In a year when Taylor Swift took up an atmosphere’s worth of media oxygen (sorry), artists large and small continued the long trudge uphill, attempting to stand out in an increasingly crowded field. That’s the music business, of course, but it feels more lopsided than ever, when only the biggest of big can comfortably make make a living. Despite these hurdles — amid a seemingly endless stream of corporate consolidation and A-lister-prioritizing algorithms — there is a lot of great music being made, from less-than-Yoncé-level-but-still-mainstream artists like Lana Del Rey to fresh acts bubbling just under the surface like Maiya the Don. As with any “best of” list, our selections for 2023 aren’t a finish line but a starting point. With over 40,000 songs uploaded to Spotify every day, further exploration is essential.
10.
“Super Shy,” NewJeans
NewJeans excels at bite-size pop — short, satisfying songs that will have you quickly craving another. (Their 2023 EP, Get Up, is six tracks and just over 12 minutes long.) The K-pop group’s two-and-a-half-minute breakout single “Super Shy” is little more than a featherlight chorus adorned with just enough verse and refrain to break the monotony. It works, though. The hook is a masterful blend of simple, catchy lyrics, and the melody hits all the right dopamine receptors. Danish alt-pop musician Erika de Casier, one of the songwriters, is key to the track’s balance of playful ’90s and ’00s pop and left-of-center club touches. The five members of NewJeans bring it to life with a performance bursting with charm. —Justin Curto
9.
“The Devil I Know,” Ashley McBryde
Ashley McBryde writes about the outcasts — the best characters in her songs are downtrodden, stuck, and determined as ever. “The Devil I Know” is an anthem for all of them. McBryde knows the power of saying just enough — like paiting a toxic relationship as “suitcase marks on a hardwood floor” — and when to let everything boil over, which she expresses in a fiery chorus: “Mama says get my ass to church / Daddy says get my ass to work / Doctor says I gotta give up on these smokes.” After letting her creativity run wild on last year’s concept album Lindeville, McBryde is back to writing simple, timeless hooks that ought to make the rest of Nashville shout along. —J.C.
8.
“Angels in Tibet,” Amaarae
You’ll catch something new each time on “Angels in Tibet,” a sexy, sensual, baile-funkish cut off Amaarae’s exquisite new sophomore album, Fountain Baby. (Personal favorites include the rattlesnake shaker, the fractured harmonies in the hook, and the way she says “homage.”) Though it wasn’t released as a single, “Angels” feels like a mission statement. In less than two minutes, the Bronx-born, Atlanta- and Accra-bred singer employs a multidimensional vocal approach — casually dropping into a guttural bass, flipping into a Doja Cat–like rap flow, curling her falsetto around sprawling percussion like a snake coiled around a branch. It’s a rare feat, finding an artist who so smoothly pulls off all three. —Alex Suskind
7.
“Year Zero,” billy woods and Kenny Segal featuring Danny Brown
In a year when billy woods and Danny Brown released two albums apiece, picking their best performances is a tall order. But “Year Zero,” off woods and producer Kenny Segal’s Maps, is the song where the indie-rap stalwarts sound most like themselves. They make an odd but powerful couple: woods drops casual yet dire warnings about the state of the world before Brown stomps in for a silly, braggadocio 180. Due props to Segal for tying these disparate performances together with an eerie, unrelenting industrial beat. If woods’s haunting take on mass shootings won’t stick with you (“Sooner or later, it’s gon’ be two unrelated active shooters / Same place, same time / Great minds, Tesla and Edison”), one of Brown’s mischievous bars surely will (“You slippin’ at night like a old bitch nightgown”). —J.C.
6.
“Shakira: BZRP Music Sessions, Vol. 53,” Shakria and Bizarrap
After Shakira ended her 11-year relationship with soccer star Gerard Piqué, in June of 2022, a predictable stream of gossip followed — strawberry jam–related cheating accusations, an ugly public custody battle, the alleged attempt to haunt Piqué’s mother via giant witch doll. So when Bizzarap — the Argentine producer best known for his DIY studio sessions with a who’s who of Latin stars — revealed the “Hips Don’t Lie” singer had stopped by to record a new song, we figured some mess would ensue. In hindsight, a severe understatement! Over a thumping four-on-the-floor beat, she goes scorched earth, calling out her ex’s championship bona fides, and that he’s out of her league, and that his brain needs work, and that his much-younger new girlfriend is a Casio/Twingo compared to her, a Rolex/Ferrari. The record-breaking “Vol. 53” not only turned into the year’s best diss track, it became the perfect vehicle to launch Shakira’s next era. —A.S.
5.
“Black Earth, WI,” Ratboys
Contrary to its title, Ratboys’ “Black Earth, WI” is less about a specific destination than a psychedelic journey. Julia Steiner, a sharp-eyed lyricist, sings about being “hypnotized, caught up in the northern lights, drivin’ around in circles,” before the meandering rock epic takes a detour into a fantastic guitar solo that clocks in at over three minutes. It sounds like the best kind of wrong turn — one stray note quickly grows into something too intriguing to ignore, until guitarist Dave Sagan finally feels his way back to a groove that evolves into a full-band sing-along. One way “Black Earth” does live up to its title, though: Only a Midwestern rock band could pull such beauty about getting lost on the highway. —J.C.
4.
