At its very best, Seen It All is a glimpse into how Jeezy can make his living on the back nine in a crowded subgenre with no use for him anymore: By recalling the most chilling details of his drug dealing past with a flashback-like crispness.

In sum, the mysterious Tahliah Barnett has created a devastatingly beautiful and industrial debut.

While the compilation deejay/producer album tends to have it’s share of woes as too many cooks spoil the broth, Statik Selektah balances out this tendency with solid production that invokes images of the days of Hip Hop yore.

While the misses hold Blacc Hollywood back from being great, Wiz still reminds listeners that regardless of what they’re looking for, he’s capable of providing.

Challenging listeners on Cellar Door, their next level aesthetic is a double-edged sword since the strong flows that help them stand out require great effort to process.

Directors of Photography is a top-notch effort. Production and lyrics are both outstanding, and there are few qualms, if none at all.

By Any Means is a lean 56 minutes, though Gates still finds room to entertain his schizophrenic tendencies.

He’s let the high filter out more of the revelation, and it sounds like a more accessible piece of entertainment than his last. It’s not the call to arms some expected, but Ab-Soul is as convincingly conspicuous as he’s ever been.

Throughout this descent into 2 Chainz’ world he vacillates between the surface level fun of his previous recordings and the slightly introspective allowing us to see the other side of the man formerly named Tity Boi.... Interestingly enough, these contradictions make the tape more fun than anything we’ve heard from 2 Chainz in a while, and, equally, it shows the most fun for a listener is a hint of depth added to a raucously good time.

Nobody’s Smiling is defiant, as full of commanding musicality as it is of Common’s own provocation.

Wild, yet well-delivered songs showcase Songz as a master of a now lyrically unrestrained mainstream R&B standard.

Even with its melancholy closing, Dark Comedy is an incredibly fulfilling listen.

Neon Icon seems aimless and not very well thought out.

Moody and downbeat with lots of anger and frustration, yet still rousing and conceptual, Copper Gone is just open and honest enough for fans to really feel for Sage, yet guarded enough to contribute to a real sense of mystery.

When listening to this record, there isn’t much to enjoy or appreciate. It’s a struggle to sit through, partly because it reads like the ramblings of an ex-genius turned affectless braggart, but mostly because it’s monotonous and unimaginative.

Good To Be Home is the better, more streamlined version of Blu’s nonchalance.

Less of a happy medium and more of a hard reset, RetroHash is the beginning of what may shape up to be the rebirth of Roth’s career.

It’s a curious turn, but one that finds them as oddly whimsical and satisfying as ever.

It attempts to do many of the same things [as Kilt II] sonically but falls short of the mark.

Southsiders is a solid album. The production is consistent and there are moments of enlightenment from Slug. But due to Atmosphere’s already extensive catalog, it doesn’t easily separate itself from previous works.

When an object in motion has been in as much motion as Kelis has been in the past four years, finding rest in soulful vibes and plaintive melodies, an album that invites rest for the artist as much as it does the listener is a welcomed, intriguing and appreciated listen.

Much like with W.A.R. and Desire, P.T.S.D. seeks to accomplish more than just keep Pharoahe’s spot on the criminally-underrated lists warm; instead, it makes a case for placing him among the Chuck Ds and Ice Cubes as one of Hip Hop’s sharpest social voices.

Z is strongest when SZA avoids usual Pop tropes. Too many songs are about being left brokenhearted, and don’t add much to what’s already been done.

He’s returned with a slightly updated, less flawed version of 2012’s Pluto.

Iggy Azalea’s The New Classic aims high, but ultimately falls flat.

The trouble with Illmatic XX isn’t what you hear, but what you don’t hear. In a vacuum, it’s an unexpectedly well-preserved snapshot of Golden Era, New York Hip Hop. Sonically, it strikes the perfect balance between cleaning up the original recordings through the advent of digital remastering without eliminating subtleties such as the crackle of a needle over vinyl.

The Infamous Mobb Deep is a return to the roots of their artistic consciousness, substantiated almost 20 years ago, and with fine precision.

Breaking fresh ground with the latest addition to an already prolific catalog, Gravitas finds Talib Kweli simultaneously wearing the hats of businessman and creator.