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Hearing a track this haute and juicy in is borderline rude for how much it makes us miss the rush of nightlife, but Cakes has never really been polite about his spotlight. Ana Roxanne makes even silence sound vivid. The meditative track speaks to finding fulfillment out of what little you have around you, learning to tune into the universe when it speaks, and grounding yourself in small moments of serenity—necessary reminders amid a year of unprecedented turmoil. SZA has an unparalleled ability to draw out the most intoxicating parts of an unhealthy relationship and turn them into an intoxicating song.
But SZA is buoyant as she sings about her inconsistent love. That he would cut a record full of the same kind of lyrics being used against him in a sham court proceeding is more than just chutzpah. He invokes late greats like Richard Swift, Judee Sill, and Elliott Smith, wrapping their works around him like a security blanket. Instead, it serves as a celebration of music as a source of solace and rejuvenation, and an exhilarating reminder of its profound potential.
After the California rapper caught flack for her overt materialism this year, she clarified that she demands riches of men more symbolically than literally. Xenia Rubinos]. Standing on the Corner have a way of capturing the wooziness of love. In its tenderest moments, the experimental jazz-indebted ensemble slows things down in order to disorient and emotionally disarm—the sonic equivalent of watching the world melt as your darling walks away upside-down and backward on the ceiling.
She seems lost in the moment, like she has no one to please but herself. Rick Ross]. But it works, locking listeners into one of the most curiously infectious hits of the year. British singer-songwriter Lianne La Havas would be forgiven for simply coasting on her rich voice and its impossibly slow vibrato. While her earlier releases were sometimes marked by nearly impenetrable abstractions, KiCK i feels just accessible enough to draw listeners into its maelstrom of chaos.
Her spare sound palette is in service of an insatiate self-analysis on fame, addiction, and feeling unrooted in life. As with all must-see serialized dramas, the guest stars are just as impressive as the main cast. Enter Pharrell, reciting a mantra about the circular clutches of modern capitalism in the laconic tone he once used to brag about his Gandalf hat ; enter Zack de la Rocha, erstwhile Rage Against the Machine frontman, incendiary and conspiratorial about wanting to rip those systems apart.
Take direction at your own risk, but nobody can doubt their commitment. Rage can be a powerful force for good when focused, but taming it is often difficult. On one level, the song is about letting loose with the feelings you keep pent up inside. From there, the turns it takes are so quietly strange, and strangely moving, that any further discussion of its lyrics might require a spoiler alert.
Against a spare acoustic guitar backdrop, in his own increasingly fatherly baritone, Bill Callahan tells a faintly supernatural story of parents and children, life and death, and the profound closeness and distance that can coexist between people. A decade ago, the New Orleans native Jay Electronica enchanted with a series of cryptic dispatches, then vanished in a cloud of smoke and British tabloids.
This year saw the release of not only his long-lost debut—precipitated by a targeted leak—but also a replacement record, a restart of sorts, which paired him with Jay-Z. The latter, A Written Testimony , often grapples with the pressure that drove Electronica from the spotlight. Perreo, as a genre, dance, and movement, has always been about power.
No man is a whole movement. Not since Fela Kuti has one artist blended the contradictions, agonies, and triumphs of the continent with so much muscle. In , the 45th president all but ruined the word, but now with the end of his reign, pussy can spend the rest of the s reclaiming its identity. Doja Cat]. Porridge Radio frontwoman Dana Margolin sings as if her insides are aflame, delivering lines with nearly feral bravado.
The music illustrates the Sisyphean task of feeling better: Each time it reaches some measure of calm, the noise comes roaring back. The result feels slightly apocalyptic, weirdly funny, and right on time. Not even in Michigan, the current rap capital of darkly funny shit talking, will you find anyone thinking more unholy thoughts than Packman. Sada Baby]. Steady yet anxious congas, a gentle flute, and bright keys meld into an affectingly soulful plea for a kinder world.
The song is a groggy anthem for those days when counting the spots on your ceiling can feel like too much work. The moody bassline delivers a melody to curl up in and brood, while the uptempo beat towards the end is a reminder that even loneliness ends. The unrelenting drums are a perfect match for the field recordings of glacial melt that Owens sprinkles in for ambience and texture, her shuffling hi-hats pinging across the tundra. Thundercat has Dragon Ball Z tattoos all over his body.
On the track, the L. The goal is out of sight, the means absurd. With the touring industry stalled in , it seemed like every rapper on Earth tried to make up for the loss with their very own digital deluxe reissue, padding out recent albums with extra tracks. For the most part, though, quality lacked. Only one artist made his album better with its deluxe edition: Lil Baby, who added a number of great songs to My Turn.
