatural sense of cool that guides the current generation of music listeners, on his 2018 studio debut, Die Lit. The album set the stage for Carti’s unrelenting hold over young listeners and ushered the SoundCloud rap era into the mainstream. Arriving well before Carti’s vamp turn on Whole Lotta Red, the album set the foundation for the dominant sound in hip-hop for the past several years. Call it mumble rap, or baby voice, or any of the other descriptors given to Carti’s distinct vocal register, Die Lit was the blueprint for the rap in the modern era. —J.I.

After establishing herself as a vital force in indie rock, releasing four excellent records as Waxahatchee — the name of the creek she grew up near in Alabama — Katie Crutchfield started over. She got sober and completely changed up her sound, resulting in the blissed-out Americana classic St. Cloud. Inspired by her Southern roots and her hero Lucinda Williams, Crutchfield crafted 11 tracks packed with sharp songwriting (“Lilacs,” “Arkadelphia”) and mellow melodies (“Oxbow,” “Fire”). Each one is ideal for an afternoon on the back porch — which worked out, considering it was released at the height of the pandemic. —A.M.

Asake became one of Nigeria’s biggest breakout stars in the early 2020s, thanks to a street-pop sound that mixes up snatches of local styles with big, bold hooks and vivid dispatches of life in Lagos. Mr. Money With the Vibe became the highest-charting Nigerian debut on the Billboard 200, and for good reason: Long on pleasure and presence, it offers everything from a Burna Boy cameo (the remix of “Sungba”) to hypnotically grooving burners (“Joha”) to incantatory slow ones (“Dull,” about refusing to be) and never lets up. It all adds up to a debut you shouldn’t miss. —C.H.

Mariah Carey’s 10th album shows the belter utterly in her element, framed by percolating grooves and simmering bass lines as she pours out her heart (the verge-of-tears “We Belong Together”) and turns on the charm (the flirtatious Snoop Dogg duet “Say Somethin’.”) Emancipation is a portrait of Carey fully relaxing into herself and showing the world her savvy and artistry. “The funny thing is, I’ve always known that what I really loved would be commercially successful,” Carey told Rolling Stone in 2006, as Emancipation was minting hits. Those instincts also resulted in a stalwart R&B album that represented the opening of the singer’s triumphant second act — and that can still heat up bedrooms two decades after its release. —M.J.

For Colombian singer, songwriter, and guitarist Juanes, moving to Los Angeles was a leap of faith that could have easily led to nothing. After enlisting Latin alternative czar Gustavo Santaolalla as his longtime producer, Juanes found a surefire recipe for catchy pop songs with sandy rock textures and occasional hints of cumbia and reggae. No wonder this second effort drove fans wild: The Latin sass on “La Paga” could wake up the dead, and the spiraling chorus of “Es Por Ti” justifies its million-selling status. Juanes keeps things moving with “Fotografía” (a soulful duet with Nelly Furtado) and a rollicking cover of Joe Arroyo’s tropical anthem “La Noche.” —E.L.

In the mid 2000s, it felt like you couldn’t turn on your TV or go to the movies without hearing a song from Rilo Kiley’s breakthrough third album — whether it was “Portions for Foxes” on Grey’s Anatomy or “More Adventurous” in Wedding Crashers. It’s an indie-rock master class of setting complex themes to accessible melodies. Mike Mogis’ production mixed rock, folk, country, and pop influences. But Jenny Lewis’ voice is the album’s centerpiece, capturing a mix of strength, fragility, and charisma while switching effortlessly from complete vulnerability to commanding power as she explored themes of love, heartbreak, existential longing, and societal critique with sharp wit and poignancy. —Alison Weinflash

The mod Scottish boys of Franz Ferdinand arrived with a simple mission: “music for girls to dance to.” This was unfashionable for rock bands at the time, but these guys had the fiendishly brilliant tunes to make it happen. Their 2004 debut is packed with art-glam rhythm-guitar raves like “Take Me Out,” “Michael,” and “Darts of Pleasure,” where Alex Kapranos purrs witty come-ons like “You can feel my lips undress your eyes.” The Franz lads’ mix of guitar flash and dance-whore disco drama was perfect for the age of the Strokes and the Killers. Kanye West called them “white crunk music,” Lil Wayne covered “This Fire,” and girls kept dancing in sleazy rock bars around the globe. —R.S. 

