Solange’ s take on Houston hip-hop belongs in a museum.

She treats her hometown’s “chopped and screwed” traditions with elevated care throughout When I Get Home, placing it on a golden pedestal to be admired and revered.

Dispersing interludes at every turn in the form of fragmented conversations and poems, she creates a linear journey that eternally builds upon itself.

When “Almeda” parades into the spotlight with strutting kicks and whooping vocals, it’s impossible not to stand and salute Solange.