The 50 Best Songs Of 2024
Welcome to Stereogum’s inaugural Best Songs Of The Year list. Typically in December, our staff members share 10 personal favorite tracks each — which we will still be doing, don’t worry — but after 23 years, we felt it was time to do a collective countdown. This year was stacked with memorable releases: legendary rappers dropped exciting records fueled by heated feuds, beloved bands returned with game-changing singles, and once-underrated pop singers became cultural fixtures with irresistible earworms. We had opinions and, since we kept track of the the best songs every week, we were prepared.
This project required a lot of narrowing down. Fortunately we also had the participation of Stereogum contributing writers to help us reach consensus. It’s not easy to try to sum up and rank an entire year of music, but we took the job seriously. Below is our list of the 50 best songs of 2024, along with a playlist. Are you bumpin’ that? —Danielle Chelosky
As much as Agriculture have billed their style as “ecstatic black metal” up to this point, nothing from the California-based quartet truly fits the bill like “Living Is Easy.” Operating somewhere between Deafheaven’s blackgaze epics and Liturgy’s cathartic burst beats, the title track of the band’s latest EP relentlessly ascends as if to the heavens, chasing transcendence with each pummeling new passage. Even when it all comes crashing down, it’s hard not to feel an elation in the thrill of its false endings, the charges of guitars and drums, and the release in every scream. —Natalie Marlin
’80s signifiers have been a tired cliché in indie music for at least 15 years, if not 20. It takes a unique talent like Nourished By Time singer/producer Marcus Brown to repurpose them in fresh, newly resonant ways. In both its atmospheric beginnings and squiggly climax, “Hand On Me” leans even further into dated synth palettes than last year’s Erotic Probiotic 2, but once again, Brown’s deft hand and soothing, emotive vocals wrest new resonance from reservoirs that we thought were long depleted. —Patrick Lyons
Doechii can rap over anything, and she keeps proving it. But if you give her some classic club material, she can really go off. On “Alter Ego,” Doechii and her co-producer Zach Witness build a explosive neener-neener playground chant on the bones of the Robyn S deep house classic “Show Me Love,” while former City Girl JT shows up to help Doechii talk that unfazed, unbothered, unfuckwithable shit. Nobody has ever been this excited to tell you that “it’s fuck that ho till the condom slip.” —Tom Breihan
Across decades in the game, Kieran Hebden has chopped jazz-folk melodies into intricate laptop freakouts, and he’s also rocked arena-sized crowds alongside Skrillex and Fred again.. He’s done it all, and he puts all that experience to work on this gorgeously propulsive six-minute dance opus. The track’s four-four house thump never lets up, but it’s there to back up a stirring, echo-drenched piano riff that might sweep you beyond space and time. We don’t get enough deeply emotional club bangers, but then again we only have one Four Tet. —Tom Breihan
Let’s face it: Tyler, The Creator has always come off a bit arrogant. And it’s not that we’ve ever doubted his prowess, but with each new release it just becomes more obvious that he really isn’t like those other guys. The bouncy, Doechii-featuring “Balloon” oozes with so much justified braggadocio that even when it errs on the corny side — “Like bells during December, I sleigh!” — you can’t help but feel enamored. Sure, Tyler and Doechii could steal your girl if they gave a shit; they’re too busy flexing to even bother. And look at how well that’s paid off. —Abby Jones
“Never Arriving” imagines a world of pure movement without endpoints or boundaries. “There is no sharpness/ No leaving/ No coming into anything/ Dopamine rushes/ Blood gushes/ From the veins that kept you wanting,” Allegra Krieger muses over smooth guitars. The song becomes a place of revelation itself, where nothing exists but presentness in the moment. And the moment is vibrant and beautiful. —Danielle Chelosky
Your Day Will Come, the debut album from Downtown New York’s Chanel Beads, is a delightful mess of ambient pop, cloud rap, post-punk, and more. “Police Scanner” is its hazy high point, swirling and strumming like a dream pop hit with pitched-up vocals, living somewhere between Drain Gang and Alex G. It has the raw, gnarly beauty of a demo, with jarring lyrics betraying desperation for virtue: “Self care/ Self aware/ Good people out of view.” —Devon Chodzin