The art of rolling joints, leaving husbands, and finding your true self were among the sermons preached by the Pistol Annies on Interstate Gospel, the third album by Miranda Lambert, Angaleena Presley, and Ashley Monroe’s supergroup. Rooted in mountain-music arrangements (bluegrass vibes are everywhere, especially on the title track and the post-divorce boast “Got My Name Changed Back”), the record is a marvel of three-part harmonies and unflinching songwriting, with each artist opening up about what’s giving them grief. More often than not, it was a fella. But in “5 Acres of Turnips,” it was an entire family tree — reminding us that, like roots themselves, much lies tangled beneath the surface. —J.H.

By 2017, Atlanta’s dizzying trap trio Migos already had the whole world rapping in triplets, but their second album, Culture, made them pop stars, complete with a Number One single (the languid-yet-explosive “Bad & Boujee”), a viral meme (“raindrop, drop top”), and a preview of 2017’s “flute rap” wave (“Get Right Witcha”). Even a subtle moment like the way Quavo says “Yeah, that way” could get a second life as part of Ayo and Teo’s hit “Rolex.” A high-water mark of 2010’s trap music, Migos’ blend of geometric bars, melodic insight, unbridled enthusiasm, unquestionable star power, and ability to flow on a track like a Segway made Culture an influential part of culture itself. —C.W.

When Fall Out Boy introduced themselves to the masses as the pop-punk poets of their generation, they made sure to bring plenty of dramatic flair, a track list full of cheeky zingers, and the kind of lyrical prowess that would go on to inspire Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space.” FOB’s major-label debut consisted of the poppiest punk to ever come out of the Chicago hardcore scene, two megahits, and enough salacious tales to keep you coming back for more. Pete Wentz often gets his dues as the band’s wordsmith, but it’s Patrick Stump’s vocal precision that makes taunts like “I’ll keep singing this lie if you keep believing it” feel irresistibly fun. —M.G.

Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream is undoubtedly one of the most successful pop albums ever. Her cotton-candy-pop-infused second album featured five Number One singles, including the Snoop Dogg-assisted “California Gurls,” dubstep-infused “E.T,” and its concept-creating title track. (Perry tied a record held by Michael Jackson’s Bad.) Teenage Dream defined the pop scene of the early 2010s, thanks in part to the infectious production of Dr. Luke and Max Martin and lyrics co-written by Bonnie McKee. The album inspired a new generation of pop stars. Put succinctly by Halsey in 2021: “Anyone who’s trying to make a perfect pop album is wasting their time because Katy already did it with Teenage Dream.” —T.M.

Sufjan Stevens once set out to write 50 albums based on each U.S. state. The second in the series is 2005’s Illinois, and as is the fate of most highly aspirational projects, it was also the last. The 22-track collection of eccentrically named songs remains a genre-spanning masterclass in instrumental experimentation and lyricism. Stevens’ storytelling is at its most vivid here, from the bone-chilling “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” to the triumphant “Chicago.” And his musical arrangements are as massive as ever, as he employs lush orchestral compositions and noisy brass ensembles to create a raucous, tender, cinematic journey. The album was even adapted for Broadway in 2023, a testament to its brilliance — and staying power. —Leah Lu.

BTS blew up into a whole new kind of global phenomenon. The K-pop kings took the sound of Seoul to the rest of the world, without compromising any details in their own sound or style. They even managed to invade America on their own terms, singing in Korean, while making complex concept albums inspired by Nietzsche and Jung. Map of the Soul: 7 is based on Jungian psychology, coming when the seven Bulletproof Boy Scouts had been together for seven years. The highlights include Suga’s rap “Interlude: Shadow,” RM’s emo hip-hop banger “Black Swan,” the V-Jimin duet “Friends,” and Jin’s love song to the audience, “Moon.” —R.S.

Bubbling out from the dregs of early-2010s EDM bloat came the sleek, sharp, sexy grooves of London brothers Guy and Howard Lawrence. Disclosure’s debut was both a shot in the arm and a loving throwback, specifically to turn-of-the-millennium U.K. garage. The liquid bass lines and simple, urgent keyboard riffs were not just balm from the main-room blare, but a genuine on-ramp to pop crossover, and not just for the Lawrences. Few dance albums — few albums — have been as generous with promising guest vocalists, most notably Jessie Ware and Sam Smith, whose supple croon launched “Latch” (and himself) into the stratosphere. —M.M.

