Wednesday, December 27, 2017

Top 50 Songs of 2017 - Ricky Lai


I refuse to pad this intro out, and instead shall move right into the crux of the list – as that is what you are here for, right?

Top 50 Songs of 2017



And the wind shushed against the back of my neck as Bicep reminded me of the atmospheric beauty that could lie within ambient house and techno joints.

Best moment: 2:56 - Those staccato woodwinds are the iciest sound of all.




Earlier in the year, I voiced a rather undesirable opinion about Lil Pump for ultra-distorted beats and spewing the same lyric over and over. Then SOPHIE came forward with “Ponyboy” and I began krumping ‘till my elbows hurt.

Best moment: Who on earth is that singing so soulfully at 1:33? She kills it!




The lesser involvement of Daniel Rossen may have perturbed some long-time Grizzly Bear fans from their latest release Painted Ruins, an album dabbling in electronics and conjuring its atmosphere from looser songwriting and synthetic textures. In other words, it might’ve felt a bit more robotic to some, and not quite as enchanting for those who like to hear all that raw, acoustic stuff.

Errr… but I liked it a fair bit, actually.

“Mourning Sound” was Grizzly Bear’s catchiest song since their hit opus “Two Weeks”, and that’s certainly saying a lot. I would happily voice my love for the driving beat on this track, the sparkly synth melodies that tinkle between choruses, and the general feel of mystery that this track sounds like it’s soaked in.

Best moment: Almost two minutes in, when Ed Droste sings the melody for "I walk to the sound of dogs". The air of mystery is afoot.





Out of all the big trap rap bangers that came out this year – “Mask Off”, “Bodak Yellow”, “Magnolia” and the like – it was Uzi Vert that swooped in and delivered one of the most memorable, anthemic hooks. Even if the tune itself is an earworm, the instrumental itself does a fantastic job of channeling the unsettling darkness that the lyrics carry.

Best Moment: The intro. It's all that I need to hear for rowdy memories of mid-year holidays during my last year of high-school to come flooding back in an overwhelming rush.




Broken Social Scene used to be one of the rotten ones, and I liked ‘em for that.
Imagine them knocking out another hope-affirming anthem.


They did.

Best moment: 2:57 - The group's vocalists harmonise on an anthemic bridge, but Ariel Engel wanders off to sing her own staccato melody underneath it. Gosh, it fits so well.





With a piano beat reminiscent of the Wii Shop Channel music, and Aminé being the charismatic face we’ve come to expect after hit singles “Caroline” and “Spice Girl”, it was this uppity, fun summer jam “Beach Boy” that stuck out to me as the biggest highlight from his debut album.

Best moment: The vocal layering on "Who knows what the future holds!".




Give me a solid minute – I’ma find my old copy of ATV Mania for the PlayStation and make this my background music.

Best moment: The falsetto when Jesse sings "Stone me to sleep!".





The viral bedroom pop single from the very wholesome and adorable Clairo proved its staying power in the digital age where the lo-fi, homemade ethos seems so refreshing among the other overproduced, glossed-up products you might find alongside. It’s a theme for those lazy Sunday afternoons where you bury yourself in the bedroom and play with the beat settings on your Casio keyboard.

Best moment: "I don't need your negativity", a lyric sung untimely the year before everyone began accusing the poor gal of being an industry plant.





In a year full of amateurish YouTuber-constructed songs about boasting and supposedly “rising to the top”, Kimbra’s was… well… good?
That was a horrid way to introduce this song, I apologise.

Kimbra’s bold new single doesn’t just sound triumphant, it also sounds like the scarring battle itself to rise to that pedestal. With extremely colourful production provided by Skrillex (yes, you read that quite correctly), Kimbra brings out a song tenser than her previous material, so much that when she says “I’m on top of the world” multiple times, I don’t doubt her for a damn second.

Best moment: The way the tension starts ramping up tenfold at 1:23. Chills, every single time.





Orchestral pop band The Family Crest stun with a lush dance tune that makes up for its straightforwardness with its theatrics. In other words, it just sounds really damn gorgeous.

Best moment: Just when you thought this song wasn't rich enough already, the final chorus brings in a saxophone that bleeds over the top like a chocolate ganache.





John Gourley must be wearing tight pants to hit those notes so effortlessly. This is a funky change of pace from Portugal. The Man – it was a stylistic switch I was ambivalent about until I heard this song. My mind shook, and my rump soon followed suit.

Best moment: I must be honest, it's the bass on the intro that gets me always.