Baby plays the elder statesman on the quietly menacing track, rapping more ferociously than usual while letting Dugg take the lead. Take chances, live life, and dance as much as possible. Earl Sweatshirt and Maxo have both made their homes in the rain-blurred realm where raps feel like unspoken thoughts, where beats resemble humming machinery a block away—a world of smudged loops, two or three notes long, punctured by diaristic jottings that flash like lightning.
In another year, its layered guitar work and massive drums would have prompted massive pits and reckless stage dives at outdoor music festivals. Hopefully, for Dogleg, that future involves kids doing literal backflips into much bigger crowds. All you can do is bask in the power of Flo Milli shit. She has a rare ability to connect the fragmented images passing by the window to what she feels inside: She shows us funnel clouds dropping from the sky, a slaughterhouse, and a shopping mall, and turns each into a signpost for her own confusion.
As the song builds, despair is tempered by a burst of energy that hints at survival. Pop music loves to memorialize doomed romances and terrible exes; the genre offers considerably less for failed friendships. It serves as the grand finale to an especially intimate folk song, hinting at the virtuosic talent he often keeps behind the scenes. Set to walls of guitar and synth hooks, his lyrics contain a nod to the music that inspired him as a Black teenager interested in punk and indie, and to the unfulfilling jobs he worked for years to pay the bills before quitting to focus on performing and producing.
Not any more than someone who manages to make jeans and a T-shirt look beautiful. And it only takes her a minute. One thing nine months more or less alone reveals is whom to miss and whom to let go. Always ahead of his time, Shamir wrote an anthem for figuring this out before lockdown; lucky for us, he released it just as the loneliness really set in.
In a year defined by dancing on your own, Shamir made it sound like self-actualization. The real magic is the winking humility of the image in the mirror: a woman criticized endlessly for being too rich and too gauche who knows that living well is still the best revenge. So too will she. Like a gentle river, time passing slowly is better than it not passing at all. Lil Uzi Vert just beamed down in a pair of Balenciaga jeans that cost more than your biweekly paycheck before taxes , and he is ready to rap.
But time and time again, his efforts to rendezvous with his digital paramour are interrupted by real-life obstacles, from locked hotel rooms to the awkwardness of online intimacy. Over beachy guitar riffs and bouncy hand claps, singer-bassist Emily Kempf expresses a desire to detach herself from the limitations of relationships, painting separation as a bittersweet opportunity for growth. The difference between independence and loneliness, Dehd suggest, is your relationship with yourself.
Even this stylish opportunist has still got some charisma left. Lil Durk]. You might consider this as kind of like one of those pop-punk covers of turn-of-the-millennium hits gone spectacularly right. But as the barbed guitar riffs and methodical bass plucks give way to a chorus made for a hot-pink dressing room montage scene played at 1. Tamara Lindeman sketches out a villain—the titular thief, silent and cool—before lifting the veil on larger forces at work: laws, banks, a rotten system that forces people to act in their own self-interest.
By the time "Robber" reaches its urgent climax, Lindeman has transformed a personal reckoning with societal failures into a reflective prompt for the listener. Can you blame yourself for ruthlessness if you were never given a choice? While she luxuriates in the heady, horny stuff of the verses—of perfect symmetry and blown candles—the beat throbs with lockstep control, less feeling love than meaning business.
Bounding along atop a turbo-charged filter-house template, the song gleefully reanimates the ghosts of French touch and harkens back to the days when house producers regularly and rightfully landed in the Top Jazmine Sullivan has a gift for eulogizing relationships that are beyond saving, and even beyond possibility.
The vocal melody encompasses a range you could find under one hand on the piano, just a few notes, while her fingerpicking works its familiar, comforting magic. There were so very few reasons to break out in ecstatic dance this year, but Jayda G offered a sublime exception. Dry, papery beats, synchronized claps, and muffled chit-chat lend the atmosphere of a packed, pulsing nightclub—and the molasses-slow breakdown offers one of the best beat-drop payoffs of the year.
After months of inertia, Jayda G brought the dancefloor to us. Some might find it crass to describe death in the same words as a wiped hard drive, but, well, this is still Grimes. It opens with percussion that sounds like a rapping at the door, a wake-up call.
After a raft of heavy breaths, barking dogs, and a pounding-heart bassline that convey the frazzled yet determined energy of finding your footing, the song ends with a twinkling flourish of keys—a playful ta-da underscoring the realization that a broken lock is just the beginning. Also, it's missing five tracks that weren't on Spotify at time of construction :.
Users: if one of these songs becomes available, shoot me a Spotify message. I'd love to have a complete playlist. Jonk Music: if this infringes on a copyright issue or something, shoot me a Spotify message and I'll see what I can do. Best Songs of the s: Part 1 Jonk Music. This is probably the single best list of songs I've ever seen. Is there a spotify playlist for this?
Glad to see Metric on here. Canadians ftw. This is an amazing list. Fucking brilliant list mate. In your eyes I see the eyes of somebody I knew before, long long long ago.
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