The 100 Best Songs of 2024

Last week, we unveiled our 100 Best Albums of 2024 list, which was topped by the likes of Jessica Pratt, Sturgill Simpson, Waxahatchee, Beyoncé, Fontaines D.C. and numerous other acts we still can’t get out of our heads. In 2023, Paste did a year-end song ranking of 100 for the first time in the magazine’s 20-year existence. We’re keeping up with that trend again here in 2024, and even that number feels far too small to really capture just how fun of a year this was for music.

We’ve chosen 100 songs, but we could’ve picked 500. This list is more of an amalgamation of what the Paste team and contributors liked this year, rather than a calculated, bubble-filling and box-checking ranking. For the last 40+ weeks, we’ve been compiling an ongoing mix of our absolute favorite songs of the year, and I believe this list is a perfect documentation of that and some of the songs we missed along the way. We had fun! Please don’t yell at us too bad, though I’d love to hear what some of y’all’s favorite songs of the year were down in the comments. For now, here are our picks for the 100 best songs of 2024. —Matt Mitchell, Music Editor

Contributors: Matt Mitchell, Clare Martin, Casey Epstein-Gross, Alli Dempsey, Olivia Abercrombie, Grace Robins-Somerville, Eric Bennett, Devon Chodzin, Elise Soutar, Emma Schoors, Noah Gee, Taylor Ruckle, Natalie Marlin, Grace Ann Natanawan, Leah Weinstein, Jaeden Pinder, Kayti Burt, Anna Pichler, Grant Sharples

100. Los Campesinos!: “Feast of Tongues”

“Feast Of Tongues” has all the telltale hallmarks of an LC! banger—a steady and eventually explosive instrumental build, hyper-physical lyricism and shoutouts to their peers and influences (in this case, these include the Hotelier and Silver Jews)—but Gareth David Paisey’s creative and intellectual growth as a songwriter is audible. It’s rare and wildly rewarding to see a band that’s been at it for as long as Los Campesinos! retain the vitality and connective spirit of their earlier records while their craft matures with them. And “We will feast on the tongues of the last bootlickers” is a strong contender for hardest line of the year. —Grace Robins-Somerville

99. Davidsson: “light in the dark”

Listening to Icelandic multi-instrumentalist Davidsson’s intimidatingly beautiful track “light in the dark,” you’re immediately transported to the recording space: a former swimming pool in the Icelandic countryside, converted into the Sundlaugin Studio, where Sigur Ros recorded their album ( ). This vivid sense of place is by design; through single takes and the expert mixing of Noah Georgeson (Joanna Newsom, Devendra Banhart), the song possesses the immediacy of a live performance. “Light in the dark” is off Davidsson’s debut album lifelines, which was written in honor of his late father. The enormity and intricacy of grief can’t be contained by words, so instead Davidsson opts for pedal steel guitar on opener “light and dark,” accompanied by piano courtesy of Davíð Þór Jónsson. Much of the song is just the two musicians reacting to each other: A smattering of keys answer sparsely plucked strings, and warbling pedal steel responds to the piano (a nod to Davidsson’s ties to the Nashville scene, where he’s now based). Initially dissonant, these notes build, layering until they glow like the first rays of light at dawn peeking over distant hills. The central melody that emerges is desperately forlorn, like you’re entering a town where you know everyone is doomed. The rawness of the recording underpins the exquisitely stark song, reminiscent of Cowboy Junkies’ famed Trinity Sessions, in which every atmospheric sound is captured. Piano hangs tremulously in the background of “light in the dark,” and the instruments themselves are like ocean weaves, growing in strength before suddenly abating. —Clare Martin

98. Zach Bryan ft. Watchhouse: “Pink Skies”

Opening a song with a couplet like “The kids are in town for a funeral, so pack the car and dry your eyes” is the kind of move only a superstar makes. And Zach Bryan is exactly that. “Pink Skies” is the best song he’s made, outshining “I Remember Everything” (which he won a Grammy for), “Oklahoma Smokeshow” and all that lingers in-between. The harmonica here is unbelievable, as is the storytelling. Bryan isn’t just setting a scene, he’s living in it, and you can feel the ache reverberate when his voice collapses downwards in grief but his band holds him up with quick, restrained bursts of rootsy Americana. “Your funeral was beautiful, I bet God heard you comin’,” Bryan sings out in a storm. “Pink Skies” is full of heart and full of loss; it’s a story well-known yet brand-new—a life crushed by tragedy yet ready to be rebuilt. —Matt Mitchell

97. Backxwash: “WAKE UP”

Unfortunately, we’ll have to hold out a while longer to hear the full-length follow-up to Montreal rapper Backxwash’s excellent last record, His Happiness Shall Come First Even Though We Are Suffering. Yet, a taste of what’s to come arrived in the form of “WAKE UP”—a scorched-earth rap-rock epic that shapeshifts into a stirring gospel outro, all backing up Backxwash mastermind Ashanti Mutinta’s frank bars laying all insecurities bare. “Take it off safety and put it on to my temple,” she raps in the song’s final verse, sounding completely in control of the chaos that swirls around her, “Through the blackened skies, I will not go gentle.” Clocking in at just over seven minutes, it’s a take-no-prisoners reintroduction, emerging as another ambitious gem to join the terrifying and complex body of work Muntinta has given us thus far. —Elise Soutar

96. Kamasi Washington: “Prologue”

Building up to the release of Fearless Movement—his first album in six years—Los Angeles saxophonist (and founding member of the West Coast Get Down) Kamasi Washington returned with a remarkable measure of jazz vibrancy on “Prologue.” While his new record features contributions from André 3000, Thundercat, BJ The Chicago Kid, George Clinton, Terrace Martin and more, “Prologue” is exceptionally Washington, who takes dance inspirations and transforms them into spiritual, mortal expressions here. With Washington’s saxophone front-and-center, “Prologue” stirs and sparkles as a quick, fluttering percussion wave laps at the scales. —Matt Mitchell

95. Hinds: “Superstar”

On “Superstar,” Madrid garage rock duo Hinds take unsparing yet surprisingly empathetic aim at a “local superstar” who’s lonely at the top. “Your mom and dad are paying all your bills / None of your friends will tell you how they really feel” Carlotta Cosials and Ana Perrote sing, reminding the star of their scene that they got what they wanted. The bright, syncopated chorus is deliciously bratty and snarky without sacrificing Hinds’ signature warmth and down-to-earth goofiness. It’s a kiss-off to a clout-chaser who put their ego before their friendships and is now reaping all the rewards and the losses. Listening to a Hinds song often feels like a gossip session with your best friends that devolves into manic cry-laughing, and “Superstar” is yet another perfect encapsulation of their charm and effervescence. —Grace Robins-Somerville

94. Saba & No I.D. ft. Madison McFerrin, Ogi & Jordan Ward: “head.rap”

Continuing his evolving relationship with producer No ID, Chicago rapper Saba has been taking his time rolling out their collaborative project, The Private Collection of Saba and No ID—and “head.rap” is one of the brightest tracks of the year across the board, thanks to a resounding choir of backing vocals from singers Madison McFerrin, Ogi and Jordan Ward. In the verses, Saba contemplates Black hairstyles, growing out dreadlocks and self-expression. “Searchin’ for an avenue, ways to reflect my current attitude,” he muses. Views of the world / I’m Malik to my grandma, who used to braid my hair / But I had to cut ‘em at the school / And it was Black ran, I’m just a Black man lookin’ for a good day.” No ID’s production flourishes here, too, with flutters of guitar and hand-clap percussion. “head.rap” got dropped into the world at just the perfect time. —Matt Mitchell

93. Du Blonde: “TV Star”

There are few albums I’ve rinsed this year as much as Newcastle artist Du Blonde’s Sniff More Gritty, and of all the tracks on this eclectic treat of a record, “TV Star” has found a place on my walk of fame. The irresistibly catchy song is about a former friend of Du Blonde’s who was the “most genuine, lovely, one of the nicest people I’d ever met,” until fame changed them for the worse, as Du Blonde told Paste back in November. Bolstered by chugging, grungy guitar, Du Blonde asks her ex-mate, “Was it worth it? Do you know who you are?” Her spectacular voice grows Kate Bush-like on the pre-chorus, graceful and borderline operatic, before she lets her feelings known on the ferociously yell-sung refrain. The chorus revels in cannibalistic imagery—”You take my heart in your jaw” and “You got a taste for the meat / The tiny pieces of me”—which is all too fitting when singing about a person ruined by an industry known for chewing up and spitting people out. —Clare Martin

92. Peter Cat Recording Co.: “People Never Change”

Last year, I wound up at one of Peter Cat Recording Co.’s shows on their sold-out, inaugural North American tour. The show was wild, and the Delhi fusion band absolutely blew the crowd away after gaining so much momentum with their sophomore album Bismillah. Their first new song in five years, “People Never Change” is a six-minute masterclass in direction. Weaving in and out of jazz, orchestra, psych-rock, electronic, hints of disco and vocals from Suryakant Sawhney that could very well be just as beautiful on a mid-2000s jazz-pop standard, Peter Cat Recording Co. are back. It’s a bit jarring just how good “People Never Change” is, as no moment on the track stumbles for even a second. It’s full-throttle vibes from the first note, and Sawhney’s voice ushers us across a soundscape made vibrant by Karan Singh, Dhruv Bhola, Rohit Gupta and Kartik Sundareshan Pillai. “I can walk away, spineless, pretend it’s a movie,” Sawhney sings. “I don’t want to face a crisis, or something that’s so real.” What is real, though, is how perfect “People Never Change” is. —Matt Mitchell

91. Ravyn Lenae: “Love Me Not”

Can you remember the exact moment you decided you had fallen in love with someone? I fell in love with Ravyn Lenae the first time I heard the backing vocals on her Steve Lacy-produced breakout single “Sticky,” breathy and playful as they drew out the title phrase into as many syllables as they could muster. Now, two studio albums in, I still believe Ravyn Lenae shines the brightest when she lets herself be playful. Bird’s Eye single “Love Me Not” has all the makings of a world-class pop song—clearly taking a note from the Supremes with its bouncing bassline, handclaps on the bridge and the sheer strength of Lenae’s personality coming through her feather-light voice steering the ship. When the backing vocals whine “We could never be a pair!” on the chorus, you can feel the pang in your heart for Lenae and her music like it’s the first time all over again. —Elise Soutar

90. Florist: “Riding Around in the Dark”

Florist remains one of my favorite active bands, and my review of their last album corroborates as much. Em Sprague’s Brooklyn four-piece continues to release compelling folk music that rummages its way into the parts of your heart that needs it most. As Jane Schoenbrun’s new A24 film I Saw the TV Glow hits theaters earlier this year, much hype began to swell surrounding its soundtrack—which featured Sloppy Jane, Bartees Strange, Caroline Polachek and many others. On Florist’s “Riding Around in the Dark.” Sprague’s voice sits atop a bedding of acoustic guitar, while faint keys and strings and glitches of horns surround her. “It’s the end of the world and we’re driving around,” she sings, and you don’t have to know the plot of I Saw the TV Glow to feel every single emotion in the tidal wave of Sprague’s delivery. The best soundtrack songs are the ones that can stand the test of time beyond the source material it’s written in service of, and “Riding Around in the Dark” will do just that. —Matt Mitchell