“I have been to the movies, I’ve seen how it ends,” singer-songwriter Brandi Carlile roars on this album’s cathartic centerpiece, the queer anthem “The Joke,” still her greatest vocal showcase. “And the joke’s on them.” Joni Mitchell and Elton John have embraced Carlile as a beloved peer, and By the Way, I Forgive You‘s musical and emotional range helps explain why: “The Mother” is one of the best songs about parenthood ever written, and “Fulton County Jane” is a heartbreaking ode to a real-life murder victim. It’s a thoroughly adult album, full of healing, redemption, and reconsideration: “I love the songs I hated when I was young,” she sings on the deceptively jaunty “Harder to Forgive.” —B.H.

In this sonic linkup between the Two Tims (Justin Timberlake and trusted collaborator Timbaland), inventive production, smooth vocals, and infectious hooks helped create one of the landmark moments of the early aughts’ pop-music landscape. Dripping with the sex appeal the title promises, the album masterfully balances retro vibes with forward-thinking sound, creating an abstract yet funky landscape that feels both dreamlike and accessible. Tracks like “SexyBack” and “My Love” showcased Timberlake’s evolution from boy-band heartthrob to a serious solo artist, as he seamlessly merges pop, funk, and electronic stylings. —J.J.

This profound celebration of Black culture — particularly the diverse narratives of Black women — allowed Solange Knowles to establish herself as a distinctive artist in her own right. Anchored by the Grammy-winning “Cranes in the Sky,” her third studio album weaves nostalgia-inducing sonics with present-day R&B, psychedelic, and neo-soul, inviting fans to connect at the crossroads of tradition and innovation. The defining aspect of the 2016 LP lies in its nuanced, relatable emotional spectrum. Resonant interludes regarding the Black experience, as well as songs about resentment (the Lil Wayne-assisted “Mad”) and vulnerability (the soulful “Weary”), not only propel the album’s themes forward but provide comfort and community. —J.J.

Adrianne Lenker had already established herself as a striking singer-songwriter with songs like “Shark Smile” and “Paul” by the time her band released their 4AD debut in 2019. But U.F.O.F. crystalized Big Thief into the most influential, and revered, indie-folk band of its generation. The album didn’t contain anything resembling a single, but its blend of ethereal and mystical ruminations (the title track, “Century”) and Lenker’s rooted, ancient-folk melodies (“Orange,” “Cattails”) made it the band’s definitive statement. “It felt important,” Lenker told Rolling Stone, “to have a bridge between the earthly, raw, physical forms … with this whole other celestial realm.” —J. Bernstein

When Beyoncé followed up her celebration of dance music, Renaissance, by going country, she didn’t have far to go: The Texas native was country all along. She illustrated that perfectly on Cowboy Carter by telling not just her own story as a Black woman in the South, but the stories of trailblazers like Linda Martell and upstarts including Tanner Adell and Shaboozey. “We’re all country,” is what, in essence, she was saying over a sonic landscape of line-dance twang (“Texas Hold ‘Em”), back-porch string jams (“Alliigator Tears”), and unbridled country soul (“Ya Ya”). Cameos by Miley Cyrus and Post Malone, not to mention Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson, weren’t just displays of star power, but connective tissue, a high-wattage way of showing just how many threads in country there are. —J.H.

Daddy Yankee’s crisply constructed hits made more of an impact on Anglo audiences in the 2000s, but Tego Calderón’s salt-of-the-earth personality and deep, guttural vocals were just as influential in the long run, if not more so. The Puerto Rican legend is a charismatic presence on 2002’s El Abayarde, flowing unhurriedly over some of the bounciest reggaeton beats that studio wizards like Luny Tunes and Noriega were producing back then. Each verse is dripping with style, charm, and pride in his Afro-Latino community. Imagine a young Bad Bunny listening to “Al Natural” and “Pa’ Que Retozen,” and you’ll understand why the superstar has repeatedly credited Calderón as one of his biggest inspirations. —S.V.L.

