Clipse broke up, without any indication of reforming, 15 years ago. That’s a long time to disappear. A lot has changed since they last put out an album. Embracing the change on Let God Sort ’Em Out, Clipse’s writing is just as potent as when they disappeared. If their legacy was ever called into question, the features on this album put that to rest.

Opening with “The Birds Don’t Sing,” a devastating meditation on the death of their parents, anchored by vulnerable verses, is a bold choice for a hip-hop album. Ultimately, it just sets the tone for the rest of the album. The stunning opener reintroduces Pusha T and No Malice as sons struggling with loss and legacy.

That internal conflict sits at the center of the record. Clipse hasn’t ever struggled to turn pride and drug punched lines into trademarked bars flush with double, triple quadruple entredas. They didn’t part from any of those trademarks. Just stepped up the vulnerability and merciless dismissal of lesser rappers. Woven through the bravado are moments of doubt, regret. Showing the emotional residue beneath the outer armor.

Underscoring the album's complexity is Pharrell’s production. I’ve heard the duo rap on every type of beat imaginable. Dark, violent beats enforce their tough exterior. Pharrell, however, gives them mixtures of regal synths, bright drums, choirs that ring with triumphant energy. Expansive beats swell throughout the record. Pharrell provided the cathedral for Clipse to paint their masterpiece upon.

Paying homage to the legacy, guests like Kendrick Lamar, Tyler, the Creator, Nas, The-Dream, and Stove God Cooks all grace the record. Clipse’s place in the pantheon is secure, while the new generation is building upon their foundation.

Let God Sort ’Em Out balances grief with arrogance, glamor with faith. One of the year’s best.

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