89. Allie X: “Off With Her Tits”

There’s a postcard on the corkboard above my desk, drawn by New York-based artist Claire Kho, that shows a woman with lavender skin calmly cutting off her breasts, her face betraying no emotion as dark pink blood pools at her feet. In fact, it seems like the act might be a relief for her. It’s a feeling that many people with breasts feel at one time or another, no matter what their gender identity; we’re saddled with anatomy that society inherently sexualizes from our teenage years and that, on the worst days, can alienate us from our own bodies. All of that is quite serious, but electro-goth artist Allie X finds power in taking her most dysphoric thoughts and turning them into a tongue-in-cheek avant-garde banger. “Off with Her Tits” comes from the Canadian singer’s third studio album, Girl with No Face, and in an Instagram post she described the song as “an upbeat borderline ridiculous satirization of particularly agonizing thoughts that never give me a break. I decided to parody them for some relief.” Over a bouncing bassline and club-ready beat, Allie X sets the scene as she goes to the doctor to schedule a mastectomy, only for the bank teller to flippantly chide her: ​​”Bitch, are you joking? I wish I had that rack.” It’s a reminder that everyone, of every shape and size, has their own complex, deeply personal relationship with their bodies, and that commenting on them rarely helps matters. In between these revelations, Allie X sings with a dramatic flair, emphatically enunciating each word before showing off her incredible vocal range. Alice in Wonderland’s Queen of Hearts would be proud of the enthusiasm in Allie X’s voice as she declares, “Off with her tits!” —Clare Martin

88. Vince Staples: “Black&Blue”

The standout track from his latest album Dark Times, “Black&Blue” is already one of Vince Staples’s best songs. Combining samples from Thee Sacred Souls’ “Weak For Your Love” and DJ Screw’s “Pimp Tha Pen,” the beat on “Black&Blue” will put you in the air. It’s clear that Vince is at his most comfortable and his very best when he’s slowing down and letting a hook speak for itself—which takes flight through the “Weak For Your Love” sample. The mixing on “Black&Blue” is great, too, as Vince adds a bit of reverb/delay to his vocal on the verses. But what makes this part of Dark Times glow is how Vince reckons with the loss of Black loved ones and heroes, professing that not even the money and glory can patch up the holes left by his West Coast family, peers and friends who’ve passed. “Where did 2Pac and ‘nem go? Where Nipsey Hussle ‘nem go? Swavey and Drakeo? Richee and Slim Foe? I spent a lot of my time missing our kinfolk,” Vince raps. “Put ‘em inside of a rhyme hoping they live on.” —Matt Mitchell

87. ROSÉ & Bruno Mars: “APT.”

Not since BTS’ “Dynamite” in 2020 has a K-pop song crossed over into the American mainstream quite as quickly and thoroughly as “APT.” The infinitely catchy pop-rock anthem is a collaboration between Blackpink member Rosé and American hitmaker Bruno Mars. The track is grounded in a Korean cultural experience, getting its name and chant from a popular drinking game called “ 아파트” (pronounced a-pa-teu), but it also has instantly recognizable roots in Western pop music. “APT.” samples American singer Toni Basil’s 1982 “Mickey” (itself a reworking of British band Racey’s 1979 track “Kitty”), and calls to mind other hits like the Ting Tings’ “That’s Not My Name” and Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend,” giving the TikTok generation their own iteration of an iconic song structure. —Kayti Burt

86. villagerrr ft. Merce Lemon: “Neverrr Everrr”

Tear Your Heart Out—the breakthrough March release of Mark Allen Scott’s project villagerrr—is bookended by its two strongest tracks, ultimately culminating in the cathartic, heavyweight ballad “River Ain’t Safe.” But the album begins with just a whisper: “This is the beginning,” Scott’s duet partner (and Darling Recordings labelmate) Merce Lemon ushers in the sweetly melodic opener, “Neverrr Everrr.” Appropriately, the song chronicles the beginning of an end to a relationship—the paralyzing realization that a breaking point has already been reached. It buzzes with brightness, but immense emotion surges beneath fuzzy layers threatening to drown out Scott and Lemon’s quiet, exhausted plea: “Come and look at what you’ve done / Let me know when it’s all done.” There’s a delicious tension between the crisp acoustics and droning, reverb-heavy riffs, mirroring the dichotomy of Scott’s piercing lyrics and hushed delivery—“Neverr Everrr” is a paradigm of his nuanced, viscerally felt songwriting. —Anna Pichler

85. The Deslondes: “Take Me Back”

The Deslondes played their then-unreleased “Take Me Back” at our East Austin Block Party in March, and it was a set highlight from the New Orleans five-piece. For the better part of a decade, John James Tourville, Sam Doores, Dan Cutler and Riley Downing have been cutting up the rug of the French Quarter and beyond, putting out some of the best country-folk tunes you can find (“Those Were (Could’ve Been) the Days” is a personal favorite), and “Take Me Back,” the lead single from their new LP Roll It Out, is another gem added to their wardrobe. With new drummer Howe Pearson now in the mix, the Deslondes remain a crew of five brilliant songwriters, and the democracy and chemistry shared by all of them shines through on “Take Me Back” especially—as the track sounds like an American gospel fit not just for yesteryear, but for right this instant, building upwards from an acoustic arrangement into a full-blown rapture of stacked three-part vocals and a twin-guitar lead from Downing and Doores. As long as we’ve got the Deslondes and “the days that used to be,” we’ll be alright. —Matt Mitchell

84. Charly Bliss: “Back There Now”

“Back There Now” is an indulgent piece of glittery new wave, one that romanticizes a deliciously toxic relationship while celebrating the fact that it’s over. The hook is one of Charly Bliss’ catchiest yet, as Eva Hendricks speaks her own wisdom into existence: “I could’ve stayed until the lights went out / 40 stories ‘til I hit the ground running / You couldn’t pay me to go back there now / So I tell myself, so it might come true.” The pitched-up, layered chanting on the bridge finds Charly Bliss spinning their synth-pop sound into an early 2010s pop-punk detour. It’s exciting to see this ever-vibrant band still full of surprises. —Grace Robins-Somerville

83. Font: “Looking at Engines”

So much of what drives Font is feeling. Their name, a derivative of the archaic term for fountain, is the ideal encapsulation of the free-flowing impulses Thom Wadhill follows as he writes the band’s unrestrained poetic lyrics, letting the subconscious take hold and guide rather than laboring over perfection. “Looking at Engines” arrives on Strange Burden with a mysterious energy before exploding into a singalong pop banger. Phrases like “the bridge with all the unremovable garbage with the carved, additive names” and “I had a dream of a padlock in my sternum like a medal” linger with every listen. The song is a texture wellspring, but don’t let the post-hardcore crunch morphing into a dance breakdown fool you— “Looking at Engines” is existential dread captured in 4K, as Wadhill and the band shuffle through a hellish psychedelia, spinning through a lyrical migraine like prose wrapping around a ballpoint pen: “Your lake like a dog and the dog like a house, your house like a mom and your mom like a face,” Wadhill reckons, only to quickly name-drop the record’s title: “Oh, what a strange burden!” The cognitive complexity of humanity and its weirdest afflictions have never sounded so good. —Olivia Abercrombie & Matt Mitchell

82. Doechii & JT: “Alter Ego”

Doechii and JT have had banner years. Doechii’s tape Alligator Bites Never Heal has won serious acclaim while building on her growing stardom, and JT solo tape City Cinderella marked a major milestone for the City Girls star as a solo artist. The two linked for “Alter Ego,” a house and hip-hop blend that few have tried and even fewer have pulled off. In a conversation for Interview Magazine, even perfectionist JT expressed that she’d been skeptical about trying it. Both stars prove strong enough to let their vision spring forth atop a rich club beat that Doechii herself envisioned with Zach Witness. With lyrics as provocative as “Fuck that ho, fuck that bitch / It’s fuck that ho ‘til the condom slip,” Doechii and JT sound like they’re on a rampage through the swamp, letting their passionate, fun sides reign supreme. The chorus, “Na, na, na-na, na na / These hoes ain’t phasin’ me, phasin’ me / Na, na, na-na, na, boo-boo, bitch / You’re dead to me, dead to me,” has an anthemic quality that turns the song from a bop into a suit of armor. —Devon Chodzin

81. Fazerdaze: “A Thousand Years”

New Zealand dream-pop artist Amelia Rahayu Murray’s project Fazerdaze will always sound like the intoxicatingly aimless, carefree days post-graduation for me. Her prismatic debut album Morningside came out in May 2017, just as I freed myself from the yoke of college and faced the daunting abyss of Real Adulthood. Seven years later, Murray followed up her first LP with Soft Power. The sophomore Fazerdaze record includes her brilliant, heartbreaking single “A Thousand Years.” Hollow, thwacking percussion starts off the song, before taking a backseat to quietly radiant synth. “The track scratches the surface of the power dynamics I experienced in my late teens and twenties with someone 20 years older—a dynamic that lasted over a decade,” Murray explains. “As long as I stay still / It’s almost nearly bearable,” Murray gently intones over ethereal, ‘80s-inflected pop—an achingly familiar refrain for many. —Clare Martin

80. Blue Ranger: “Step Line”

Blue Ranger’s Close Your Eyes flew way too far under the radar this year for my liking, so let me turn your attention to the LP’s best song: “Step Line.” Siblings Josh and Evan Marré build a world of their own in a song like this, as it bends through a frontier of electronica before settling into a bed of gently-strummed folk music. It’s a transportive and transformative four minutes, connected by connection itself and the effort it takes to make love both resilient and comfortable. “I know enough to play a game,” Josh sings through the song’s climax, “that I can’t win, I can’t wait.” Even in its domestic, internalized intimacy, there is something otherworldly about “Step Line,” a song that’s so unbelievably perfect you can’t believe it came alive with this much magic behind it. —Matt Mitchell

79. Wishy: “Triple Seven”

The title-track from Wishy’s debut record Triple Seven is Nina Pitchkites’s grand-slam moment. She wrote “Triple Seven” with Angel Du$t’s Steve Marino, and the whole thing is a dreamscape worth tumbling into. “She comes as she pleases, doesn’t think about it twice, walks with her demons through a dark paradise,” Pitchkites sings, turning conversational lyrics into something more diaristic. Marino’s guitar parts, which cut through Wishy’s summery, fuzzy, swirling atmosphere, color Pitchkites’ brightened, catchy vocals with hues of psychedelia. “Triple Seven” sounds like a dream-pop band trying to write a soundtrack hit for a Y2K coming-of-age flick. The work is heavenly and charming, bolstered by a band following Pitchkites’s tremendous, intoxicating lead. —Matt Mitchell

78. Good Looks: “If It’s Gone”

“If It’s Gone” is delicious country-rock at its finest. Though it’s a breakup song, Tyler Jordan and Good Looks never let it teeter on any kind of overblown typecast. “And I always feel so lonely when a lover leaves my life,” Jordan sings over a charming, sunny guitar arpeggio, colliding with Vanessa Jollay’s back-up vocals. “I already lost my mother, left my family far behind. And I don’t believe in Jesus, God, or Buddha, or beyond. OK, a little bit in Buddha, trying to keep from hanging on.” There’s a wax of earnestness that succeeds across “If It’s Gone,” which bakes a marvelous arrangement into an already moving story. Nearing its end, the track quickly swells into a firestorm guitar solo from axeman Jake Ames that—when paired with Robert Cherry and Phillip Dunne’s divine percussive, rhythmic consistency—brandishes flourishes of rock ‘n’ roll any aching heart would die to hear. —Matt Mitchell

77. 1010Benja: “Twin”

You can’t pin down 1010Benja. His long-awaited debut album, Ten Total, proves that. Flitting between braggadocious raps, swooning balladry and outré vocal experiments, 1010 puts on a clinic for his wide-ranging artistic breadth. In the case of “Twin,” the Tulsa-bred, Kansas City-based multi-hyphenate flaunts his virtuosic vocal chops over FM synths and electro-pop drums. “Everyone around me is too damn simple,” he sings in the second verse. Compared to the eclectic and eccentric world of 1010Benja, everything else is too damn simple, indeed. —Grant Sharples