“Dusties,” Maiya the Don
Maiya the Don cuts to the chase on “Dusties,” one of the year’s most quotable singles. “If I let you near me then you lucky,” she snarls four seconds in. “I ain’t fuckin’ with these dusties.” Additional items on her would-be suitor checklist: Don’t wear quality cologne if you’re musty, don’t approach her if you’re broke, and don’t suck at sex or she’ll leave you for your friend (“Even though we used to fuck, it’s better with your bro”). Though the 21-year-old Maiya made her debut a year ago, she already sounds fully formed — part of a new generation of sharp Brooklyn lyricists paying homage to past generations (“Dusties” samples the intro to Lil’ Kim’s 2003 hit “Magic Stick,” and the line “Never been a Treesha,” echoes Kim’s “… not a whore / But I sex a n—a so good”) while carving out a distinct space for themselves. —A.S.
3.
“A&W,” Lana Del Rey
Lana Del Rey has no fear of getting too on the nose, proclaiming herself a “Venice bitch” or reminiscing about the Men in Music Business Conference. She may have reached her pinnacle on “A&W,” on which she laments “the experience of bein’ an American whore,” distilling a career’s worth of music about feeling mistreated as a woman into one line. She doesn’t let “A&W” coast on that grabby lyric, though. Del Rey goes from dejected to angry to wistful in one verse, Jack Antonoff twists his California soft-pop into a discomforting minor key, and that’s all before the shocking, delightful electro-freakout interpolation of “Shimmy Shimmy Ko Ko Bop.” Yeah, don’t question it: “I don’t know, maybe I’m just like this,” Del Rey demurs. —J.C.
2.
“Boy’s a liar Pt. 2,” PInkPantheress, Ice Spice
PinkPantheress initially doubted the need for a redux to her 2022 hit single. Thankfully, she changed her mind. “Boy’s a liar Pt. 2,” the sequel to the U.K. songwriter’s playful toss-off track about being thrown aside by a duplicitous boy, is one of the year’s comfiest collaborations — the perfect on-paper and in-practice matchup between two young artists. There are no added bells and whistles to the production, just the plinky, Jersey Club–indebted beat from before, with PinkPantheress subbing in earlier lyrics for a typically cool-and-casual Ice Spice verse: “So I tell him there’s one of me, he makin’ fun of me / His girl is a bum to me (grrah).” Throwing a buzzy artist on the remix to a breakout single can often mean jettisoning the original’s mojo for more streams and higher chart placement; even the good ones don’t manage to capture the magic of the first. With Ice Spice, “Pt. 2” avoids the pitfalls. —A.S.
1.
“Vampire,” Olivia Rodrigo
Writing a debut single like “Drivers License” is hard enough. You have to channel all the new, complicated hurt you’re feeling from a breakup and introduce yourself to the world as an artist outside your Disney Channel mold, all while praying it catches on enough to give you a shot at a successful pop career. Do all that, and you’ll face an even more impossible task: writing a stronger lead single for your next album. That makes Olivia Rodrigo’s “Vampire” a pop rarity, an improvement on everything the world first fell in love with. Rodrigo bites harder with her lyrics — calling an ex a bloodsucker and fame fucker is one thing, but telling him “You can’t love anyone ’cause that would mean you had a heart” is ice cold. There’s more deeply felt pain in her voice, as it cracks and wavers in the chorus. And while “Drivers License” veered into melodramatic territory, Rodrigo makes “Vampire” feel high-stakes, all the way through that heart-racing bridge. After “Drivers License,” and all of Sour, made a parlor game of comparing Rodrigo to her influences, she could’ve gone in a different direction. Instead, she chose to sharpen the same approach — the uneasy piano, the roaring guitars, the well-deployed curse words, the heady mix of anger and sadness — making “Vampire” the best example yet of Rodrigo’s developing sound. In a year when pop otherwise felt remarkably anonymous, how exciting to hear a star coming into her own. —J.C.
Other Song Highlights From This Year
Throughout the year, Vulture maintained a “Best Songs of the Year (So Far)” list. Many of those selections appear above in our top ten. Below, the rest of the songs that stood out to them this year, presented in order of release date.
“Mother Nature,” MGMT
Yes, MGMT are still pessimists. The duo who broke out with songs about being “fated to pretend” and living through a “little dark age” are now leading off an album called Loss of Life with a song about nothing more than the slow destruction of the world. “I torched the fields again / And killed an honest man,” sings Andrew VanWyngarden. “Now I understand Mother Nature.” And that song, “Mother Nature,” is some of the most beautiful and alive music MGMT has made since their 2007 debut. It’s expansive, in fact, blooming from something hushed and folky into an Oasis-channeling knot of electric guitars (even featuring Wilco’s Nels Cline). “You know what comes right after the dark?” VanWyngarden asks as the song winds down. MGMT does, and it sounds wonderful.
“The Gods Must Be Crazy,” Armand Hammer
It takes a moment to find your footing on an Armand Hammer song: Rappers Elucid and billy woods sound like they’re delivering verses in free association, and the production can mutate mid-track. See: The twitchy, El-P-produced “The Gods Must Be Crazy,” where woods goes in on the ghosts of imperialism and cultural flagrancy (“CIA scams, revolutionary plans”; “White women with pepper spray in they purse / interpolating Beyoncé / illegal formations”) while Elucid speaks of “harlots” and “beasts” and mysticism (“Poking out my third and my fourth eye”). Like their best work, “Gods” teeters on the edge of the abyss without falling in. —A.S.
“Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl,” Chappell Roan
In another life, Chappell Roan could’ve had a great career in marketing. Her best hooks have the appeal of a good catchphrase — so specific, snappy, and fun that you just can’t forget them. “Femininomenon.” “Hot to Go.” And now, “Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl.” It’s a phrase with perfect rhythm, each syllable falling right into place as she shouts it over a go-for-broke Gaga synth beat. That’s just one of the song’s many appeals, along with Roan’s silly spoken-word intro (think “Let’s Have a Kiki” for Gen Z) and a well-placed cowbell in the pre-chorus. But hours after the song is over, that hook is what you’ll still be singing to yourself. —J.C.
“Pacer,” Doechii
Doechii is pulling from the Rico Nasty playbook on “Pacer,” yelping and screaming about moshing and cannibalism and ditching her car for a damn blimp. “Bring the clique, throw a fuckin’ fit / Open up the pit / Let it rip, he a fuckin’ bitch,” she raps over an abrasive and glitchy beat from Saint 808. It’s another pivot for the TDE rapper, whose earlier 2023 singles — the pop-centric “What It Is” and the Jersey club–indebted “Booty Drop” — sound like they were made by an entirely different artist. With Doechii, shape-shifting is the point. —A.S.
“Eve Was Black,” Allison Russell
As a songwriter, Allison Russell is unflinching. On her solo debut, Outside Child, Russell sang of escaping abuse at the hands of her adoptive father and the generations of trauma that preceded her. She digs in further on “Eve Was Black,” an eviscerating response to racism off her otherwise more joyful new album, The Returner. Russell speaks directly to white supremacists on the song, even to the point where she’s imagining a lynching. “What do you hope for as you watch me swing?” she asks in an aching wail. “Will the Witness Tree salvation bring?” Note the questioning — crucially to Russell, the song is a dialogue. And one that doesn’t end with anger, as Russell repurposes lines from her 2019 Our Native Daughters song “You’re Not Alone” into a cleansing coda: “De l’Afrique aux Amériques, une famille, une famille.” —J.C.
“East Side of Sorrow,” Zach Bryan
One of Zach Bryan’s strengths is spinning rote concepts you’ve heard a million times before into something fresh and forceful. On paper, “East Side of Sorrow,” a cut off his new self-titled album, tells a familiar triumph-through-tragedy narrative: a veteran praying to a higher power after losing friends in a meaningless war (“They said, ‘Boy, you’re gonna fight a war’ / You don’t even know what you’re fighting for”). By incorporating a lone horn in the hook, along with a slight acoustic-guitar nod to “Amazing Grace,” the country star turns his search for absolution into an epic, tragic anthem. —A.S.
“Water,” Tyla
Rising South African singer Tyla is a portrait of cool confidence on her breakout “popiano” hit (popiano is a word Tyla’s fans coined for her unique mix of R&B, Amapiano, and pop). Over a light shaker-and-snare tap groove and whispery keys, she delivers her questions like directions — “Can you blow my mind? Can you snatch my soul from me?” — while the hook digs in even further: “Make me sweat, make me hotter, make me lose my breath.” The approach is smoother than (clears throat) water. —A.S.
“I Got Heaven,” Mannequin Pussy
Mannequin Pussy can switch between polished punk epics and fiery thrashers on a moment’s notice. New single “I Got Heaven” starts out like the latter, with the whole band sounding absolutely feral as singer Marisa Dabice snarls about biting a stranger like a dog. But once the chorus hits, her voice switches from a scream to a murmur. That moment of respite doesn’t blunt the rest of the song’s righteous anger at Christian hypocrisy — really, it’s the biggest fuck-you moment, as Dabice realizes she doesn’t even need the Establishment (“I got heaven / Inside of me”). It’s also a reminder that this band can surprise at any second. —J.C.
“Bug Like an Angel,” Mitski
When Mitski turned to synth-pop on her last album, Laurel Hell, fans were worried she’d lost her element of surprise by sanding down and polishing her edges. Thankfully, everything about her new single, “Bug Like an Angel,” is a surprise — like the timing, a mere year and a half after Laurel Hell, or the powerful choir that seems to materialize out of nowhere to echo her verses. Yet economy is once again Mitski’s strong suit, as she spends most of the song strikingly vulnerable, singing the spare verses over just a guitar. She’s in a moment of searching, first for some connection in a bottle (“Sometimes a drink feels like family”) and later for some respite from the cycle of broken promises that “break you right back.” The choir isn’t there for spiritual authority but community, searching right alongside Mitski. And if she can’t find answers, at least she can find a bit of comfort in the divine: “I try to remember the wrath of the Devil / Was also given him by God.” —J.C.
“Too Fast (Pull Over),” Jay Rock, Anderson .Paak & Latto
Jay Rock, the streets-hardened stalwart of L.A. hip-hop, isn’t really known as a party-starter — but “Too Fast (Pull Over)” makes it clear that he still knows how to set a vibe. Step one: Invite your most fun friends, in this case Anderson .Paak and Latto. Step two: Put on a good soundtrack, like Trina’s slut-rap opus “Pull Over.” Step three: Have fun, i.e., rap about hot girls, nice cars, and feeling yourself. Jay gets a few good bars in (“Put a pole dancer in a Mercedes / She wanna watch P-Valley and go half on a baby”) but it takes a back seat to Latto, who spits her best verse in a minute, and Anderson, who sets the song’s zero-to-60 energy in the hook and keeps it going throughout. —J.C.
