“We lost Prince yesterday” is a gutting sentence to write. Prince was more than just a musician; he was an icon. Prince changed the direction of popular culture and, in turn, influenced each of our individual lives in innumerable ways. He wrote songs that helped us all get through this thing called life, and it’s heartbreaking to know that his is over. A world without Prince is not a world that a lot of us want to continue living in, but we can take solace in the fact that our universe wouldn’t look the same today without him. Pour one out while you cycle through his astounding discography this weekend, and check out the best songs of the week when you’re not spinning Prince below.

5. PUP – “Doubts”

You ever think about how wild it is that some bands pick up guitars and drums and bass, plug them into the same force that powers lightning bolts, pour their hearts and souls into creating something beautiful, and it sucks so bad that you convince yourself music is dead and sequester yourself into silence indefinitely? Whereas another group of musicians following the same essential blueprint can come up with something so awe-inspiringly powerful that your body conjures a rollercoaster-level adrenaline rush without leaving your desk chair? PUP’s new The Dream Is Over is one of those latter works, a collection of music so grippingly visceral and alive I almost can’t believe it exists.

“Doubts,” a three-minute pop-punk song performed with the ferocity of a 30-second hardcore song, is a prime example of the album’s powers. Its churning undertow and soaring chorus seem to have been created under the influence of DIY cult favorites Pile, and in turn PUP may well influence other fiercely beloved bands down the line. One prominent lyric goes, “What am I supposed to do now?” Another says, “What’s left to lose?” They refer, as does so much emo, to the fallout from a breakup. But the former quote could just as easily refer to a million mediocre bands wisely giving up upon hearing this song, the latter to a precious few for whom “Doubts” becomes a catalyst for stepping up their game. –Chris

4. Hope Sandoval And The Warm Inventions – “Isn’t it True”

It’s getting warm again, which means that I’m starting to fall headfirst into “summer vibe” discographies. Songs that make me feel day drunk and woozy, songs that make me feel like I’m head-over-heels in love with everyone I come into contact with. Ironically, the music that triggers this feeling is rarely loud or anthemic; it’s generally driven by an acoustic guitar and kind of sad. I’ll cycle through Big Star ballads, Nick Drake’s Pink Moon, and anything Phil Ochs. Hope Sandoval & The Warm Inventions’ “Isn’t It True” has some of the same plucky, happy-sad sentiment. It’s hard to decipher exactly what Sandoval is trying to say throughout, but her voice carries a nostalgic sentiment that’s both comforting and heartbreaking at the same time; a cushiony, enveloping song that’s evocative without being instructive. –Gabriela

3. T-Rextasy – “Gap Yr Boiz”

There’s a wonderful moment on “Gap Yr Boiz” where all the members of T-Rextasy congregate to commiserate about all the shitty guys they’ve had to put up with over the years. “There were other gap year fellas. Weren’t there, ladies?” Yeahhhhh, the whole band groans in response. “Speak up. Who was there?” There was Seafaring Steve, Ecoterrorist Eric, Busking Brandon, On The Road Ronnie… It’s reminiscent of a bit on fellow NYC band Yucky Duster’s upcoming debut in which one of the members interrupts a track’s flow to blurt out: “Wait! I wanna say something… I felt your dick two years ago, and it’s small as fuck.” Both instances open up conversations that have always been had, but more often than not have previously gone unheard. Music has always been a playground for men to let loose all their negative, demeaning bropinions about women, and to hear that same sort of shit thrown back in their faces is a satisfying change of pace. “Gap Yr Boiz” takes down the sort of boy who has the money and means to fuck off and volunteer abroad for a year between high school and college, closing with the biting and painfully incisive line for anyone who has ever had to put up with these one of these entitled little shits: “Thought that one of these boys would become a nice Vice vlogger/ And enroll at Wesleyan, or maybe Sarah Lawrence/ Not leave to find themselves in the goddamn forest.” They’ll probably still end up doing those first two things because the world will hand it to them on a silver platter, and now they’ll have a self-satisfied faux-enlightened attitude to go along with that privilege as well. Gross. –James

2. DJ Quik & Problem – “A New Nite / Rosecrans Grove” (Feat. Shy Carter)

In 1991, an era when you could still make a hit rap record out of a James Brown drum loop and nothing more, DJ Quik released “Tonite.” The track, from Quik’s classic debut Quik Is The Name, is all outrageously smooth squelch-funk keyboards and vocoder blurts, and it helped set the template for many years of slick party-raps. 25 years later, on his new collaborative EP with stylistic descendant Problem, Quik revisits “Tonite,” riffing on his old hit like a wizened jazz ace. “This the kind of beat I make when I’m just dippin’,” says Quik, but that cannot possibly describe the luxurious stretched-out haziness of this new version, especially when it switches up and becomes an entirely new song halfway through — a stretched-out groove with no rapping whatsoever and lots of session-musician funkateers getting their shit in. There’s a whole universe of West Coast synth-funk in there. Vocally, Quik is all prim, meticulous stop-start pimpery, while Problem comes bulldozing through, and the contrast is right there, at the heart of everything. Rumors persist that Quik ghost-produced The Chronic for Dr. Dre all those years ago. This is the type of track that can make you believe them. — Tom

1. Maria Usbeck – “Uno De Tus Ojos”

“Uno De Tus Ojos” makes me wish I pushed beyond my required two years of Spanish in undergrad. It already registers as something gorgeous, otherworldly, and sophisticated from the few phrases I can translate, but if I didn’t understand a single syllable it would be just as beautiful. Exquisite layers and textures of harp flourishes, bass guitar lines, tickled piano, and beating drums surround Usbeck’s wistful abstractions. The former Selebrities frontwoman sings slowly, alluringly on the refrain “una mano, una cruz, un milagro, un sentido,” which translates to “a hand, a cross, a miracle, a sense,” and though that non-sequitur string doesn’t quite make sense, it just doesn’t matter. She could have plugged the most abhorrent words of any language in there and it would be just as eloquent. I can’t wait to cue this up on a perfect summer day and get lost in the wandering contemplation it’s sure to inspire. – Collin