76. Ezra Collective: “Shaking Body”

You can feel the sweat dripping down your back just listening to the euphoric rhythms of Ezra Collective on “Shaking Body,” taken from their new album Dance, No One’s Watching. Their latest record was written during the band’s 2023 tour and inspired by the dancefloors they filled with their music. It’s easy to imagine a room packed with carefree revelers gyrating and letting loose to “Shaking Body.” The 2023 Mercury Prize winners—the first jazz group to scoop up the award—are at their best here, with bombastic trumpet and saxophone, funky bass, coquettish piano and kinetic drums that draw from Highlife, Amapiano and Afrobeats traditions. Femi Koleoso, TJ Koleoso, Joe Armon-Jones, James Mollison and Ife Ogunjobi are so in sync here that they don’t sound like a five-piece; they’re more like a many-armed organism playing as if their life depended on it. —Clare Martin

75. Ducks Ltd.: “Train Full of Gasoline”

“Train Full of Gasoline” is a who’s who of indie goodness. Toronto pop-rock duo Ducks Ltd. welcome Ratboys’ Julia Steiner and Moontype’s Margaret McCarthy into the fold to lay down backing vocals, while Ratboys and Pet Symmetry drummer Marcus Nuccio makes an appearance behind the kit. The all-star lineup expands the jangly euphoria of rockabilly-infused new wave. You can hear everything from the Smiths to the Feelies to Nick Lowe on this track, but it’s done in that style that I can only really attribute to Ducks Ltd. at this point. “Train Full of Gasoline” is as blissful as you might imagine, and I’m not sure Tom McGreevy and Evan Lewis could make a bad track if they tried. —Matt Mitchell

74. FKA twigs: “EUSEXUA”

FKA twigs redeemed herself after her appearance in the less than desirable remake of The Crow with her dystopian single “EUSEXUA,” the title track off her upcoming 2025 album. With its jarring beats, otherworldly energy and ethereal vocals, classic twigs is back six years after her last album Magdalene and two years removed from her Caprisongs mixtape. “Eusexua,” a term twigs made up after a rave she attended in Prague, represents “the pinnacle of human experience,” and the track exemplifies that euphoric state of being with its electronic, pounding presence. In the surreal music video, which twigs co-produced with Koreless and Eartheater—who also provided backing vocals for this track—a corporate hellscape turns into a buzzing flash mob before dissolving into an extraterrestrial plane complete with eccentric dance moves, sweaty sexual energy and avant garde styled hair. It’s a dyanmic work of art in the glorious abstract lens we can count on FKA twigs to perform through. —Olivia Abercrombie

73. Fust: “Rolling Prairie”

The sonic palette of “Rolling Prairie” is colored by a combination of rusty guitar and soulful piano; it sounds like it would bounce off the walls of a dive bar beautifully. Aaron Dowdy’s vocals are animated like a slow-burning campfire crooner’s, as he reckons with missing someone whom he once dreamt he’d see everything through with. “You’ve been down and empty, and I’ve been feeling nothing,” he sings across the chorus. “I got sick last year, the kind you know that’s always been there. You’ve been loud and angry and you’ll take all the money, and I’ll go to the prairie out of harm’s way.” It’s one of those songs that isn’t flashy and doesn’t need to be, because the brilliance is in the language, in that perfect, sometimes indescribable pairing of syntax and melody that is more tangible than poetry. When it works, it works. Magic doesn’t always need justification; it just needs to exist. —Matt Mitchell

72. Tinashe: “Nasty”

As someone who considers summer to be the best season—a basic take, I know, but sometimes consensus happens for a reason—I will be the first to admit that it is also the grossest. The humidity weighing heavy in the air, the stench of hot garbage left outside for rats and bugs to feast on, damp skin accruing a week’s worth of sweat and grime from just a day of walking around outside—it’s when the general public are at their most disgusting, their most uninhibited and their most primal. In short, ’tis the season to be nasty. Tinashe, a longtime mainstay of pop’s middle class, has finally achieved her overdue mainstream breakthrough with a hit that’s catchy and sultry enough to make us believe that any of us could be a Nasty Girl (Nasty)—even quirked up white boys who can wine their butts off without getting so much as a drop of sweat on their tiny eyeglasses. “Nasty” carried me through June and July, as I felt the reverberations of a heat slowly melting my brain, sweating, sobbing and screaming to the thunderstorm-torn heavens, “Is somebody gonna match my freak? Is somebody gonna match my nasty?” Sometimes, I swear I can hear the late summer sky echoing back: “nasty…nasty…nasty…” —Grace Robins-Somerville

71. Liquid Mike: “American Caveman”

“American Caveman” is an absolutely mythical piece of rusted-out post-punk and pop. The Marquette quartet Liquid Mike—Mike Maples, Monica Nelson, Zack Alworden and Cody Marecek—have got their eye on the bat here, as they run through massive hooks, sludgy riffs and lyrics that pair sorrow with joy in clever ways. It’s a contagious entry into the Liquid Mike pantheon, one that builds on the ecstatic wonders of songs like “K2” and “Mouse Trap.” I’m not interested in hearing any other band sing about the death of the American Dream right now; Liquid Mike have got this rock ‘n’ roll thing figured out. —Matt Mitchell

70. Kim Gordon: “BYE BYE”

As much a renewed mission statement as a reminder of her indefatigable coolness, the opening track of incendiary noise rock record The Collective nests the former Sonic Youth icon’s entire ethos beneath its deceptively simple lyrical packing list. Filled with tributes to her late brother Keller, sly riffs on consumerist beauty demands, and reclamations of female sexuality, “BYE BYE” laces its mundanities with subtle provocations, each monotone syllable from Gordon carrying all the more explosive potency through Justin Raisen’s repurposed, bass-shattering Playboi Carti beat. The track is mesmerizing in its miasma of modes—part spoken word performance art, part abstract guitar jam, part skittering trap cut—but never anything less than singular. Like always, Gordon departs the wholly familiar into a realm all her own. —Natalie Marlin

69. Rapsody ft. Erykah Badu: “3:AM”

Rapsody remains one of the most under-appreciated names in rap, proving why she deserves to be in the conversation with “3:AM.” The third single off her album Please Don’t Cry finds Rapsody teaming up with the legendary Erykah Badu, and “3:AM” is a romantic slow jam where Rapsody confesses deep feelings to a long-term lover as she raps, “It’s different when you lovers and you best friends / I feel safe with you / The most vulnerable that I could be.” Her flow, combined with the angelic vocals of a soul goddess of Badu’s stature, merges a silky, ‘90s soul energy with a mix of horns, flute and keys. It’s a sonic powerhouse. —Olivia Abercrombie

68. Sharp Pins: “You Don’t Live Here Anymore”

If ‘80s DIY musicians like Martin Newell’s The Cleaners From Venus condensed the sugar-spun jangle pop of the ‘60s into charming lo-fi compositions for the cassette era, Sharp Pins’ Kai Slater works in the same lineage, pressing every decade of power pop and homemade indie with frayed edges into songs that encapsulate each of these eras proceeding it, but easily transcend pastiche. “You Don’t Live Here Anymore” feels like the platonic proof point, with Slater delivering its swoon-worthy melody in a near-whisper that makes you worry the whole thing will topple if you sigh too hard. Between gentle layers of harmonies, a xylophone (?) solo and the delivery of “Hit the back door and I’ll run, I’m in love,” with all its soft-hearted adoration bleeding for the world to hear, “You Don’t Live Here Anymore” wraps you in the fondest embrace you imagine, as perfect in 2024 as it could’ve been in 1964. —Elise Soutar

67. Father John Misty: “Screamland”

Upon the announcement of his sixth album as Father John Misty, the Jonathan Wilson and Drew Erickson-co-produced Mahashmashana, Josh Tillman stepped into a new version of himself during “Screamland”—a concerto within a concerto, as Tillman muses on the very same apocalyptic scene that have populated his work for over 10 years. “It’s always the darkest right before the end,” he reflects, until the verses crawl through twisted and contorted pianos and into an anthemic breakdown. “Stay young, get numb,” Tillman yells out in a not-so-common-for-him, anthemic belt. “Screamland” packs punch after punch, offering some of Tillman’s strongest line-work in years (“This year’s wine tastes suspicious but just enough like love,” “After every desperate measure, just a miracle will take” and “Maybe we are living in a state of grace returned”). It’s refreshing to hear him tackle such fits of hope, even when the arrangements bubble into noisy, confusing matrimony. “Love must find a way,” he asserts, and you believe him. —Matt Mitchell

66. Cindy Lee: “Kingdom Come”

When asked for a standout track I could recommend to someone looking for a sample of Cindy Lee’s incredible Diamond Jubilee, I’ll admit that I scoffed at being given such a fool-hardy task. Yet, I combed through every guitar workout and broken-hearted ballad on the tracklist and settled on “Kingdom Come.” With its sustained string notes that almost squeal and the fuzzy strummed accent notes clashing beautifully, the song is a gorgeous, airy piece of sunshine pop and a clear standout track—even on an album crammed with so much memorable material. It’s a bittersweet kiss goodbye as the sun sets and the hero rides away, leaving the door cracked for whoever’s gone away to come riding back someday, sometime: “I miss you, dear friend / I heard your music playing far away / I’ll cross my fingers for another day / Til the kingdom come / Don’t tell me it’s the end / I only want to see your face again.” A tear rolls down your cheek as the credits roll, and you can only turn away as the film reel sputters to its end. —Elise Soutar

65. Wild Pink: “Air Drumming Fix You”

New York singer-songwriter John Ross’s band Wild Pink returned this year—and many of us rejoiced. The band’s 2022 album, ILYSM, was a Paste favorite, and for good reason: It signaled Wild Pink rising toward an apex you’d be a fool to ignore. Before they dropped their masterful new record Dulling the Horns, Ross delivered to us “Air Drumming Fix You,” a pairing of diner jukebox-gentle drum machines and synthesizers with cresting saxophone scales and a spumante pedal steel—all while Ross sings about “shitting my pants in a VR world,” “baby breath” and someone, as the title aptly suggests, air-drumming Coldplay’s “Fix You.” Through vignettes of quick humor, however, come sharp lines that’ll gut you on the spot. “I guess the good life didn’t look like you thought it might” is going to be a lyric that sticks with me for a good while, especially, maybe forever. This Wild Pink track is handsome and sublime. —Matt Mitchell

64. Beth Gibbons: “Floating on a Moment”

If you arrive at Lives Outgrown looking for something that sounds like Portishead, you might find your thirst briefly satiated by “Floating on a Moment”—but it’s only a slight parallel. The song is melancholic yet enchanting, as Beth Gibbons finds herself trapped in a purgatory of middle-age—the prosperous hope of the future suddenly feels dimmer, and retrospect snaps itself back into place with a much less graceful ferocity. “Without control, I’m heading toward a boundary that divides us, reminds us,” she sings. A bassline shudders while a thinly plucked dulcimer sparkles and a rush of toms thud and pulse. With two minutes left to unfurl, a choir of harmonies hum until they explode into a mirage of towering hymns. “All going to nowhere,” they cry out, echoing Gibbons’s words back to her. “It’s not that I don’t want to return,” she confesses. “It just reminds us that all we have is here and now.” “Floating on a Moment” achieves a wondrous feat of relatability—even if what inspired these songs are not universal feelings. Gibbons’s splendor is her innate ability to make our own experiences feel denser and louder. —Matt Mitchell

63. Hurray for the Riff Raff: “Hawkmoon”

“Hawkmoon,” the final single from Hurray for the Riff Raff’s brilliant album The Past Is Still Alive, is one of Alynda Segarra’s most personal triumphs yet—as they tell a stirring story about leaving home at 17 and soon finding shelter in the company of Miss Jonathan, a trans woman in New Orleans who Segarra would steal beer and sleep in abandoned refuge with. The track rests on the shoulders of a stripped-down, riff-centric rock instrumental, pinned into warmth by Segarra’s own Bayou pastoral of gender, community and class: “Watch out,” they sing. “I’m becoming the kind of girl they warned me about.” —Matt Mitchell

