In that sense, he’s not very different from Kanye West. And his latest mixtape, Coloring Book, feels like a West record. Chance was West’s most promising protege, and the two still have great rapport. Kanye’s guest spot on Book’s opening track, All We Got, feels like a thank-you from Chance. No Problem feels like a track that would have fit perfectly on Graduation.

But Coloring Book isn’t Graduation: not unlike The Life of Pablo, it’s a hip hop record largely influenced by gospel music. There’s frequently a choir providing at least a backing track, if not sitting at the lyrical forefront. And very often, Chance has taken a popular hymn and remade it in his own image. How Great has a choir performing How Great (is Our God) as its opening, which anybody who grew up attending evangelical church will recognize instantly.

Of course, Chance adds his own spin on it: God and Dragonball Z become metaphors for what he’s trying to say about power, success, and blessings (obviously). Chance isn’t comparing himself to God — on tracks like Blessings, it seems like he’s aware that there’s a power above him.

It can all feel a little calculated, though: every line has been perhaps purposefully engineered for maximum tweet-ability. That’s not to say that Chance isn’t being authentic, but to say that he’s a new breed of rapper: along with Kendrick, he’s aware that what he says will be quoted and imitated and meditated on for years by fans. He’s a lyricist before he’s a rapper, and he knows the economy of a good quote.

It’s part of who Chance is. While his lyricism certainly adds to his power as an emcee, it also leaves me feeling like I’m part of a marketing plan. (I say this fully aware that it worked, and here I am recommend Coloring Book.) I have some complex, contradictory feelings about this,

Coloring Book is at its best when it slows down and becomes a pop record on tracks like Summer Friends, Blessings, Same Drugs, and Juke Jam. (Juke Jam is notable for having an excellent contribution from Justin Bieber, of all people.) Unlike Drake, Chance knows he’s better when he’s not trying to be a hardcore rapper, and he spends the majority of the time focusing on his poppier sensibilities.

One of Coloring Book’s strongest tracks comes at the end: Finish Line / Drown is an impeccably crafted track featuring legends like T-Pain and Kirk Franklin, as well as Eryn Allen Kane, my pick for the most promising upcoming gospel star. It’s also got Chance’s best rapping on the record. The gospel rhythm and sung chorus come together perfectly, and Chance’s vision crystallizes. Not only is the track compellingly written, but it’s also a lot of fun (in some ways, it’s reminiscent of Jackson 5).

It’s moments like that when the record leaps past Life of Pablo and races Kendrick’s untitled. unmastered for the prize of best hip hop album of the year. Chance is one of the few rappers who has seemingly limitless ambition, but doesn’t lose himself in self-serious. He’s making music that’s fun, but still important.

Coloring Book is the continuing story of a legend who’s pushing the limits of what’s possible without having the backing of a major label. Chance is ushering us towards the future, and he’s doing it by revelling in the past. It’s a can’t-miss record in a year that’s been full of them.

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Compared to Orijin’s album, which was a purposefully short mixtape, Jon Corbin’s A New Direction feels like a carefully crafted, thematic message. Ten tracks long, Corbin told me his intent was to cover “themes like low self-esteem, ethnic identity, absentee fathers, faith, forgiveness, and putting love into practice.”

His record hits home on all of these things. Confessions of a Mixed (Up) Kid is perhaps my favourite record off the record: a catchy bass line drives the beat forward, keeping things fresh, while Corbin rhymes about his struggles growing up as a mixed race, feeling neither African American or white. And as he raps about his absentee black father and growing up exclusively with a white family, he asks for an invitation to share his struggles with you. And it feels completely authentic.

In a lot of ways, Corbin reminds me of Shad: he’s got a flawlessly tight flow, and he’s not afraid to speak his heart, but he has these old-school beats that feel as raw as his locals. Some standouts include tracks like The Prayer of a Restless Soul, Without You, and A New Direction for Jon Corbin. Great lyrical flows backed up by some fantastic beats.

He’s also got some mean guest rappers. Of course, Orijin is involved (on Life of Love), but he also features Eternia and Relic on Without You. While Jon doesn’t need anybody else to cover for him — he can do just fine on his own — he’s happy to step aside and give somebody else the spotlight.

