Over the last two years, I’ve had the opportunity to cover the music beat for The Rubicon. I’ve gotten to write about work I was familiar with, explore new artists and genres and exercise my ability to write quickly and with quality. Over this time, I’ve endlessly enjoyed being the go-to voice for music opinions on the website. For my last beat, I thought it would only be fitting to write about my favorite albums, especially by artists that I never found time to truly express my thoughts on in my traditional writing cycle. These are five albums that I picked that have defined me as a listener, critic, fan and most importantly, a person.

“Maps” – Billy Woods & Kenny Segal

Not much is known about Billy Woods. The New York based rapper maintains a wall of mystery around his appearance, personal life and even his real name. But on “Maps,” it feels like that wall goes down, even if the view is still a little blurry. Described as a travelogue, the album chronicles woods’ experience on tour as an underground artist. His words paint gloomy images of $300 Ubers, 10-hour layovers in Chicago, and EasyJet flights around Europe. While this alone is an interesting concept for an album, Woods is too good of a writer for that to be it. He uses traveling as a tool to explore larger topics, spanning the discussion of artist autonomy on “Soundcheck” to his relationship with his miscellaneous partner on “FaceTime.” California producer Kenny Segal backs Woods’ poetry with a soundscape that is simultaneously diverse and unified, defined by the serenity of “Bad Dreams Are Only Dreams” and “NYC Tapwater,” as well as the more vibrant instrumentals of “Blue Smoke” and “Waiting Around.”

Underscoring it all is Woods’ meditative ruminations on life; “Maybe suicidal thoughts was the everyday struggle / For a brief, sweet, moment it was nothing in the thought bubble” he raps on “Soft Landing,” displaying the type of vulnerability that spawns on an unbearingly long flight. He ends the album with the existential “As the Crow Flies,” where he bluntly finishes with “wondering how long I got to live,” concluding his journey grappling with his mortality. Because, ultimately, “Maps” is an album about what it means to take off without a destination, to land without an itinerary, to traverse life with no guidance.

“What’s Going On” – Marvin Gaye

It’s one thing to have the generational, commanding singing talent of a Marvin Gaye; it’s another to have so much to say with it. The D.C.-born soul singer was known to willingly express his political opinions throughout his career, even if explicitly advised not to by his record label, the notorious Motown Records. The defining example of Gaye’s social consciousness has always been his 1971 album, “What’s Going On,” which is also often recognized as his best work. On the endlessly praised record, Gaye sings of the then-ongoing Vietnam War and the concurrent struggles of Black Americans. He approaches it all with an admirable sense of empathy and plea to humanity that seemed to define much of his career. “You know we’ve got to find a way / To bring some loving here today,” he writes about poverty-stricken communities on the record’s opener, a song that would go on to become one of his most commercially successful.

His masterful combination of focused songwriting and almost ethereal vocal chops on tracks like “Save the Children” and “Inner City Blues” is essentially unparalleled. Gaye’s willingness to vocalize his environmental concerns on “Mercy Mercy Me” and his ability to look inward to examine his substance abuse on “Flyin’ High” also showcase a certain maturity and self-awareness in his writing that takes the album to another level. While Gaye was directed to make love songs for most of his career, it’s a testament to the record’s greatness that “What’s Going On” stands as his magnum opus.

“Random Access Memories” – Daft Punk

Few 21st century acts have been mythologized the way Daft Punk has. Releasing their first album in the late 1990s, the French dance duo has since been credited with reinventing electronic music as it’s known in the mainstream, leaving their footprint across all genres. Their earliest albums, “Homework” and “Discovery,” have influenced countless artists over the last two decades. On their farewell album, the masked pioneers return the favor. “Random Access Memories” acts as a tribute to all things music, instilled by Daft Punk’s boundless love for the art. Of course, there are tracks dedicated to the origins of dance music: Italy’s Giorgio Moroder, “the father of disco,” gives his origin story over a groovy, nine-minute Daft Punk instrumental, and dance legends Todd Edwards and Nile Rodgers give their own memorable vocal contributions.

But Daft Punk also collaborates with hip hop and R&B mainstay Pharrell Williams, as well The Strokes frontman Julian Casablancas, both of which make the most out of what is a once in a lifetime collaboration. No matter who they work with, Daft Punk is Daft Punk. The two have this singular skill of creating dance tracks and earworms that are resistant to being overplayed. It’s something especially evident on “Random Access Memories,” where many of the songs are long enough to warrant multiple stages, giving us moments such as the hypnotic outro to “Beyond” or the overall eeriness to “Motherboard.” Their endless sonic precision and special ear for production pen a flawless love letter to modern music.

“Rodeo” – Travis Scott

Despite the vapidity and oversaturation of his more recent music, there was once a time when Travis Scott had something to say in his music. The Houston rapper first broke onto the mixtape scene in the early 2010’s with projects like “Owl Pharoah” and “Days Before Rodeo,” which were undeniably rough around the edges but breamed with potential. It was always clear that Scott had a talent for feature curation and hookmaking, something which is glaringly obvious on his later blockbuster albums like “Astroworld” and “Utopia.” His 2015 debut album, “Rodeo,” stands as Scott’s singular masterpiece, somewhere in between the up-and-coming artist and the global superstar. Scott’s knack for earworms is present on almost every track, fluctuating between the psychedelic crooning of “Impossible” and “Maria I’m Drunk” and the party anthems of “Antidote” and “3500.”

Most fascinating about “Rodeo” is Scott’s ability to self-manifest his stardom. “I’m way too antsy ‘cause my ambition’s too frantic / I might move out to Atlantis ‘cause my mind too outlandish,” he raps on the T.I. narrated intro track, almost like he’s kicking off his own superhero origin story. In that sense, “Rodeo” is truly cinematic in nature, something strengthened by Scott’s willingness to get introspective on tracks like “Pray 4 Love” and “Apple Pie.” While Scott is by no means an elite lyricist, it does make for a much more well-rounded album experience.

“Blonde” – Frank Ocean

Few albums inspire more room for questions than Frank Ocean’s “Blonde.” It starts with the album cover, where Ocean is pictured half naked with neon green hair dye, covering his face from the observer. It’s an image that feels simultaneously intimate and distant, like we’re being invited to look at something that we shouldn’t.

That same feeling persists in Ocean’s songwriting, which is endlessly captivating, even with the lack of detail in his lyricism. Songs like “Ivy” and “White Ferrari” feel like flipping through a photo album with crossed out faces, filled with evocative images of past loves and fading memories. It’s this entrancing illusiveness that has made “Blonde” such a cultural mainstay for the last 10 years, even as Ocean has gone largely M.I.A. since its release. Ocean also reaches his peak as a singer on the record, carrying the instrumentally minimal “Self Control” and “Godspeed” with his voice. Whether it be because of the earworm choruses on “Nights” and “Pink + White,” or the reminiscence of “Futura Free,” Ocean’s album is one that sticks with the listener after that first listen. His work has this intangible quality of feeling applicable to moments and feelings that it doesn’t necessarily address. In that sense, it’s almost fitting that it’s likely to never have a successor, that it will exist as a truly singular project.