62. Mdou Moctar: “Funeral For Justice”

No musician has had a year quite like the one Mdou Moctar and his band have had. During their 2023 U.S. tour, a military coup in Niger forced the four-piece’s to stay stateside indefinitely, far from their homes and loved ones. In the wake of their postponed return, they released Funeral For Justice, a tapestry of fiery, blues-rock protest songs. On the title-track, self-taught lead guitarist and vocalist Mdou Moctar’s guitar licks are wordless rallying cries, his psychedelic shreds yowling alongside demands for African leaders to stop bending to the will of colonial forces: “Why does your ear only heed France and America? / Occupiers are carving up your lands.” “Funeral For Justice” grieves the West’s ongoing exploitation of Niger’s people and natural resources, it hammers home the crucial message that solidarity is the only way forward. —Grace Robins-Somerville

61. Panda Bear ft. Cindy Lee: “Defense”

Panda Bear’s lead single from his first solo LP in five years, Sinister Grift, is an eclectic and buoyant meeting of Noah Lennox’s basket of collaborators—both new and old. Lennox and Cindy Lee make for a great duo, as Lee mobilizes the crisp, clean Diamond Jubilee guitar sound to give the track a vintage and grounded warmth. “Defense” is filled with a sweet excitement for this new era of Panda Bear, as Lennox exuberantly proclaims ,“This place I can occupy / Here I come.” It’s loopy and hypnotic, following the trail of off-kilter, wobbly pop songs that made up 2022’s Reset, but in a way that feels fresh and finely-tuned. Sinister Grift will include contributions from Lennox’s Animal Collective bandmates, including Josh “Deakin” Dibb, and SPIRIT OF THE BEEHIVE’s Rivka Ravede, and both are artists whose spacious, otherworldly touches are felt on this track. Not only is “Defense” a fun and catchy meeting of the minds, it’s going to be the album’s closer—and definitely feels like a strong one at that. It shows that Lennox is looking ahead lyrically, thinking through the molecular bits and pieces that will accompany him on the next project.—Alli Dempsey

60. Uniform: “This is Not a Prayer”

When Uniform announced their album American Standard, they called its lead single “This is Not a Prayer” a song existing “in the netherworld between Public Image Ltd. and Butthole Surfers.” With dual drummers (Michael Sharp and Michael Blume), a poisoned riptide of gutteral singing from Michael Berdan and thrashing, open-wound guitar strums sent into the abyss by Ben Greenberg, “This is Not a Prayer” is Uniform making internalized grief and sickness and turning it into a ruthless reclamation. “This is Not a Prayer” is a paradoxical survey of Berdan’s history with eating disorders. The song’s imagery is gnarly (“skin sucked right to ribs until ivory cracked”) and heartbreaking (“years from now, I’ll pretend that I don’t remember and years from now, I’ll cry right into your fucking lap”) and punishing (“all this is just a dream, please don’t forget me”). Good luck getting your head on straight after this one settles. —Matt Mitchell

59. Billie Eilish: “BIRDS OF A FEATHER”

“BIRDS OF A FEATHER” sticks out on every listen. It very well might be Billie Eilish’s best song yet—the kind of career highlight you’d expect someone like Clairo to make, existing so far in the pop world that, on paper, it may seem out of Eilish’s wheelhouse altogether. But Billie attacks the track without fear, and it’s so bubbly that the era of Happier Than Ever all but goes extinct in a flash. The “birds of a feather, we should stick together” chorus is cliché in theory, but Eilish and Finneas land it colorfully. “I said I’d never think I wasn’t better alone,” Eilish continues. “Can’t change the weather, might not be forever. But, if it’s forever, it’s even better.” “BIRDS OF A FEATHER” is a no-frills pop hit that will only continue to grow in majesty and in likability. It’s summery and earnest, as the “I don’t think I could love you more, it might not be long, but baby, I’ll love you ‘til the day that I die” pre-chorus matches the lightness of Finneas’s synthesizers and looping guitar arpeggios, which, along with Eilish’s sugary-sweet singing, sound like a bouquet of immersive, frictionless pop ecstasy. —Matt Mitchell

58. Chanel Beads: “Police Scanner”

Under the Chanel Beads moniker, New York musician and DIY scene staple Shane Lavers makes music as breathtaking as it is inscrutable. A dizzying blend of indie rock, dream pop, and ambient music, Chanel Beads often sounds like the culmination of several music trends into one. The clear highlight of his debut album , “Police Scanner” exemplifies his wobbly, melodic sound. Strings are layered beautifully over distorted guitar strums, and the song’s yearning ache is mirrored in how tense the strings sound as they hold each note. Pitch-shifted vocals obscure spartan yet affecting lyrics, and as the song comes to a close, another voice appears to say only the song’s title. It feels like a subtle climax in the same way that the errant microwave beep in Grouper’s “Labyrinth” does. There’s something very Alex G-coded about the whole affair, but Lavers never comes across like a copycat, instead distinguishing himself in the song’s symphonic nature. —Eric Bennett

57. ZORA: “hush”

“hush” is delightfully catchy and meditates on a toxic love story—as the Minneapolis-based ZORA gets candid about a man who doesn’t want to get caught with her in public. “I know we shouldn’t probably take this no further,” she sings. “But you beat the pussy up like no other.” Collaging an ‘80s R&B sample, 808s and hi-hats together, “hush” has charting energy while maintaining a resounding sense of underground glamour. ZORA can produce the hell out of a pop-rap song, filling out its shape with timeless soul and glitchy hooks. —Matt Mitchell

56. Chris Acker and the Growing Boys: “Shit Surprise”

Though the title plays into the gnarly humor that often populates Chris Acker’s songwriting, the track is tender and sticky-sweet. “How we’d match our breath in the upstairs room,” he sings, “and we’d hold together ’til I smelled like you.” With Nikolai Shveitser’s pedal steel and Sam Gelband’s snare drum waltzing behind him, Acker enchants during the “but now it smells like I stepped in it, shit surprise” chorus that, when fused with the band’s backing harmonies, binds the whole song together. Acker, ever a man whose work is aglow with countless juxtapositions, fills a sentence beautifully with lines like “I feel her like a pulse in a cut on my thumb” and “I hear you brushing your tongue.” It’s a synergy hunkered down in delicious harmony. Jaw pops, bread slices and cilantro getting confused with parsley all come into focus, as Acker lets out one final thought: “I thought I’d grow up to love you by now.” —Matt Mitchell

55. Nilufer Yanya: “Like I Say (I runaway)”

Amid an album of Nilüfer Yanya’s most mellow material to date, there’s a song that jumps out at you with a disarming, shameless ferocity. “Like I Say (I runaway)” starts out relatively tame, its acoustic guitar and light auxiliary percussion settled and unhurried. But when the chorus arrives, it goes for the jugular. Co-writer Will Archer’s guitar is fuzzier than the Spirited Away soot sprites, and Yanya’s dulcet voice glides over it with ease, just as assertive as the distorted, Loveless-esque murk beneath her. Even when everything goes haywire, Yanya remains in full control. —Grant Sharples

54. Cassandra Jenkins: “Clams Casino”

Cassandra Jenkins goes to space on her third LP, My Light, My Destroyer, but the cosmic perspective only makes her Earthly observations more precious; no matter how far the New York City ambient folk pop artist zooms out, her most affecting material still comes from the everyday interactions she logs in her lyrics and field recordings. That includes the grounding to-do list of “Delphinium Blue,” the astronomy lesson her mother gives on “Betelgeuse,” and especially the short exchange with a stranger at a hotel bar that gives the album’s best song its name. “I heard someone order the clams casino / I said ‘Hey, what’s that?’” Jenkins half-sings, half-speaks, acting out the memory. “They said, ‘I don’t know.’” In a fleeting and funny moment of connection, Jenkins distills the uncertainty and longing that spreads throughout the album—the sense of wanting something even when you aren’t sure what it is. It anchors a deceptively breezy song (with a tastefully crunchy guitar solo, no less) where she wrestles with last chances, numbered days, and a desire that radiates from the bottom of the ocean to the ceiling of the night sky: “I don’t wanna laugh alone anymore.” —Taylor Ruckle

53. Blunt Chunks: “High Hopes”

Living somewhere between the softness of Sampha’s voice and the breadth of Aerial East’s, Caitlin Woelfle-O’Brien’s voice suits the pensive soft rank lane that Blunt Chunks inhabits. Bolstered with layers at key moments and backup from singer Quinn Bates, the vocals breathe incredible emotion into heartfelt yet plain spoken lyrics. Feelings of anticipation, devotion, avoidance, despondence are all there, delivered with nuanced tricks of affectation and instrumentation that signal distinction but proximity. She cannot escape feeling all these in one body; neither can her listener. A specter of doubt hangs over a song like “Psyche’s Flight,” granting it a postmodern interiority that stands out among other pep-talk indie hits. That doubt then manifests in the mood cycle found on “High Hopes.” Blunt Chunks’ representation of gradual, mounting tension and soulful releases that come from navigating loaded communiques are striking: We’re used to hearing Woelfle-O’Brien’s vocals drift plaintively; it’s on “High Hopes” where we’re introduced to the singer who can throw her voice like an axe, slicing through the soft veneer of tambourine and pedal steel: “I realize that it’s senseless, you didn’t even ask about my day / In the morning I was lovin’ you, now I’m just angry.” —Devon Chodzin

52. Goat Girl: “words fell out”

Goat Girl put out a few good singles prior to releasing Below the Waste, but the post-punk trio saved their best work for last, as “words fell out” is, to put it simply, beautiful—as lead guitar and vocalist Lottie Pendlebury accentuates her whispering, subdued singing with sunny, warbling synthesizers. Holly Mullineaux’s bassline subs in for Pendlebury’s backlined guitar, and the rhythm throbs and crawls, as if the “I was stuck in mud” line became personified into a character of its own. Written by Pendlebury as an ode to how drummer Rosy Jones’s experiences with addiction have strengthened the band’s core friendships, “words fell out” is honest and its haunts are vividly familiar. “Trouble got inside of you, dug itself into your gut,” Pendlebury sings. “It was stuck so deep that it couldn’t get out. Something told me it was there, seeping through your veins. Trying to explain felt belittling, I would speak to empty eyes, we’d converse a lot. Tell each other what’s been going on, but you were somebody else.” —Matt Mitchell

51. Agriculture: “Living is Easy”

I love songs that beat the shit out of me when I listen to them, and Agriculture’s “Living is Easy” is a prime example of what well-done, white-knuckled metal can do to anyone who opens themselves to it. “Living is Easy” opens with a shimmering guitar being strummed into a build-up, which turns into an avalanche of screams and head-pounding ecstasy. At seven minutes long, Agriculture never let up once, swirling around the drain of a blackened abyss until vocalists Dan Meyer and Leah B. Levinson puncture through with coagulated, gurgling pain that crumbles into a guitar solo I can only describe as catharsis rebuilding itself brick by brick. “In a forest with insects eating my body, I would not be afraid of that,” a voice rings out, and the fist clenches tight enough to pop the ozone. —Matt Mitchell

50. Clairo: “Sexy to Someone”

“Sexy to Someone” was an incredible introduction to Clairo’s newest era, a song that finds her yearning for “afterglowing” and a reciprocated affection much like the one she holds for her so much around her. “Oh, I need a reason to get out of the house,” she sings. “And it’s just a little thing I can’t live without.” The Leon Michels-produced track sounds like the middle ground between Clairo’s first two albums, simmering like a pop hit recorded in a log cabin. There’s a homespun warmth that comes alive in Clairo’s voice, as Michels’ arrangements have cracked open a new ceiling for her singing. “Sexy to Someone” is exquisite, catchy and bubbly as can be. —Matt Mitchell