“Barbaric,” Blur
The Britpop crew’s first album in eight years is Blur CliffsNotes — a sprawling 42-minute trip through the best sprightly riffs, grungy alt-rock, and experimental electronic work the band has offered up since their founding in early-’90s Britain. The pop-leaning “Barbaric” takes things a step further. By combining the radio-friendly elements of Gorillaz with the thudding bass lines and tight percussion of Blur — and throwing in one of the catchiest hooks in either catalogue — they successfully bridge the work in the group that made front man Damon Albarn famous in England with the one that made him famous in the States. —A.S.
“White Horse,” Chris Stapleton
Chris Stapleton has long boasted the makings of a rock star, from his dusty, commanding voice to his stadium-ready guitar chops. It’s about time he put them all to use on record. “White Horse,” the lead single on Stapleton’s new album, Higher, is a barnstorming southern-rock anthem bursting with multiple guitar solos and a colossal chorus. Stapleton plays the maverick he’s always been in the country scene: “If you want a cowboy on a white horse / Ridin’ off into the sunset,” well, that’s not him, he warns. No, he’s a looser cannon — one who might have a whole album of fiery rock to come or may have just made the most ferocious song of his career on a whim. —J.C.
“Ten Billion People,” Explosions in the Sky
The best Explosions in the Sky songs unfurl like movies — which is probably why music supervisors continue to use the Texas group’s symphonic post-rock to soundtrack their films. “Ten Billion People,” the first track from their new album, End, fits the dramatic-climax bill. The opening sounds like life inside a giant machine — glitchy popcorn effects, fractured percussion hits, crunchy guitars. Then a pummeling kick-and-snare beat drops in, opening a kind of existential sonic chasm: The snare and synth hits multiply, riffs echo into infinity. The band has said the starting point for End was “the concept of an ending — death, or the end of a friendship or relationship.” “Ten Billion People” feels like what comes after — the sound of starting anew. —A.S.
“Tiny Garden,” Jamila Woods & Duendita
With her poetic eye and warm melodies, Jamila Woods can spin profundity out of the simplest things. On its face, her single “Tiny Garden” is a love song, but it soon reveals itself as something more: a song about the everyday work that love takes. Woods sings about moving slowly and figuring out the uncertainties (“I put my flaws on display to scare you away / You put your feelings on hold”), making for something that feels much truer than the usual superlative metaphors for affection. Even so, the song feels welcoming and familiar, complete with Duendita’s soft-spoken wisdom in the bridge. Like Woods sings, “It’s not gonna be a big production / It’s not butterflies and fireworks.” —J.C.
“Celebrando,” Rauw Alejandro & Ivy Queen
Rauw Alejandro has been making his name as reggaeton’s resident futurist. Ivy Queen is one of the genre’s original stars. And their past-meets-future team-up on “Celebrando” is a song that needs to be blasting across beaches for the rest of the summer — a true celebration, as the title promises. Alejandro trades the space reggaeton of 2022’s Saturno for something more carnal and sun-soaked while making space for Ivy, who commands the track from her first ad-lib. —J.C.
“Shy Boy,” Carly Rae Jepsen
Carly Rae Jepsen didn’t even know she had the Midas touch. The whole time the pop performer was rolling out her lackluster album The Loneliest Time last year, she’d been holding onto a pocketful of bubbly dance hits like they were the B-sides. But these songs stand alone — especially the glimmering dance-floor anthem “Shy Boy,” one of Jepsen’s sexiest tracks in a minute. A funky throwback beat from James Ford and a “Midas Touch” interpolation is a winning formula already, but Jepsen’s coy seduction is key to the song’s shine. —J.C.
“You Don’t Even Know Me Anymore,” Charly Bliss
On first listen, “You Don’t Even Know Me Anymore” sounds like a fitting title for Charly Bliss’s new single. The onetime garage-pop upstart is now making unabashed pop music, pulling out skittering programmed drums and echoey, effect-laden vocals within the song’s first minute. (It did seem inevitable after their previous pop-rock masterwork, Young Enough.) Eva Hendricks’s lyrics, though — always the primary draw of a Charly Bliss song — are still sharp as ever. She opens the second verse with one of her more subtle gut punches: “I read the letters that I wrote to you way back when / They’re so sad, you had me convinced I could still save you then.” —J.C.
“But Not Kiss,” Faye Webster
Faye Webster is scared of committing on her new single “But Not Kiss.” Yes, there’s the matter of the lover whose arms she wants to sleep in but doesn’t want to kiss. At the gently strummed outset, “But Not Kiss” sounds like the latest entry to Webster’s impeccably chill canon — before it collapses on itself into a cascade of piano. All the usual hallmarks of Webster’s songs are still there, from her soft-spoken delivery to that sighing lap steel, just shaken up and rearranged into a song full of (and about) quiet thrills. —J.C.
“(It Goes Like) Nanana,” Peggy Gou
It’s been a good summer for buzzy DJ-producer Peggy Gou, who signed to tastemaking label XL and released the club burner of the season on the same day this past June. “Nanana” is a throwback, built on muddy drums, plinky ’90s raver chords, and that insatiable pitch-bending effect that was on every radio-friendly house hit 30 years ago. The lyrics are mostly nonsense — love is hard to describe, so you have to say … “na-na-na” instead, or something — and beside the point. This is bouncy time-capsule music — and a hopeful taste of what’s to come from Gou. —A.S.
