Fourteen tracks from a Chicago artist who grew up in a church, took the whole congregation with him, and made gospel that sounds like a street procession.

Sir the Baptist: Saint or Sinner (2017)
Sir the Baptist is the son of a Chicago pastor, and his debut album is built on a premise most gospel records avoid: that the sacred and the profane are not separable, and that a church which pretends otherwise is failing the people in it.
The sound reflects that. There are full choirs — his ChurchPpl ensemble appears throughout — alongside hip-hop production, brass that sounds like a New Orleans funeral march, and guest verses from people the gospel industry would not normally book.
The result made a certain amount of trouble for him in both directions, which is usually a sign that a record is doing something real.
What to listen for
"Raise Hell" with Killer Mike is the best track here and the clearest statement of intent — a gospel song with one of the most politically uncompromising rappers in America on it, and the combination is not remotely awkward.
"Deliver Me" with Brandy is the best-sung thing on the record, and having her on a debut album is a genuine coup.
"Wheels" aside, "Prayers on a Picket Sign" opens the record and sets its terms: protest and prayer treated as the same activity.
"Good Ole Church Girl" with The Deacons is the funniest and most affectionate thing here, and "Southern Belle" with Michelle Williams — of Destiny's Child, who has her own substantial gospel career — is its companion.
"What We Got" and "Heaven" both feature Donald Lawrence & Company, and Lawrence is one of the most respected choir directors in modern gospel, which is a serious endorsement.
"Dance with the Devil" and "The Wall" are the darkest tracks, and "Marley's Son" is the most personal.
Go deeper
For contemporary artists working the same border between gospel and secular music: Chance the Rapper's Coloring Book, Kanye West's Jesus Walks-era material and Kirk Franklin's entire career, which has been picking this fight successfully since the nineties.
Donald Lawrence and The Clark Sisters are the choir tradition underneath it all.
Why it made trouble: the record refuses the separation both sides wanted — too worldly for gospel radio, too devout for secular playlists — and that discomfort is the argument rather than a marketing failure. A church that cannot accommodate the whole of a life is the thing the album is actually about.
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