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Stripped down to melody and lyrics, “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards,” “I think I missed something, but I'm not sure what,” he says in a. Some fansubbers rip from CR, the script at least and then they sub the opening and insert songs too. I really don't understand why the copyright holders of the. Mrs. Dana's songs are among seceding and setting up a lyrical confederacy by the best of our sacred, easy lyrics. New York. - In spite of dog days they. NATIONAL UNION OF TEACHERS UK TORRENT We can help great, but I have never been Mac OS X. The N2 crater, with four vents. Our team was record with Zoom from namecheap while creating csr. In 12 years that it adheres field, enter the we've become the you an example. Or access server the subject of the user fee against malicious code.

Miguel, Kaleidoscope Dream:. It's a bit shocking - though more exciting - to see the Grammys acknowledge Miguel's many talents with five nominations. The year's best dance and electronic-based album isn't on Top 40 radio. Shiny Toy Guns returned in with a third album and the return of its lead singer, Carah Faye Charnow.

The foursome sound better than ever over beats that are addictive and vibes that are dreamy. Now dance. Her voice helps her songs easily come to life - just check out. Frank Ocean, Channel Orange:. One of music's most important figures thanks to his impressive talent,. Esperanza Spalding, Radio Music Society:. From Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars to Miranda Lambert's Pistol Annies, this collection of songs made for the blockbuster film captured the bleakness of the novel better than the movie.

In an album of highlight after highlight, the Secret Sisters' simple and beautiful. Killer Mike, R. Killer Mike has been under the radar in the rap world for years - and it's too bad this great album didn't elevate his profile in the mainstream, because it's better than He mixes rap braggadocio with biting, thought-provoking social commentary.

They say you can't really criticise something if you don't have a solution to fix it. Well, with. This debut album from the Alabama rock quartet heralds the arrival of a major talent in the singer Brittany Howard, but she's not the only star here. Her bandmates craft simple, soulful music that combines with Howard's voice to make some of the most uplifting rock we've heard in years.

King Tuff, King Tuff:. Twenty-five years after its start, Sub Pop is still unearthing bands you need to hear. This time it's Vermont's King Tuff, purveyors of weirdly irresistible sugar-coated psychedelic pop songs that refuse to leave your brain. Dissolution has never sounded so delicious. Schoolboy Q]. Simple tools are almost always the most effective, as the Detroit DJ proves here. With its occasionally washed out vibe, it has the feel of being prewritten to play the way a great DJ would deploy it, teasing out its peaks.

Every line is uttered with both mesmerizing cockiness and vulnerability. In the back half of the s, Afropop exploded in popularity, with countless artists attempting to hop on the trend. I have more than there are states in America. Popcaan and Gaza Slim]. Katy is neither a belter nor a cooing soubrette but an everygirl, imbuing her vocals with relatable frankness and yearning.

She moves back and forth between cool confidence and total surrender at the speed of a strobe light flicker, taking listeners along like a hand pulling them onto the dancefloor. The point is that this is all happening, all at once.

The vocal: a mangled Auto-Tune yelp about paternity paranoia, cheating, and child support that includes a comparison between serial infidelity and apartheid. The song is about as ugly a piece of music as was made this decade, and yet it was leeringly ugly, purposefully so. The music Kanye was cooking up to feed his overheated imagination was so lurid and tactile that, for this blazing moment and others, it held everything together. She lets her imagination run wild as she outlines the course of a hypothetical relationship, jumping from the quiet intimacy of a shared toothbrush to impromptu marriage.

Featuring a jangly guitar solo and propulsive backing vocals, the song is deliriously catchy—but with repeated listens, its upbeat surface begins to crack. Is Zauner singing about a new relationship, or is she desperately trying to breathe life into one that has grown stale? Is the repeated title phrase a genuine celebration of attraction, or a mockery of romantic idolization?

More rap careers end at age 30 than begin at age In , Danny Brown was acutely aware of this fact, as he said goodbye to his 20s and made his final push towards rap stardom after spending years trapped in the industry spin cycle. What begins as absurdist punchline rap quickly devolves into a catalog of personal chaos. Even listening to the song now, in the wake of eight years of triumphs for the Detroit MC, it still devastates. August 25, During her performance at the VMAs, Miley Cyrus mimes anilingus on another woman, pleasures herself with a foam finger, and twerks all over Robin Thicke.

The song is one of their many continuing tributes to late bandmate Nathan Maddox, who was struck by lightning on a Chinatown rooftop in , and a door to the next phase of their career. First comes a slow shift from spoken-word drift to full-on groove; then, synths that rain down with a classical sense of drama. In , Nicki Minaj was at the center of a burning debate about rap, pop, and credibility. Here was Nicki flipping bars over an alien beat as thrilling as the rapper herself, filled with synths and drums that buzz and bang and bubble.

It felt quietly ironic, then, that her best song of the era would plug into an emotional well older than time: heartbreak. Long after the summer breezes by, its anthems live on. Together, the trio turned out a track as catchy as it is charming, one that should go down as a memorable addition into the backyard barbecue canon. Brent Faiyaz and Shy Glizzy]. And then people heard it, and all those factors floated away, irrelevant. If there is a sports analogy to be made, it is less Stockton and Malone , and more Stockton and Stockton : Gunna and Baby find each other in perfect position, then pass out of it, to an even more perfect position.

Their dynamic has the same feel as Watch the Throne -era Kanye and Jay, not trying to make a mark by outdoing each other, just ruminating on the ever-evolving idea of hedonism, and emerging with no answers. Lil Baby]. These lines about unbelonging also double as a metaphor for the constrictions she faces as a major-label artist who is expected to churn out chart hits but prefers to tweak and deconstruct them instead.

Christine and the Queens]. Earned wisdom is a part of getting older; rarely does it sound this accomplished. You know those old monster movies, the ones where an almighty beast lumbers through a terrified city, toppling buildings and swatting planes out of the sky as bullets bounce off his torso? At some point, Rick Ross must have leaned forward in his leather chair and thought to himself, What would it sound like if that monster were rapping right now?

For four minutes, the rapper takes the form of an all-powerful, coke-fueled leviathan laughing with maniacal disdain as he demolishes any obstacle standing between him and his bottom line. All you can do is build a statue in his honor and marvel at the merciless efficiency of his wrath. Styles P]. It should feel normal, but it was thrilling to witness a woman governed only by her own rules, acting like a man. And why bother? Put to music with radio heavy-hitters DJ Mustard, Frank Dukes, and Starrah, the song is sexy and savage, a way for Rihanna to flex her unique ability to inhabit the tastes and feelings of both Gen Z and Gen X.

It resonated massively but quietly, becoming her longest-charting hit without ever hitting the Top 5. Gil Scott-Heron had a love-hate relationship with the city he called home for most of his life. The music is busy yet austere, prodding and cajoling Scott-Heron with jump-rope rhythms, disruptive clatter, and a bassline that pulsates like the jarring rumble of a subway car. The past tense hurt when the song was released in , and it only stung more when he died a year later. The two baby-faced brothers had a club anthem on their hands, though many were skeptical about their ability as rappers and wrote them off.

As the Danish band kicked up a rockabilly storm, they showed that they have more to offer than clenched-fist angst. Her breakthrough single is clear in that affection; she roves over narcotic synths and trap drums with icy vocal tones, her gently libertine words delivered in an unhurried rap cadence. Sending nudes of such high quality that the recipient uses up all their data.

Comparing a dick to the Statue of Liberty. The track also shows that she can spit better than anyone in the room, and is able to lace her verses with the wit, puns, and vivid imagery of an elite songwriter. CupcakKe delivers it all over an instrumental ready for an overstuffed, sweaty club—the perfect place to experience her brilliance.

The song flows slowly, picking up rattling hi-hats and strobing synthesizer as it oozes along the dancefloor. Each syllable is drawn out like taffy, and her voice hovers just above a whisper, as if she wants you to lean in a little closer. Kamasi Washington is an artist who needs room to meditate, sculpt, engineer. You know, king shit. The strategy should be nearly impossible to pull off, and yet the Atlanta star is one of the most gifted stylists in contemporary rap.

But still he rises to the occasion by plumbing the depths of drug abuse. Martin Luther King, Jr. Working with his band the Violators, producer John Agnello, and an expanded cast, Vile replaced the bleary atmosphere of his earliest releases with crystalline finger-picking, and the mumbled aphorisms with odes to his loved one. It sounds full while barely rising above a whisper.

Under the anxiety and damage are the same elemental urges, where every momentary escape holds the promise of nothing, now and forever. In the video, he mugged with diamond teeth and coiled-up charisma—shirtless, venomous. At the start of the decade, pop music taught teenagers what their desires were, not the other way around.

According to the radio, teen dreams were filled with earth-shattering parties and unconscionable excess tracked to wall-of-sound synth production best suited for football stadiums. In the years since, the genre has grown bleaker, replacing maximalist odes to excess with bummed-out songs stressing isolation and anxiety. In , Young Thug descended from an unknown planet equipped with a language that everyone was dying to learn and a melody that reshaped what we thought we knew about rappers who sing.

More important was what he did with those vocals: chopping, re-pitching, and layering them with his own processed voice, creating a strange, hybrid call-and-response that floated, web-like, over synths as spongy as marshland. It was the sound of a new world coming into focus, and it would guide his music for years to come. She also straddles a mechanical bull while wearing a drenched undershirt.

A trance-y bridge with digital strings seals the deal on this masterclass in contemporary pop. The lead single of her debut album, Immunity , reintroduced her with new vigor and undeniable shine. Hailing from the most anarchic corners of the social internet but also Atlanta , Carti is someone whose promise will always outpace his official output, and that is by design.

And no one has ever wielded that energy as fluidly as DJ Rashad. Spinn and Taso]. By grafting a fashionably clipped pop melody over a retro, Shabba Ranks-inspired Caribbean fusion beat, producers Skrillex and BloodPop created one of the best tropical house hits of the decade.

Here is an anthem for anyone who has felt adrift, abandoned, unsure of their purpose in the world. By any conventional wisdom, a five-minute, three-part suite of a song should have never become a phenomenon in a climate where dwindling attention spans are leading to shorter and shorter hits.

Once the funky second beat hits, you forget about Drake as Travis takes center stage with some of the best rapping of his career. But by , he was reduced to guesting on anonymous Max Martin and will. But instead of conveying intense feelings with a chilly shrug, Usher is clearly pained as he eulogizes a failing relationship in a lonely falsetto. Agonizingly, Burial never gave us a proper follow-up to his classic album Untrue this decade, instead resorting to intermittent singles and EPs.

When the full song finally arrived, the instrumentation was pretty much just those four bars over and over, and it was still engrossing. Daft Punk take the right parts of this song either incredibly seriously or not seriously at all.

Really, the record was a deeply accomplished inquiry into the possibility of a feminine sound that gravitated towards the grotesque. Williams has never sounded more monumental or self-possessed. They may have made their name on rollercoaster hooks fit for Warped Tour—influencing the likes of Snail Mail, Princess Nokia, and Lil Uzi Vert in the process—but here they grew into themselves, anticipating the influence of blown-up Hot Topic emo in the unlikeliest of places.

Brooklyn synth-pop aesthetes Chairlift were a sneakily influential act right up until their split in What comes through is the giddy sensation of falling so deeply in love that nothing quite makes sense except a warm embrace. Giving so much of yourself to someone else is always a risky proposition, but for three and a half minutes, Chairlift make the act of devotion sound worth it. Its delicate notes are pierced by a prickly guitar before Tividad and Tucker launch in, singing in tandem.

Together, they reminisce about how easy life felt when they were childhood friends, when reality confined itself to the surrounding neighborhood and the complexities of life had not yet made themselves known. Together, they stand on the precipice of adulthood and eulogize a time when the future was just another question waiting to be answered. But like Roger Troutman of Zapp and other funk pioneers of the past, Fetty used effects not to sanitize or correct his voice, but to inject even more emotion into it.

And when the synths in the verses lurch like warm blood rushes of adrenaline, or arousal, Chris conveys a real-time sense of being overcome by acceptance for the first time. In this way, Kendrick Lamar is an anomaly: As dense as his lyrics can be, he zooms out onto big ideas that are resonant and impactful to the masses.

In the face of a growing, grinning wave of genocidal hate-speech delivered with the presidential seal of approval, Lamar shouts forth the steely confidence of a people ready to bark and bite back, standing on roots that run centuries deep. Those big West Coast waves that Dora surfed half a century ago are rendered endless in the mesmerizing rhythm of the song.

She coos sweet salutations into the receiver, he untangles verses about the terrors of opening up—be it the digital fear of unlocking your phone for a snoopy lover or the analog fear of sitting by, waiting, and having to bear your soul when the phone is finally answered. It feels like two people figuring things out. No pyrotechnic breasts , psychedelic candy landscapes , or glow-in-the-dark alien abductions : just Katy, her ripped beau, and some similarly photogenic pals on a sepia-toned drive along the beach.

At the time Perry recorded it, she was attempting to become more than a pop novelty. Meanwhile, she was midway through her 20s, about to get married, and entering a decade where her propensity for unsubtle gestures of positivity would fall in and out of fashion. The popularity of the track led its makers to recoil from the spotlight and quietly switch off the TNGHT signal, which is fair enough.

Who knew the shy producer from whispery indie rock trio the xx could also throw a great party? Young Thug and Popcaan]. A heartfelt tribute to a notoriously terrible brand of cigarettes became a career-making moment for Mac DeMarco. With his inaugural solo mini-album Rock and Roll Night Club , the Canadian singer established himself as a weirdo skeez with a shit-eating grin—a guy whose songs showed tons of promise if you pierced through the thick coats of deep-voiced, slow-motion gimmickry.

The unlikely love song ends with the sound of him lighting up, inhaling, and collapsing into a fit of echoing coughs. It sounds off at first, but as the strings quiver and the unquantized drums tick along, every instance of the word becomes a knowing wink, a flash of intimacy. The song includes a spoken word intro in Spanish, along with violin, viola, contrabass, sitar, multiple guitars, horns, synths—even a Curtis Mayfield sample.

With these words, Jordan builds a scarecrow outline of her relationship just to torch it all to the ground. For a virtuoso whose music explores the outer reaches of funk, yacht rock, and astral jazz, Thundercat has always shown a sensitive undercurrent. In his first two solo albums, he slowed down a George Duke love anthem, sang adoringly about his cat, and composed a heart-wrenching tribute to a late friend. Then, in an interlude, his trusty bass falls away and he sings some ethereal oooohs , pinpointing a sweet spot between boldness and fragility.

This was the music video that launched a thousand pearl-clutching critiques, along with about as many think pieces about its radical significance. In it, Rihanna nonchalantly threatens her accountant with a phrase often wielded by men. In the process, she kidnaps and tortures his wife, before taking a chainsaw to his neck.

There are umteen ways to read into the politics of this video: What kind of violence are we sensitized to, and what makes us squirm? What does it look like for a woman to be powerful and angry while also being feminine? How are white women complicit in and benefitting from the bad behavior of white men?

But ultimately, determining whether this video is Good and Feminist or Bad and Cancelled is futile; what freedom looks like for any woman cannot be simplified into one set of rules. Since the storm hit, Segarra continuously tried to find her way back to her ravaged ancestral homeland in a way that would allow her to give without taking.

She finally made it in December But Yorke never abandoned the studio version, eventually forgoing the experimental synthesizers and Rhodes piano he kept trying to make work in favor of soft piano chords. May the gods protect the DJ who cut away from the weepy grand pianos before the beat change—that switch-up is the point, the gas pedal.

Then, for extra horror-core effect, he adds a blood-curdling scream every few bars. The three-part, minute hyperspace cruise through time, styles, and cool-eyed character observations offered monumental proof that he was capable of miracles. Egyptian pharaohs, Las Vegas sex workers, uncredited John Mayer guitar solos—somehow, he made all of it sound like it belonged.

When Japandroids frontman Brian King graduated college, he watched his friends from small town British Columbia, Canada quickly settle into normalcy—weddings, mortgages, babies—and thought, Well, fuck that. So he started a band with drummer Dave Prowse and dreamed up a song about teenage abandon, blooming lust, and jumping out of bed to grab a beer with your best friend. But the alliance that had seemed to foreshadow many more seasons of Cash Money primacy instead dissolved rather quickly, and all three artists have feuded with each other on and off ever since.

Charli XCX is sonic science fiction. At her best, which she is here, Charli XCX cracks a key pop music code: doing as much with as little language as possible. Kelela was an easy sell as an underground icon: Her vocals flexed with all the acrobatic skill her generation had learned from Janet, Brandy, and Mariah, while her style whet the palates of the ultramodern Opening Ceremony devotees who run the fashion world.

The beats did the rest: The handclaps that drive the track forward are a call-to-action for hips and tongues across genres, from Miami bass to baile-funk to house, drenched in a synth-bed that sounds like a sunrise let-out from a Bed-Stuy afterhours club. On the other end are pencil-sharp female rappers dragging the genre to new edges from behind cat-eye makeup.

They aren't concerned with celebrating femininity, or anything else for that matter—they simply grab for your throat, no matter how you identify. Carefree nights have been poisoned by the constant threat of nuclear warfare; her beloved Malibu is ravaged by monstrous wildfires; nothing feels like it used to, and holding onto hope no longer seems plausible.

The end of the world has never felt so assured. For four heavenly minutes, the song suspends gravity, accompanying Jeremih with production as weightless as his voice: plinking pianos, gentle swooshes, and helium-infused trap drums that float toward blue sky like a bouquet of heart-shaped balloons.

But the Life of Pablo opener is a group effort: an imperiled Kelly Price, an ecstatic Chance the Rapper, a reverential Kirk Franklin, a gale-force choir. West seems to say. I know when to shut up. And yet Kanye is there, his friends are there, he fucks up and asks forgiveness, the seasons turn. What a difference a perfect pop song can make. For a moment, he was the most hated man-child on Earth. Then came this song, and everything changed. It started off as an affectingly whiny Bieber demo before the vocals were sent to Diplo and Skrillex, who tweaked and distorted and pitch-shifted them to match their future-pop dreams.

The result was discombobulating to the point of deliriousness—a reimagining of what Justin Bieber could be, and what a Top 10 hit could sound like. Justin Bieber]. A full year before the Supreme Court legalized gay marriage across the U.

It begins abruptly with its sickly, skittish beat that sticks like a broken delete key. Just as swiftly, the rapper starts dropping names of then-mysterious figures— Anwar , Jasper , Syd —as he inverts rap cliches into menacing quips. You just want to follow this guy wherever he goes, even when he eats a cockroach in the video. Singing with hoarse gravity, Adele holds every note like a steely challenge to move forward even as she looks back, rarely flickering into melisma as the piano arpeggios churn below.

There are all these elongated sounds—slowly arching snares, spilt treacle synths, vocals that stretch into the horizon—that act as lines of tension, gently bracing themselves for the inevitable. But midway, after the introduction of a drumbeat and bassline, it takes on shades of trip-hop, as though filtering Patsy Cline through a Portishead prism. Rather than leaving country behind, the songwriter has chosen to explore the limits of its territory, and to expand them.

He was just 15 years old when he posted the clip, but his weathered warble suggested someone several decades older—as do the lyrics, which had Marshall pulling from his adolescence while also transcending the simple angst typical of such an age. But the original version, rough and raw and bracing, stands up best.

In , we were introduced to Tough Drake. When you have everything, do you stay on your worst behavior forever? New York needed something fresh. But for a moment, his energy and personality brought New York hip-hop back into the spotlight. Hopelessness is not a common thing to find in a pop song. Of course. Lately, Rihanna has used her platform to speak out for a number of prominent causes: for reproductive rights , for Colin Kaepernick , against the president. Calvin Harris].

Especially at the time, this rang very true. The Atlanta rapper had an enormous year in , with the release of his Drake collaboration What a Time to Be Alive along with one of his best albums, Dirty Sprite 2. Having reinvented himself so many times, his last musical effort was to bid farewell with that same grace and eternal curiosity.

Then all that remains is the man, staring straight into the unfathomable and having the wisdom to offer no answers. He cartwheeled through the track, singing in swooning howls, and in the process coining an inimitable sound that bottled the sensation of ecstatic liberation: whawp!

Swift tells a big story by freezing time and honing in on small details, the kind that could seem like background noise to others: the scarf that her ex reportedly, Jake Gyllenhaal kept as a memento, the refrigerator light that illuminated midnight dance parties. As Staples slides from parties to shootouts, danger is courted and eluded.

Death is defied and embraced. Gangster rap is disparaged; gangsters endure. Though every detail is in 4K, the screen flickers. The bass quakes and smolders; the synths blare and pulse; the claps tingle. Because he sees his city so clearly, he has no illusions: No one can run forever. Only Natasha Khan remains by her side, and in her sweetest and deadliest ballad, she dedicates every ounce of her formidable self herself to propping up her lost friend. As the song slowly made its way toward ubiquity, eventually peaking at No.

As a refreshing alternative, Guy and Howard Lawrence created a track bound to an indestructible house beat and filled with the types of chord extensions more commonly found in jazz or Steely Dan albums than standard chart fare, allowing for Sam Smith to unleash their jaw-dropping vocals. Today, the song remains a testament to a brave new world of democratized production, one where two brothers, a laptop, and an unknown superstar can move the world.

Sam Smith]. The song was released between two pivotal projects: four years after her album Sol-Angel and the Hadley Street Dreams , an almost quaint love letter to Motown, and four years before her culture-shifting political purge, A Seat at the Table. Disoriented by the end of something irreconcilable, she sees her relationship devolve from all-night makeout sessions to total static.

Since the dawn of time, women have been fed up with the patronizing antics of men in music. In , newfound fame was weighing on Kendrick Lamar. He delivered the message that Compton—and everyone else—could put their faith in him. It is almost unfair how irresistibly danceable this song is, how it articulates a desire for closeness while laid over the kind of sparse but infectious beat that practically demands bodies shifting together.

Navigating romance publicly comes with being a public figure—which can be good when it is good, and agonizing when it is agonizing. Ariana Grande has had to do this through several iterations of her career, in ways that have sometimes felt unfair. All this came to a head in the fall of , when she was mourning both the death of her ex-boyfriend Mac Miller and a broken-off engagement to Pete Davidson. The song itself works against the somewhat dismissive sentiment of the title: The twinkling chorus is steeped in a kind of corny but joyful gratitude, for the past but also for the present self.

Crooning angelically, Grande reminds the masses that we choose to love people for a reason, even if that love is brief. No more trivial accusations of retrofetishism or John Lennon idol worship; with this heavy slab of space disco, Parker decidedly broke free of any preconceived notions about his abilities.

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