It’s interesting to me the things that make Jon Corbin different from some of his contemporaries. I’ve heard a lot of “Christian rap,” and most of the genre is filled with either happy-go-lucky rappers who are having fun and praising God, or men who are angry and trying to figure out where God fits in their life. Jon Corbin doesn’t fit into either of those categories.

Jon Corbin has clearly had a difficult time accepting not just his race, but also his absentee father. He’s struggled to forgive. He’s struggled to make peace. It’s interesting that he doesn’t see his faith as a part of it — he sees his faith as the whole story. The music is him walking you through how he valued himself as a person when he feels nobody else did, and how he turned to God to find his value.

For non-religious listeners, Jon Corbin might be a bit much. But for the rest of us, he’s a relief compared to some of the popular hip hop on the radio. A New Direction is a fantastic album with a real sense of vision and great beats.

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And he doesn’t need to: on Juice, he’s told that he needs the help of the label’s biggest hitmakers. But it seems pretty clear to me that all he really needs is a bit of radio play. Songs like the aforementioned Funk Outta Here, or Be a Man, just need a little bit of support from the local R&B radio stations to pick up the steam they need to succeed.

What makes JMSN work so well is a combination of a unique voice and a total disregard for genre conventions. While it’s clear that JMSN knows exactly what R&B should sound like, he seems more interested in writing his own style of record that bridges the gap between the neo-soul of people like Gallant with the pop sensibilities of Justin Timberlake.

While he’s not writing songs like Mirrors, JMSN is clearly self-aware. I can’t tell for sure, but it sounds like he’s doing all of his own backing choir parts. His music isn’t mixed well enough to be coming from one of the big labels. So when he sings “nobody’s going to understand,” I believe him, because he’s doing this all on his own — unlike most of the current prodigies in his genre. And on the last track, when he asks what you’ll gain “by pretending to be something you’re not,” it feels like he’s been real with you for the past 50 minutes. With JMSN, It’s not about a polished presentation, or stunning production.

What JMSN lacks in polish he makes up for in raw power and authenticity. The kick-off title track feels like one of the most vulnerable R&B tracks released this year. It’s a great way to start the record: like almost every other track, it’s a slow burner. Slow burners are great for JMSN, because they allow him to really show off his powerful presence.

What I like about JMSN isn’t that individual tracks are solid, though. It Is. is one of those rare albums that feels like the whole is greater than the sum of its part. On its own, the songs are successful, but taken as a whole, the album is more powerful than the songs alone. JMSN isn’t the world’s best singer (and I suspect he knows that), but he has a powerful sense of emotion and presence in his voice that sells him really well. Fans of carefully crafted R&B are going to love him.

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To that point: the same week that Chance the Rapper decides to drop a new mixtape, Oddisee is doing promotion for his new instrumental mixtape on NPR.

To be clear, The Odd Tape is not a terribly weird record. It’s a laid-back instrumental hip hop record that feels like a Saturday off for a busy guy. The track list reads that way too: song titles like Alarmed, Right Side of the Bed, No Sugar No Cream, On the Table, Out at Night, and Still Sleeping are indicative that the tracks are perhaps thematically connected only by the pursuit of a daily activity list.

It’s a record that’s well-suited to making eggs on a Saturday morning, getting a bit of work done mid-day, or lounging around at the gym, but it’s clearly not making any lyrical statements. (Oddisee is likely saving all of those for his big album release this fall.) What it is doing is suggesting that it’s okay to relax a little bit, to enjoy the day.

With The Odd Tape, Oddisee isn’t purposefully trying to be different (even though he’s usually different by nature). In this case, it’s just him noting that it’s an unusual mixtape because it’s completely vocal-less. This is his time to have fun at the boards and experiment a little bit, maybe try out some new things, focus on textures, and create a hip hop record your kids can hear you listening to, or a hip hop record that won’t get you riled up after a long day at work.

Oddisee is stepping into the avant-garde instrumental hip hop realm, and he’s doing a great job of it.

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