Saul Williams strikes that nebulous line between beat poetry and hiphop that only people with the utmost self-confidence and talent can sell without looking like (and I speak from experience here) an embarrassing 14-year-old at a talent show. His fifth album, Volcanic Sunlight, might better be called a mixtape, an album bound only by the listener' sense of, "What the fuck is coming next?" It plays like a karaoke set of all of Williams' favorite genres, except that he made up the lyrics. The title track is a freewheeling rant (the only one on the album) backed by a wall of drums and sinister horns. With a blithe disregard for generic convention, it's followed by the soulful "Patience," the post-industrial funk of "Explain My Heart," and the videogame synth of "Diagram." The single, "Dance," is the standout, largely because it's a duet with Janelle Monáe. REBECCA WILSON