The hardest part of reducing an entire year of new music down to just 10 standout songs isn’t so much hitting the right balance of genres—say, weighing coke-rap disses against alt-country ballads about getting Reynolds-Woodcocked in a relationship—as it is sorting through the various contexts of singles we’ve heard over the past 12 months. Some tracks gain points for carrying an otherwise-unmemorable release, while others can be hard to choose among the dozen other equally worthy songs on a likely-to-be modern classic’s track list (here’s further reading on 50 of those). That doesn’t even cover the singles that tease a momentous 2026 for a handful of artists gearing up for another album cycle.
As always, we did the best we could as we additionally struggled to balance the political against the type of music that makes us forget about all of that, if only for three minutes (well, it seems like the latter category won out this year). In doing so, we hope to strip away all of that context to re-present these songs under a new one: the 10 biggest musical highlights setting the stage for the second half of the decade.
10. Sudan Archives, “Dead”
Brittney Parks’ best songs feel like entire worlds unto themselves, or interplanetary voyages in a matter of minutes. On Natural Brown Prom Queen, her 2022 breakthrough record as Sudan Archives, a track like “NBPQ (Topless)” snowballed as if frantically channel-flipping through genres and sounds, while something like the R&B slow-burn of “ChevyS10” gradually built to a climax where the road opened impossibly wide, the destinations seemingly infinite. “Dead” makes an exemplary new addition to this canon, as both the lead single for The BPM and the scene-setting album opener. Beginning with an orchestral flourish like the entr’acte bridging Sudan Archives’ past and present, the curtains soon part to reveal a soaring headrush of Jersey club and boom-bap.
Parks uses the violin that’s been integral to Sudan Archives’ DNA since the beginning as emphatic countermelody, keeping it prominent even when the track is bathed in throbbing bass pulses. Like much of her last record, the composition and lyricism of “Dead” calls attention to the multitudes that Parks is made of—in identity, in influence, in impulse. Her verses shirk the concept of wearing “matching gloves,” and instead relish in her many simultaneous selves, with the accompanying drop into drill ’n’ bass explosion serving as final proof of her nimble versatility. “Dead” is a sweeping statement of purpose and a full-throated dance floor rager. In its refusal to stay static or monotone for too long, it exists as a world that’s wholly Sudan Archives’ own. — Natalie Marlin
9. Robyn, “Dopamine”
Long before the inception of the gilded, Zoomer-approved, electro-gliding girl-pop sound—its comfortably numb discoid pulse and the Brat-baited aesthetic of Charli XCX and Lorde—Stockholm-based producer, composer, and vocalist Robyn saw it, did it, perfected it, produced the T-shirt en masse, and moved back and forth within her discovery of alt-heartbroken tone and tenor for three decades running. Famously defined without confinement as a queen of the forlorn banger and busted-romance robo-pop, she made the maudlin merry and sensual nearly 30 years ago with her debut album, Robyn Is Here, continued to re-envision the frownie-faced, dance-pop genre with Body Talk, then again—louder—with 2018’s Honey.
So, what is “Dopamine,” then, if not an immediate, self-described and -prescribed body-rush through throbbing rhythm, a euphoric, euphonic, glam-sonic atmosphere, and the tactile, seductive promise of “nothing cutting you as deep” and “nothing tasting just as sweet” as something so out of reach, yet as near as one’s own skin? Such subtle propulsion and moody banger bliss is gorgeously deposed on the original single take—so much so that it became an instant classic upon its release just last month. And yet, somehow, having its newer-still wintry version with Jamie xx bringing his shoegaze shot-glass booziness to the remix makes Robyn sound impossibly sexier and more palpable—more “real” feeling, in her words. — A.D. Amorosi
8. Gorillaz feat. Sparks, “The Happy Dictator”
In 2017, Gorillaz released Humanz, which was recorded during Donald Trump’s first presidential campaign and imagined a dark future if Trump actually won. Now, that future is coming on, so to speak, and Gorillaz are about to unleash The Mountain, described to us by the project’s musical mastermind Damon Albarn as a “great fantasy about the afterlife and the Trumpian age” and political in their “slightly obtuse, slightly abstract, weird way.” And perhaps no song contained the multitudes, attitudes, and verisimilitudes of the bonkers year 2025 more than the album’s deceptively whimsical lead single, “The Happy Dictator.”
