It's been quite the bratty year in music but also quite a good one. Here are some great tracks to check out:
81. Run It (Clipping.):
the band can now write these rap/rock hybrids in their sleep and it'd still be just totally fresh each time.
82. One Fine Specimen (Gumshoes):
tailored so exquisitely for its purpose.
83. Find Me Under Wilted Trees (Hana Vu):
snakes around deliciously.
84. He Will Follow You With His Eyes (Corinne Bailey Rae):
straddling the line between empowerment and beauty.
85. No Stimulation (Tinashe):
eases itself around in lovely reverb.
86. Real Man (Beabadoobee):
delivers a potent emotional punch through its clever use of sonic textures and poignant lyricism. The initially distorted and tinny production sets a mood of unease, perfectly mirroring the song's underlying tension. (STAY FREE RADIO)
87. Enough (Miami) (Cardi B):
hard-hitting anthem.
88. Parties (Tom Odell):
nifty ditty that will get all the antisocials out there grooving.
89. I Love You, I’m Sorry (Gracie Abrams):
sounds seriously honing in on that emo girlie Taylor Swift territory.
90. Life Is (Jessica Pratt):
we are in a new era, inside a thick late-’60s California pop-group haze with Mauro Refosco on percussion and Spencer Zahn on bass, less ghostly and more grounded than ever before. And yet, some things never change: “Time is time and time and time again,” Pratt sings idly, over and over, as if wrapping the concept perfectly around her finger. (PITCHFORK)
91. B S R (Chatham Country Line):
proving that country music can be totally engrossing.
92. You Blister My Paint (English Teacher):
the idea of ownership makes for some of This Could Be Texas’ strongest moments. The keening of “You Blister My Paint” intensifies the song’s post-breakup anguish, striking the album’s most personal tone. Notably sung and not spoken—sometimes airy and at others almost jazzy—the gentle piano and vocal distortions are a heart-wrenching package. The grandness is baked in, rather than applied: Every choice rings out with intention, hinting at an even more compelling story waiting in the wings. (PITCHFORK)
93. Everything Turns Blue (Chelsea Wolfe):
still knows how to spin a dark tune into gold.
94. Things Behind Things Behind Things (Bon Iver):
the refrain that there are “things behind things” can be understood as either expansive or despairing: beauty behind pain, trust behind betrayal—or suffering behind suffering, a cyclical torture with no bottom. Vernon’s writing has always thrived in these liminal spaces, where meaning can shift from listener to listener. And though the song never soars into transcendence or dares to get weird—hallmarks of Bon Iver’s best work—its repetition and stagnancy are themselves meaningful. “I am afraid of changing,” Vernon admits, as a pedal steel sneaks in behind his voice. (PITCHFORK)
95. Bop Your Head (Till It Drop!) (Grande Mahogany):
presents itself as an introspective and psychedelic jam through the prolonged electric guitar solos and choppy beat. (AFTERGLOW)
96. Aggressive (Jim Legxacy):
shot on an actual Blackberry device but there's nothing archaic about Legxacy's smart use of Afro and hip/hop beats.
97. Out The Way (NxWorries feat. Rae Khallil):
even in new skin, Anderson .Paak can carry any groove smoothly.
98. Perfect Stranger (FKA Twigs):
continues in the mould with soft-yet-propulsive beats and synths that recall 90s classics like Madonna’s Ray of Light. It’s a perfect setting for the singer’s libidinous desires; she sees someone across the room, she doesn’t know anything about them and their history, but she doesn’t need to – the blank canvas is what makes them perfect; they are an opportunity to escape from her own life and its troubles. “Perfect Stranger” ramps up towards a rave track at its finale, suggesting that Twigs’ heart rate is rising as she closes in for the kiss. (BPM)
99. Echo (Clairo):
a spacey highlight where psychedelic synths and Clairo’s droning delivery bring it closer to Broadcast than Carly Simon. It’s a strange tune about a love that “goes nowhere,” whose musical gestures enhance its lyrical ones. (PITCHFORK)
100. Laredo (Leon Bridges):
who says men do not remember the spectacular? Bridges wrote the track after an encounter with a female dancer a decade ago. Guess those dancing hips really don't lie.