In 2011, few people knew what to make of Chief Keef as an artist, or of the larger collective of Chicago drill artists he was made the reluctant face of. Everyone had an opinion about the then-teenager, and his withdrawn nature allowed the noise to take centerstage. But the groundswell of buzz he garnered was as undeniable as his music was indescribable. When he dropped “Love Sosa” and “Citgo,” he did so amid a cadre of rapper’s rappers who were still seen as rap’s default. Rap songs that were 100% full of harmonies were seen as outliers, if not lambasted as non-hip-hop altogether. But in part because of him, and Finally Rich, that sound is now a pop, not just rap, standard.–A Gee

Spoon became one of indie rock’s signature bands around the turn of the century, and this 2002 masterpiece shows how much they can get out of a signature sound that’s minimal and spiky but full of heart. “The Way We Get By” is the catchy and propulsive piano rocker about, as frontman Britt Daniel put it in an interview, “a scrappy couple getting high in the back seat,” while songs like “Back to the Life” and “Jonathan Fisk” zip by and pack in tons of small thrills, from pointed riffage to little hooks delivered in Daniels’ signature sandpaper voice. The real stunner, though, is “Paper Tiger,” a rather gorgeous love song where the spikiness (and drums) subsides in favor of echoing loops and Daniels’ vow that he “will be there with you when you turn out the light.” —C.H. 

Maxwell first broke out in the Nineties as part of the neo-soul movement, but by the time he released Blacksummers’ night in 2009, it was his first new album in eight years. The wait was worth it. Co-producing with jazz musician Hod David, Maxwell created lavishly stretched-out tracks that still crackled with tension and energy, from the percolating funk of “Cold” to the relentlessly pleading ballad “Fistful of Tears.” The moment for the ages was ”Pretty Wings,” with Maxwell’s many-splendored falsetto playing beautifully against a butterfly shuffle and an ecstatically subtle horn-dripped arrangement to make for what is arguably the century’s most dazzling R&B escapade. —J.D.

Eric Church had already put out a pair of well-received albums when 2011’s Chief arrived, but the North Carolina native’s third album was where his vision fully gelled for the first time. There were bold experiments — like the detuned hard rock that starts off the album in “Creepin’” — slotted next to the gritty Stones-style riffing of “Drink in My Hand” and sweetly nostalgic “Springsteen,” all of which demonstrated Church’s mastery of grand country and rock gestures. He’d get weirder and wilder as the 2010s progressed, but Chief is where Church’s convention-defying persona took shape and cemented his legend. —J.F. 

“I didn’t want to be boxed in,” Burna Boy once said of his approach to music. “That’s why I created Afrofusion.” African Giant was the Nigerian superstar’s Afrofusion — his mix of hip-hop, R&B, dancehall, and other sounds with Nigerian music — at its most expansive and ambitious. Africa is at the root of everything; Burna sings primarily in Pidgin, Yoruba, and Igbo and calls on guests from all over his home continent and its diaspora, including Angélique Kidjo, Damian Marley, Future, dancehall singer Serani and Nigeria’s Kel-P, who produced much of the album. It’s at once sinuous, introspective, and pointed, as Burna calls out both self-enriching politics and the history of British imperialism in his homeland over grooves that feel like they could extend infinitely. —C.H.

By the time Lorde asked to be named a ruler on the hit single “Royals,” she had already assumed the position. Across her debut album, she prophesied an increasingly fraught coming-of-age experience on “Ribs,” then continued her examination of time’s convoluted passage on the glittering deep cut “A World Alone” and the blaring “400 Lux.” There was a self-assuredness to Lorde’s performances on songs like “Team” and “Glory and Gore,” which burrow deep with grooving bass lines and thumping percussion. The pop musician was only 16 years old when she released the 10-track record. At an age where every emotion is heightened to an explosive level of intensity, she packaged those feelings into an incisive embrace of teenage melodrama. —L.P.

By 2015, with five full-length projects under his belt, Drake was culturally inescapable. You couldn’t scroll Instagram without reading the caption “I was running through the six with my woes” under any mediocre group photo. It’s no wonder the payout was incredible: The Canadian rapper brought sleek, sinister beats typical of his native Toronto to soundtrack some of the most honest verses of his career. On If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late, Drake was concurrently the ruthless rapper out for the kill and the sad poet unafraid to share his inner turmoil. Even though it was a surprise-dropped mixtape, the album became an instant hit — and a gem of Drake’s discography. —M.G.

“I always wrote more personal stuff,” Beck told Rolling Stone in 2002. “I just didn’t think anybody wanted to hear it.” That changed with this deep-blue song cycle about heartbreak, recorded shortly after the end of an eight-year relationship — his very own Blood on the Tracks. At a time when most listeners still knew him as the postmodern jokester behind Odelay and Midnite Vultures, Beck reemerged as a first-rate singer-songwriter. The gorgeous production touches from Radiohead collaborator Nigel Godrich only made raw laments like “Guess I’m Doing Fine” and “The Golden Age” hit even harder. —S.V.L.