A jaunty synthpop-eretta starring art-rock legends Sparks, on its shiny 2D surface “The Happy Dictator” sounds, well, quite happy. But listen a bit closer: The tonally shifting track was actually inspired by Albarn’s trip to Turkmenistan, where President Serdar Berdimuhamedow maintains a systematic suppression of the media, ensuring that the government is only reported in a positive light. As a megaphoned Albarn grimly intones, cult-leader-like, “No more bad neeews” while accompanied by a megachurch-sized chorus of blissed-out, multi-tracked Russell Maels, the duality is chilling. Leave it to a cartoon band to create some of the realest soundtracks for these strange timez. — Lyndsey Parker
7. Geese, “Long Island City Here I Come”
Geese is risen, and “Long Island City Here I Come” is their gospel—half revelation, half inside joke told over a burning trash can while waiting for the R train. It’s an epic album closer for an epic band that had an epic year, yes, but it’s also the sound of a group cackling in fate’s face. Cameron Winter sings like a prophet who’s accidentally glimpsed the end of the world: “I have no idea where I’m going / Here I come.” It’s a lyric for the ages, a shrug turned into scripture. Every line here could be carved into a bathroom stall or a church pew. “The Lord has a lot of friends, and in the end / He’ll probably forget he’s met you before,” he reassures Joan of Arc. Yup, Joan of Arc is there, and so is Buddy Holly and Charlemagne and some guy who wants to be tossed around like a yo-yo.
Underneath it all, the piano is mischievous and unhinged, a little tin-can time machine channeling Charlie Chaplin’s slapstick. Max Bassin’s percussion lands with the fury of a thousand fists, while Dominic DiGesu’s bass ramps up to smite demons in the sixth circle. “Long Island City Here I Come” is a song that’s seen the past and doesn’t have much hope for the future. It knows everything is the same, that everything is a slog, and it’s still ready to wreak havoc. Maybe we don’t know where we’re going, but we’re coming anyway—laughing, shouting, howling, stumbling forward. — Margaret Farrell
6. Clipse feat. Kendrick Lamar, “Chains & Whips”
“You’d think it’d be valor amongst veterans,” Pusha T raps in the first verse of Clipse’s confrontational “Chains & Whips.” It’s a half-hearted lament, a sarcastic one that nonetheless arrives as a decidedly incongruous utterance in the midst of the searing lyrical barrage that King Push, Malice, and guest vocalist Kendrick Lamar unleash throughout the cut. Culled from Clipse’s stellar return LP Let God Sort Em Out, the Virginia duo’s first studio album since 2009’s Til the Casket Drops, “Chains & Whips” contains some of the year’s most layered, impressive, and stinging disses.
