part two is a go:
61. Need To Know (Doja Cat): over loud, throbbing bass hits and seductive synths, Doja delivers sensational bars like "Prolly thinkin' I'm a telekinetic / Oh wait, you a fan of the magic? / Poof, p**** like an Alakazam" and "Need it in me like a Chuck E. need cheddar." (NPR)
62. Tell Me You Love Me (Sufjan Stevens): Sufjan weaves a steady, hypnotic flow.
63. Coming Back (James Blake feat. SZA): pairs stark yet shimmering piano chords with bold admissions from a man licking his wounds after an argument, “coming back / tail between my legs” somehow almost giggling on the way home. And then it shifts, getting even better, as SZA features on the rest of the chameleonic track for a fascinating showdown in one of Blake’s most rewarding collaborations to date. (NME)
64. The Path (Lorde): who knew we needed her self-affirmation journey in a song!
65. Projection (Yves Jarvis): a single he called "a rickety rejection of dogma, tumbling tenaciously toward the tip" in its press release. The track finds Jarvis' eerie vocals, sung in both French and English, layered over frenetic drums and folky guitar plucks. (FADER)
66. Leave The Door Open (Silk Sonic): just as we were drowning in '90s and early aughts nostalgia, Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak — known together as the newly formed R&B super duo Silk Sonic — threw out a life raft straight from the '70s. Opulent and flirty, "Leave The Door Open'' is an invitation, lyrically and musically, that employs familiarity in the art of seduction. A direct but charming come-on, its beckoning lush arrangement begs to be stripped down, harmonies all the way to the strings, appreciated in full layer by glorious layer. .Paak's raspy playfulness grounds the superstar sheen of Mars, who answers by coaxing out some of his counterpart's finest vocal work. This is classic, Sunday morning soul as it was intended, translated and updated by two of this era's most fluent artists. (NPR)
67. Only For Tonight (Pearl Charles): the opening track to Charles’ recent album Magic Mirror, drips in disco. Its layers of sunny production mask bleak lyrics, like gloomy clouds that she tosses aside with one hand, champagne in another. “Didn’t I know, wasn’t made for a one-night stand,” she sings. (ROLLING STONE)
68. Whisper (Ty Segall): we’re so used to this from Segall by now but that doesn’t make it any less stunning.
69. Back To Oz (Sufjan Stevens & Angelo Augustine): like something out of a modern storybook telling.
70. Headshots (4 Da Locals) (Isaiah Rashad): the chorus of "Headshots (4r Da Locals)" features Rashad crooning vulnerably alongside an uncredited female singer, while another unknown figure wails longingly in the background; the vocals commingle in a way that sets Rashad up to languidly stroll through the rest of the song, while coming back to this home base of internal conflict. Altogether, it feels like Isaiah Rashad sharing his pertinent messages of growth and determination, while acknowledging he's only human. (NPR)
71. Garden Of Eden (Billie Marten): Marten hits it out the park effortlessly.
72. Smile (Wolf Alice): the standout song on astounding third album Blue Weekend, and the glorious spiritual sister to the feral ‘Yuk Foo’ from their previous record, ‘Smile’ saw frontwoman Ellie Roswell fiercely challenge the male gaze perceptions of a woman as “mad” and “unhinged”. “I am what I am and I’m good at it / And you don’t like me well that isn’t fucking relevant,” Roswell sings with fierce malice. A track marked by dreamy shoegaze, soaring harmonies and a killer bass, it’s certain to become a staple of their live shows for years. They’ve never sounded more assured. (NME)
73. POV (Ariana Grande): deceptively sweet but beneath lies doubt and uncertainty.
74. Rare To Wake (Shannon Lay): “I’m longing to grow,” sings L.A. folkie Shannon Lay on “Rare To Wake,” a ballad that traces the hinge between fear of personal transformation and excitement for it. Lay’s multi-tracked harmonies fall at soft angles over finger-picked acoustic guitar and meandering electric piano, until a dynamic swell announces a transition that never comes. The arrangement, like the song itself, seems to fidget with anticipation, finding beauty at an uncertain precipice. (PITCHFORK)
75. More (Low): as far as the blasted, warped sound Low and BJ Burton make together goes, “More” may initially be one of their most jarring creations. The song erupts to life with a mangled, destroyed guitar riff, before Mimi Parker’s vocal manages to turn it into something prettier. (STEREOGUM)
76. Sunset Dreams (Jane Weaver): yet another frame in the artist’s ongoing sonic adventures on a perfect pop planet from an alternative universe. (FIRE RECORDS)
77. Thot Shit (Megan Thee Stallion): Megan Thee Stallion's anthemic summer bop "Thot Shit" further revealed her penchant for two things: turning up and loving herself. The MC's bars veer from relatable ("I've been lit since brunch") to singularly boastful ("I'm the shit, per the Recording Academy"), but her undeniable appeal lies in her commitment to subverting misogynistic topics that have long had a strong hold on the hip-hop community. "I'm really just... taking ownership of the words 'thot' and 'hoe' [because] they're not the drag the men think it is when trying to come at women for doing them," the rapper tweeted. On "Thot Shit," Megan Thee Stallion continues her reign as one of music's most uninhibited artists. (NPR)
78. Tell Me Something I Don’t Know (Celeste): it’s pure old-school magic she utters on every single line.
79. Unravel (The Anchoress): deals sublimely with the pain of loss and self-questioning.
80. Fast Car (Syd): no relation to the Tracy Chapman classic, “Fast Car” ironically slows down so that we can observe the artist on a date with her girl and all those interruptions.
