Best New Songs (June 12, 2025)
Don't miss out on these great new tracks.
Photo of Nuovo Testamento by Kristopher Kirk
At Paste Music, we’re listening to so many new tunes on any given day, we barely have any time to listen to each other. Nevertheless, every week we can swing it, we take stock of the previous seven days’ best new songs, delivering a weekly playlist of our favorites. Check out this week’s material, in alphabetical order. (You can check out an ongoing playlist of every best new songs pick of 2025 here.)
Field Medic: “MELANCHOLY”
Ever since I first heard “OTL” in 2017, the infinity of Kevin Patrick Sullivan’s catalogue has been boundless in the chasms of my own. Everywhere I go, there Field Medic is, and “MELANCHOLY”—the lead single from his new album, surrender instead—is Sullivan’s best song since “Mood Ring Baby.” It’s a crestfallen revelation; a white flag rippling. Field Medic has always been a project kindled with stories of sobriety broken and sobriety regained, but “MELANCHOLY” rests someplace in-between the two poles, in the realization that the cures of therapy and medication aren’t absolute. “I’ve been to Hell and I’ve been to Heaven, I’ve been a beggar and I’ve been a barron,” Sullivan sings, spritely. “But my only certainty, when I lie down at night, is the darkness calling me to its side.” Musically, “MELANCHOLY” touches someplace new for Field Medic. Abandoning the Auto-Tuned, experimental flourishes of light is gone 2, plucky bar laments of dope girl chronicles, and odds-and-ends piecemeal of Floral Prince, “MELANCHOLY” is the mark of an artist finding subtle reinvention in the flirty convergence of post-rockabilly, lo-fi dream-pop, doo-wop, and indie-folk. —Matt Mitchell
Hannah Jadagu: “My Love”
After receiving acclaim for her 2023 debut LP, Aperture, Best of What’s Next alum Hannah Jadagu is back. As an artist with a chameleon-like quality, shifting seamlessly from R&B to indie rock, Jadagu’s first preview of her new era is pure electro-pop. In “My Love,” she sings about a long-distance romance, craving to be with the person she’s enamored with and giving them all her time. It’s a song that you can imagine soundtracking a romantic moment in a teen TV show like Heartstopper, that captures the emotions of young love. —Tatiana Tenreyro
Harmony Index: “Drifting”
Harmony Index—the project of Nico Leibman, a Los Angeles artist you may have caught playing guitar in Jessica Pratt’s live band last year—quietly dropped a very, very good EP called Winterbreaks on Monday. Dedicated to Nico’s late father, Winterbreaks is a collection of clubby breakbeats and airy synth-pop. It’s a bit more digital and ecstatic than the sunshine-folk of Pratt’s Here in the Pitch, but I’m drawn most to the EP’s centerpiece, “Drifting”—a 6-minute collage of catchy dance tangents. Knowing Leibman’s penchant for portable synths, you can hear her Yamaha Reface DX vividly in motion on “Drifting,” fluttering through choppy drum ‘n’ bass rhythms and an oozy bass tone. Winterbreaks may float under the radar this summer, but its electronic stupor will color the months just right for me. —Matt Mitchell
JÁNA: “Distant”
A new release from the independent Swedish artist JÁNA, “Distant” instantly immerses you in its warm R&B sound. Shaped by distorted guitars, mid-tempo drums, and JÁNA’s soft, silky vocal line, the song details the inevitable end of a failing relationship. While songs based on this topic often show a narrator longing for an emotionally unavailable partner, JÁNA flips the script here, wondering how she got to be so far removed from her present. With some lyrical exploration, she starts to realize she’s tired of being let down. It’s only a matter of time before she moves on. Framed by balanced harmonies, “Distant” lulls you in with its effortlessly dreamy production. For fans of SZA or Frank Ocean, you’ll feel right at home floating alongside the questions in JÁNA’s head here. —Camryn Teder
La Dispute: “Environmental Catastrophe Film”
I am by no means a big La Dispute fan. Even when the band was in their heyday, I was never quite sold on their sound in the same way some of my friends were. But even when their post-hardcore, mathy poetry hasn’t been my bag, I’ve always appreciated the salve it’s been for the people I love. I enjoyed their last album, Panorama, and have been looking forward to their next: No One Was Driving the Car. Lead singles “I Shaved My Head” and “Autofiction Detail” were heavy, surging efforts, but the 9-minute, blockbuster “Environmental Catastrophe Film” laps at the wounds of burning skin and head-splitting tempos—all while reckoning with the pollution of the water running through Grand Rapids, Michigan. “Would the poison inside from the river kill you later in life? In the kitchen with your wife and your kids, eating dinner when your body gives in?” vocalist Jordan Dreyer asks, deafeningly. In a reflection on Grand Rapids’ economic reliance on furniture manufacturing, Dreyer considers the lifespan of chairs and the comfort it brings—just as the creation of life might. But the crux of “Environmental Catastrophe Film” is the history it weaves into itself, told in three parts about boys growing into men while gypsum flows through the tunnels dug beneath neighborhood streets. “Every moment passing is another one you’ll never get back,” Dreyer insists. “And you can only get older.” I know a great song when I hear it, and “Environmental Catastrophe Film” has left me thinking about one couplet in particular, words sharp like the blade on a lathe: “All those dead men, fading languages left / Last vestiges above intersect.” —Matt Mitchell