Pusha aims most of his verse at long-time rival Jim Jones, calling out the former Dipset member’s knock-off jewelry, as well as his incessant jealousy and lack of cultural significance. In the second verse, Malice unsurprisingly brings a Biblical bent to his scourge, equating himself to one who delivers life and abundance while the target of his scorn (Drake, most likely) comes to kill, steal, and destroy. A sly reference to The Wire keeps the life and death contrasts going, setting the stage for Kendrick, whose song-sealing missive keeps the anti-Drake rhetoric flowing. K.Dot equates his own material’s power to that detailed in the book of Genesis, expressing how he’ll send his detractors back to “the cosmics,” as he cleverly side-steps a slant rhyme. But in a cut filled with brutal bars, one presumably aimed at Kanye is particularly biting, saying that a finger wave would make him fall like Jenga. And with that—set up with atmospheric, eerie production from Pharrell Williams—it all falls into place as one of the best songs of the year. — Soren Baker
5. Wet Leg, “Catch These Fists”
Six years into their tenure as the only thing that truly matters where rule-Britannia post-punk in the 21st century is concerned, the sophomore album from Wet Leg easily expanded upon the vision of their eponymously titled first disc. Co-founding guitarist Hester Chambers was louder, their one-time side-person rhythmic section and third guitarist became more fully integrated into the band, and their entire soundscape was bigger, rounder, and all-around more full-blooded. What remained in-tact between Wet Leg, Moisturizer, and “Catch These Fists” was the classically contagious writing and crafting capabilities of vocalist Rhian Teasdale. If a case was to be made for who is among the 2020s’ finest songwriters in the rock idiom, pop-punk division, Teasdale moved to the front of the line with Wet Leg’s first album.
And now, with “Catch These Fists,” she pretty much clears away all competitors with a track that sounds as tossed-off and intuitive-impromptu as it does immensely thought-out and icily detailed—those being the best kinds of hits in mathematical Phil Spector fashion. Composed with bassist Ellis Durand, “Catch These Fists” approximates the rough-edged joie de vivre of The Shangri-Las with a new-school, girls-just-want-to-have-uninterrupted-fun vibe as it tosses off unwanted advances of overly oblivious males. With icy line readings (“He don’t get puss, he get the boot”; “Some guy comes up and says I’m his type / I just threw up in my mouth”) becoming part of their lyrical dialog, Wet Leg truly and iconically make the best out of their bad situation with a badass musical move. — A.D. Amorosi
4. Alex G, “Afterlife”
If I’ve learned one thing in perusing the many, many best-of music lists that have already arrived this end-of-year season, it’s that 2025 might be the year of least consensus that I can recall. And yet, I can remember a day back in late May when all the world’s music writers hustled to their collective keyboards to declare that they’d found, without a doubt, the definitive Song of the Summer. And sure, such a declaration in this day and age is patently absurd, but this is the effect that Alex G—longtime critical darling and reluctant indie-rock savior—has on people.
After all, “Afterlife” is really a wonderful encapsulation of what the Philadelphia-based songwriter does best: undeniably catchy in its stomping melody, genuinely pretty in its blend of mandolin and a flood of synths, and otherworldly in its dense, layered production. Also, like many an Alex G song, its evocative and largely impenetrable lyrics walk a tightrope of absurdity. “We were mean and 17,” he sings in the opening verse, “Clean, like kerosene, candy, and porno magazines.” Which…sure! But it’s the way he sings it, in an almost pained bit of anguished reverie, that sticks. Despite his constant shirking of the limelight, winding song structures, and inscrutable lyricism, Alex G still churns out songs like “Afterlife” that make you feel something, a feat not to be taken lightly. — Sean Fennell
3. Tyler, the Creator, “Sugar on My Tongue”
Tyler, the Creator began 2025 with a simple mission: to get people dancing like no one (and absolutely everyone) is watching. Less than a year after his ambitious, introspective Chromakopia album, the LA-based rapper-producer swerved into the retro-futurism of Don’t Tap the Glass, an album steeped in ’80s hip-hop and electro, down to the cover photo’s oversized gold rope. You can also hear his new sense of freedom from self-seriousness, as Tyler steps deep into the kaleidoscopic grooves.
