The Best Songs of November 2024
Featuring new music from Kendrick Lamar, one-off singles from Daneshevskaya and Sun June, and the returns of Sam Fender, MIKE and Squid.
Photos by Alex Winker, Madeline Leshner, PgLang, Miriam Marlene
Before we dive into our year-end season, let us bid adieu to the month of November and all of its musical splendors. Thanksgiving came and went, and we got a few great New Music Fridays to boot. Music releases are slowing down now, but last month remained terrific, whether it was the release of Kendrick Lamar’s new album, a Christmas song from Jack Antonoff, one-off singles from Daneshevskaya and Sun June or the returns of Sam Fender, MIKE and Squid. Let’s take a moment to celebrate the best of the best from these last 30 days. Here are our 10 favorite songs of November 2024. —Matt Mitchell, Music Editor
Bleachers: “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call”
“Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call,” the “brand new” Bleachers song, has been kicking around for a good while now—as Jack Antonoff and his band have played it annually at his Ally Coalition Talent Show in New York. This week—a year after Antonoff posted a portion of the track online and called it a work-in-progress—the song has arrived and it’s really good. At first, the melody suggests a National impression, and Antonoff certainly does sound like he’s channeling Matt Berninger a bit here and there, but once the synth-pop tune kicks into full gear, there’s no stopping how downright catchy it is. Antonoff, in a submerged and slowed baritone, croons through swirls of electronics until Evan Smith’s saxophone cuts through the twinkling wisps. The way Antonoff sings “and the toughest part is that we both know what happened to you, why you’re out on your own” might be one of my absolute favorite vocal parts of the year so far, as he curls his voice into a tone I can only describe as “New Jersey twang.” “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” is Bleachers at their tightest. —Matt Mitchell
clipping.: “Keep Pushing”
The second single off clipping.’s much anticipated 2025 cyberpunk-oriented record, “Keep Pushing” is arguably one of the experimental rap group’s most accessible tracks—the instrumentation is stripped bare, relying on a hyper-techno synth line that gurgles beneath Daveed Diggs’s effortless bars. “Try to keep the pulse and the tempo / Just ‘cause it’s automatic don’t mean that it is simple,” Diggs spits, in an even-keeled monotone. The lines feel almost meta, considering the deceptive simplicity of the track he’s rapping on—but no Jonathan Snipes and William Hutson production is ever truly simple. Featuring strings from John W. Snyder, the song sees the sharp synth buoying the verses dissipate into an easy progression of keys in the chorus, a light melody that adds a reflective tenor to the hook. Diggs’s lyrics are, as always, equal parts poetically haunting (“When it all got kilt / Saw all the faces gracelessly tilt / Saw all the places laced with green wilt / What a disgrace for all that they built) and brusquely clever (“Hop in the pot, then begged to get drowned, them / Wanna be sick, them bitches Munchausen” and “The world is a wasteland, the state is a rat trap / Cheese, unload the pack under the hood of the hatchback” are some standout two-liners). The currently untitled 2025 album will be the group’s first since their double horrorcore releases of 2019 and 2020, as well as their first attempt at a more cyberpunk-focused sound—but considering how good both “Keep Pushing” and the first single, “Run It,” already are, it seems clipping. fans have a lot to look forward to in the new year. —Casey Epstein-Gross
Daneshevskaya: “Scrooge”
Last year, I became captivated by Daneshevskaya’s music. Anna Beckerman’s debut album, Long is the Tunnel, was one of my favorite projects—thanks to her saccharine singing and impossibly magic melodies. Her work, to me, is like an orchestral nursery rhyme that is romantic in its briefness. “Scrooge,” her first new single since Long is the Tunnel, breathes in, out and through stages of serenity—it’s buoyed by its own lightness; turned warm by a wash of soft strumming and aching strings. Beckerman wrote the song about “making someone a villain so that you can accept that they don’t want to be in your life anymore,” positing an old flame as an Ebenezer Scrooge kind of figure. “You know you walk just like a baby, and you leave just like a sneeze,” she sings. “When I turn around, there’s nothing to see.” I hear this and I want to weep, as the lullaby of Daneshevskaya sets my yearning soul aglow. —Matt Mitchell
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