49. Gillian Welch & David Rawlings: “What We Had”

When Welch and Rawlings harmonize together on their new album, the lines “I used to dream of something unseen, it was something that I thought I wanted so bad, but now I only want what we had” feel retrospective in a bittersweet way, as if there was a real sense of gratitude lingering in the air now that they were both able to be artists again. Their studio in Nashville, Woodland, was ravaged by a tornado in 2020, and while a lyric like “All my world is changing, I don’t know where I’m going” may sound uncertain when it welcomes “What We Had” into focus, Welch and Rawlings would never let us off that easily. Instead, it’s a very Hemingway-like perspective on a conversation, as if the duo are reflecting on their own shared and separate humanity mid-song—two 50-something-year-olds debating over whether it’s a train or a sky lingering ahead of them. Does it make for a full cup or an empty cup? As Welch said to me earlier this year, “it depends on how you’re feeling, or the answer is really both.” —Matt Mitchell

48. Porter Robinson: “Knock Yourself Out XD”

On paper, Porter Robinson’s “Knock Yourself Out XD” reads like one of the many reaction-to-fame songs that have dominated the pop landscape for the last few years from stars like Billie Eilish and Olivia Rodrigo. He’s being swarmed at airports, fans are telling him traumatic stories and he’s lost all control of his schedule. But, of course, Robinson is nowhere as famous as those aforementioned stars, and this is no “Happier Than Ever.” On “Knock Yourself Out XD,” he lampoons the larger-than-life figure that fans might see him as by leaning into the excesses of celebrity. As though hyping himself up in a funhouse mirror, he boasts about material wealth and bemoans his own unreliability. He’s so coddled that even bruising his teeth requires an entourage. Any darkness that might have been here is swiftly undercut by Robinson’s eye-rolling attitude and whiny pop-punk vocals. Complete with sugar rush production and bright, neon synths, it makes for one of the year’s funniest and most buoyant listens. —Eric Bennett

47. The Cure: “Alone”

I do not like the Cure’s 2008 LP 4:13 Dream. In fact, I think it’s a very, very subpar album—especially for the Cure’s standards. As news began swirling that their first record in 16 years was, indeed, on the way, I remained skeptical. Few 40-year bands have ever held the same momentum that galvanized their peak, and the Cure haven’t made a terrific album (in my opinion) in 32 years. Upon listening to the lead single from Songs of a Lost World, I will be letting my guard down slowly. “Alone” is a very good song and, as Paste contributor Elise Soutar told me the morning it came out, “I believe Robert’s cooking when half the song is an intro.” To that measure, the first section of the seven-minute behemoth is all instrumental, à la Disintegration. It’s full of grief and extravagance, as piano, lacerated guitar and synthesizers pin a swirling atmosphere into trauma once Robert Smith begins singing about a dying world. “And the birds falling out of our skies, and the words falling out of our minds, and here is to love,” he bemoans, “to all the love falling out of our lives: Hopes and dreams are gone.” Have no fear—this sounds like a Cure song, and Smith sounds as good as he ever has this century. When he questions “Where did it go?” over and over, his gothic lament somehow, miraculous, begins to bend into the shape of something hopeful. —Matt Mitchell

46. Friko: “Where We’ve Been”

Chicago indie-rock duo Friko come into their own on “Where We’ve Been,” the raucous and ethereal opening song on Where we’ve been, Where we go from here. It’s a track about surviving life, and vocalist Niko Kapetan’s stirring delivery brings out a raw, searing desperation within the track. The lyrics describe a familiar hopelessness laced with silver linings of catharsis: “And your teeth hurt more than the day before / It’s time to get another job / Four feet between a wall and window make your wife a widow, oh / So throw your arms around me,” sings Kapetan on the chorus. The track gradually builds from its stripped-down intro, leading to a fleeting plummet of straining vocals and clamoring guitar propelled forward by ceaseless percussion. An emotionally potent epic, “Where We’ve Been” marks Friko as one of the most compelling up-and-coming rock bands, two brilliant friends whose talents explode at every seam. —Grace Ann Natanawan

45. Bleachers: “Modern Girl”

This song came out as a single in late 2023. I didn’t hear it until early 2024. It came out on a 2024 album. Okay, now that we’ve got that cleared up: “Modern Girl” is the best song Jack Antonoff has ever made for a Bleachers project, cementing him as one of our best living singles artists. “Modern Girl” works because it doesn’t take itself so seriously. The first time I looked at the lyrics, I thought Jack had written a diss track about me—in response to my pan of his last Bleachers LP Take the Sadness Out of Saturday Night for this very publication, in which I said that he makes music for anyone who “grew up watching the Big Apple’s glamour from across the Hudson River.” “I guess I’m New Jersey’s finest New Yorker,” Antonoff sings this time around. “Unreliable reporter, pop music hoarder.” The instrumental is tough, but with a little bit of pizazz from Evan Smith’s one-of-one tenor saxophone. Bleachers is notoriously one of the strongest live acts around, and “Modern Girl” is the perfect embellishment of that very energy Antonoff brings to the stage. I bump this song in the car, in the club, in bed, on a plane and anywhere else in-between. Jack, if you’re reading this, I hope you can forgive me for saying you took a nose-dive into banality three years ago. “Modern Girl” is catchy, corny and nostalgic as fuck. I love it so much. —Matt Mitchell

44. Mk.gee: “Alesis”

Rolling Stone once likened Mk.gee’s guitar sound to “a tear opening in the universe.” The Jersey native was classically trained in piano, but his heroes were more Springsteen, less Schubert. And as 2024’s Two Star & The Dream Police drew praise from music legends and a wave of new fans alike, his shared DNA with rock n’ roll held more weight than ever. Upon first listen, “Alesis” passes straight through the ears. Mk.gee accomplishes exactly what he’s aiming for—fleeting reflection and repose of lover’s turmoil. “Why me, or better why you?” Questions asked by nearly everyone in a passionate relationship, while challenging its validity: “When we can fake it like any way we want to.” Two Star’s cagiest chapter is hardly a deep cut. With a groove to kill and a melody to charm, who says this isn’t dance music? His broken heart still beats as he questions the reality of the situation he acknowledges he put himself in, and holds a strong guard against the faults of his partner. Mk.gee presents himself as modern music’s Batman, wearing simple clothes with the stage presence to match. Critics say his mystery could appear “try-hard.” But to listeners, the beauty of the Mk.gee experience is that it’s effortless. It’s just him. Crisp, concise production with nuanced lyrics and graceful melodies pull the listener in with the snap of a finger—almost as if unintentional. The most important, exciting, and definitive point to be made about Mk.gee is that he is just beginning. —Noah Gee & Emma Schoors

43. L’Rain ft. Voices from the NYC Trans Oral History Project: “People Are Small / Rapture”

There is a moment on TRAИƧA, during the “Awakening” chapter, where Taja Cheek—who makes music as L’Rain—performs a nine-minute song called “People Are Small / Rapture” with Voices from the NYC Trans Oral History Project. Interview excerpts are woven into her ambient, experimental composition. The track’s length is ironic, as it flirts with the 10-minute mark because Cheek aimed to de-center herself from the composition. She spent hours listening to recordings in the project’s archive, wanting to create something that would offer a “life for the work outside of the work.” In a choir of conversations spliced into one euphoric and wounded sermon, one voice breaks through: “I don’t go to Gay Pride,” he says, “because it almost breaks my heart.” Cheek interpreted ANOHNI’s work on Blacklips Bar: Androgyns and Deviants – Industrial Romance for Bruised and Battered Angels, 1992-1995 to be a reflection on the AIDS crisis, and she wanted to find way of thinking about the ecstatic concept of a rapture that could be not abstracted from grief, but evocative of the other dimension of grief: resilience, joy and hope. “People Are Small / Rapture” memorializes the lives that have been lost and abandoned by the U.S. government and honors the work being done to make sure the voice saying “Every week, I was going to a funeral” never has to say those words again. —Matt Mitchell

42. Chief Keef ft. Tierra Whack: “Banded Up”

Ever since he was a teenager, Chief Keef has been a painfully prolific, forward-thinking rapper whose role bringing Chicago’s drill scene into the mainstream has confirmed him as a young living legend. Almighty So 2 turned out to be worth the six-year wait since Keef started mentioning it in 2018. It’s every bit as belligerent and vivacious as Keef was when he first hit the mainstream in the Obama years, now largely self-produced but featuring a brilliant range of guests. Philly’s own Tierra Whack appears on “Banded Up,” one of the album’s most thunderous standouts, where his tension-mounting lines delivered in half-time meet their match. Whack’s double-timed verse is a disorienting change of pace, knocking listeners back on their heels to remind them who’s in charge, who’s got the money and the power. It’s a good time, full of bravado and cracking with sincerity. —Devon Chodzin

41. Johnny Blue Skies: “If the Sun Never Rises Again”

Released under his new alias “Johnny Blue Skies,” Sturgill Simpson’s latest (and greatest) album, Passage Du Desir, is breathtaking and revelatory throughout. Simpson is at his most chameleonic yet on “If the Sun Never Rises Again,” a sultry, psychedelic-tinged rocker that envelops your body in a warm euphoria, like a tall glass of red wine. It’s as blissfully intoxicating as the night Simpson evokes—one when all the troubles that come to light during the daytime melt away, and the starlight dancing in a lover’s eyes is enough to hide their brokenness. A touch of melancholy washes over Simpson’s softened rasp as he ponders, “Why can’t the dream go on forever? Why can’t the night never end?” But the loose-limbed groove and whining guitars are enough to weaken the knees; if only for these few minutes, you don’t have to wake up from the dream. —Anna Pichler

40. Mannequin Pussy: “Loud Bark”

It’s been done. Marisa Dabice has penned the most compelling short story since Ernest Hemingway’s one about never-worn baby shoes for sale. In fact, she accomplishes this feat with even greater concision. “I’ve got a loud bark / Deep bite,” she repeats, her sultry exhales slowly transforming into menacing yells. The rest of the band follows her lead—Colins “Bear” Regisford and Maxine Steen stomping the distortion pedals, Kaleen Reading hitting the crash cymbals—to mirror her burgeoning intensity. It’s a plea, a threat and a demand all at once. You’d be wise to heed Dabice’s words. —Grant Sharples

39. Nala Sinephro: “Continuum 1”

You could pick any of the 10 songs from Nala Sinephro’s new album Endlessness and put it here, but I’ll say that “Continuum 1” is her definitive release from 2024. Sinephro is a vanguard for the modern state of experimental jazz music, and “Continuum 1” is space-age ambient that arrives like a new translation of some once-noiseless unknown. Sinephro’s imagination is intergalactic and dreamy, and James Mollison’s saxophone contours the edges of her modular synths and ex-black midi drummer Morgan Simpson’s percussion. “Continuum 1” drifts and surges, zig-zagging across geometric twinkles and, by the four-minute mark, an Everest of symphonic swells. —Matt Mitchell

38. Girl Scout: “Honey”

Swedish indie rockers Girl Scout are bringing pure 2010s power pop with “Honey,” a track that immediately veered away from the explosive, in-your-face ‘90s rock energy of the band’s previous single “I Just Needed You to Know.” The sugary sweet hooks and shimmering synths of “Honey” are the perfect backing to the song’s melancholic narrative of growing apart from your close friends. “I know it hurts to see her only for a little while,” vocalist Emma Jansson sings about longing to keep friendships the same. Girl Scout continue to impress with each release, as they return again and again with all their nostalgic influences in tow, proving to be the real deal; take our word for it. —Olivia Abercrombie

37. Hovvdy: “Meant”

Hovvdy’s music radiates the warmth of a late-night campfire. Loved ones surround its center with beers in hand, telling stories soaked in drunken reverie and endearing earnestness. That fraternal aura reaches its apogee on the Austin duo’s self-titled double album, especially on “Meant,” one of its many standout moments. “I wanted you to know how much it meant,” songwriters Will Taylor and Charlie Martin sing at the top of the chorus, the heartfelt delivery alone making those words abundantly persuasive. Together, their harmonizing voices resemble friendship’s sonic equivalent. —Grant Sharples