The rapturous “Sugar on My Tongue” was the second single released from the album (following the deeply romantic “Ring Ring Ring”), and it’s a lusting, anxious ode to oral sex—giving and receiving. Playful and relentless, silly and outrageous (“Tell your mama / Tell your daddy / Tell the world!”), the track goes full electro with funky layers of synths, 808s, bass, and keys to set your summer dance party aflame. Though it just missed hitting the Billboard Top 40, “Sugar on My Tongue” was a TikTok sensation. The artist sometimes known as Tyler Okonma wrote and produced the song solo (notable on an album that includes the formidable Pharrell Williams and Madison McFerrin). Even when he strips things down to a charmingly rudimentary electro beat, the party never stops, as Tyler maintains his position as a preeminent explorer of hip-hop from the fourth dimension. — Steve Appleford
2. PinkPantheress, “Illegal”
Unless you’ve somehow isolated yourself from the seemingly inescapable tendrils of TikToks, Reels, and other short-form content, PinkPantheress’ earworm single “Illegal” has probably nestled itself into your head long enough for the British alt-pop artist to claim squatters’ rights. In fact, the viral hit’s opening line—“My name is Pink and I’m really glad to meet you”—has become so ubiquitous that it might have supplanted Eminem as the preeminent “My name is” song reference, at least among Zoomers. This is only right, of course, given Pink’s strong claim to being the truest embodiment of the generation putting music out today. Sure, there’s the Olivias and the Sabrinas and the Chappells, but there’s something about Pink’s unconcerned aura, obsession with plaid fabrics, and meticulous rise through TikTok that might just give her the edge.
Having the song of the summer helps, too. “Illegal,” at its core, is about smoking lots of really dank weed (an activity that is notably illegal in the UK). Apparently it also could have been about procuring a male escort, but Pink decided to fall back to the loud, as it was more true to form. The track speeds up an Underworld sample to get the heart fluttering before Pink steps around the corner with you to take a few hits and reinforce the drums. Synths sneak in the back while you get higher, heart palpitating. By the time you realize the sample has made way for a drum break, Pink is just a tartan blur on her bed: “I think I smoked enough loud to reach the both of us,” she croons as you come to the greened-out realization that PinkPantheress will outsmoke you every time (“Wow!”). Is this illegal? It feels illegal. — Kevin Crandall
1. Wednesday, “Elderberry Wine”
Wednesday delivered a gorgeous meditation on love and its flowering risks with the single “Elderberry Wine” upon announcing their latest effort, Bleeds. And it’s not just a palate cleanser for future setlists—the track opens their sixth studio album to explore the alt-country and folk sides of the heavily fuzzed-out shoegaze previously heard on their 2023 breakthrough, Rat Saw God. The track is steeped in Americana, featuring a lush, melancholic pedal steel guitar that complements Karly Hartzman’s bittersweet lyrics. The song’s narrative is rich in evocative details, mentioning the angelic hum of an EV at an airport pickup, crying at commercials, and floating pink boiled eggs. The opening line sets the ultimate emotional stakes for the song: “Sweet song is a long con.”
The track’s title refers to a traditional drink made from black elderberries that need to be processed in order to remove trace amounts of toxic compounds found in the raw fruit, leaves, and stems. If consumed raw or improperly prepared, they can induce vomiting and sickness. Hartzman seized upon this delicate duality, explaining that the track is about the potential for sweet things in life (love, family, success) to become poisonous if not prepared correctly. This idea is poignantly encapsulated in the chorus—“’Cause even the best champagne still tastes like elderberry wine”—as it suggests that even the most celebratory, pure moments in a relationship are tinged with the underlying risk and inevitable bitterness that comes with deep connection. Your underbelly is exposed to the ones you love most.
With its raw, acoustic sensibility and personal storytelling (the recording of the track followed the breakup of Hartzman and the band’s fellow singer-songwriter/guitarist MJ Lenderman), “Elderberry Wine” is an achingly honest love song beyond 2025 that provides a strong platform for the rest of Bleeds to unfold from. It cracks open the heart of what Wednesday means to so many, as the precarious intersection of one stirring moment that splits your life in two. Love without poisoning is the goal, but sometimes any given Wednesday can turn into a Tilt-a-Whirl of disaster and devotion. — Kyle Lemmon