Once the torchbearer of a new wave of emo, Oso Oso’s remaining ties to the genre are contextual — their origins as Long Beach hometown heroes State Lines and their attachment to lowercase song titles. The melancholy and sweeping drama of Real Stories Of True People has been replaced by tactical pop-craft. Previous hits like “The View” use tightly wound verses as tension to highlight the cathartic chorus. On life till bones, the tension is the focus. Guitars have stripped back to surgical stabs over chiming acoustic strums. Even the tone is careful, only a light crunch around the edges. Frontman Jade Lilitri’s voice is the star, warm and somehow nostalgic even when you’re hearing a song for the first time. The biggest payoff for all this precision is “that’s what time does,” a sparkling indie pop gem that sounds like a lost 2009 Phoenix song sung less Frenchly. It’s the most fully realized version of a sound Lilitri has been iterating for a few years, and the catchiest melody he’s turned out in several albums of earworms. —Keegan Bradford
On their Guided Tour album High Vis experiment with Stone Roses psychedelia and acid house euphoria, and they do great things with both. But the London punks are at their best when they apply their melodic muscle to soaring, stomping, straightforward mosh-monster singalongs. On “Drop Me Out,” Graham Sayle laments time wasted on shitty friends, and his disgust rings out vast and colossal, especially with all that shimmer-crunch guitar mayhem under his roar. It’s among the grandest things that this band has done yet. —Tom Breihan
Connecticut emo band Anxious are ending 2024 with the first offerings from their upcoming second album, Bambi. Some have crowned them the new Title Fight, but those booming drums combined with sugary “doo-doo-doo”s suggest Jimmy Eat World is now a better reference point. This is a big song from a still very young band, and it shows them shooting for everything you hope for on a sophomore album. —Mia Hughes
New York City needed a summer anthem, and Cash Cobain delivered with “Fisherrr,” a Bay Swag-assisted thumper that’s as quirky as it is stylish. Coasting over a misty track, Cobain and Bay Swag get off melodic bars that are equal parts playful and sleazy, rendering them all with the juvenile charm of pickup lines you might overhear in the food court. Breezy and fun, it’s probably the song that will define sexy drill for years to come. —Peter A. Berry
They say that if you can’t beat ‘em, you should join ‘em; Kim Gordon says, “Why not both?” She accomplished as much as a founding member of Sonic Youth, assimilating to dudehood while simultaneously maintaining enough composure to define the era’s indie rock. A decade and some change after Sonic Youth’s demise, Gordon gets the last laugh on the gender-swapping “I’m A Man”: “I can’t get a date/ It’s not my fault,” she drones over a muddled trap beat, parroting the industry bros who can’t seem to fathom that their actions have consequences. “Don’t call me toxic/ Just ’cause I like your butt.” You think these lyrics sound ridiculous? You should see Gordon’s DMs .—Abby Jones
You’re not supposed to think too hard about the person who used to bang the person you’re banging now, but Olivia Rodrigo can’t help it, baby. Is she friends with your friends? Is she good in bed? These aren’t the questions that you should ask, but they make great fuel for an ultra-glossy power-pop rager. Olivia Rodrigo came into the game howling about heartbreak, and it’s heartening to see her admit her own toxicity, especially when the songs are still this bulletproof. —Tom Breihan
Death is the primary subject in Midwife’s music, and “Killdozer” is Madeline Johnston’s funeral dirge for Denver, a city whose spirit has been leveled by gentrification. While such cultural destruction warrants a musically violent response, no righteous hardcore ripper articulates priced-out misery better than this smoldering mic-drop of dystopian dream-pop. “This has always been my town/ Now it’s a living hell,” Johnston sings over weary strums, her voice dissipating like a plume of vape smoke blowing out the freshly waxed windows of a former bookstore. —Eli Enis
If you haven’t perfected the art of dissociation yet, it feels like any moment could trigger a panic attack these days. But when Fontaines D.C. frontman Grian Chatten experienced that miserable sensation in London’s St Pancras station, he channeled the frantic energy into the Irish band’s most ambitious, unexpected single rather than letting the anxiety paralyze him. “Starburster” demands extremity in a world of extremes, hitting with the urgency of an inhaler blast. —Margaret Farrell
War tears through Chat Pile’s “Shame,” illustrating the cool world that their album title poses. As caustic guitars thrash like weapons, Raygun Busch sings of bombs, broken bodies, the illusion of justice, and God remaining silent. Busch sings with a tired detachment, especially as he utters the memorable line, “There are myriad ways to destroy human skin,” as if he were talking about something as casual as the weather. The captivating cruelty of Cool World is encapsulated on this blazing yet withdrawn track. —Danielle Chelosky
In a landscape overpopulated with shoegaze bands, DIIV never fail to stand out. The Brooklyn band had three captivating albums under their belt, and now Frog In Boiling Water takes their discography even higher. Their brand of oppressive haze is heavier than ever on “Brown Paper Bag,” with sharp-edged guitars and Zachary Cole Smith’s breathy resignations. “I’ll embrace my mistakes/ On some other day,” he sighs. It’s less of a song than it is a dark cloud. —Danielle Chelosky
At first glance, the lead single from Nilüfer Yanya’s third album My Method Actor finds the singer in a moment of calm: An acoustic guitar loops on itself, a marimba keeps a delicate beat, and her low register sighs into view. But her voice tips into its higher register just before the chorus, giving up the gun: “The minute I’m not in control/ I’m tearing up inside,” she admits over a guitar that recalls the dense haze of Loveless and Mazzy Star. And then, just like the cyclical nature of an anxious spiral, the song snaps back where it began, a hypnotic swirl that renders it seemingly endless. —Arielle Gordon
There are at least three experiences in life that can make you feel displaced from your own body: falling in love, dying, and listening to Magdalena Bay. “Death & Romance” is a sucker punch of sparkling, disco-filtered synth-pop, evoking the discombobulating euphoria of mutual infatuation: “My hands, your hands/ I’ll hold forever,” Mica Tenenbaum coos on the chorus, just before the larger-than-life instrumental explodes. In Magdalena Bay’s world, “forever” could very well be infinite. That’s kind of the point. —Abby Jones
Feeling wanted is a great motivator, one that Claire Cottrill admits can get her out of the house on the warm and fluttery “Sexy To Someone.” Over jazz-pop piano, Clairo puts her own murmuring flair on a vocal that finds its way between folksy Vashti Bunyan and chipper Carole King. “Sexy is something I see in everything,” she admits, pointing to “honey stickin’ to your hands” and “sugar on the rim.” Never underestimate the power of desire, even in tiny droplets. —Rachel Brodsky
Jessica Pratt’s music has always been a confounding time machine. Her sound evokes a faded romantic memory — a glamorous bygone era gently corroded by time, wrapped in a halo of fuzz, dusty acoustic strums, and tunnel vision vocals. But on “Life Is,” she uses these retro flourishes, inspired by grandiose orchestral pop from the ‘60s, to propel us into the future with our heads held high. The single, which broke Pratt’s five-year silence, could have come out in 1967 and its sentiment would still feel just as pure. —Margaret Farrell
I can think of no greater flex than making a banger using only a pre-trip packing checklist for lyrics. Wait, maybe I can — how about diving headfirst into trendy rage-rap beats as a 71-year-old indie rock icon and coming out sounding cooler than ever? Kim Gordon is the last septuagenarian that needs to remind people of her swaggering genius, but that’s exactly what she did by announcing her second solo album with the abrasive, blasé, completely unexpected clamor of “Bye Bye.” It’s far more rich than the initial Playboi Carti comparisons it garnered; the abstract poetry and wild guitar squalls are clear continuations of Gordon’s 40-year legacy. —Patrick Lyons
The B-side to Burial’s latest solo release opens with what sounds like spray paint cans rattling, a fitting introduction to a 13-minute epic that glows with the ecstatic seediness of nightlife’s underground. On “Boy Sent From Above,” Burial conjures a video game of the London rave scene. Audio from an indie horror game blends into record scratches and a buzzy bassline. Each return of the spray paint rattle is a leveling up to the next stage of Burial’s deep bag of references. That would make the song’s final minute something of a Boss Level — if you’re still hanging on after that final round of hardcore techno, you might get to finally meet that boy sent from Heaven. —Arielle Gordon
On her hype-affirming new album, Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild, Pittsburgh’s Merce Lemon staked her remarkable evolution from tender indie-popper to vascular folk-rock bard. It’s got no shortage of great moments, but “Will You Do Me A Kindness,” a loosie released many months earlier, is the best song from her prolific year. It’s a rumination on loneliness that slow-drips to its emotional capacity and then pours over the rim with a frothy guitar solo. Think Big Thief’s “Not,” Crazy Horse circa Weld, but with a languid focus that’s wholly Lemon’s. —Eli Enis
Two Shell’s evolution from left-field dubstep newcomers to hyperclub stars has been intentionally baffling. After the single “Home” blew up in 2022, the UK duo sustained the buzz through smarmy trolling and frustrating stunts. Two Shell’s self-titled November debut for Young dialed back the absurdity a smidge, filling in the space with sugary sonic design. On bubbly standout “Everybody Worldwide,” speaker enveloping vocal chops sutter over a gliding garage-ish beat topped with twangy leads. If Jamie xx had initially emerged in an era plagued by garish AI graphics, he probably would have sounded something like this. —Ted Davis
Is there anything more delicious than seeing a loathsome male chauvinist inadvertently crater his own facade? The apotheosis of Geordie Greep’s intricate storytelling and cabaret dinner theater palette, “Holy, Holy” slathers its egotistic, self-mythologizing character portrait in as many brass stabs and Walter Becker-esque guitar licks as its lurid slips of objectification can handle. Like all good short stories, though, it’s the final rug pull the former black midi frontman throws in that puts everything in a pathetic new light — the last laugh is ours, and every prior plea for idolatry looks more like a deplorable joke in the rearview. —Natalie Marlin
“I want to be a danger/ I want to be adored/ I want to walk around at night while being ignored,” Marisa Dabice teases on “Loud Bark,” a highlight from Mannequin Pussy’s fourth album I Got Heaven, once again proving that nobody does erotic indie rock like them. The Philly band sounds more alluring than ever on this sultry yet cathartic tune, exploding with the passion of both a messy mosh-pit and a torrid love affair. —Danielle Chelosky
Our first glimpse into FKA twigs’ next full-length, title track “Eusexua,” is an entrancing thesis statement. Brilliantly co-produced with Koreless and Eartheater (whose apparitional voice can be heard after twigs asks candidly: “Do you feel alone?”), “Eusexua” lets twigs stretch her soprano vocals over captivating beats and mechanical synths that wash over like an erotic mist. “Eusexua” is more than just sexual euphoria, which many songs locate within a specific counterpart. For twigs, this is a way to walk through the world, a flow state for sensual energy and expression, one that lends itself to holistic wellness. It’s kinetic, electric, and free-flowing. Most importantly, it’s not love: “And if they ask you, say you feel it/ But don’t call it love, eusexua.” —Devon Chodzin
The 2019 Grammy Awards were held on Feb. 10 at Los Angeles’ Staples Center. Pop 2, Charli XCX’s most beloved full-length project at the time, went unrecognized — and according to Brat bonus track “Spring Breakers,” that omission only fueled her audacity. “I poured a load of gasoline on the carpet, lit a cigarette, took a drag, then I just flicked it,” she gleefully pseudo-raps from outside the arena. “And I just laughed when the bodies went splat!” Like the 2012 Harmony Korine film from which it borrows its name, “Spring Breakers” is unsettlingly dark once the neon signs shut off, a thrill pursuit that threatens to destroy anything in its path. Egregious and self-referential, it’s also a reminder of Charli’s status, even when the Recording Academy disagrees: “Put me on the platform, turn the microphone on/ There’s no one I wanna thank out there.” It’s cocky, but earned. —Abby Jones
Leave it to Adrianne to break our hearts in the most life-affirming of ways. On “Sadness As a Gift” she parts ways with a lover, and envisions the day that she’ll be able to look back on their time together with gratitude. “You could write me someday, and I think you will,” she sings in the first refrain; “and I hope you will,” in the last. Owing in no small part to the gorgeous violin threaded through it, it’s a song that makes your chest a little tight and your eyes a little misty. —Mia Hughes
Ripped blue jeans. Fogged-up car windows. Lipstick on a bare chest. A can of soda. The swirl of subverted Americana that animates Addison Rae’s “Diet Pepsi” could have fallen out of an early draft of Blue Velvet, a Born To Die-era Lana Del Rey outtake, or an AI generator. It’s the archetypal familiarity of the imagery that allows the onetime TikTok influencer to disappear so fully into this primordially satisfying pop song. Rae’s breathy vocals pair well with the track’s pulsing, plush synths and minimalist percussion, and the chorus is a diabolical earworm. But it’s the sense that we’re witnessing an ancient rite that makes “Diet Pepsi” a triumph. Standing before the bloodthirsty Moloch of pop music, that fallen angel that mints and devours new stars without remorse, Rae sounds ecstatic to be losing all her innocence in the backseat. —Brad Sanders
Though Ezra Koenig assures us it’s okay not to try, “Capricorn” bears the incredible intricacy that has long since become Vampire Weekend’s signature. The drowsy melancholia and keep your head up, champ vibes evoke Modern Vampires Of The City, but thanks to the band’s newfound embrace of distortion, what could have been a retread instead explodes with squelching, heaving, noise-bombed beauty halfway through. Koenig’s lyrics mirror the music’s meticulous nature, from the core metaphor (“Capricorn, the year that you were born/ Finished fast, and the next one wasn’t yours”) to the most minuscule turn of phrase. Like so much of this band’s best work, it’s modern metropolitan pop-rock constructed like old-world architecture. —Chris DeVille
Look past the chatter around her and you’ll notice Sexyy Red is currently right in the middle of a golden run of giddy street anthems reminiscent of Gucci Mane from 2006 to 2009. Few songs crystallize the joy of her sound better than “Get It Sexyy,” which is essentially her superhero theme song. Backed by a rumbling, cartoonish Tay Keith beat that utilizes sexual groans for percussion, Sexyy delivers an ultra-confident ear worm hook and bridge (“Walking through the club looking like a snack” is one howl) that fills you with a surge of skin-glistening self-belief. Consistently making hits that can move crowds like “Get It Sexyy” isn’t easy, and the way Sexxy Red slides over this beat, like someone joyriding a stolen Mercedes Benz, is impossible not to smile along to. It also contains the best reference to a thong since back when Sisqó was popular. —Thomas Hobbs
Adrianne Lenker seems to be floating in space — or maybe just encased in night, lit by only the stars. The opening track from this year’s Bright Future is a nearly formless darkness into which Lenker pours her free-flowing memories of a tumultuous childhood. Her flashbacks are tender in both the heartfelt sense and the raw, her voice trembling with melancholic awe as she follows the relational threads through heavy moments (a hospital visit, the death of a beloved family pet) and ones when she felt lighter than air. “I wanted so much for magic to be real,” she sings, and for six minutes, it is. —Chris DeVille
This year, Nick León and Erika de Casier respectively ascended. Miami native León managed to launch a residency at New York City nightlife institution Nowadays and release music on vaunted labels including Allergy Season, Dekmantel, and Balmat — all surrounding ceaseless bookings in the global party circuit. de Casier orbits the thriving Danish underground, but her February album for 4AD Ltd, Still, was more reminiscent of TLC than ML Buch. On their collaborative single for TraTraTrax, “Bikini,” León and de Casier delivered a poppy Y2K banger. The track practically sweats Dolce & Gabbana cologne, carried by a lurching dembow groove, fluorescent synth arpeggiations, and de Casier’s fervent singing about beachside lust. If you spent Brat summer pregames dreaming of sunlit Goa raves, there’s a good chance you’ve already rinsed this one to smithereens. —Ted Davis
We all suffer from main character syndrome to some extent. But what if you were just the coming attraction in someone else’s love story? Or, in a three-hour epic, the intermission? It’s a punch to the ego, but one Sabrina Carpenter playfully dodges on “Taste,” the bouncy-breezy Short N’ Sweet opener about flings and love triangles. You won’t find Carpenter bummed after her guy gets back with an on-again-off-again ex – instead of wallowing, she highlights the silver lining: “He’s funny, now all his jokes hit different/ Guess who he learned that from?” Carpenter is nobody’s side character – “Taste” yanks back the narrative with a wink and a grin. —Rachel Brodsky
Even if you’re tired of hearing about Charli XCX’s Brat and uninterested in seeing more videos of celebrities doing the “Apple” dance, the groove of the buzzing, existential track is undeniable. It’s probably the catchiest song about intergenerational turmoil. Charli’s familial frustrations and subsequent desire to escape imbue the bright, synthy anthem with contrasting darkness, an irresistible tension that makes Brat as striking as it is. —Danielle Chelosky
Future & Metro Boomin - "Like That" (Feat. Kendrick Lamar) (Epic/Republic)
Before Kendrick Lamar ended the rap war with “Not Like Us,” he declared it with a blockbuster feature on “Like That,” a Future & Metro Boomin single that’s already proven to be one of the most consequential of the decade. Repurposing an immortal Everlasting Bass sample, Metro served up an instrumental designed for detonations, and Kendrick put it to good use, serving up an acrobatic verse that went viral with shots at Drake and J. Cole. The verse was so great that it pretty much overshadowed an incredible hook and verse from Hendrix, whom BossMan Dlow and I agreed absolutely blacked out on the track. But what can I say? Kendrick’s just like that. —Peter A. Berry
“360” is more than a hot dance-pop track that namedrops Julia Fox, Gabbriette, and A.G. Cook. The minimal electroclash number, updated with hyperpop shine, declares victory for the overlooked pop star: “I went my own way and I made it/ I’m your favorite reference baby.” The accompanying video getting online it-girls together and referencing pseudonymous X influencer @skyferrori elevates “360” from celebrity braggadocio to a paean to influence — not influencers per se, but genuine persuasion through good taste. —Devon Chodzin
Over 40 years after their debut, the Cure remain masters of stormy songwriting. “Alone,” a seven-minute epic the band debuted on tour earlier this decade, withholds Robert Smith’s still-potent voice until several minutes in, after the string-heavy arrangement has churned up enough drama to immerse you completely. The sound is almost primordial; few bands are better at making a song about heartbreak sound like the closing credits for the world. —Katherine St. Asaph
On the one hand, it’s a little sad that it took a meme for Tinashe, one of the most assured and charismatic R&B singers out there, to land her biggest hit in a decade. On the other, the meme had a banger attached. “Nasty,” with its minimal 808 booms and expertly winding melody, felt anthemic long before the nerdy white boy put his finger in his mouth. Tinashe sounds exquisitely bored when she asks if somebody is gonna match her freak, and it turns out that lots of people want to know the same thing. —Tom Breihan
Thirty-three EPs and hundreds of songs later, This Is Lorelei offered his first “traditional” album, Box For Buddy, Box For Star. Highlight “I’m All Fucked Up” is the kind of idiosyncratic, infectious masterpiece only a restless artist could make; at four and a half minutes, the jittery tune always flies by too fast, Nate Amos’ “You little sick thing, you had your fun” refrain somehow never getting old. —Danielle Chelosky
You might not have known that Sabrina Carpenter penned her breakout single from her sixth album while sojourning in a small French commune, but you can hear it, right? The song glitters with the chintzy sparkle of French Touch, while its lyrics catch on perfect hooks created by the imperfect language of a non-native speaker. “Espresso” sounds like a pop song passed through Google Translate a dozen times, if Google Translate happened to be run by Max Martin. It’s the American dream of a European summer and the European fantasy of an all-American girl. —Arielle Gordon
On Manning Fireworks, MJ Lenderman crams his verses with silly bits and quippy one-liners before brushing his hair out of his eyes for the chorus’ gut punch. It works most of the time, but nowhere better than “She’s Leaving You.” He proposes a few sarcastic solutions for dealing with heartbreak: “Go rent a Ferrari, and sing the blues.” We’re set up for a classic breakup tune, a song about how he lost her and how it’s all his fault. Instead, Lenderman zooms way out for the chorus, aiming a wide angle lens at a personal tragedy. “It falls apart/ We all got work to do/ It gets dark/ We all got work to do.” The real surprise, however, is that this isn’t the song’s emotional climax — it’s the silence that ends the second verse. As the lights of the Vegas strip twinkle below, Lenderman croons “You’re feeling lucky,” and then trails off. Everything the song has to say is present in that pause. —Keegan Bradford
Thanks to one of the best debut solo singles in recent memory, ex-Little Mix member Jade should have your undivided attention. The whiplash arrangement — shifting from sentimental ballad to cunty club banger and back again — makes for a euphoric listen while mirroring the volatile toxicity of the entertainment industry. It feels like someone sticking a finger in a fresh stab wound from a loved one, while also capturing the invincible high of calling in sick to keep the party going all night. “Angel Of My Dreams” has the madness of Gwen Stefani’s “What You Waiting For?,” the sloppy bliss of Kesha’s “Blow,” and the whistle tone desperation of Mariah Carey’s “We Belong Together” — an instant, disorienting classic. —Margaret Farrell
Chappell Roan rocketed from cult singer-songwriter to megapopstar at mach speed, but she couldn’t have done it if her songs weren’t great fuel. Here, Roan fills every crevice of Dan Nigro’s simple synth arrangement with vocal virtuosity, from contained soprano trills to tormented belting. The anguish and triumph on the bridge will be studied by karaokeists for decades.
Songs about situationships are a beyond-crowded genre, but “Good Luck, Babe!” is remarkably emotionally ambiguous – which, conveniently, lets listeners relate no matter how deep they are in their unrequited feelings. You could easily hear the song as shady well-wishing to a straight girl in denial. Just as easily, you could hear it as empathetic, Roan showing her would-be lover the same grace she extended her younger self, who had to figure it out too. —Katherine St. Asaph
A hit like “Wristwatch” will go down in history for such uncanny lines as “I’ve got a beach house up in Buffalo” and “I’ve got a houseboat docked at the Himbo Dome.” But it’s the pregnant pause after Lenderman’s tech-bro starts “So you say I’ve got a funny face” and the way he hangs onto the word “wristwatch” that exemplify just how pathetic he is. He’s got gadgets and a sweet guitar solo, but not much else. —Devon Chodzin
Among other things, the writer Roxane Gay is known for her nemeses. She doesn’t call them out by name, but she does talk about the way they make her feel. (Classic example from 2018: “My nemesis is having a good year professionally and has clear skin. It’s a lot to take.”) Nemeses — we all have them! But we aren’t all brat enough to confront them (as well as ourselves), let alone work it out on the remix. But then, most of us aren’t Charli XCX, who reached new subversive, cathartic glitchy pop heights by admitting her insecurities about an industry frenemy (Lorde, who battles her own internal demons), inviting a response, and throwing it into an even better version of an existing track. Not only is it a straight banger, but what a PR strategy — one that’ll be studied in the pop labs for the next decade. Kendrick and Drake could never. —Rachel Brodsky
It started out as pure, incandescent disrespect – the knockout blow in a thrilling haymaker exchange between two rap titans. It became something else. Mustard’s propulsive beat and chopped-up Monk Higgins sample and Kendrick Lamar’s bug-eyed motormouth flow became a celebration of California street culture and an undeniable unifier among people who love rap music and are not named Drake. Months of overplay have dulled its impact slightly, but the impact of this joyous hate party went beyond its original context. The memory of that spectacle will linger long after the parties involved chill out – if, indeed, that ever happens. —Tom Breihan
Stability has never been so stimulating. In 2024, “Right Back To It” was the tortoise in a race full of hares, the little adult-contemporary folk-rock song that could. The lead single from Waxahatchee’s Tigers Blood coursed through the year with a steady flow that mirrored both the rhythms of long-term romance and the river Katie Crutchfield cruises, on a boat piloted by the Boat Songs guy, in the memorably chilled-out music video.
“Right Back To It” is a triumph of form and function: a song about a love that does not crash when there are bumps in the road, one you are happy to return to after every fight and freakout, rendered with casual grace and the expertise of people who know their craft as well as Crutchfield and her lover know each other. “But you just settle in/ Like a song with no end,” she sings with Jake Lenderman, her newly minted peer in indie roots-rock royalty, finding gorgeous roughhewn harmony through the grit in each other’s voices.
At times, judging by how often we played this one back this year, it really did feel eternal. “Right Back To It” was fit for listening on loop, compulsively cycling through those sighing melodies, that winding current of banjo, and a simple, beautiful guitar solo that exemplifies the essence of the lyrics. Other tunes came and went this year, but eventually, we always found our way back. —Chris DeVille
Listen to a playlist of the 50 Best Songs Of 2024:
