Oakland, CA rap duo Main Attrakionz, formed by Mondre M.A.N. and Squadda B, are poster children for the obscure cloud rap movement: an emerging genre known for ethereal lyrics and cascading synth lines hooked around amorphous beats. After losing their first mixtape when the hard drive holding their work crashed, Main Attrakionz—in collaboration with Sacramento producer Tynethys—have finally released their self-titled mixtape, Main Attrakionz x Tynethys.

In a phrase, this album can best be described as hit-or-miss. Unfortunately, the many misses strewn throughout the 10-track release outweigh the hits. The song “On1,” which was pre-released in September, is clearly the highlight. It’s the perfect embodiment of the cloud rap movement and an excellent example of Tynethys’ (pronounced “teen this”) prowess. The lyrics are light and gentle, playing off of Squadda B’s soothing vocals and allowing the song to float over the listener. However, the soothing moment is regrettably followed by “Life,” an angry and scratchy mix with weak lyrics accompanied by unoriginal sounds and beats.

Main Attrakionz mostly stuck with the trademark descriptors of cloud rap: effortless and breezy. But from the leaders of the cloud rap movement, I expect uniqueness and unpredictability like we hear in “USB,” not the sleepy vocals and elementary rhymes displayed in “Verbal.” Tynethys describes this collaboration as “simple like the title. Drugs, a whole lotta tree, some brandy with lemonade, some vodka, drugs, a keyboard, and a microphone […] then repeat.” The process shows in the mixtape—if your interest is in unoriginal lyrics and simplistic airy beats, then this is your album; if not, stick with their hits and hope for more consistency on their next release.

As Arcade Fire is currently riding the crest of their popularity, the band’s newest release could have consisted solely of white noise and people would have talked about how groundbreaking it was. Thankfully, Reflektor is so much more than that.

A big step up from 2010’s The Suburbs, the album feels like their most mature offering to date—both lyrically and musically. The instrumental arrangements are as complex as ever, but producer and LCD Soundsystem frontman James Murphy gives their sound a new edge, distorting and isolating different components of the music until it all dovetails into an euphoric climax.

Highlight tracks like “Here Comes the Night Time” and “We Exist” are both strongly reminiscent of Arcade Fire’s first album, yet they also manage to sound like something new entirely. Those two tracks are particularly good, but the album as a whole might as well be a greatest hits compilation—there doesn’t seem to be a single weak song.

Reflektor is Arcade Fire’s longest album, with each song clocking in at about six minutes. The length of the tracks could have made the album sound bloated or unfocused, but instead it manages to be more on-point musically than The Suburbs riffing on a wide variety of influences from Haitian rave music to Greek mythology. Even glam rock is present—David Bowie makes a vocal appearance.

What results is an album that is both joyous and angsty; cacophonous and melodic; and above all, intimate. It sounds like nothing they’ve ever produced before, or anything that anybody has produced, and it’s all the better for it.

Legendary producer Brian Eno once famously remarked, ìThe first Velvet Underground record sold 30,000 copies in the first five years. I think everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band.î These thoughtful words say a lot about the type of artist Lou Reed wasóbut not everything. While reflecting upon that quote, it struck me just how great the singular  and idiosyncratic contribution he made to popular music was.

Enoís quotation addresses the fact that Reed influenced many artists, but it leaves out that the way in which he exerted influence was what truly made him great. Sure, a lot of punk bands recorded songs that sound like ìIím Waiting for the Manî; however, his music was dynamic in such a way that one could feel his sway without necessarily wanting to write songs that sounded anything like his.  Certainly, one can desire to create something that rawly expresses sensation with the tangibility of ìHeroinî or melancholically evokes longing like ìPale Blue Eyesî in any other style of music or artistic medium.

This phenomenon can be most recently seen in Kanye Westís Yeezus, an album which Reed himself glowingly reviewed just a few months before his death.Yeezus references a plethora of genres, including hip-hop, soul, industrial, and dancehallóall styles that donít immediately seem to have much to do with Reedís work. The possible exception is industrial, but the two treat it so differently that to connect them musically would be a stretch. Yet, itís hard to imagine an album like Yeezus existing without Reed as a spiritual ancestor. His fearlessness, commitment to his musical vision, and refusal to aesthetically compromise paved the way for artists such as West to have the freedom of experimentation at the risk of failing to meet popular expectations.

Enoís quotation also doesnít get to the heart of just how revolutionary Reed was.  Just as Elvis redefined what a white man could sound like, Bob Dylan created a new style of popular singing, and Jimi Hendrix gave us a new notion of how the electric guitar could be used, Reed reinvented how a rock band could be defined and what they could aspire to be. Could a rock album have a track featuring an instrumental jam underneath a spoken word story about an accidental killing, as heard in ìThe Gift?î Could it have an 18-minute free-form ambient improvisation with lyrics about drug dealers and transvestites like ìSister Ray?î Reedís importance depends not on whether these became popular trendsóthey didnítóbut rather that they opened up a new realm of musical possibilities for the artists who followed him.

Finally, Enoís quotation doesnít capture the seemingly perpetual ënewnessí of Reedís output.  Even though the earliest Velvet Underground recordings are nearly 50 years old, they sound like they could have been released last week and would still be avant-garde as hell. Their abrasiveness, disregard of traditional structures, and willingness to push boundaries would place them on the fringe of any era of popular music since its conception.

Amazingly, none of this boldness makes the work feel esoteric in the slightest. Even at its most experimental, his music always had something to keep it from feeling completely insular: a sense of humor, a powerful exhibition of passion, or a melody you just couldnít forgetóeven if you wanted to.

Eno certainly made a valid point about Lou Reed, but he didnít capture the scope of his importance to popular music. Reed has been a vital figure since the release of his first recordings, and itís difficult to imagine a future where he wonít continue to be one. Lou, youíll be sorely missed.