Even if it sounds as allayed as Mac DeMarco has always been, this song alone is one of the boldest moves he’s made thus far. Aside from the bittersweet reflections on his father, DeMarco matches an introspective lyric with a loop of balmy acoustic guitars and warped synths on the chorus. The song sounds exactly like the self-reflection it wishes to be, as if to document the very moment you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning and begin to question who you’ve become as a person.

Best moment: Those aforementioned warped synths on the chorus, like reminiscing on broken, nearly forgotten memories.





Staples is out for blood once again on this heated banger of a rap track. When the new Black Panther trailer played in cinemas, I was bouncing around in my seat when I heard that beat bubbling so funkily.

Best moment: "Tell the government to suck a dick, because we on now!"





Hand on heart, I wasn’t huge on Masseduction, and I really wish I was. I won’t dabble in the negatives for too long, though, because I’m sure that most would rather me talking about the best moments of this album. Would “Slow Disco” fall into that field for many people? I hope it does, because while I like Annie Clark taking her songs down nutty and noisy routes, she also has a wonderful ability to write something elegant and drop-dead beautiful, especially when hauntingly sad string melodies are involved.
Yeah, “Slow Disco” is my favourite cut from Masseduction. That might be a strange choice, but I’m coming back to it all the time.

Best moment: Jack Antonoff's distant but utterly crushing vocals at 1:40, leaving me spinning and acting as the only perfect way to end the song.





Gosh, I don’t care. This song is fun! Plenty of songs made me want to jump up and dance this year, but what made Fazerdaze stick out from the crowd was her unsuspecting bedroom pop aesthetic – lo-fi quality, reverb on the vocals, drum machines and acoustic guitars. It’s impressive for something so guileless to still have such an adorably addicting chorus.

Best moment: The chorus, silly!





Here’s a band you may have missed this year. Cristobal and the Sea are genuinely charming for their mix of latin and african musical influences, wrapped up neatly into a pop package that’ll leave you dancing for more. While the galloping rhythms and wild horn solos of “Goat Flokk” reeled me in, there was ultimately something more irresistible about “Steal My Phone” that kept me coming back for another lick like a hearty sprinkle of monosodium glutamate.

Best moment: 12 seconds in, when Leïla harmonises with the lead vocal.





Hailing from the east coast  but aiming to bring his observations on the state of black America to a wider audience, a bold Mr. Bada$$ channeled his soul and charisma into one of the essential conscious rap songs of the year. If you crave something grimier, “Rockabye Baby” might be more your thing. “Temptation” impressed the most, however. It’s great to see Joey make the smart artistic decisions to create a song that preserves his conscious messaging about racial injustice while having the right crossover appeal to capture the attention of mainstream pop rap fans, too. Conscious and catchy.

Best moment: End of the second verse, where Joey picks up the flow and seems unstoppable, before ending it off with the satisfying "ahh!".





Twinkling brightly and pulling me along for an adventurous ride through the sky is a gorgeous stoner metal cut from Elder's latest. Sure, you'll need eleven minutes of your time to listen through this, but it honestly feels like less, trust me on this one. Hopefully.

Best moment: After a minute and a half of intro signalling to you that something huge is approaching, the song delivers with its utterly incredible and mind-blowing lead riff.





For an admirer of Will Wiesenfeld’s ability to evoke the most vivid of emotions out of his effervescent, fantastical soundscapes, what gets me every time is when he settles the mood to deliver something with a deeper sadness under its skin. Yet what makes this track shine for me is the blunt honesty in the lyrics – detailing a struggle with identity, particularly for queer youth who must conceal their true selves to ‘fit in’ with those around them – “I’m queer in a way that works for you”. Even when Wiesenfield seems to be whimsically blabbering towards the end, he’s actually singing “lie, lie, lie, lie, lie”.

Best moment: "I'm queer in a way that works for you".





I’m well aware that Kirin J Callinan, with the teamwork of fellow nostalgia-goggled eccentric Alex Cameron, keen whistler Molly Lewis, and of course, the maniacal screams of Australian icon Jimmy Barnes, created one of the greatest memes to grace the Internet this year. (For the unknowing; search “sky cowboy” on YouTube. I doubt you’ll regret that.)
But when Mr. Callinan wasn’t being one of the most entertaining musical figures this year, he was concluding his sophomore album Bravado with something… actually… really… charming. The dude pours his heart into reflecting upon the faults in masculine bravado. Sure, there’s shlock to the delivery of his singing, but it’s delivered with a genuine sense of humanity, an actual warmth that I felt happy to hear after being hammered with minute upon minute of hammy, parodious synth pop.

