5 songs you need to hear this week

Every Thursday, the Paste staff and contributors will choose their five favorite songs of the week, awarding one entry a “Song of the Week” designation. Check out last week’s roundup here.

Song of the Week: Lily Seabird, “Election Day”

Lily Seabird is on a roll. Her third album in as many years, Lightspheres On Their Way, was just announced, and with it came “Election Day,” an ode to being trapped between a rock and a hard place that, pardon my French, simply fucking rips. As much as I loved last year’s Trash Mountain, I’m over the moon that “Election Day” finds the Vermont singer-songwriter in a mode she hasn’t occupied since 2024’s “Dirge”: riotous distortion, screeching guitars, downright wails. Seabird’s voice is as songbird-clear as ever, cutting into the chaos with the precision of a canary’s warble. But there’s an edge there, too—moments her vocals snag on the emotion of the words, ripping open ever so slightly, sharp and jagged. She’s long excelled at the art of the slow-burn, so it’s only fitting that she’s come to conquer the art of immediacy next. But don’t worry, this isn’t Seabird slotting herself into the rather redundant post-punk of the past few years; her own alt-country sensibilities are still on full display, the lilt in her voice and the twang of her sound palpable even through the din. It’s an Americana headbanger, a mosher’s gateway drug into folk—and it’s addictive. —Casey Epstein-Gross

Julia Jacklin: “Get Away From Me (I Think I’ll Love You Soon)”

Julia Jacklin has become one of indie rock’s most distinctive voices, pairing a twangy Australian croon with brash, cutting lyrics. “Get Away From Me (I Think I’ll Love You Soon), the lead single from her forthcoming LP The Gem, finds Jacklin doing what she does best: pulling her hair out over a likely doomed love affair. It recalls 2022’s “I Was Neon,” a PRE PLEASURE standout, albeit more upbeat. Backed by fuzzy guitars and a marching drumbeat, Jacklin’s husky, crackling alto sears through the tension of wanting to be held and wanting to be free. “You don’t have to be careful,” she croons, “I don’t have to be right / You don’t have to call me up, darling / If you don’t come home tonight.” A sparkly, jangly guitar solo makes for a delightful intermission amid the heartbreak Jacklin spends the rest of the song nursing. —Miranda Wollen

No Joy & Fire-Toolz: “Big Life, Big Leaf”

No Joy, once Jasamine White-Gluz’s doomy shoegaze vehicle, has spent the last fifteen years spiraling into a strange, noisy collision of synth-pop and techno. Last year’s Bugland, produced by Fire-Toolz’s Angel Marcloid, was a pageant of electronica and “Big Life, Big Leaf,” their latest collaboration, pushes even further into the glow. Montreal and Chicago haven’t collided this awesomely since the 1971 Stanley Cup. “Big Life, Big Leaf” is dance music bleached by the sun. As White-Gluz puts it, it’s an exercise in “exploring the absurd, combining musical ideas that shouldn’t really make sense together.” Tara McLeod’s guitar slices through the track’s seemingly unconquerable pile of pop ideas, yet nothing sounds discombobulated. Instead, “Big Life, Big Leaf” feels cumulative, as starry vocals climb Fire-Toolz’s tonal ladder toward the heavens, where every second arrives brand new. To borrow one of White-Gluz’s lyrics, “Big Life, Big Leaf” is as “great as the ocean.” —Matt Mitchell

Saul Williams feat. Moor Mother & Gonjasufi: “Conspiracy”

The upcoming Saul Williams album Leaf Life, his first solo project in seven years, is set to arrive with assists from a handful of excellent collaborators: Massive Attack’s Robert Del Naja, Kamasi Washington, Carlos Niño, Georgia Anne Muldrow, Surya Botofasina. On its lead single, Williams steps through a portal with poet Moor Mother and vocalist Gonjasufi. “Conspiracy” is one expression of Williams’ philosophy that “the voice is the instrument,” reveling in spoken-word monologues over a rich texture of synths, African drums, and Gonjasufi’s recurring vocal motif. Williams dedicates his vocabulary to defining the cruelties of a Western world that’s “financed by darkest means,” sketching an escape hatch through prayer, communication, and laughter. Once-sacred oils now “fuel our own demise.” Death is heresay, violence is absolute, breathing is medicine. There are many lines worth citing, but these vibrate after the beat fades: “You’ll be forced to reckon with survival, you may find weapons, crutches, props useful / You’ll sing and dance, you’ll discover instruments.” Moor Mother’s contributions are brief but sharp at the song’s end. “Conspiracy” is, as Williams puts it, “anchored in faith, tunneled by fear,” and Gonjasufi delivers the thesis: “We’ve been tryna find a way in.” —Matt Mitchell

Sha Ray / DJ Haram: “Champagne and Bouquets”

I can’t be the only one who heard last year’s Beside Myself standout “Fishnets” and instantly wanted more, so the announcement of a full collab album between Brooklyn producer DJ Haram and Bay Area rapper Sha Ray was huge news. On “Champagne and Bouquets,” the latest single off Critical Thot (out this Friday), Sha Ray’s flows over a rattling snare beat play between hard and soft textures, turning consonants kaleidoscopic as she wields femininity and sexuality like a handcrafted, diamond-encrusted weapon. Silken strings that materialize halfway through the track and warp at Haram’s hand just as quickly as they arose lift “Champagne and Bouquets” to even more decadent, indulgent heights. —Grace Robins-Somerville

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