mixtapes for weathers and moods / music for good days and bad days


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2019. november 28., csütörtök

28-11-2019 alter:MiX # 33 alter tracks in PRSNT_PRFCT_MiX [from recent past]


Miranda Lee Richards
28-11-2019 alter:MiX # 33 alter tracks in PRSNT_PRFCT_MiX [from recent past] Miranda Lee Richards, The Paperhead, Holly Golightly, Fabienne Delsol, Dead Horse One, XXXTentacion, Sunshine & the Rain, L.A. Takedown, Roine Stolt's The Flower King, Buke and Gase, Cherry Glazerr


M U S I C

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Singer/songwriter and 21st century heir to the Laurel Canyon sound who's also an active collaborator on the L.A. music scene. Miranda Lee Richards' songwriting career was shaped by her bohemian upbringing in San Francisco, where her parents, Ted and Teresa Richards, made a living as influential comic book artists. She grew up in the underground comic book scene, with R. Crumb serving as her de facto godfather.
Miranda Lee Richards
Existential Beast 5:48
Ashes and Seeds 3:15
On the Outside of Heaven 5:18
from Existential Beast 2017
Miranda Lee Richards' fourth album, Existential Beast, follows 2016's Echoes of the Dreamtime by just a year, a quick turnaround for a songwriter who's gone several years between records in the past. It comes with a lusher presentation, too, edging deeper into psychedelic folk-rock while hanging onto a country influence and her distinctly Laurel Canyon-esque sound. It's also, at least in part, a protest album, with songs motivated by the 2016 U.S. presidential election...


The psychedelic pop sound of the '60s courses deeply through the blood of Nashville group the Paperhead. Formed in 2009 by three friends (guitarist/vocalist Ryan Jennings, drummer/vocalist Walker Mimms, and bassist/vocalist Peter Stringer-Hye), the band began playing shows around town, some of them in the form of psychedelic happenings replete with trippy light shows.
The Paperhead
War’s at You 2:18
The True Poet 4:50
from Chew 2017
The Paperhead's third album, Africa Avenue, was where it all came together for the Nashville trio. Their retro-psych sound reached its full bloom, while they also added other elements to the mix like a little country-rock and some swanky bossa nova. These few left turns sprinkled in amidst the dreamy pop-psych freakouts turned out to be teasers for the band's next album. On 2017's Chew, they rip up their playbook and treat the record as if each song were a different AM radio station circa a mid-'60s dream world that only exists in the mind of retro bands like the Paperhead. It's a pretty fun place to touch down, full of wacky juxtapositions and a kitchen-sink approach to arrangements that always keeps the listener guessing...



Prolific songstress, and partner-in-crime with Billy Childish, whose blues-based swagger is rooted in early rock & roll, R&B, and rockabilly.
Holly Golightly
Hypnotized 3:53
I’m Your Loss 4:00
Satan Is His Name 4:20
from Do the Get Along 2018
Garage rock legend Holly Golightly began her reign in the early '90s and spent the following decades churning out countless volumes of searing, attitude-heavy '60s-modeled big-beat rock & roll. Even the 11 years between 2004's Slowly But Surely and 2015's Slowtown Now! weren't signs of Golightly slowing down, as the break from solo albums was spent producing upwards of eight albums with her side project Holly Golightly & the Brokeoffs. Her 11th proper solo album, Do the Get Along, doesn't differ greatly from any other entry in her massive catalog, but that doesn't suggest stagnation in any way. With one of the more distinctive and expressive voices in garage rock, Golightly sounds every bit at the top of her game as she has on the majority of her albums, leaning even harder on the smoky atmospheres and simmering scorned-lover narratives that mark some of her most electrifying work... Throughout Do the Get Along, Golightly demonstrates her knack for restraint and effortless charisma. She breaks no new ground over these 12 songs, but in the case of an artist with this much mastery of her work, more of the same is happily welcomed.