“Attention,” Doja Cat
“I am not afraid to finally say shit with my chest,” Doja Cat raps in the middle of her tour-de-force return single, “Attention,” where she sounds off on her social-media trolls while owning her sexuality and success. Doja knows everyone else is going to talk about her, so “Attention” is her trying to start, and own, the conversation instead. Her confidence is almost nonchalant as she tosses off capital-B bars: “Why she think she Nicki M. / She think she hot shit?” Doja asks, parroting a fan. Then her answer: “Of course you bitches comparin’ Doja to who the hottest.” —A.S.
“SkeeYee,” Sexyy Red
In the middle of the summer of “SkeeYee,” a clip of New York Jets players busting moves to Sexyy Red’s breakout song on Hard Knocks went viral. It’s less than a minute that shows the song’s sheer infectiousness: the simple Tay Keith trap beat kicks in, the players start to grin, and once the hook starts, everyone’s moving. “SkeeYee” has all the ingredients of a breakout rap hit, like the catchy shout-along chorus, Instagram-ready bars (“Bitch lookin’ bad and got a stupid butt”), and Sexyy Red’s loud, overflowing charisma. But like the title itself, “SkeeYee” isn’t something you need to think a lot about — just dance. —J.C.
“all i do is try my best,” glaive
One of the only constants in Ash Gutierrez’s career, whether he’s making dissonant hyperpop, glitchy hip-hop, or ’90s-inspired emo-pop, has been his ability to find catharsis in loud, discordant music. (The better for his often starkly self-hating lyrics.) But as as full as his catalogue is, there’s not much competition for a more straightforwardly beautiful song like “all i do is try my best.” It’s entrancing from the first moments, centered around swirling strings that expand like a kaleidoscope in the chorus; the song manages to somehow recall American Football and big-tent pop-EDM. Glaive’s teenage viewpoint is still intact — “First year that I gotta pay my taxes / When I heard the number, thought ’bout killin’ myself,” he opens — but he’s a bit wiser here. “As I get older, I realize / Too much of anything makes you hate it,” he coos in one of his best vocal performances yet. —J.C.
“All I Do,” Bully
Alicia Bognanno’s “All I Do” cuts straight to the bone. Her vocals are raw, scratchy, and stubborn, which is exactly the kind of performance you want on a song about quitting drinking. “I’ve been ready to leave, but it’s hard to go / If it ain’t the right choice, I don’t wanna know,” she screams, somehow sounding both content and apprehensive about leaving a time in her life she once knew. By the bridge — “Heavy memories sink in / I’ll never get fucked up again” — she’s confident she’s made the right choice. —A.S.
“hue_man nature,” Saba and No ID
After two heavy albums confronting death and systemic violence, Saba’s “hue_man nature” is a much-needed moment of letting loose. And who better to do it with than fellow Chicago hero and beatmaker No ID? The pair’s second collaboration is just plain fun, with an infectiously slinky funk beat paired with Saba’s dozens of pop culture references. (“Young Lisa Bonet, Sanaa Lathan / If looks kill, shit, she gotta be dangerous,” he raps with a childish smirk.) For someone rapping about how “nobody could see the vision” when he was younger, Saba’s found the producing partner he needs right now. —J.C.
“Scapegoat,” Anohni
On “Scapegoat,” Anohni and her band the Johnsons shine a white-hot light on transphobia, telling a story from the perspective of an individual ready and willing to commit violence. “You’re so killable / Disappearable / This one we need not protect,” she sings in her unmistakable, guttural croon. Speaking plainly about the threats trans women and men like Anohni face every day turns “Scapegoat” into both prayer and plight — a blunt assessment of our current world and a hope that its bigotry will eventually end. —A.S.
“The Universe,” Róisín Murphy and DJ Koze
It feels like every other pop song right now is interpolating an older piece of music. The latest from Róisín Murphy and DJ Koze, two of electronic music’s most mischievous figures, technically falls into that trend. But they take a cheekier approach. Following an interlude that sounds like a Real Housewives outtake, about a sunset boat trip gone awry, Murphy starts singing, “Row, row, row your boat.” It’s both a breath of fresh air and a joyously stupid moment that fits right into Koze’s lighthearted groove, on a song that captures the leisurely essence of summer. —J.C.
“Cosmic Leash,” Chris Farren
Judging by its first single, Doom Singer is a great name for Chris Farren’s new album. In the chorus, Farren screams like he’s exorcizing a demon — it’s guttural and deafening, a literal far cry from the joyful pop-punk sing-alongs he’s usually yelling. “Change your heart / Wait your turn,” he roars over thundering guitars that fall in instantly. Farren has said the song is about the push and pull of “the urge to romanticize the past,” but it’s definitely not stuck there. (The song is the first product of a new collaboration with drummer Frankie Impastato and producer Melinda Duterte, a.k.a. Jay Som, who Farren says revitalized him creatively.) He then ends the hook with a plea for connection: “I need more time with you.” The sound of “Cosmic Leash” is him finding it anew. —J.C.
