29NAS & DJ GREEN LANTERN THE NIGGER TAPE While Nasir Jones’ revised untitled album strives for somber profundity— sketchy essays on Farrakhan, Fox News, and, yes, fried chicken—this mix tape puts the N-word on blast like a grad-school gangsta soundclash. Pissed, self-aggrandizing, earnest, surrounded by pop-culture samples blowing like air horns, Nas nods to pioneering race wits Richard Pryor, Paul Mooney, N. W. A, et al. And here, “Black President”—his moving, hesitant Obama tribute—is the vibrant centerpiece, not an obligatory coda. C.A.

28METALLICA DEATH MAGNETIC With Metallica, experimentation is overrated. And if St. Anger was any indication, so is therapy. Because when the band ditched the headshrinking and heeded producer Rick Rubin’s urging to return to the remorseless, mid-’80s heaviness of Master of Puppets (and let Kirk Hammett play solos again)—voilà, ass got kicked. Death Magnetic’s riff offensive may not reach the brutal glory of the Alcoholica days, but don’t look this gift monster in the mouth. It’s hungry, and its teeth are sharp. D.M.

26 R.E.M. ACCELERATE Graceful aging didn’t work for these college-rock progenitors, so they kick-started their career with a blazing half hour of galloping guitar rock—the kind they left for dead in the late ’80s. The gambit paid off handsomely, with Buck-Mills-Stipe relearning how to snarl (“Horse to Water”), slink (“Man-Sized Wreath”), and rejoice (“I’m Gonna DJ”). A knowing grin cuts through nearly every major chord and confident lyric, delivering a well-earned sense of satisfaction that practically shouts, “We’re back—and we know it!” JOSH MODELL

27 THE STREE TS EVERYTHING IS BORROWED Mike Skinner always found profound ways to describe simple ideas: arriving late to meet a girlfriend, or dodging fans armed with camera phones. Here, he addresses weightier themes—mortality, religion, the environment—with a just-blokes guilelessness that makes the philosophical seem personal. Conscious of how setting defines a story, Skinner mirrors the lyrical intimacy with cozy live-band arrangements full of guitar and keyboard; on “The Strongest Person I Know,” he even busts out the harp. M. W.

25 DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE NARRO W STAIRS Dependability can be rock’s worst enemy, but Death Cab have made it an asset by adding savvy embellishments to their solid foundation of polished indie chime and downcast, evocative lyricism. Every album gets slightly more refined, with Ben Gibbard and Co. stretching their sound (the prowling, eight-minute “I Will Possess Your Heart” and the expansive “Grapevine Fires”) while still knowing when the gorgeous melancholy can speak for itself (the crushingly sad but thoroughly catchy “Cath…”). J.M.

24 DUFFY ROCKFERRY When this Welsh newcomer confessed that her love of the vintage soul she so strikingly inhabits on her debut was primarily nurtured by her collaborators (like ex-Suede guitarist Bernard Butler), out came the haters. The ’60s-evoking arrangements that surround her are indeed scholarly. But the frankness of her delivery makes the results anything but studied. “Baby, you’ve hurt me,” Duffy weeps in the unnerving “Warwick Avenue” video as the sand in her syrupy voice collects and crackles. B. W.

23 KATE NASH MADE OF BRICKS With an aggressive cockney drawl and an inability to self-censor, Kate Nash spray paints vivid sketches of young London—parties, cocktails, crushes, breakups—that pack paragraphs of detail into single verses. Her winsome, unpretentious lyrics (“I wish that you knew when I said two sugars, actually I meant three”) are framed by perky piano runs, soulful horn blasts, and scratchy beats. A startling debut, Made of Bricks is like a great romantic comedy, with pints of stout and Topshop frocks. E.C.

48 JANUAR Y 2009 SEE THE ARTIST OF THE DAY AT SPIN.COM

PHOTOGRAPH BY GREG KADEL