2019. november 26., kedd

PnM.MiX 2nd: 33 from stereogum / the 200 best songs of 2010s

PnM.mix 2nd: 33 from stereogum / the 200 best songs of 2010s






(104) A Tribe Called Quest – “We The People…”
A Tribe Called Quest came with the illest update in We Got It From Here…Thank You 4 Your Service. “We The People…” is the song that showed everyone they were listening and watching intently during their lengthy hiatus. In a year full of reactionary Trump songs, this one stood out, letting it be known ATCQ indeed has it from the here and now. –Collin Robinson





(7) Kanye West – “Black Skinhead”
For years, we were waiting for Kanye West to fail. Each album seemed more absurd in its ambition and rollout, and eventually things did buckle under it all. Yeezus was the last time he undeniably proved us wrong. A caustic noise-rap reinvention and ego dissection, it’s the nasty core of the era in which West could do no wrong (musically) and seemed to be three steps ahead of everyone else. With heart palpitation drums and a visceral rap, “Black Skinhead” instantly became one of the most shocking, addicting, and straight-up best songs in an often visionary career. All these years later, including the mess of West’s career recently, it’s a reminder of how vital and untouchable he seemed for a time. All these years later, it will still rearrange you on a molecular level every time. –Ryan Leas


(180) Flying Lotus – “Never Catch Me” (Feat. Kendrick Lamar)
There are more quintessential FlyLo songs than “Never Catch Me,” but none of them marry his sensibilities with a flow so worthy of his exquisitely layered and textured soundscapes. FlyLo’s quirky electro jazz fusion is matched perfectly by Lamar’s machine-like cadence. We need that FlyLo-produced Kendrick album, like, yesterday. –Collin Robinson








(126) Thundercat – “Them Changes”
At first you hear that whomping bass line and think Bootsy Collins’ “I’d Rather Be With You.” Then you settle into the lyrics and the infectious funk quickly descends into the deepest depths of heartache, creating the tension between irresistible groove and complex mood that Stephen Bruner is known for. Thundercat had already proven himself to be a virtuosic bassist, but with “Them Changes,” he also proved he could write a hell of a song. –Collin Robinson



(55) Kendrick Lamar – “King Kunta”
As acclaimed as good kid, m.A.A.d. city was, To Pimp A Butterfly was the album that completed Kendrick Lamar’s ascent to superstardom and established him as a generational auteur. Though “King Kunta” wasn’t the first or even second single from the album, it felt like Simba returning to Pride Rock more than ready to claim the throne. It’s perhaps the one song that marks Lamar’s rise more than any other. –Collin Robinson




(15) Kanye West – “Runaway” (Feat. Pusha T)
Is Kanye West self-aware? With every ridiculous stunt he pulls and every stupid thing he says, the debate rages on. But “Runaway,” his toast for the douchebags and the assholes and the scumbags and the jerkoffs, makes the case that he at least knows that he is all of these things. And set to its unforgettable plinking piano motif and slow-building maximalist grandeur, West’s characteristically self-obsessed examination of fame and failed relationships sounds nothing short of sublime. –Peter Helman



(90) Skepta – “Shutdown”
In the months after Skepta’s splattering grime klaxon “Shutdown” hit the internet in the spring of 2015, it became impossible to go anywhere without at least thinking the song’s hook: “Coffeeshop and it’s shut! Down! Kroger produce aisle and it’s shut! Down!” Such was the power of this big, rude shout-along. Truss mi, daddi. –Tom Breihan





(63) Future – “Mask Off”
“Percocet, Molly, Percocet.” On paper, it looks like a recipe for a total nightmare of a night out. But Future mutters those three words like a koan, or a prayer. Metro Boomin’s lost, wandering flute loop — a sample from Tommy Butler’s 1978 musical Selma — flutters and keens, soothing and ominous in equal measure. From that loop, and from Future’s disconsolately spacey grumble, Metro builds a heady fantasia, a psychedelic rocker for a dystopian era. –Tom Breihan



(56) Tyler, The Creator – “Yonkers”
Without “Yonkers,” Odd Future never become a national sensation, meaning the sounds that came to define the freshman class of this decade never materialize. And it all started with a joke beat Tyler made in “literally eight minutes” to poke fun at New York hip-hop, a defiance of authority that went on to transform everyone in its orbit into institutions of their own. –Pranav Trewn





(28) Kanye West – “Monster” (Feat. Jay-Z, Rick Ross, Nicki Minaj, & Bon Iver)
In Nicki Minaj’s star-making verbal torrent, “Monster” boasts the most acclaimed rap verse of the decade. It also has a phenomenal beat, an absurdly catchy hook, “sarcophagus” rhymed with “esophagus,” Rick Ross and Justin Vernon on the same track, and Jay-Z bars that have become a delightful annual Halloween meme. Truly a blessed recording.



(17) Kendrick Lamar – “HUMBLE.”
“HUMBLE.” is what happens when one of the most virtuosic rappers we’ve ever seen is at the height of his powers, knows it, and delivers a monolithic flex proclaiming it. Pivoting from the thematic and sonic density of To Pimp A Butterfly, “HUMBLE.” found Kendrick Lamar rapping, going all out over a hardened beat as if to say, plainer than ever before, that he was ready to conquer the world. Filled with instantly memorable lines — and accompanied by an instant-classic video loaded with indelible images — “HUMBLE.” was a power-move introduction to DAMN. A Pulitzer would follow, but it almost didn’t matter — Lamar had already taken the crown for himself. –Ryan Leas


(33) Azealia Banks – “212” (Feat. Lazy Jay)
“212” might just be the best introduction to an artist that we’ve gotten this decade, and it’s only made bittersweet by how much of a zig-zag Azealia Banks’ career has been ever since. But “212” still remains at the top of its world, an unstoppable force in which Banks is firing on all cylinders. It’s an impressively dirty Jenga tower of wordplay, and its central refrain (“I’m gonna ruin you, cunt”) is a twisted and satisfying payoff. –James Rettig




(4) M.I.A. – “Bad Girls”
Last decade might’ve featured M.I.A.’s game-changing, dizzying rise, but it was in this one when she realized the single greatest apotheosis of her globalized, genreless pop. Boasting god-level songwriting acumen and arrangement, “Bad Girls” came with an iconic video and a lovable synth riff that did what she always did best — refer to a specific place and subculture rarely heard in Western media, but also collide things so we arrived somewhere exhilarating, somewhere broader, somewhere new. It was the rare pop song that sounded like nothing we had heard before and nothing we have heard since. –Ryan Leas


(134) Janelle Monaé – “Make Me Feel”
Before Prince died in 2016, one of the last things he helped create was Janelle Monaé’s album Dirty Computer. You can hear his influence throughout, but most prominently on the absolute stunner “Make Me Feel.” The bouncy, intoxicating funk feels both retro and futuristic, a final confirmation that the Purple One’s onetime collaborator could be a worthy successor. –Julia Gray





(74) FKA twigs – “Two Weeks”
With “Two Weeks,” FKA Twigs made a monumental impression. Above pulsating synths and skittering rhythms she levitated, asserting indisputable dominance. “High motherfucker, get your mouth open, you know you’re mine,” Twigs demanded. Submit to her command and know unbridled pleasures. –Connor Duffey






(27) Billie Eilish – “bad guy”
The signature hit from 17-year-old Billie Eilish is goth yet carnivalesque, goofy and despondent all at once. Reinforced with a wickedly weird video, the youthful 808-laced mope’s power was such that back in August it finally hit #1 after nine weeks dominating the #2 spot, dethroning the infamous “Old Town Road.” By then the ascent of “Bad Guy” (and “Old Town Road” for that matter) had already suggested a broader changing of the guard, a new kind of hit from a new kind of a pop star. –Keely Quinlan



(31) Sky Ferreira – “I Blame Myself”
Fed up with people telling her who she is, Sky Ferreira matched self-deprecation with pride and vulnerability with angst. “I Blame Myself,” the centerpiece of Ferreira’s debut LP Night Time, My Time, finds her taking control, giving herself a voice when she feels silenced.