“Mysterious Love,” GEESE
On GEESE’s splashy debut album, Projector, the band occasionally sounded too practiced, like they’d listened to a lot of Parquet Courts and spent too much time playing Brooklyn basements. Their follow-up, 3D Country, is the sound of them both loosening up and leaning into chaos. Take the combustible, messy “Mysterious Love.” The flailing guitars jostle the song without warning, like the car crash described in the opening lines. (It’s just as odd of a love song: “This love is my only window,” singer Cameron Winter wails. “I will be the airbag / 20 pounds of glass in my eye.”) There’s an interlude of arena-rock splendor in there as well, before Winter goes from crooning to screeching and brings the band to one final, unruly coup de grâce. It’s GEESE in all their three-dimensional wonder. —J.C.
“Rapper Weed,” billy woods
Indie stalwart billy woods is one of the few artists who can pull off a song about rapper-branded weed without making it sound like a frat-boy parody. Through a mix of New York City drug lore, daily frustrations (What’s with all the bad flower endorsed by famous people?), and oddball humor (“Weed lube, weed butter / Don’t get ’em confused, whatever you do / I wasn’t rude, but green eggs and ham, I had to refuse”), he turns what should be a rote idea into a heady take on greenery in ’23. —A.S.
“Bogus Operandi,” The Hives
Where did the guitar bands go? the wistful Gen-Xer grumbles to himself. To which I say (a) Buddy, it never left. And (b) Relax, the Hives are back. The Swedish quintet has followed in the footsteps of indie-sleaze brethren the Walkmen, reemerging after a decade of hibernation. The first single off the forthcoming The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons feels like classic Hives: a good old-fashioned rock stomper stacked with guitar feedback and treble-y vocals and an earworm-y riff. “My motive’s so handy / Nothing but bogus operandi,” screeches front man Pelle Almqvist with some Meet Me in the Bathroom–era venom. Even his statement accompanying the release feels like a throwback: “There’s no maturity or anything like that bullshit, because who the fuck wants mature rock and roll.” For the Walkmen, it’s not “everything old is new,” it’s “old never left in the first place.” —A.S.
“Eat the Acid,” Kesha
Kesha spoke with God and then wrote “Eat the Acid,” the lead single from her new album, Gag Order. Based on an “intense spiritual-awakening experience” she had, along with the advice her mother once gave her (to wit: don’t drop psychedelics because “you don’t want to be changed like it changed me,” as the song’s refrain goes), “Acid” is about undergoing a sacred transformation. “I searched for answers all my life / Dead in the dark I saw a light / I am the one that I’ve been fighting the whole time,” she sings through a phaser, the kind of sonic touch that harks back to the start of her career, when she’d feed her voice through a variety of vocal effects. Drugs might not have changed Kesha (she still hasn’t taken acid), but something else did; now she’s ready to survey the aftermath. —A.S.
“Just Relax,” Lola Brooke
“Just Relax” is the sound of a former indie artist finally getting their shot after years of grinding it out on the industry’s ground floor. “Bitches think they it, all that shit is cap,” says a cocky Lola Brooke — and she should be cocky: The Bed-Stuy rapper recently signed to a major label, has received cosigns from longtime heroes Lil Kim and Meek Mill, and is coming off a buzzy Coachella cameo. She’s also one of the rare few current MCs successfully bridging the generational gap by name-dropping golden-age MCs and rapping over beats that flip bygone classics (this one samples the Black Sheep cut “The Choice Is Yours”). For those who doubt her staying power: “I’m getting busy with these hands / I let a bitch have it.” —A.S.
“Chasing Spirits,” Jess Williamson
Every line of Jess Williamson’s slide guitar–laden country ballad cuts deeper than the last. “Are my love songs lies now that the love is gone?” she asks at the outset, before writing a specific song off with a devastating “or whatever.” She then caps it off with the worst possible burn one singer-songwriter can say to another: “The difference between us is when I sing it, I really mean it.” Williamson definitely means it here — it’s in the jagged edges of her voice and the strength she uses to reach for a note. —J.C.
“Bubblegum,” Dawn Richard
About six months ago, Dawn Richard was singing over Spencer Zahn’s amorphous soundscapes for their ethereal odd coupling. Those left turns are half the excitement of Richard; the other half is watching her snap right back into place like nothing happened. On “Bubblegum,” her first solo single since 2021’s Second Line, she continues her project of pulling pop and R&B apart and piecing the genres back together the way she wants. The jittery house-pop song goes broader than Second Line’s New Orleans tribute, choosing to name-check Beyoncé and Prince around a hook where Richard promises to “pop that thing like bubblegum.” It’s the most mainstream Richard has felt since her Diddy-Dirty Money days, but it also doesn’t quite sound like anything else today. —J.C.
“Try Me,” Jorja Smith
Jorja’s single finds its strength in repetition: those surround-sound drums, that insatiable plucked guitar riff, her teasing threats, all drilled into your head until you get the message. The British singer’s lyrics here are a sleight of hand — what might sound like the end of a relationship is actually about her experience as an artist in the public eye, having to consistently put her own views and emotions out for the world to judge. “I’ve changed? There’s only been one thing that I’ve changed / Nothin’ is ever enough,” she croons like someone who’s had to deal with asinine debates over whether she has the range. But Jorja is staying above the fray: “Go ’head try me / ’Cause I’m safe behind these walls.” —A.S.
