Exemplary albums aren't fenced in by current trends. Instead, the apocalyptic rap opus We Don't Even Live Here spins the steering wheel with tattooed fists until we're speeding at the brick wall we'll crash through sometime in 2015. A thoroughly scorched listen, P.O.S.'s fourth solo album anticipates heightened chaos in our cities, on our screens, and in our minds. As the culture warriors take up literal and metaphorical "Lock-picks, Knives, Bricks and Bats," only a collective ability to "Get Down" can delay our fate. The Twin Cities hip-hop vet doesn't do this verbal vandalism alone, and spray paint cans are passed to collaborators who include Bon Iver's Justin Vernon, Astronautalis, Housemeister, and most of his Doomtree friends for predictably unpredictable outcomes. We Don't Even Live Here doesn't offer any easy solutions for modern living, but it's a reminder that great art won't wait patiently for society to unfuck itself.