Best moment: The high-pitched, chopped-up vocal sample that seeps through the song when Kirin sings the titular lyric.





This was the grime banger of the year. That implies Stormzy’s “Big For Your Boots” was much competition, though. As an art of flows and battle, Wiley and Devlin kill with agile, nimble flows in what truly sounds like an epic and ‘holy’ representation of how far the culture has grown. Also, how cool is it that we get two artists of different eras bringing their own perspectives to a track like this? Wiley, a grime veteran, seems to be passing the mic to the next generation of artists, and Devlin more than proves he can live up to the task.

Best moment: 2:17.





Paramore’s shift towards synth pop was one that grabbed my attention with the funky lead single “Hard Times”, one that could’ve easily taken this spot, and would have up until very recent. The more I came back to the album, the more that “Fake Happy” snapped into place. Hayley Williams delivers one of the more passionate choruses on this song and each time this happens is a moment where we hear the sadness in the lyrics creeping to the forefront of an otherwise vibrant tune.

Best moment: When we hear the bridge's "bada-bada-ba-ba" return during the final chorus.





Often, rustling through the leaves of Bandcamp’s ‘new releases’ section can lead to some stunning discoveries. For everything that Morning Teleportation offer in terms of catchy, slick songwriting, they also offer up something a little more playful, strange and adventurous, even. There’s glamour to this one, from the unexpected rhythm changes, to the shots of trumpets on the verses, to the noisy breakdown near the end.

Best moment: The hits of brass all over this track. They absolutely make it work.





Relatives In Descent showed post-punk pedlars Protomartyr at their most poignant yet urgent. This manic cut from the album puts that in full force. The violins at the end swipe at you like knives, and there’s a dark beauty to the way that the guitar distortion gradually enveloping Joe Casey’s despaired vocals. Despite the repeated line about chuckling, it’s clear from the sadness that sweeps this track that there isn’t very much to laugh about.

Best moment: When the violins at the end parade in, swiping at you like knives.





After what seemed like some of the hardest years of her career following encounters with abuse and assault, Kesha removed the dollar sign from her stage name and decided to lay the honest groundwork down with her most soul-crushing song to date; “Praying”. ‘Twas a piano ballad driven by a tempo reminiscent of some kind of march towards redemption, plus a strike against those who engaged in her suffering over the past few years.

Best moment: The high note. You know the one. Only made more powerful thanks to its preceding lyric: "Some things only God can forgive.".





Some may just liken its opening guitar melody to that of The Beatles“Dear Prudence”. Others may just bask in the joy of being able to rock to a song that was consciously titled “Plimsoll Punks”.

Best moment: 3:33 - Molly Rankin raises her voice an octave higher!





The last LCD Soundsystem album was released seven years ago; This Is Happening. This year, James Murphy stepped back into the spotlight to pick up a mic, and on the brand new single he releases, the first thing he lets us know is: “We all know this is nothing.”

Once again, LCD never fall short of radiating human emotion through their music; they can take a musical phrase, repeat it, build upon it, and use that as a base to reach emotional heights that stun me. Murphy lets us know about the current political and social climate with off-hand references like “triggered kids and fakers and some questionable views”, but these never become the focus of the song. Instead, “Call the Police” is a song to empower us no matter which standpoint we find ourselves in; it’s a song to keep us going during a time when many feel stranded or hopeless or exhausted. It’s a powerhouse of an urgent, blaring, shoegazey comeback track that even I wasn’t anticipating to be as bombastic as it was.

Best moment: “When oh, we all start arguing the history of the Jews,
You’ve got nothing left to lose…

…Gives me the blues.”






This is hilarious, and some of the most fun I’ve had with a song all year. Cameron is already a funny songwriter when it comes to lyrics from the point of view of a fictional, desperate, romantic creep, but this is enhanced by his embrace of synth-led soft rock anthems from the 80’s, topped by a cheesy saxophone solo at the end. If you get the chance, peep the music video for this thing. That dancing is not something to miss.

Best moment: Let's not beat around the bush. That chorus is one of the most fun things that happened last year.





Believe me, this year I wanted to review Ibibio Sound Machine’s sophomore effort, Uyai. It seemed like such a fruitful, adventurous blend of afro-beat, funk, disco and synth pop. What stopped me? This song. It was so catchy that I kept replaying it and I never got to the next track. L

Best moment: Hearing those sparkly, chiptuney synths all over the chorus.