36. Erika de Casier & Nick León: “Bikini”

Following her impossibly cool 2024 LP Still, Erika de Casier has partnered with producer Nick León for a starry-eyed dance track. “Bikini” quickly became a late-stage sleeper contender for Song of the Summer this year, arriving equally perfect for sweating it out on the dancefloor and charging into the ocean to cool off. Balancing clubby sensuality with a soft touch of intimacy, “Bikini” is a last gasp at a summer fling, riding on a wave of longing and proving that de Casier and her strain of maxed-out on 1990s R&B and contemporary glitch-tronica will always leave a mark. —Grace Robins-Somerville

35. Half Waif: “The Museum”

As is custom for a Half Waif tune, “The Museum” is a somber four minutes aimed at the passing of time and the sentimentality we all hold for what’s been lost. It’s a nostalgic song that doesn’t wash the past with inauthentic remembering; Nandi Rose is far more interested in a kind of recollection that comes from sharing “give it another year” with a loved one. Our perpetual forward-motion does not cease its direction; drama and laughter are both habits, but it’s up to us to decide which one to kick. “I still go to the movies, and I think that it’s beautiful,” Rose sings. “Fake lights making everything look like glitter. And when I go to my high school, I see that the view has changed. All the apple trees they planted have finally grown up.” —Matt Mitchell

34. Beyoncé: “16 CARRIAGES”

On Super Bowl Sunday, Beyoncé teased her pivot towards country music with a pair of singles—“TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” and “16 CARRIAGES”—from her Renaissance sequel, Cowboy Carter. Much of the critical light had been draped around the former, as it more explicitly interrogates country instrumentation and motifs. But “16 CARRIAGES” was the superior song from the jump, putting Beyoncé’s vocal on range with a sparse arrangement that lends to her strengths through not doing too much. There’s a moment at around 2:05 where Beyoncé really leans into her pitch control, letting her voice run and coil around a backbeat of digital percussion and synthesizers. She laments being forced to grow up too soon, leaving home as a teenager and fearing how it’ll hurt her parents. “For legacy, if it’s the last thing I do, you’ll remember me, ‘cause we got something to prove,” she sings. “In your memory on the highway to truth, still see our faces when you close your eyes.” As the song takes pauses between verses, you can hear the subtleness of a lap steel humming about. “16 CARRIAGES” is a massively beautiful dawn of a new era for our greatest living performer. —Matt Mitchell

33. Hannah Frances: “Keeper of the Shepherd”

Hannah Frances’s fifth album just gets better and better with every single listen. The Chicagoan’s songwriting sticks to you like glue, and the Keeper of the Shepherd title track sounds like a rebirth, which makes sense, given that it (and the record) arrived in the wake of a three-years-long prolific period of songs written after the sudden loss of Frances’s father. The question lingering beneath the surface of Keeper of the Shepherd: Where do we go once we’ve said goodbye to our grief? In Frances’s words: “I cannot love you without me, I cannot live without me, I cannot be kept without me, I cannot be without me.” The days of her summery folk plucking have fallen by the wayside, as her work on “Keeper of the Shepherd” embraces a more off-kilter country sound tightened up by Western arpeggios and jangly, metallic set dressings of vignette instrumentation summoned to soundtrack musings on ecological imagery and mythological archetypes. All of these elements come together to define Frances’s own metamorphosis—her shedding of misery in the name of finding transcendence that is both personal and cosmic. “I keep close to my spirit, I keep learning to hear it,” she beckons. “Without him, without you, within me, without it, with no one”; “Keeper of the Shepherd” sketches healing into the shapes of empty hands, hollow homes and vacant intimacies. —Matt Mitchell

32. SML: “Three Over Steel”

SML—the quintet of Anna Butterss, Gregory Uhlmann, Booker Stardrum, Josh Johnson and Jeremiah Chiu—hit the scene in June with their debut album, Small Medium Large, and I haven’t turned it off since. Their improvisations began at ETA in Los Angeles, where Jeff Parker also recorded an album that was released this year (and also features Butterss and Johnson). The ETA has since closed, but SML are keeping the venue’s spirit alive in a song like “Three Over Steel,” which calls to mind acts like Can, Susumu Yokota and even Fela Kuti. It’s an exciting, looping, chromatic jazz tune on an exciting, looping, chromatic jazz record. “Three Over Steel” is an obvious example of five musicians completely in-sync with each other, bouncing ideas off ideas in real time and fashioning a tapestry of innovation through intution. SML augment perception in a flash, turning the melody into something resembling a Parliament-Funkadelic backing track before convulsing into a jagged, non-linear coda. —Matt Mitchell

31. Addison Rae: “Diet Pepsi”

Since rebooting her music career last year with AR, a collection of pop songs way higher in quality than they had to be, Addison Rae has been bathing in goodwill. 2024 has been a big year for Rae, with the former TikTok sensation cozying up to her musical idols. She appeared on stage at Charli XCX’s SWEAT Tour and got a song remixed by Arca. Still, her crowning achievement this year was “Diet Pepsi,” her most successful song both artistically and commercially—a xanned-out ode to young lust and consumerism is deliriously catchy and helps solidify Rae’s place in the pop firmament. “Diet Pepsi” plays with nostalgia in every note with its lyrics plucking iconography from Lana’s Born To Die and its production calling back to a post “Royals” trap pop sound. “Diet Pepsi” is thoroughly American, and its gorgeous Sean Price Williams directed video drives that home. A vision in black and white, Rae looks like a 2020s Gilda as she drinks soda, eats a sundae, and drapes herself in the American flag. If an artist with less young hunger had tried this, it might feel dated. Instead, in Rae’s hands, it all feels shiny and new, untarnished by all influences. —Eric Bennett

30. Kendrick Lamar: “reincarnated”

I trust Kendrick Lamar because he is willing to corner his constituents with a matter-of-factness largely unparalleled in hip-hop. On “Mortal Man” nine years ago, he rapped “That n***a gave us ‘Billie Jean’ / You say he touched those kids?” about fans turning their backs on the people they once claimed to love, pointing a finger at accused abuser Michael Jackson’s fall from grace. Now, taking pointers from 2Pac and sampling the late rapper’s “Made N****z,” Kendrick has turned the finger at himself on “reincarnated,” performing a back-and-forth with his inner-self and wagering that he’s back in God’s good graces after uniting the Pirus and Crips gangs at his “Pop Out” concert in Inglewood in June (“I kept 100 institutions paid / Okay, tell me more / I put 100 hoods on one stage / Okay, tell me more / I’m tryna push peace in L.A. / But you love war / No, I don’t / Oh, yes, you do / Okay, then tell me the truth / Every individual is only a version of you / How can they forgive when there’s no forgiveness in your heart? / I could tell you where I’m going / I could tell you who you are / You fell out of Heaven ‘cause you was anxious / Didn’t like authority, only searched to be heinous”), boldly rejoices that he “rewrote the devil’s story just to take our power back” and likens his year to the Hebrew bible’s Isaiah 14 (a verse about the fall of Babylon and Israel’s great, prophetic restoration): “All I ever wanted from you was love and approval / I learned a lot, no more putting these people in fear / The more that word is diminished, the more it’s not real / The more light that I can capture, the more I can feel.” —Matt Mitchell

29. more eaze: “waltz (in memoriam old ways of living)”

I was recently trying to describe the sound of more eaze’s “waltz (in memoriam old ways of living)” to someone, and the best I could come up with then was that it “sounds like a tumbleweed.” I think that’s true, but I would now add that it sounds like a tumbleweed that has experienced a deep, unshakable loss. Between Alice Gerlach’s cello, Jade Guterman’s acoustic guitar plucks and Nick Zanca’s organ, “waltz” weeps and it sizzles, enrapturing you in its bursts of a Westernized instrumentation. I’ve listened to thousands of ambient songs in my life, but few say as many words as “waltz” does—the wounds of its expression throb through the stratosphere and break so clearly into view I have no choice but to cry alongside it. —Matt Mitchell

28. Still House Plants: “M M M”

How Hickie-Kallenbach either hangs on a word for an extended period or barges through a phrase as if it’s clamoring to leave her skull is especially remarkable. Hickie-Kallenbach’s distinctive voice sounds close to that of Haley Himiko Morris (Disintegration, Pleasure Leftists), a fellow alto whose vocalizations feel like urgent exhortations, delivered with a kind of anxiety or anguish that gives each song a heightened presence. On “M M M,” she drags out “called” in the phrase “I wish I was called Makita,” bouncing the vowel like a rubber ball on a concrete floor, building suspense without complete resolution. “M M M” opens with sauntering drum rolls and down-strummed guitar that won’t hold back as Hickie-Kallenbach utters “I look up, I stood up, I hood up” in different permutations at a spoken register. Repetition within each sound and sequence of phrases makes for a kind of rumbling effect, one where tension mounts so gently you may not perceive it until Hickie-Kallenbach switches it up. Without the transition, the song would’ve been an interesting meditation on drudgery, but as the song evolves, worries mount. It’s a familiar, snowballing anxiety that resonates in a new way with each volta. —Devon Chodzin

27. Kassie Krut: “Reckless”

“Reckless,” the debut single from Kassie Krut, is a perfect introduction to the New York trio of Kasra Kurt, Eve Alpert and Matt Anderegg, and not just because it literally spells it out for you. The jagged, pulsating bit of industrial pop is a decisive shift away from the music they once made when Alpert and Kurt were in Palm. Its wall of scattershot, frenetic percussion leaves little room for anything else, but Eve Alpert’s eerie and enticing vocal moves through it with ghostly ease. This is a song that yearns for release, Alpert’s every line sounds like the words of someone at the end of their rope. With its blending of mechanical banging percussion and seductive deadpan, it’s reminiscent of Peaches’ “Fuck The Pain Away; even more so as Alpert intones “Yeah, you wanna be a freak like me.” If that means ever being as cool as Kurt, Alpert and Anderegg sound here, then sign me up. —Eric Bennett

26. HiTech: “SPANK!”

One of the best club tracks of 2024 belongs to HiTech, the Detroit ghettotech, techno and rap trio who dropped “SPANK!” on our heads in September. “SPANK!” is a hot, hot, hot banger, mixing programmed trap percussion with gemstone-colored synthesizers and a muscular piano line that uncoils over a beat that throbs like a bruise. GDMRW and King Milo go back and forth on the vocal, and “SPANK!” hits its peak when Milo’s flow turns into “Let me give that ass a whoopin’, let’s get to it.” “SPANK!” isn’t a gratuitous track, instead becoming this trance of sexxed-out euphoria. “Let me spank,” GDMRW says over and over until his voice turns into an instrument. —Matt Mitchell

25. Adrianne Lenker: “Sadness As A Gift”

Adrianne Lenker is one of the most consistently phenomenal singer-songwriters of the past decade, and everything from the lush folk to the raw intimacy of “Sadness As A Gift” provide ever more reasons as to why. One of the singles released prior to her incredible March 2024 record Bright Future, “Sadness As A Gift” catalogs the slow-yet-rapid passage of time and turns the feeling of a love gradually waning into something tangible, something “too heavy to hold.” “The seasons go so fast,” Lenker sings atop harmony and the slight twang of a violin, “thinking that this one was gonna last / Maybe the question was too much to ask.” It’s viscerally bittersweet, the kind of song you physically feel in your chest. Hearing her admit that “it’s time to let go,” even as she croons about how the subject of the song “could hear the music inside my mind” and showed her “a place I’ll find even when I’m old” is an experience akin to feeling a cold fist clutching around a vital organ. It’s so beautiful that it’s devastating, and so devastating that it’s beautiful—the Adrianne Lenker special. —Casey Epstein-Gross

