"Rolling in the Deep"

My lord, but "Deep" inspires overt and subconscious dancing: motion, movement, arousal, kinetics. Like, say, if you were spectator at a hanging, and the accused was on the stool, noose 'round neck, and this song came up on the PA system? Game over, dude.

Fat Trel


With his flurried rhymes, D.C.-based Trel doesn't really make a case for hardness or technique or wordplay; his contribution to sub-chart rap's ever-expanding landscape lies in his unique ability to conjure up a sort of pre-wildin' tenement hallway menace where somehow his brand of insanity creates the illusion that even though it's just you and him in a large enclosure, somehow he owns every square inch of real estate that you don't already occupy. It's weird.


"Dance Motherfucker Dance"

Industrial noise-punk suffering a coronary: infinitely preferable to and way more comprehensible than the GOP presidential primary contest, which might as well co-opt IED-IUD's refrain here: "This house of shit that I built is falling apart."

Tyler, The Creator


The Adventure Time shout-out is an epic fail in and of itself, but it gets worse: Ty's affectless monotone-drone marginalizes a sick, pensive beat someone else with an actual personality might have spun into 2011's equivalent of "Drop It Like It's Hot."

Mac Miller

"Donald Trump"

Real talk: I would quit my job and campaign for the Donald for a year if it meant this pickled placenta of a hit single—which I'm not convinced isn't a joke that somehow went viral—and its author would disappear without a trace. Meet the new Asher Roth, nowhere close to as talented as the old Asher Roth.

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