Forest Swords had a very meditative electronic release this year, and while I loved how “The Highest Flood” balanced triumph and tension as if it were second nature to Matthew Barnes (and it may as well be, mind you), as well as the way that “Raw Language” threw you right into the motion of adventure, it was actually “Arms Out” that spent a bit more time painting its world which caught my heart.
Horns blaring to the beat of pounding tribal drums aside, it’s a rewarding wait for the second half of the piece, sporting one of the best string-based climaxes I’ve witnessed since the end of Charlotte’s Web.

Best moment: The strings near the end!





Believe me, I was struggling to pick a favourite from Flower Boy, one of my top albums for the year. Like fine pizza dough, I was hard-pressed. ‘Narrowing it down’ did me no favours, as I still ended up with a selection of five tracks to choose from.
Instead, I just went with my gut and chose the moment that stunned me immediately – the first track. That sounds hyperbolic; suggesting that I knew the album would be phenomenal from its first moments, but it perfectly sets the introspective mood for Tyler’s new album here. The beat, which samples a Sonic Youth remix by krautrock icons Can, sets a perfect base for Tyler to ask questions, each one linked to the last – “How many cars can I buy till I run out of drive? How much drive can I have till I run out of road?”.
I will specifically point out the beat switch at 1:33 in the song, however. This moment gave me chills, with each sweeping synth hinting that there was more to this album than just the juvenile punchlines that defined Tyler’s previous work and public image. Now called for a moment to look at himself and pick apart his ego.
Rex Orange County polishes it off on the chorus and outro, too. Don’t overlook that. Or him, either.

Best moment: As I said, 1:33. Still giving me goosebumps now!





Paramore may have taken my accolade for synth pop album of the year, but it was actually the sister trio Haim that swept away the plaque for synth pop song of the year. Facing it, very few dance pop tunes gave me as much joy as Haim’s infectious and surprisingly mature throwback to the 80’s – which, let’s face it, isn’t all that new, but it’s perfectly fine if we end up seeing these nostalgia-goggling groups tweak with the sound ‘till they reach pop perfection.

If you want a shorter blurb, I simply can’t resist dancing to this thing. I cannot. I don’t even wish that I could – I’m happy that I can’t.

Best moment: The guitar lick that slips into the chorus during times such as 0:36.





Death is hard thing to fathom. Grief makes it personal, and when it affects those closest to us, it hits us harder than any belly punch could. Through “Disappeared”, frontman Cam Boucher reflects on a real-life loss of a dear friend, and manages to make self-discoveries, leading to self-improvement, hoping to live his own life as a continuation of his friend’s.

Best moment: The huge, anthemic turning point in the song (and album) when Boucher sings at the top of his lungs "I let my hair down today; I took a shower for the first time in what felt like weeks!".





I loved Melodrama. To bits. Yes, I struggled to pick a favourite from this one, too. No, I will not detail the honourable mentions, as I feel this would take far too long. I’ll do that in my top albums list, you need not worry.
What freaks me out about “Hard Feelings / Loveless” is how vivid the heartbreak is throughout the entire two-sided track. The chilling vocal harmonies when Ella sings “oh loo-oove” during the first half brought me into it all, and said first half is so visceral, as if you can hear the colour in the music. “Loveless” on the other hand, unsettles me. Take that skeletal beat and combine it with the childish, innocent delivery of an otherwise morbid and sadistic line “Bet you wanna rip my heart out? Well, guess what? I like that…”, and you have an ending to the track almost drained of warmth.
What blew me away the most, though, was—yes, that part. In the middle. The screeching. It’s for what sounds like the visceral sounds of two close lovers being pryed away from each other – there’s resistance, there’s pain, there’s a sourness that’s hard to get behind. This is bar none my favourite song from Lorde, and I haven’t tired of it since it first hit my eardrums.

Best moment: The screeching in the middle of the track. It left my jaw wide open the first time I heard it.





Fleet Foxes’ new album felt almost like one giant musical piece, but that ambitious statement won’t stop me from highlighting my favourite set of minutes within that giant musical piece. What stunned me again and again was actually the most timid track from the collection, and one where Robin Pecknold and co. channel their inner "How To Disappear Completely" for the most ethereal song that the folk group have crafted.

Best moment: The breathtaking delivery of "I won't let go."





The flutes on this track sound like wind on an overcast day, is it just me?

Even with a harrowing sadness running through the album, there’s also a beauty to be found, where the second track stuck with me and refused to let go. There’s an iciness to the production here that induces chills in me, and if you listen well you can hear Mike Eagle gradually become more intense with each line of a verse he spits, ending with the deliciously clever metaphor of an exposed oven coil leading to “trying to deal with heat that we shouldn’t absorb”.

Best moment: The somber combination of piano and flute on the hook.





On this sunny tune, we hear John Darnielle’s songwriting continue to shine, giving a rather niche subject matter a message to reach anyone else out there. I’m sure there’s room for me to give a greater testimony to the beautifully universal songwriting of The Mountain Goats. On Goths, sure, the concept is the short-lived goth movement, entailing its culture and cliches. Yet I’m certain there’s more to it than poking fun at the culture – actually, I’d be hard-pressed to argue if it even is making fun of the culture. It seems more like a heartfelt tribute than anything, as well as a meditation on the concept of identity, time, and moving on, and this sunny tune takes that idea by the collar and gently strolls with it, back to Leeds.

Best moment: There is a twee triumph to the way that Darnielle delivers the titular line, and the woodwinds backing it certainly help too.





Richard Dawson takes us back to the most dastardly of medieval times in this song that finds a fragile balancing tether between lushly alluring and frustratingly sour. I can’t help but love every off-key note and awkwardly plucked string, because they fit so snugly into the composition of the music, and make the pleasing melodies sound even more satisfying in comparison. I must admit that can’t quite describe it too well myself – it’s just what I could call twisted, but to the point where it comes full circle and becomes kinda pleasant.

Best moment: 3:57. Holy shit.





Although Malina was Leprous’ furthest step away from metal thus far, it didn’t stop them from kicking out a damn great rock record. Vocal performances still as hair-raising as before, and each time the chorus hits, these thicker walls of guitar bulldoze into the song, bringing about a moment that leaves me, mouth gaping open, in utter awe.

Best moment: One of those songs where the chorus and its high notes just takes the win and runs as far and as fast as it possibly can.


11. Sampha – “Plastic 100oC”



The opening to Sampha’s debut album was one of the first genuine stunners of 2017 for me. Helped by actual samples of space travel transmissions and the sparkling melody at the beginning, this does feel like a song where you are floating helplessly outside the Earth’s atmosphere. Straight-up chills.

Best moment: The beginning, when we hear the radio transmissions and genuinely feel as if we have been thrown out into the great unknown.





The opening seconds of this song stunned me with their beauty. There’s a nocturnal beauty to this song, and those synth notes bring to mind nights where you dust off an old video game console and start up a childhood game.
Contrary to childhood, however, Bazan’s meditation on faithfulness in a relationship are extremely mature. “Stop romanticising cheating” is the line to look out for, but not before the beautifully subtle;
“We know the difference between talking
And going outside the lines.”


Best moment: The final chorus.





In a year when the self-described ‘all-American boyband’ Brockhampton took the Internet by storm, it was far more difficult to decide which one of their tracks bumped the hardest. As such, don’t go running your mouth if you disagree with this particular decision – watch your lip, baby.

How cool is this song?!?! The switch between the trap-percussed verses and Kevin Abstract’s dreamier hook is surprising but actually very smooth, and I’ve never messed with many diss lines as hard as “First off, fuck Dolce & Gabbana!”.

Best moment: Merlyn. Freaking. Wood.





This nine-minute monster of a musical piece just bulldozes a path through my poxy eardrums. It’s more intense than Benjamin John Power’s ever been, yet its many layers of seemingly chaotic sound are actually very intricately composed. Each synthesiser emulates the anxiety of hearing fire alarms and airstrike warnings wailing through a cloud of smoky, disorienting clutter. It’s fair to say that if the world were to have been under attack this year (not that I’d have wanted it to be) then this colossal slam in the face from Blanck Mass wouldn’t be a bad soundtrack for it.

Best moment: When the glockenspiels chime in. They don't sound cute at all though. They sound genuinely terrifying.





Urgency rages on in this glorious fusion of post-punk and blues – one with a catchy chorus, but also one that warns of tyranny and a call for bringing it down. I don’t know about you, but with how tense the song becomes by its end, I can’t help but feel those warnings are genuine.

Best moment: After the chaotic, noisy bridge that is meant to derail your comfort as much as possible, the return of the chorus feels like a satisfying release of all the tension and a call to you to raise your fist in solidarity.





Wanna hear even more urgency though?

Idles drop a punk rock bombshell, and the shrapnel is hitting multiple targets – from the mistreatment of the working class, to Tories, to assault. Unusually, Idles don’t do it with wordy, eloquent statements (except for the bridge, but we’ll get to that soon). