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
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
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
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
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
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
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
“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
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
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.
“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
“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
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
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
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
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
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.
“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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
“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
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
“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
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
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
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
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
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