Conan
Blood Eagle
(Napalm)

Modern metal is so maligned by bands whose heaviness relies on sounding vile and sewage-stricken that it’s refreshing to have acts like Conan carrying the heavy metal flag with such muscle. Blood Eagle is molasses-thick doom metal clouded in green smoke. It’s heavy metal played at a snail’s pace, but hammered home with a collection of headbangable riffs perhaps not seen in the genre since Reverend Bizarre called it quits in 2007. Blood Eagle is a steady barrage of distant shouts and mountainous riffs, and while the by-comparison maddening pace of “Foehammer” or rolling grooves of “Gravity Chasm” keep things interesting, the album sets its plundering pace early and doesn’t let go for a second of its 44 minutes. This is Black Sabbath evolved: Heavy, concise, and larger than life. (TM)

Frankie Cosmos
Zentropy
(Double Double Whammy)

Ignore the fact that Greta Kline, the driving force behind Frankie Cosmos, is the 19-year-old child of Kevin Kline and Phoebe Cates. Because while most actor-related music projects tank—remember Dogstar?—Zentropy suggests that not only does Kline have a solid musical skillset, she’s plenty learned, too. Her Frankie Cosmos project is simultaneously glib and limp, but contextually, that’s no backhand: Drawing on the K Records palette—with lightly detectable C86 and Flying Nun touches—these songs are meant to be quirkily adorable. It’s why sadsack lines like “I’m the type of girl buses splash with rain,” or the apt-titled “Sad 2, ” or cheekily childish songs like “Fireman,” (in which she states the blatantly untrue line “my daddy is a fireman, he is brave”) work; like Beat Happening’s best, their intentional amateurism comes across as carefree, not glib. It doesn’t hurt that her bandmate and boyfriend, Ronnie Mystery, can pull of a mean Calvin Johnson baritone. (MT)

Mac DeMarco
Salad Days
(Captured Tracks)

Salad Days might not be a shapeshifting statement like his previous albums, 2 and Rock ‘N’ Roll Nightclub, but it’s a firm reminder that Mac DeMarco’s one of the strongest pop songwriters Canada’s produced in recent memory. Largely ditching the pitch-shifted vocals and melted-vinyl guitars of his previous work, Salad Days lays the ex-Edmontonian’s talents bare. One moment, he’s crooning his way though insomniac lounge (“Brother”). Next, it’s dollar-shop calypso (“Let Her Go”), or Casio keyboard-driven ballads (“Chamber of Reflection”). More interesting, though, is the lyrical content—DeMarco hasn’t ditched his rep as a prankster, but it seems like he’s not the affable extrovert he once was—and as a result, Salad Days is the most vulnerable, human collection he’s ever written. “Goodbye Weekend” has DeMarco almost defensively defying the expectations on him, and the LP’s title track has him admitting that he’s developed a chip on his shoulder. But maybe DeMarco’s being too harsh on himself: He never comes across as a dick on Salad Days, even if “Passing Out Pieces” details his exhaustion. “Passing out pieces of me,” he sings. “Don’t you know nothing comes free.” It’s both an admission and statement of fact, and for better or for worse, DeMarco’s star has landed. (MT)

Future Islands
Singles
(4AD)

Unless you’re somehow wise to the goings-on in Baltimore’s freakified art collective Wham City, your introduction to Future Islands might have come recently. Whether you caught them on television following an electrifying Zach Braff interview (<insert “Scrubs bass slide.wav”>), or the next day in your Facebook feed, chances are, the hip-swaying and chest-punching Letterman performance of Samuel T. Herring is now a part of your life. Forming in 2006, Future Islands have amassed a devoted following with their hyper-present, impassioned synthpop, and with good reason—their live show is transcendent, with Herring sing-growling and swaying his way into your Limbic system. What has given Future Islands both cult status and more recently mainstream success is that, even without Herring’s indelible physical presence, his commitment translates on record. “Seasons Change” is an unstoppable force, but Singles has much more to offer than Future Islands’ breakout hit. (AZ)

Freddie Gibbs and Madlib
Piañta
(Madlib Invazion)

Madlib and Freddie Gibbs have represented two high watermarks in hip-hop for a minute now, for production and rapping respectively, so it comes as no real surprise that their collaborative effort Piañta is pure fire. Gibbs’ lived-in street tales mesh so well with Madlib’s trademark sample goldmines it sounds like they’ve been working together for years, rather than this being a one-off. Where Madlib’s previous projects often sounded so consciously underground they should’ve been issued with free Def Jux backpacks, Gibbs’ high-energy grit brings some edge to the proceedings. Madlib’s production style’s always been about restraint, sample + bass + break, but here the beats wisely stay even further out of the way than usual, unleashing Gibbs to demonstrate why he’s been anointed the Saviour of Gangsta. Besides, when the samples are so good (“Shitsville,” “Uno,” “Thuggin,” the whole thing really) adding elements can only dilute the end product. Piañta showcases two pro-tier talents paying tribute to each other, and nothing is forced—the chemistry is real. Let’s hope we get another Piañta to bang. (JM)

Gridlink
Longhena
(Handshake)

That Longhena makes robot-precise grindcore sound distinctly human is no small feat, but on Gridlink’s swan song, they’ve crafted what some are already considering an oxymoronic masterpiece of the genre. To put it plainly, Longhena does not make sense. It is inhumanely fast, masterfully technical, and yet decidedly far from sterile. Vocalist Jon Chang has never sounded better, delivering throat-shattering screams with a near-unparalleled intensity. The resulting 14 songs blur by in a short 22-minute runtime, but not before leaving their mark: While staggeringly fast, guitarist Takafumi Matsubara has somehow written riffs as interesting as they are quick. And trust us—that’s fast. (TM)

Tory Lanez
Chixtape 2
(Independent)

On Chixtape 2, Toronto-born nomad Tory Lanez further defines his #swavey movement by dropping a whole tape without a single rap verse. It’s a bold move for a young rapper that is on the cusp of a breakthrough after last year’s impressive Conflict Of My Soul: The 416 Story helped him swing coveted guest spots on YG’s My Krazy Life and Meek Mill’s Dreamchasers 3. Unlike the first Chixtape, there are a few principles to this one: First, tell a story of lust, revenge, and love. Second, flip untouchable monster R&B jams (“Pony”, “No Scrubs”, “Not Gon’ Cry”, “The Boy Is Mine”). And lastly, murder every track lyrically and vocally, without reverting to rap. The special thing about this tape is what it says about the state of the genre—the mainstream success of R&B in the mid/late-90s put a big hit on its credibility. The current breed of R&B artists (particularly these Toronto boys) sees the importance of their artistry and releases like this are exciting hints of where the resurgence of baby-making music will take it next. (CJ)

MØ
No Mythologies to Follow
(Chess Club/RCA)

Karen Marie Ørsted, better known as MØ, is a 25-year-old Danish vocalist whose debut record No Mythologies to Follow takes electro-pop, blends it with, uhh…darker electro-po–HEY WAIT. Where are you going? Yeah, OK, the whole female-fronted electro-sphere is pretty crowded these days—Purity Ring, CHVRCHES, AlunaGeorge, and Charli XCX are still prominently featured in my “CHILL PARTY VIBEZ” playlist. But what if I told you that six years ago, Karen was in a punk band who had a song called “Fisse I Dit Fjæs (Pussy in Your Face)”? That’s roughly equivalent to finding out Lorde was once in a tween goregrind band called Skullthruster, so I thought it might pique your interest. MØ has clearly come along way since she was a Danish teenage punk, but No Mythologies to Follow only affirms her no-holds-barred approach. Collaborating almost exclusively with producer Ronni Vindahl, MØ’s gratifying voice cuts through a lush, 808-laden soundscape of glitch-pop. Album highlight (and Diplo-assisted) “XXX 88” should be enough of a clue: make room for MØ or risk [GASP] irrelevance. (AZ)

Rick Ross
Mastermind
(MMG/Def Jam)

“You’re Nobody (Til Somebody Kills You)” is the last song on The Notorious B.I.G.’s final album, Life After Death. Seventeen years later, Rick Ross rehashes the track as “Nobody” on Mastermind. The eerie mantra hints at a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction; just as Biggie’s obsession—and almost acceptance—of his own death and impending legacy saw him deliver a Mafioso classic with absolutely nothing to prove, Ross, continuing to parallel his career to the late great, has a similar motivation. Last year’s Fort Lauderdale drive-by (documented here on skit “Shots Fired”), along with Ross’ 2011 strokes, add a new dimension to his epic presence, but it’s Mastermind’s guests that do most of the heavy lifting here. Trendy producers like Mike Will Made It and DJ Mustard offer tracks that carry an air of timelessness as compared to the 20 cuts a piece they have in rotation on urban radio, and washed-up superstars like Jay Z and Lil Wayne actually seem to give a shit on their turns on the mic. 2010’s flawless, genre-shifting Teflon Don might remain Rozay’s masterpiece, but he’s employed a treat-every-album-like-his-last approach here. Hopefully these high-calibre albums continue forever. (CJ)

Tensnake
Glow
(Astralwerks)

Ever since the crystallized bounce of the “Coma Cat” single back in 2010, Tensnake (aka Marco Niemerski) has been quietly plugging away, perfecting his brand of synth-heavy house. His first full-length Glow offers more of the ‘80s signifiers and acres of reverb that made “Coma Cat” so ubiquitous on dancefloors three years ago, and that’s in no way a bad thing. Tensnake’s reaching for wider appeal here: fully half of Glow’s 16 tracks feature collaborations with vocalists, and Nile Rodgers even shows up to add his once-again-chic guitar work. Everything is polished to a radio-ready sheen, and it only occasionally comes off as sterile. When it works it really works: the slow jam “58 BPM,” one of the album’s four collaborations with Berlin-based singer Fiora, is a showstopper, sounding like the perfect track to close out the last set at the apocalypse. If there’s one mark against Glow it’s the runtime: no album needs 16 tracks, much less a house one. (JM)