(30) Miley Cyrus – “Wrecking Ball”
“Wrecking Ball” is inextricable from its music video, Miley Cyrus naked and vulnerable and swinging around on a giant wrecking ball, an absolutely immense force coming to fuck all your shit up. It’s a glimmering torch song that contains one of the best vocal performances of the decade, a transcendent pop moment that embraces its own self-destructive tendencies. –James Rettig





(54) Rosalía – “Malamente (Cap. 1: Augurio)”
The first single off El Mal Querer was accompanied by a transfixing video that includes bullfighting imagery and motorcycles. “Malamente” introduced listeners to Rosalía’s thrilling combination of flamenco, electronic pop, and R&B. She chuckles as she sings of bad omens: This is not a warm invitation, but a truly irresistible one. –NM Mashurov





(92) Solange – “Cranes In The Sky”
Chances are if you’re a member of a marginalized community, like Solange and countless other black women, cranes aren’t going to do anything for you. Walking through huge cities with cranes hanging ominously overhead can be a constant reminder of a world being built that you will never have access to. Or maybe they will erect some projects that will be run down in a few years. They’re the perfect metaphor for the ineluctable sadness and helplessness Solange evokes, and this song is a perfect talisman for the subtlety that makes A Seat At The Table a seminal album. –Collin Robinson


(12) Sky Ferreira – “Everything Is Embarrassing”
After languishing for years as a teenaged cog in the major label machine, Sky Ferreira finally broke out with a signature hit that gave a listless generation a new mantra. “Everything Is Embarrassing” is a breakup song, an ’80s-tinged dance-pop jam, and ground zero for the collapsing of the indie and pop music spheres, an endlessly listenable ode to the endless indignities of life and love. –Peter Helman




(10) Lorde – “Green Light”
Beat switches, lyrics that refuse to rhyme: At first “Green Light” seems to make no sense. But neither do breakups, and soon those disjointed elements start to evoke the confusion that sets in when a passionate romance goes sour. The Broadway-worthy dance-pop euphoria that follows is the sound of forging bravely into the future even when you don’t feel ready to move on. –Chris DeVille





(32) Katy Perry – “Teenage Dream”
Though it’s ostensibly about being young and in love, Katy Perry’s 2010 pop gem tells a much broader story. With its shout-along chorus (“You! Make! Me!”) and ever-so-slightly provocative verbiage (“I’mma get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans”), Perry captures the universality of romantic discovery, and indulges the fantasy that someone out there really gets us — no matter your age. –Rachel Brodsky



(99) Angel Olsen – “Shut Up Kiss Me”
Angel Olsen will not be ignored. She sang revelations at a foggy arm’s length distance for 2014’s Burn Your Fire For No Witness. But for 2016 follow-up My Woman, she strapped on some roller skates and a silver wig and belted passionately in your face. “Shut Up Kiss Me” is a grocery list of commands — imbued with seduction, aggression, and nostalgia — highlighted by unrelenting early rock ‘n’ roll electric guitar swirls. –Margaret Farrell




(23) Lorde – “Royals”
The observer effect is the idea that the mere observation of a phenomenon inevitably changes it. In 2012, we watched it in action. On “Royals,” a New Zealand teenager named Ella Yelich-O’Connor observed the lavish cars-and-jewelry lifestyle porn she heard on Top 40 radio and changed the face of modern pop music in the process, ushering in a new strain of slinky dark-pop minimalism and paving the way for future stars like Billie Eilish. Some of us might just be royals after all. –Peter Helman



(29) Frank Ocean – “Pyramids”
Cleopatra, strip clubs, John Mayer guitar solos: “Pyramids” has it all. But above all else, it has Frank Ocean himself, ascending to his current status as one of the most influential and mercurial stars of the decade. The harbinger of Channel Orange and its show-stopping centerpiece, “Pyramids” was a monumental statement of intent. –Peter Helman





(20) M83 – “Midnight City”
“Midnight City” is a glorious distillation of M83’s 2011 breakthrough album Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming. The song awakens our nostalgia, our yearning for a vague vision of the past, and paints it in brilliant colors. Eight years after its release, “Midnight City” bears a more precise, multilayered nostalgia. The millennial indie landmark now conjures the genre’s pop culture moment and a bygone milieu. –Julia Gray

(19) Mark Ronson – “Uptown Funk” (Feat. Bruno Mars)
Whether you believe Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars ripped off the ‘70s or paid homage to them doesn’t really matter. “Uptown Funk” was a monstrously successful, inescapable single, the soundtrack for 2014 and well into 2015. It was such a big hit that Ronson never thought he would come back from it, personally or commercially. It was the hit that solidified Mars’ kingly pop stature. Those infectious guitar riffs and Michelle Pfeiffer quips will live on forever through countless weddings and family gatherings. –Margaret Farrell