By the time of Old Ideas, most of us had given up on hearing new songs from Leonard Cohen, who was pushing 80. But Cohen was always one for an unexpected comeback, and his arena-tour triumphs of the late 2000s seemed to have fueled this one. The themes — love as slavery, longing and regrets, the vagaries of age — weren’t new. But co-producer Patrick Leonard’s low-fi synth cabaret arrangements and Sharon Robinson’s comforting harmonies lent the music an elegant, weathered stateliness: In other words, perfect settings for later-Leonard sentiments like “I got no future, I know my days are few/The present’s not that pleasant, just a lot of things to do.” —D.B.

Throughout his mesmerizing second album, Miguel crafts a vibrant, constantly shifting sonic experience. With production from Oak Felder, Salaam Remi, and the Cali native himself, each track radiates a dynamic blend of shifting vibes essential to the 2012 album’s hazy, ethereal soundscape. Miguel’s meticulous attention to R&B’s details are on full display — from his effortless come-hither coos to his seductive songwriting on tracks like the sultry “How Many Drinks” and the breathtaking “Adorn.” Thanks to its bold, cross-genre pollination and emotional depth, the influence of Kaleidoscope Dream continues to permeate the modern R&B landscape. And after all these years, it’s still the perfect soundtrack for those intimate moments. —J.J.

Gillian Welch’s third album was recorded the exact way Welch and her partner David Rawlings had always wanted to make a record: Just the two singer-guitarists singing around a microphone. The result is, simply put, Welch’s masterpiece, 10 songs about alienation and disconnection and existential doom that bemoaned Napster, referenced Steve Miller, and conjured the ghost of legendary songwriter John Hartford, whose death inspired the album’s 15-minute opus “I Dream a Highway.” In the 20-plus years since its release, Time (The Revelator) has proved to be the duo’s most influential work, inspiring a modern standard and even inventing a dystopian historical holiday. —J. Bernstein

Once frontman Gerard Way became sober, nothing could stop My Chemical Romance. The newfound clarity resulted in The Black Parade, a rock opera concept record that manages to mold Queen, Pink Floyd, and David Bowie influences into an emo rallying cry for millennials. The ambitious results — partially written while MCR slept in cramped buses as they hit the 2005 Warped Tour — made the Jersey pop-punkers turn into full-blown arena rock stars and became a touchstone for the entire genre. They did it all with a set of songs that confronts grief and death with a sobering fearlessness. —M.G.

Carly Rae Jepsen’s buoyant personality and songs are so contagious even the most jaded listener can’t help but scream along, The pop-purveyor-for-all’s third album had a lot to live up to following her crushed-out juggernaut  “Call Me Maybe,” but on Emotion, she matured without losing the romantic optimism that fueled her earlier work. Opener “Run Away With Me” sets the tone for following your heart with full abandon. Though “Your Type” deals with being friend-zoned, it still promises to make “time for you,” and the lament of “Boy Problems” is more a conspiratorial girlfriends’ anthem than it is a song about a dude. Emotion puts being true to yourself above all. —A.L.

If Erykah Badu’s 1997 debut, Baduizm, introduced her as a vital voice within the then-burgeoning neo-soul movement, its 2000 follow-up established her as an artist who couldn’t be pigeonholed by any particular genre or subculture. The self-described “analog girl in a digital world” combines loose-limbed music with sharply observed poetry about love and life in thrilling ways, whether she’s scatting and skittering around Roy Ayers’ sleek vibraphonics on “Cleva,” picking apart the post-breakup pieces on the widescreen “Green Eyes,” or instructing other women to “pack light” when dealing with emotionally unavailable men on the free-flowing “Bag Lady.” —M.J.

How do you follow up an era-defining emo-rap smash like 2017’s “XO Tour Llif3?” If you’re Lil Uzi Vert, you spend three years brewing up your strangest and most aggressive album yet. Eternal Atake starts at an absolutely pummeling intensity — full of paranoid, end-of-the-night chest-thumping and deranged minor-key production — and moves gradually heavenward. Repeated phrases start to feel like mantras, incantations. All that Heaven’s Gate artwork makes a weird sort of sense over the album’s runtime. Is this outer space or the afterlife? Uzi’s an unhelpful Virgil, cackling about streetwear, crooning gloomily, and spitting triple-time bars as Working on Dying’s production grows stranger and stranger. —C.P.