“Passed Me By,” Yaeji
I tried to figure out what time signature Yaeji’s “Passed Me By” starts in and got dizzy. 6/8? 5/4? 13/5? Pinning it down is like catching a cloud. Maybe that’s the point; this single off her debut album is all about growth and the slipperiness of time. Even the lyrical delivery is tapped in, with slice-of-life moments about handling your own mood swings uttered in an almost free-association cadence: “I like flip-ping the pages and feeling the physi-cal weight of how much time has / Passed me by.” There’s something mantralike about the singer-producer’s approach here (“Anything that touches me will evaporate and fly higher and higher”). In blending English and Korean lyrics, Yaeji seems to be in a much-needed dialogue with herself. We’re just here to eavesdrop. —A.S.
“Terms and Conditions,” Mahalia
Credit to Mahalia — and co-writer–producer Raye — for being the first singer to flip the bland title of a legal document at the bottom of every website into a sexy R&B jam about boundaries. “If you want my love, then let’s discuss the man you’re required to be,” she sings over a deceptively simple drum sequence and atmospheric synths. “And if you tell me lies, you get three strikes; there’s no coming back; boy, please.” In a world of toxic love tracks, “Terms and Conditions” is the necessary counterweight. —A.S.
“Stuntman,” Tyler, the Creator featuring Vince Staples
Finally, the world gets to hear Tyler, the Creator and Vince Staples, longtime friends and two of the West Coast’s best working rappers, go toe to toe on a track. “Stuntman,” off the deluxe version of 2021’s Call Me If You Get Lost, flips from bouncy flex track to full-on riot once Staples raps, “No you can’t be my girl, bitch, are you dumb?” punctuated by DJ Drama ad-libbing for dramatic effect. That first minute, where the song slips and slides between the two, is a thrilling introduction, before Tyler takes over and delivers two breathless verses packed with flexes and quips. (“I’m watchin’ Queen’s Gambit, lookin’ like an extra / Different colored chess pieces hangin’ from my necklace.”) Here’s hoping whatever he has up his sleeve after Call Me is this much fun, too. — J.C.
“Smoke,” Victoria Monét featuring Lucky Daye
It’s a wonder the world hasn’t heard more from Victoria Monét. Every time the prolific songwriter drops the notepad and heads into the booth, she radiates star power. “Smoke” is Monét’s poised first step — no, strut — toward a new album alongside the equally suave R&B ascendant Lucky Daye. The song keeps working with the throwback influences of 2020’s Jaguar with another hooky Motown-esque horn riff and a down-and-dirty bass line holding things together. Monét’s touch even comes through on an ode to lighting up: “To the left or the right, long as it rotate,” she sings. “It’s a bisexual blunt, it can go both ways.” Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and on “Smoke,” the source is clear. — J.C.
“Scaring the Hoes,” JPEGMAFIA and Danny Brown
In 2021, JPEGMAFIA said he wanted to record a mixtape with Danny Brown. The result, a 14-track project fittingly called Scaring the Hoes, is a madcap blend of both artists’ styles: JPEG’s brash and brutal lyrics and beats colliding with Danny’s elastic flows and outrageous pop-culture references. Much of the album is drowned in a kind of punkish distortion, while its most accessible track, the titular “Hoes,” serves as its ethos: an anti-commercial, DGAF stance toward current rap trends. “We don’t wanna hear that weird shit no more,” raps JPEG as a mocking label exec or fan who is demanding that the Flatbush artist make “something for the bitches” instead of the kind of music he prefers. Danny picks up the same thread in his verse: “Fuck that hip-hop and that old-man flow / Where the Auto-Tune at? Give a fuck about a trap.” Rapping lyrics like that over a dying, squealing saxophone riff and punishing cymbal and snare hits only makes the message more potent. — A.S.
“Free!,” Maxo
On “Free!,” the second single off Maxo’s Even God Has a Sense of Humor, the Los Angeles rapper yearns for a moment untethered from daily anxieties. He worries about providing for his family, about not being able to rely on his friends, about not screwing up “everything I touch.” “Them dark thoughts gon’ pick at my brain / Sometimes it’s hard to run when yo foot in the chains,” he raps over a jazzy sample. Maxo tries to get out of it (“My bones always pick me up”) before landing on a hook that feels like a question, plea, and mantra wrapped in one: “I’m just trying / Aye, I’m just tryna be free.” — A.S.
“Raven,” Kelela
“Raven” envelops you like a slow-moving cloud. Here, the titular bird (a possible stand in for Kelela herself) is freshly resurrected after a painful episode: “Through all the labor / A raven is reborn / They tried to break her / There’s nothing here to mourn.” Kelela puts that last line into literal practice as co-production from her, AceMo, Fauzia, and Asmara mutates from a lone drone-bending effect into a four-on-the-floor club thumper drowned in jumbled vocals and muddy tones. After a long absence — the song is off Kelela’s first album in nearly six years — “Raven” feels like a defiant mission statement: She’s back in the fold and ready to take what’s hers. — A.S.
“Ain’t No Harmin’ Me,” the War and Treaty
Tanya and Michael Trotter, who perform as the War and Treaty, have a knack for turning the smallest amount of time into a moment. At the 2021 ACM Awards, for instance, the couple stole the show with just a few lines during Dierks Bentley’s bluegrass cover of U2’s “Pride (In the Name of Love).” That sort of raw passion doesn’t always translate to an original song recorded in a studio, but it does on “Ain’t No Harmin’ Me.” The single leans closer to the country side of their southern soul blend with Michael’s rugged opening cry recalling Chris Stapleton. The song quickly builds to a vocal face-off between Michael and Tanya with each belt more impressive than the last. It’s a show of vocal strength that can’t be touched, let alone harmed. — J.C.
“Pearls,” Jessie Ware
Before her metamorphosis into, as she sings on “Pearls,” “a perfect prima donna,” Jessie Ware was a soul singer with a voice that could go toe to toe with British peers like Adele and Amy Winehouse. Well, Ware still has the voice. “Pearls” is her most impressive vocal workout since 2017’s “Midnight” — this time delivered with the breezy touch of a self-assured star. Like last year’s “Free Yourself,” it’s clear that Ware’s turn toward the dance floor has given her new freedom as a performer. Here, she’s more fun, playful, and sexy — on a song about having just that sort of night. “I’m a lady, I’m a lover, a freak and a mother,” Ware sings, now able to show all those sides through this music. — J.C.
“Radio,” Margo Price featuring Sharon Van Etten
On “Radio,” a short but sweet B-side from Margo Price’s 2023 album Strays, the “whatever genre you want to slot her in” singer collides with Sharon Van Etten’s pleading warble. “Don’t get confused about how I feel / Don’t let ’em fool you about what is real / I think thе whole world’s going crazy,” Price tells us. The track alternates between some minimal production in the verse — a pulsing synth tone, a few drum-machine bleep bloops — and a big and bright full-band riff: “People try to push me around / Run my name straight in the ground I can’t hear them, I tuned them out,” the duo sings in unison; the hook is so good they don’t even bother with a bridge. — A.S.
“Pound Town,” Sexyy Red
In a golden age of sex raps, Sexyy Red has one-upped everyone this side of Cardi and Meg. Her breakout, X-rated single is matter-of-fact about what she wants — toe-sucking, looking for a new dad for her son, the uh … booty-h*le line — running through her requirements like a shopping list. (In case you still don’t get the message, the production also includes ass-clapping sound effects.) The song was buzzy enough to snag Nicki Minaj on the remix, but the original remains queen. It’s more fun hearing Red deliver a line like “You know I’m sexy — I’m the best, I’m the shit” when she’s by herself.
“Running Out of Time,” Lil Yachty
You get put in music-writer jail for saying something is a vibe these days, but sorry: This song is a vibe. “Running Out of Time,” the lead single from Lil Yachty’s new quasi-left-turn psych-rock album, is a funk track with a slap-happy bass line and a synthy horn. On its own, it would feel a bit rote, but the rapper’s gift for quirky top-line melodies ties the whole thing together. “Stayyyy up all night / Stayyyy up and watch the sun” warble Boat and an uncredited Justine Skye like they’ve got a few of those industrial-size fans pointed at their faces. Call it cloud rap by way of Maggot Brain. — A.S.
“$20,” boygenius
The appeal of a supergroup like boygenius is bringing together three artists who excel in the same mode: writing poignant and visceral lyrics set to delicate rock. But being among close friends allows Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus to explore new sides of themselves. That’s clear on “$20,” one of three lead singles from their upcoming full length — and one of the most upbeat songs any of them has ever made. It’s a jaunty vignette of younger years, the sort of song that feels, in the best way, bound to soundtrack an indie coming-of-age movie. “$20” started as a solo write by Baker until she felt like it made more sense to bring it to the group. In its final moments, as the three sing a chaotically beautiful harmony, it’s hard to imagine it as anything but a boygenius track. — J.C.
“Chosen to Deserve,” Wednesday
When she wrote “Chosen to Deserve,” Wednesday singer-songwriter Karly Hartzman wanted to channel Drive-By Truckers’ “Let There Be Rock,” in which Patterson Hood reflects on his early love of rock music and teenage debauchery. It’s easy to hear the Truckers’ influence in Wednesday’s loose and rugged country rock — especially in the massive riff at the center of “Chosen to Deserve” — but the band’s song breaks out of that shadow thanks to Hartzman. She shares stories about everything from drinking and skipping school to sneaking out the nights before she taught Sunday school. And where Hood’s delivery was matter-of-fact, Hartzman sounds weary and dejected, making a memory of a friend nearly overdosing on Benadryl all the more haunting. — J.C.
“Find Out,” Liv.e
On “Find Out,” Liv.e’s internal monologue is rife with conflict. Over a sly flip of Red and Meth’s ferocious “Da Rockwilder” — along with a slight nod to Paul Simon — the singer delves into a moody examination of self. “I’m steady losing my cool / Can I go on go through / Being in love with you?” she asks over flecks of saxophone and what sounds like a reverbed woodpecker effect. Her description of the song gives a bit more insight into her thinking — in a statement, she called the track “having a realization of what it means to really love yourself” — without giving up the entire game. Liv.e doesn’t deal in absolutes here: “I hope you know I love you like no other / I guess you’ll find out find out baby / The hard way.” — A.S.
“Sea Lions,” Samia
“Sea Lions” is Samia in all her idiosyncratic glory. “Screaming porn kills love,” she coos, “outside your window with the Adventist.” It’s vivid yet odd, the mode where she best commands attention as a writer. The second half, which has no lyrics at all, sees the tempo pick up as Samia slides and stretches her voice around an LCD Soundsystem–like drop before it gives way to a clip of a word-association game. Like the breakup she had been singing about, it’s difficult to find meaning in it but equally hard not to try. — J.C.
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