(75) Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti – “Round And Round”
“Round And Round” is the moment fantasy and reality meet in Ariel Pink’s rollercoaster career this decade, from cult oddity to genuine rock star. When he offers to front “your air guitar band” and promises in that perfect chorus “we’ll dazzle them all,” it feels like Pink is singing to every past outsider musician he was compared to and the future ones he’d surely influence. –Miles Bowe


(124) Vampire Weekend – “Harmony Hall”
That indelible guitar riff, looped into infinity, is the first thing we ever heard from Vampire Weekend’s fourth album. It would turn out to be one of the best. Rostam’s departure kicked off a new era for Vampire Weekend, but although bandmates may be temporary, Ezra Koenig’s hyper-literary lyrics and impeccable melodic sensibilities are forever. –Peter Helman


(59) Arcade Fire – “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)”
Existentialism and ennui never sounded so good. “Cut these pretentious things and just punch the clock,” Regine Chassagne sings in her breathy, piercing register, transforming suburbia into a dreamscape of shuttered shopping malls as purple mountain majesties, all backed by the band’s hypnotic tapestry of soaring synth motifs. –Harley Brown


(1) Robyn – “Dancing On My Own”
Yes, Robyn released the best song of the decade all the way back in 2010. Ten years have gone by since “Dancing On My Own” came out, and it feels just as potent today as it did when it was released. It’s a pop anthem in the classical vein, a universal scream into the void. It’s about doing something by yourself that was once communal. It’s about watching everything happen from a distance, on the dancefloor maybe scrolling through Instagram (which did not exist when Robyn wrote the song) and seeing your ex cuddling up to someone new, creating a life where your old one was supposed to be.
“I keep dancing on my own,” Robyn sings, “keep” being the operative word here. There’s power in reclaiming a moment for yourself. In a decade that has been characterized by increasing disconnection and fracture, “Dancing On My Own” stands as both a breakup song and a reminder of how powerful it can be to stand by yourself, resilient, after the lights go on and the music dies and it’s only you. Lit up by the glow of our screens, we’re more alone than we ever were, but that can be okay, too, if you approach it with the right mindset. –James Rettig

(120) The Knife – “Full Of Fire”
On the Knife’s fourth and final album, 2013’s Shaking The Habitual, the Swedish duo amplifies the alien dance genre it built by burning it to the ground. Their nine-minute industrial epic “Full Of Fire” mutates from robotic to demonic. The beat picks up grit as it throbs and spirals, carrying you deeper into a twisted trance. –Julia Gray






S T E R E O G U M

2019. november 25., hétfő

PnM.mix 1st: 33 from stereogum / the 200 best songs of 2010s

PnM.mix 1st: 33 from stereogum / the 200 best songs of 2010s






(82) David Bowie – “I Can’t Give Everything Away”
The final song on David Bowie’s final album, “I Can’t Give Everything Away” is one more winking, wistful transmission from one of the most iconic and important songwriters we’ve ever known. Spacious and somehow at peace, quoting the classic Low instrumental “A New Career In A New Town,” it was a goodbye that nodded to history and what Bowie had left us while also alluding to the new adventurous future that could have been. –Ryan Leas





(168) Charlotte Gainsbourg – “Deadly Valentine”
Not to play into stereotypes, but there is something so incredibly French about “Deadly Valentine” and its ability to be sexy, cool, and heartbroken all at once. A swirling synth-pop song from the matured perspective of a middle-aged Gainsbourg, it fights back against the world-weariness of age and all its accumulative struggles by seizing onto a dream newly lush and newly invigorated, abandoning mourning for the thump of a nightclub’s never-ending pulse. –Ryan Leas



(131) Leonard Cohen – “You Want It Darker”
By the end of his career, Leonard Cohen’s ever-wizened voice sounded beyond our reach — an aged poet who had seemingly gained the ability to see through the fabric of time. On You Want It Darker, he was writing his goodbye, and as funereal as its title track might be, it’s also a strikingly beautiful final message. The song sounds ancient, pulled from the ether; the singer, like he’s trying to grasp a lost wisdom one last time. –Ryan Leas




(130) Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – “Jubilee Street”
Nick Cave has built one of the truly rare late-career passages in pop music. Already a cult icon 10 years ago, he ascended to a new level this decade with three albums that rank amongst his very best. Amidst it all is “Jubilee Street,” a career peak that also functioned like a mission statement for his elder-statesman years — a surreal, haunted myth, eventually shaking loose the gravity of time to roar into the night, “I’m transforming! Look at me now!” –Ryan Leas







(78) Radiohead – “True Love Waits”
Once a giddy romantic paean from Radiohead’s 2001 live album, “True Love Waits” emerged on a studio release 15 years later, its warm acoustic strums replaced by frigid piano chasms. In the interim, Thom Yorke split from his longtime partner, who later died of cancer. All this completely recontextualized Yorke’s central plea: “Don’t leave.” Even without details, it’s devastating — the sound of first a romance and then a life dissolving into nothingness. –Chris DeVille



(85) St. Vincent – “Strange Mercy”
Amidst all of St. Vincent’s self-conscious performance-art posturing, it can be hard to get a handle on Annie Clark the human being. But the title track of her 2011 album Strange Mercy is St. Vincent at her best and her most personal, an emotional, perspective-shifting response to her father’s imprisonment for financial crimes. It’s strange and merciful, yes, and powerful. –Peter Helman




(73) Sufjan Stevens – “Death With Dignity”
A multidimensional treatment of the residuals of love and grief and their interlocking frayed edges, framed within a series of immaculately-realized arrangements that still strike with the raw immediacy of peak Elliott Smith, Carrie & Lowell is the clear classic in a career strewn with masterpieces. The album’s stirring overture tracks Sufjan Stevens’ journey from fear to acceptance of what follows immutable loss. –Pranav Trewn






(181) Mac DeMarco – “Chamber Of Reflection”
Mac DeMarco has cooked up some great songs on guitar, but his greatest achievement may be a synth hallucination that demarcates the blurry line between chillwave and avant-garde hip-hop instrumentals. The further you retreat from consciousness, the better it sounds. –Chris DeVille






(140) Chromatics – “Cherry”
Chromatics, and Italians Do It Better at large, are architects of a particular ’10s sub-trend: a hazy echo of an ’80s that never quite existed, a cinematic and strung-out romanticism. “Cherry” was the perfect distillation of this, that “Drive soundtrack sound,” all yearning night drives through cityscapes drenched in lush, imagined neon glow. –Ryan Leas







(179) Cloud Nothings – “Wasted Days”
Dylan Baldi has written lots of great songs at the intersection of pop, punk, and indie rock, but his crowning achievement remains these nine minutes of body-clenching tension, carried along by a mantra that will resonate with anyone who’s ever disappointed themselves: “I thought I would be more than this!” –Chris DeVille











(136) Caribou – “Odessa”
That bassline, though. Dan Snaith has managed to successfully reinvent himself with every new album, shifting from IDM to krautrock to neo-psychedelic pop. But in terms of pure bangers, he’s never done better than “Odessa,” the off-kilter nocturnal dance song that kicked off the Swim era with verve and style to burn. –Peter Helman





(161) Gotye – “Somebody That I Used To Know” (Feat. Kimbra)
A Belgian-Australian songwriter coos post-breakup bitterness over a sample from an old Brazilian instrumental from the ’60s. A New Zealand singer howls them right back at him. In the video, the two of them paint themselves up in abstract time-lapse. The result: a global smash that Prince copped to loving when he handed Gotye the Record Of The Year Grammy. These days, Gotye is just somebody that we used to know. But his one hit established how, in an internet economy, a catchy viral jam could conquer the world. –Tom Breihan


(77) Beach House – “Myth”
Beach House excel at putting a melody to incomprehensible feelings. They paint the atmosphere with cascading guitar riffs that overlap into a blur of twilight. Being conscious, being human, lends itself to a sometimes paralyzing temporality and life’s unknowable meaning. “What comes after this momentary bliss?” Victoria Legrand asks, her voice glowing. –Margaret





(182) Colleen Green – “TV”
“TV is my friend,” Colleen Green sings. “And it has been/ Always there for me/ In times of need.” Her noise-pop ode to prioritizing television over actual human connection, “TV” is both tongue-in-cheek and deadly serious, a painfully relatable modern sentiment for loners and pop-culture addicts alike. –Peter Helman






(155) Waxahatchee – “Never Been Wrong”
Out In The Storm is a tremendous breakup album, detailing pain, resentment, and, ultimately, growth. “Never Been Wrong” is its moment of interim murk — bitterness, unresolved conflict, being aware that you’re acting out and only doubling down. Katie Crutchfield is biting amidst major-chord rock, finding triumph in the unraveling. –NM Mashurov





(159) EMA – “California”
“Fuck California. You made me boring.” That’s a hell of a way to introduce yourself to the world. Erika M. Anderson, former howler for the great and unheralded blues-drone trio Gowns, made a dizzy leap into the unknown with “California,” her solo statement of intent. It’s a bruised, confused, half-rapped statement of rootless, reduced personal darkness, an itinerant millennial’s unmoored plea, a Bo Diddley quotation transformed into a damaged noise-folk lament. It’s really something. –Tom Breihan



(144) Phoebe Bridgers – “Motion Sickness”
Phoebe Bridgers renders the nauseating mindfuck of humiliation and heartache that follows a toxic relationship using details both morbidly funny (fake orgasms, a fake British accent) and deeply unsettling (“You said when you met me you were bored”). As the song’s sinister edge has become clearer, it plays less like a “breakup anthem” and more like a survivor’s testimony. But revelations about her inspiration only prove how effective Bridgers is at turning emotional paradoxes into stunning music. –Jael Goldfine



(143) Black Midi – “953”
What could easily be mistaken for a machine going haywire and melting down is actually four warm-blooded human beings achieving superhuman levels of bizarro synchronicity. Nonetheless, you should probably still wear protective gear while listening. –Chris DeVille









(149) Fontaines D.C. – “Too Real”
Fontaines D.C. are beginning as the decade is ending, with one of the more implausible rock success stories in recent memory. “Too Real” represents why. Brainy but brawny, arty yet raw, the band’s best moments are like this, barely-controlled engines of chaos that force you to pay attention. –Ryan Leas











(89) Parquet Courts – “Stoned And Starving”
“Stoned And Starving” is the signature song from Parquet Courts’ 2012 sophomore album Light Up Gold, the track that laid the framework for the New York band’s brand of brainy post-punk catharsis. It’s loose, but fidgety and restless — bothered, but ultimately apathetic. –Julia








(132) Kurt Vile – “Pretty Pimpin”
Kurt Vile is a modern-day troubadour who soundtracks his yarns of the troubled — himself included — with such beguilingly breezy guitars you almost forget to ask: “You okay, man?” Dissociation is the theme on “Pretty Pimpin,” and losing your sense of self has never sounded so easy. –Harley Brown






(93) Courtney Barnett – “Avant Gardener”
Courtney Barnett is a winded wordsmith, a playful poet, and “Avant Gardener” is ceaselessly clever. Her deadened delivery hammers the song home, approaching the end of the world with a sardonic casualness. It’s about trying to sink into the pleasure of something methodical, like gardening, making new life in a world that feels like it’s dying every day. But the apocalypse is a constant reminder, a shadow that makes those tomatoes on the front steps wither and die. Seems like enough of a reason to have trouble breathing in. –James Rettig


(133) Big Thief – “Cattails”
Big Thief can find the magnetic and beautiful world of a speck of dust and hide it in a song. “Cattails” captures Adrianne Lenker’s natural mysticism as she remembers the beauty of her Minnesota home. Big Thief conjure the easy sway of the wetland plants with fingerpicking fuzz and sunlight trickling in as piano keys sputter at the track’s closing. It’s as gentle and mindful as a deep breath. –Margaret Farrell






(115) Ought – “Beautiful Blue Sky”
The rare post-punk epic, wracked by the rote, deadening rhythms of our lives — “How’s the church? How’s the job? How’s the family? Beautiful weather today” — but refusing to accept suffocation under our late-capitalism lives. Instead, Ought earnestly relocate some sense of wonder, some sense of peace. What begins in anxiety blooms into a catharsis that arcs, well, skyward. –Ryan Leas









(91) Sharon Van Etten – “Every Time The Sun Comes Up”
Sharon Van Etten has built a career out of mining commonplace failures. “I washed your dishes/ But I shit in your bathroom,” she sings on “Every Time The Sun Comes Up,” elongating the vowels like she’s at least trying to dodge the blows. After the song’s fadeout, you hear her headphones fall off. It’s an endearing trip-up, the kind that results in a dorky laugh. Sharon Van Etten is flawed, but she’s still fighting, and that’s more than most of us fuck-ups can say. –Nina Corcoran


(108) Lana Del Rey – “Venice Bitch”
When you’re a pop star operating at the top of her game, and when you’re fresh out of fucks forever, you write a luxuriant and pillowy 10-minute psychedelic elegy for peace, love, truth, justice, the American way, and human life on planet Earth. Nothing gold can stay. Signing off — bang bang, kiss kiss. –Tom Breihan






(70) The National – “Bloodbuzz Ohio”
The National’s post-recession anthem nails their signature balance between stately grandeur and raw vulnerability. Bryan Devendorf’s drums pound steadily, a brass section wafts upward into a swirl of melancholy guitar, and Matt Berninger toggles between surreal personal reflections and a more dispiritingly universal refrain: “I still owe money to the money to the money I owe/ The floors are falling out from everybody I know.” –Chris DeVille








(42) Father John Misty – “Pure Comedy”
Gifted with a natural instinct for classic songwriting but an eye and mind born for modern times, Josh Tillman was already running circles around many of his peers in the indie world. Then, on Pure Comedy, he really tried to say it all. Its title track might not encapsulate the full spectrum of FJM — it’s all big-picture mode, with none of the self-reflexive examinations that make his narrative so rich — but it’s the quintessential FJM song. In just a few minutes, Tillman grapples with the grand farce of our existence, and injects profundity back into a time-worn hope — in the end, we can only find meaning by showing each other a little bit of kindness. –Ryan Leas


(61) Tame Impala – “Let It Happen”
Kevin Parker reforged psych rock into a contemporary frontier, then set his sights on fashioning EDM as high art. “Let It Happen” is the intersection of acid house raves, Sgt. Pepper’s, and Diplo — a bold prototype for what the monogenre might have looked like if anyone else knew how to make music like this. –Pranav Trewn








(58) The War On Drugs – “Red Eyes”
In 2011, with Slave Ambient, the War On Drugs had already located an entrancing strain of classicism equally cosmic and world-weary. Back then, nobody could’ve imagined they’d become one of the biggest rock breakouts of the decade. But a couple years later, “Red Eyes” arrived — the band now barreling down the highway of generations of classic rock tropes, lighting the past up with new psychedelic colors born from our bottomless, hazy digital-era memory. And as soon as Adam Granduciel let loose that raucous, sublime “Woo!” you knew this band had found something else. You knew they were going to be way bigger than anyone thought. –Ryan Leas


(48) Boygenius – “Me & My Dog”
There are Boygenius songs that better display the talents of all three musicians involved, but none of them hit as hard as Phoebe Bridgers does on “Me & My Dog.” It’s a love song that’s highly specific, one that’s embarrassingly pure, one that makes you redden up with the sheer weight of it. “I wanna be emaciated/ I wanna hear one song without thinking of you,” Bridgers sings, wishing that love didn’t have to be so total, so immense, so devastating and yet something that we constantly crave, a connection we cannot live without. –James Rettig






(26) Lana Del Rey – “Video Games”
Though the work of Lana Del Rey has grown richer and more expansive over time, the project was already fully-formed when Lizzy Grant first made her proper introduction under the persona. Her doomed recontextualization of Americana tropes, her ability to communicate contemporary isolation in classical language — it was all right there from the start in “Video Games.” It’s a tragic song that sounded as if it could’ve been released 50 years earlier, and yet it spoke to the eternal aspects of the human condition in such a way that LDR immediately won a lot of people’s fervent devotion. –Ryan Leas


(18) Perfume Genius – “Queen”
“Don’t you know your queen?” Mike Hadreas crooned, a coronation worthy of a god. Up until “Queen,” Hadreas had been making affecting and beautifully still piano ballads, but this was a definitive level-up and Hadreas knew it. He was swooning straight into being one of our best experimental underground pop stars, with a statement of purpose bent on world domination: “No family is safe when I sashay.” –James Rettig




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