24. Charli XCX ft. Lorde: “Girl so confusing version with lorde”

How Charli xcx tackles the complexity of interpersonal relationships between women on BRAT—especially during an era in which well-intentioned but often ultimately shallow and reductive sloganeering of “girls supporting girls” runs rampant in pop culture—is refreshing and worthy of praise. During the album version of “Girl, so confusing,” Charli makes it clear that the track is about a peer of hers who she both admires and envies. Because the two of them get compared to one another so often, it’s natural that Charli would internalize those comparisons—and, because they don’t know each other very well, Charli has the space to project her own insecurities. But instead of sidelining this other girl, Charli passes her the mic. Enter Lorde—the subject of the original “Girl, so confusing”—who lets us in on the foundations of her own protective emotional shield: “Girl, you walk like a bitch / When I was 10 someone said that / And it’s just self-defense / Until you’re building a weapon.” What this collaboration ultimately leads to is a deeper understanding between Charli and Lorde, a chance for both artists to express their reverence for one another—and it’s an absolute heater. Here’s to working it out on the remix. —Grace Robins-Somerville

23. Jessica Pratt: “The Last Year”

Jessica Pratt’s Here in the Pitch culminates in her greatest song yet: “The Last Year.” Nurtured by a bed of plucked nylon, she sings about “weird optimism” in the face of the “pitch darkness” that crops up throughout the record (and is so definitively evocative that Pratt named the record after it). As a closer, “The Last Year” is immediate and perfect, never stretching out but, knstead, reveling in its own playfulness. It’s solemn and never-ending—even though Al Carlson’s piano comes to a halt and Pratt strums her guitar with one last breath. Like the enduring tales and myths that drench her Los Angeles in such an attractive, curious, folklorish wardrobe, the days blow by and the characters all stick around in some form or another once “The Last Year” rings out. Life beats on, and Pratt sings it best: “I think we’re gonna be together, and the storyline goes forever.” —Matt Mitchell

22. Bon Iver: “S P E Y S I D E”

“I know now that I can’t make good” was a startling first line back from Justin Vernon. Five years separated him from 2019’s i, i and the fatigue that settled within him during its touring cycle, and that meant opening Bon Iver’s book back up by shutting some self-deceptions down. On “S P E Y S I D E,” the lead single from SABLE,, he admits “nothing’s really happened like [he] thought it would.” Not in the interim between releases, but in general. He “can’t rest on no dynasty,” the future’s been incinerated from his “violent spree,” even his lyrics (or grievances, depending on how you interpret the word “book”) are a “waste of wood.” The track tells the tale of regret, guilt, and the shame of faded dreams. Yet, accompanied by minimalistic instrumentation and a gentle tenor, Vernon pleads for a shot at redemption: “Maybe you can still make a man from me / Here on Speyside quay / With what’s left of me.” This isn’t For Emma, Forever Ago 2.0 as some have billed it, but a far more matured Vernon, a writer content with the slow reward of regrowth after a period of endless endings. —Emma Schoors

21. JADE: “Angel of My Dreams”

Pop groups break up, and their stars go solo. This is, inevitably, how it works. What’s not guaranteed, though, is that these solo careers will be fruitful. This year, Little Mix member Jade Thirlwall put her first name in all caps and made her play for solo stardom with “Angel Of My Dreams.” The most captivating debut single from a pop artist in recent memory, the song is a unique amalgamation of ideas. As it progresses, “Angel Of My Dreams” is a ballad, a dance track and a grinding, runway-ready strutter. Even more than just its musical excellence, it’s also got narrative weight. Throughout it, Thirlwall tangles with her past in the industry, name-checking Simon Cowell’s Syco Music label. In the batty, beguiling video, it’s not hard to read the cartoonishly brutal goon as a stand-in for the record executive. JADE has spun off a series of singles since releasing “Angel Of My Dreams,” each keeping her eclectic writing style intact and all eyes on her. Thirlwall is in a position that any star trying to strike it out alone could only dream of. —Eric Bennett

20. Astrid Sonne: “Do you wanna”

As we exit a year filled to the brim with atrocities unforetold, the question of parenthood has never been such a fraught existential dilemma. Over a spare, dry drumbeat colored with dread by viola passages that creep up and retreat, Danish musician Astrid Sonne can only respond to the emotionally charged question “Do you want to have a baby?” with a monotone “I really don’t know.” Though its parent album, Great Doubt, sees Sonne move her left-field electroacoustic soundscapes into the singer-songwriter realm, her fears translate most vividly in her shadowy, minimalist arrangements rather than the words she’s singing. There’s no fear of treacly cliché entering the frame when all music stops and a synth trembles under the weight of the situation at hand, rendering any histrionic vocal delivery redundant. Sonne’s voice, then, is the icy resolve holding the frightened music at bay. “Do you want to bring people into this world?” she intones, sounding disoriented, as if she’s just been beamed down from another world—perhaps one more habitable than where she’s landed. —Elise Soutar

19. This Is Lorelei: “Where’s Your Love Now”

Has a kiss-off from a jilted ex-lover ever sounded this sweet or this sheepish? Big-band balladry meets curmudgeonly slacker folk on This Is Lorelei’s post-heartbreak dirge, “Where’s Your Love Now.” Nate Amos contends with latent resentment that he’d repressed in the moment, waves of anger that don’t hit until the initial shock has worn off. It’s a track that confronts not only the hurt its subject has caused, but the nonlinear nature of heartbreak itself. “I’m healthier now, and I’m doing just fine,” Amos sings, in his rhapsodic, monotone drawl. “Long after our time is over, but I still wanna cry when I remember your lies.” Over a tinkering instrumental arrangement, Amos lets anger, shame, recovery, and gratitude exist alongside each other, embracing the contradictions that come with moving on without letting everything go. —Grace Robins-Somerville

18. Armand Hammer ft. Benjamin Booker: “Doves”

On the heels of their powerful last album We Buy Diabetic Test Strips, which we named one of the 50 best albums of 2023, Armand Hammer—billy woods and Elucid—returned earlier this year with “Doves,” an epic, heart-fluttering, nine-minute song featuring New Orleans soul singer, shredder and Best of What’s Next alum Benjamin Booker. Booker co-produced the track with Kenny Segal, and the instrumental features no percussion, no guitar and hardly any rapping. Instead, Booker gospelizes for a few minutes over a muted piano melody, glitchy background intoning and swarming, atmospheric static. As the crunchy distortion begins to build and Booker’s vocals fade, woods and Elucid come in with verses of their own, addressing the listener like it’s a spoken-word jam. “Doves” is particularly beautiful but equally haunted and touched with grief. It’s a skyscraping rap triumph. —Matt Mitchell

17. Allegra Krieger: “Never Arriving”

On her brilliant 2023 album I Keep My Feet on the Fragile Plane, Allegra Krieger made downtempo folk pickings her bag—and all of it was a treasure trove worth exploring over and over (especially “A Place For It To Land”). Not even a year later, the New Yorker returned with another record: Art of the Unseen Infinity Machine. Lead single “Never Arriving” became, in an instant, one of the very best tracks Krieger has ever released. It’s an immediate shift in sound, as she kicks the pacing up a notch and puts a heavier electric guitar into focus. “Never arriving, no crying, just lifting your chest to the sky,” she sings. “Art of the unseen, a blue screen, formless things with which you align. There is no sharpness.” What makes Krieger’s writing so special, always, is that she inflects her emotions into a one-of-a-kind language; “Eliminate edges with wonder, for the sake of becoming light” works only because she made it. “Never Arriving” is immune to commonality, as Krieger effortlessly balances a quick arc and a bombastic, soulful arrangement. —Matt Mitchell

16. Jane Remover: “Dream Sequence”

Following her incredible sophomore record Census Designated and a move to Chicago, 20-year-old Jane Remover shared “Dream Sequence” earlier this year and captured everything that makes her music so great. Jane’s signature blend of fuzzy, shoegaze guitars and low-end-heavy drums with elements of glitch-pop in the synths and vocals is intoxicating, and it seems like she has no intention of abandoning that niche. The lyrics of “Dream Sequence” are effective without distracting from the song’s rich sonic landscape, as Jane recounts her frustrations with a previous partner’s lack of initiative: “You’d rather live to please and die a virgin / Said you wanna see the world, but you’re stuck at work,” she bemoans. Jane never has to say too much—her words shoot to kill regardless. —Leah Weinstein

15. Chappell Roan: “Good Luck, Babe!”

Chappell Roan’s “Good Luck, Babe!” is bitter, but more than that, it’s mournful. This isn’t another incendiary “Casual,” a sendoff that relishes in making the ex look like a jerk. “Good Luck, Babe!” aches for a lover who chooses safety over liberation, one who stays firmly planted against the wall, no matter how many times you try to beckon them to the dancefloor. Roan coos and chirps along to trotting synths, as if she’s whispering about the secret affair directly to her closeted ex, and finally lets it rip on that final line of the bridge. You get the sense that up until that final minute, she’s holding back tears not for the relationship, but for who that lover could’ve been if they weren’t so paralyzed with fear. Sure, this is still a breakup song that calls out this old flame’s behavior, but it does so with remorse. This isn’t just going to haunt the babe in question for the time being, but for the rest of their life. —Jaeden Pinder

14. Merce Lemon: “Backyard Lover”

After releasing “Will You Do Me a Kindness” earlier this year, a track that wound up in the #3 spot on our mid-year best songs list, Merce Lemon returned with a new album Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild. The Pittsburgh native sounds as good as ever on its lead single, “Backyard Lover,” as she turns Are We There-era Sharon Van Etten into cross-continental twang. It’s singer-songwriter music with a blistering, heavy-fisted soul, as Lemon oscillates between romantic poet (“I am swimming in a river, showing off the butterfly enraptured by light”) and broken-hearted nomad (“A wooden spoon tossed in the fire, ‘cause nothing’s good enough, you fucking liar”). The song crawls upwards from Americana pickings to an explosive, country-rock firestorm. “A sliding hill, a quick refrain, a frozen bird melting, an eyelash for wishing,” Lemon cries out, as “Backyard Lover” ruptures like fluid leaving a bruise. —Matt Mitchell

13. Fontaines D.C.: “Favourite”

Let’s talk about a song that, from the first note, is perfect. “Favourite,” the standout track from Fontaines D.C.’s Romance, is a chest-bursting, terminally sweet earworm that finds the post-punk Dubliners experimenting with a far poppier hue that usual. If preceding single “Starburster” was frenetic and energized through an anxiety personified, “Favourite” is the lullaby meant to cushion its fall. “Stitch and fall, the faces rearranged,” bandleader Grian Chatten sings. “You will see beauty give the way to something strange.” “Favourite” is immediately one of Fontaines D.C.’s best songs ever, a “continuous cycle from euphoria to sadness, two worlds spinning together.” There’s well-worn poetry and romance in the candy-coated, rocking and rollicking arrangement; a sense of longing that swirls around the endearments. —Matt Mitchell

12. Moses Sumney: “Vintage”

Moses Sumney hasn’t made a full-length album since græ four years ago, but that didn’t stop him from releasing the very beautiful Sophcore EP this year—a project led by the stunning single “Vintage.” For my money, it’s the best R&B song of 2024, positioning the silk-sewn textures of Sumney’s unmistakable vocal front-and-center, singing about keeping someone’s “sweater in the safe, ‘cause I need that olfactory” and taking it “back to 1993 when I get my fingers on a time machine.” He name-drops Ouija boards and Afro-Sheen in the name of being ready “for ball and chain.” “I want that old thing back, baby, I want it, I need it,” Sumney sings, before laying down the bottom line: “I only own vintage, lately.” “Vintage” is code for real yearning hours, and Moses Sumney is in full Boyz II Men mode on it, feeling the rapture of a “specter hanging over” him through falsetto vocal runs and a sentimentality that practically bursts through my phone speakers every time this track comes on shuffle. —Matt Mitchell

