In the internet age, when choice is endless and your adventure is truly yours to choose, some people concentrate too much on the stuff they choose to omit—yet not nearly as much on the shit they choose to include. The coolest shit to me is the confluence of things, the melding or meeting of things thought separate, Rick Rubin's highbrow/lowbrow theory, etc.

Open Mike Eagle's latest, Dark Comedy, is a sweet confluence of sharp consciousness-streaming that's equal parts Second City and Project Blowed, post–Low End Theory (as in LA's world-famous electronic/experimental rap monthly) slump, and Mike's own irreverent reverence of everything from Gang Starr to They Might Be Giants. The "laugh to keep from crying tip" is his lane, though Mike admits that he's "bad at sarcasm, so [he] work[s] in absurdity"—such as getting Hannibal Buress to rap on "Doug Stamper." If you despair for brainy, funny, affecting indie rap, don't miss this.

Unfortunately, whenever a rapper starts saying that their album "has something for everybody"—a non-concept that hasn't really worked since Life After Death—it's never a good sign. Ab-Soul, one of the "illest in the bidness," maybe didn't get that memo. Sure enough, his much-anticipated These Days... lacks the urgency, the anarchy, and the hurt that made 2012's Control System a low-key classic and Soul the underdog hero of the TDE camp.

The Venn diagram sweet spot where the Moor Gang (in particular, West Seattle members Mackned and SneakGuapo), ex–Raider Klan member Key Nyata, and the UDF crew all overlap has, in a few moons, become a genuine movement—a hermetic order of productive young creators, a self-perceived godhood. And the freedom that implies is their truest measure of worth—not money, guns, or lyrics. They call themselves "thraxx" and "heem," both terms coined by the Based God. While old dudes stay a decade late—arguing about Lil B, Gucci Mane, or Mac Dre's lack of "bars"—there's a whole generation of young cats that really don't care and grew up under all three's confluence of "hella street" and "supremely weird."

Their wave is clearly picking up speed (and some online national notice)—months after his excellent Alice Glass release, Mackned returns with his Aquarian God Form, the 102 course of his witch-house-infused rap curriculum. Aquarian's welcome waveform spans sounds both hectic and dissonant ("Saturn") and dreamily smooth ("Stay Posi"). Meanwhile, his ThraxxHouse (whose own mixtape is coming soon) partner Key Nyata has made a definitive statement with his latest and greatest release to date, Cosmic Dad. Now repping his own collective, the C.O.T.S. (Children of the Stars), and in the zone from "Adderall and marijuana," Key has built a hypnotic, hyperbaric chamber all his own, starting with the mission statement of "B.O.S." and not letting up for its 30-minute run time. As always, I'm just excited to hear what's next.