11. Youth Lagoon: “Lucy Takes a Picture”

After releasing his comeback album, Heaven is a Junkyard (which we just named one of the best albums of the 2020s so far), last year, Trevor Powers has kept the gears of his Youth Lagoon project turning beautifully. After putting out “Football” in January, he followed it up with “Lucy Takes a Picture” in June—a sublime, gentle dream-pop ballad scarred by truth but bandaged by Powers’s unmistakable, healing voice. “What’s an angel gonna do?” he sings in an alien falsetto. “At the glory of her hand, at the glory of the moon, frozen in the world, Lucy takes a picture.” Powers’s songwriting is immeasurably dimensional, as he tucks portraits of abuse and addiction into these seemingly hopeful, escapist melodies. Here, there’s “morphine on the spoon” and an angel gets made in the sand. Along the railroad tracks, a lover collapses into the dirt and a breeze ricochets through the cold night Earth. The autumn dies and Powers can “see it in [her] breath” and he can ‘taste it on [her] cheek.” “Lucy Takes a Picture” is the type of song every writer dreams of making. Youth Lagoon remains one of one. —Matt Mitchell

10. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds: “O Wow O Wow (How Wonderful She Is)”

When it’s all said and done, “O Wow O Wow (How Wonderful She Is)” might go down as one of the greatest elegies of this decade. The motif of “joy” that powers the cord running through Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ Wild God is one straddling a line between fantasy and grief, as Cave pays tribute to one of his well-known and fleeting flames, bandmates and muses, Anita Lane, who passed away in 2021. “O Wow O Wow” is Wild God at its tenderest, as Cave’s sentimentality powers the echo chamber of choral harmonies and his wounded, mourning croon. “She rises in advance of her panties, I can confirm that God actually exists,” Cave sings out at one point; “Her friends, now dead, their spectral chins all nod and they braid a band of violets through her hair,” he later reckons. An undercurrent of Auto-Tune scores a build-up towards Lane’s voice, which arrives via a recorded phone conversation. She reminisces about haunting the streets with Cave, recalling their attempt to “write a contract of love” but only getting “as far as doing the border.” Lane’s soul reverberates across all of Wild God, but hearing her say “There was never any words in it, which I thought said a lot more than anything else” breaks my heart in two. “O Wow O Wow” is one of 2024’s most bittersweet goodbyes. —Matt Mitchell

9. Being Dead: “Godzilla Rises”

If you needed proof as to why Being Dead are one of the best, most inventive bands alive, look no further than “Godzilla Rises,” the opening track from their second LP, EELS: It’s a love song to the titular monster, one that retcons a culture’s snap-judgements and beautifully serenades its destruction with affirmations of goofy, captivating whimsy. “Why’d you judge such a lovely thing so soon,” Shmoofy sings, before giving way to Falcon Bitch: “Whose love is like a flower in bloom, made love to me in my bedroom.” Beginning with a stroke of post-punk-tinged, multi-directional guitar and a playful, lo-fi hook of snappy, surfy rock ‘n’ roll, “Godzilla Rises” sparkles through every turn it makes. When Falcon Bitch hums “they don’t know you like I know you,” you fall madly in love with her and with Shmoofy and with their lovable, absurd worlds of affection. Then, the humor gives way to a coda of melancholy: “Still, I’ll never get to hold you.” You’re snapped back into place, feeling more alive than ever before. —Matt Mitchell

8. Sabrina Carpenter: “Please Please Please”

I was not immediately a passenger on the “Espresso” train (I’ve since come around to it and I have the Fortnite emote to prove it), but I do certainly adore the pop confection that is “Please Please Please.” Co-written with Amy Allen, Sabrina Carpenter unveils her on-the-rise, long-in-the-making stardom on the Jack Antonoff-produced second installment from her new album Short n’ Sweet. I think this is a moment where Antonoff’s penchant for muted electronica serves its performer well, as Carpenter’s style has always flirted between the confines of pop, singer-songwriter and country—which makes the scaled-back synthesizers a perfect pillow for her sometimes-twangy, sometimes-anthemic delivery. The verses are sassy and conversational (the “Heartbreak is one thing, my ego’s another / I beg you, don’t embarrass me, motherfucker” lines are especially great in Carpenter’s care), while the “Please, please, please don’t prove I’m right” chorus is the catchiest of the year. —Matt Mitchell

7. Waxahatchee: “Much Ado About Nothing”

Particularly since the March release of the phenomenal Tigers Blood, the general consensus on Waxahatchee (Katie Crutchfield) is that the singer-songwriter is not only on a hot streak, but that she’s fully aware of it to boot. “Much Ado About Nothing,” Crutchfield’s first song after that triumphant, Paste Pick-awared LP, only confirms that hypothesis. Twitter’s designated Indie Boy Of 2024, MJ Lenderman, takes up guitar for Waxahatchee once more, the source of all those sweet, sweet guitar licks underneath Crutchfield’s insightful lyricism. The track is all twang and self-deprecation, a folk-rock anthem for those among us who go a bit insane sometimes, particularly in matters of the heart. “Always the easiest to love and hardest to claim,” croons Crutchfield. “Play it off like I’m cynical / But I sweat and I swear.” Half-plucky folk instrumentation and half-gorgeous harmonies about losing your mind, “Much Ado About Nothing” is yet another instance of Waxahatchee’s ability to seamlessly marry outlaw country with honeyed indie rock. “Right Back to It” this, “Bored” that—it’s time to admit that “Much Ado About Nothing” outshines them all. —Casey Epstein-Gross

6. Nourished by Time: “Hell of a Ride”

The loudest I heard a crowd sing back at an artist’s live show all year was probably for the “Goodbyeeeeee, baby, goodbyeeeeee!” that kicks off the chorus of Nourished by Time’s “Hell of a Ride.” Marcus Brown penned it as a tribute to all things good that have gone by the wayside—hope for a country whose land we can feel crumbling out from under our feet every day, hope that future generations will have something (anything!) to believe in, hope that the person you text when you’ve had a few too many will still value you despite it all, hope that we all survive longer than the time we’ve been given on a climate countdown clock. No one yelling that “goodbye” back to Brown has solutions to any of the aforementioned issues raised, but there’s still something joyous to crack open in those liquid guitar lines pinned beneath bright, sparkling synths, all lifting the singalong skyward. The second loudest callback I heard this year was the same performance, but earlier in the song, when Brown stepped away from the mic and the crowd picked up the “You know that’s still my baby” for themselves without a hitch. Even as the world simmers at a steady burn, I’ll never forget that line and the beaming grin on Marcus Brown’s face at a packed house who claimed it as their own. —Elise Soutar

5. MJ Lenderman: “Wristwatch”

“I got a houseboat docked at the Himbo Dome.” It’s one of the many bizarre boasts MJ Lenderman makes on “Wristwatch,” the last smoldering single from his hot 4th record, Manning Fireworks. This line in particular is very “No one knows what it means but it’s provocative! It gets the people going!”-coded in the way that most idiosyncratic Lendermanisms often are. Inspired by manosphere/billionaire grandest-type egomaniacs who preach behind podcast mics, “Wristwatch” is a strange character sketch that lays bare the absurdity and frailty of scammer masculinity. “So you say I’ve got a funny face / Well it makes me money,” this character retorts, uncanny in his “debate-me” cadence, hollow and alone with all his earthly possessions. —Grace Robins-Somerville

4. Fabiana Palladino: “I Can’t Dream Anymore”

When “I Can’t Dream Anymore” enters, all we hear is some gentle percussion, some hazy keys and a young woman with a soulful yet restrained voice. As she continues, she reveals that her counterpart is leaving, sending her into a state of raw consciousness, bare existence. The synths, guitars and drum programming, performed by Palladino and Jai Paul, send her musings into the stratosphere with their sheer intensity. It’s all undergirded by an ‘80s sheen that feels much more like careful reverence than a cheap copy. “The moon is brighter / I’m staring at it night after night / When I go to sleep I’m tired / But I can’t dream anymore,” she sings, taking in the stark images around her and living a life of an eternally exhausted, lonesome figure in a perpetual haze. The rich passion with which Palladino delivers every keystroke and every word makes the song come alive, turning something pathetic into something forceful without losing any heart. —Devon Chodzin

3. Willi Carlisle: “Higher Lonesome”

Something I’ve always appreciated about Willi Carlisle’s work is how it examines the grim, relentless world we live in with a very kind and honest eye. There’s a lot of beauty juxtaposed with darkness and grief. “Somebody told me a long time ago that, without aggression, there’s no passion. Without mourning, there’s no celebration,” Carlisle told me earlier this year. “At the heart of celebration is also something pretty sad. And, at the heart of sadness is something pretty fundamentally joyous. I believe that the human spirit is flat and that everybody reaches the same highs and lows and that, if they haven’t yet, it’s coming for ‘em.” On “Higher Lonesome,” Carlisle finds that flatness in a euphoric bluegrass sound and lets it transport him into a place of peace. He’s outrunning death (“I don’t want to hit rock bottom just to see how deep it goes, shine a light on six feet under so I ain’t afraid to go, prove in fact it is as lovely as can be when higher lonesome kills the bitter parts of me”) and wrestling with AL-Anon, SLA, falling in love in city parks, pills and half-read letters. He dreams of reconnecting with loved ones who departed this earth before he came out of his own darkness (“I wish I could call the old folks that aren’t with us anymore, I feel Granny dancing recklessly at the Floyd County store”) and there’s an appreciation for the act of living on a song like “Higher Lonesome,” as Carlisle sings of the suffering faced by Gods and artists alike, confirming that, “by the time the ride is over,” he’ll surely “ask to ride again.” —Matt Mitchell

2. ASAP Rocky ft. Jessica Pratt: “HIGHJACK”

One of the decade’s best collaborations that no one expected, A$AP Rocky’s first solo single of 2024 included the hypnagogic pipes of Los Angeles singer-songwriter Jessica Pratt, whose recent album Here in the Pitch is one of our highest-rated of the decade. On paper, A$AP and Pratt don’t seem like a natural fit—and you wouldn’t have been wrong to worry that “HIGHJACK” would arrive in the same gimmicky stratosphere as something like “FourFiveSeconds.” But “HIGHJACK” is an incredible song that merges the two musicians’ strengths perfectly. A$AP takes flight through verses about expectations, wealth and what he owes his peers (“Want a feature from me? / This ain’t a life raft,” “I don’t even like rats, invested into mice traps,” “Walk into the store, I bought the flow ‘cause I’m like that”). Meanwhile, in the song’s outro, Pratt arrives to sing the final notes, repeating “And when I’m gone” over and over until the sample swirls into an ending that’s more trance than conclusion. —Matt Mitchell

1. Magdalena Bay: “Death & Romance”

Somehow, with each passing year, our existence seems more and more improbable as we face devastating climate change, rising fascism, the ravages of capitalism and numerous other threats. And yet, we’re still here, together, facing the ever-higher stakes side by side. Magdalena Bay’s extraordinary 2024 album, Imaginal Disk, sounds like a missive from a fantasy land, but maybe fantasy and unfettered creativity are just what we need to weather the compounding storms battering us about in the real world. Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin—romantic partners as well as artistic ones—lead us through the darkness, their shimmering mirror ball tunes our guiding light.

A third of the way through Imaginal Disk is “Death & Romance,” an alt-pop-meets-prog-rock anthem conveyed with all the gut-wrenching drama that the present moment demands. Proclamatory piano kicks things off, then drums bounce in with Tenenbaum’s crystalline vocals. “Are we too late? Are we too far?” she implores, a sentiment that’s crossed my mind more than once this year when thinking of our species’ existential crisis. Sometimes, though, sheer determination is all you have, and Tenenbaum’s delivery is achingly passionate as she assures us: “My hands, your hands / I’ll hold forever / No way I’ll break hold / No, not ever.” Tenenbaum and Lewin are masters of tension here, pulling back the instrumentation to just vocals, piano and washy ocean sounds on the bridge, then letting it all crash gloriously back in, swelling to create a euphoric, cathartic wave of sound. I’m not naive enough to suggest that a song could solve our problems, but the unadulterated joy contained in “Death & Romance” can give us a moment of respite and inspiration. After all, as Tenenbaum tells us: “I give and you give ’til it’s all that we have / You know nothing is fair in death and romance.” —Clare Martin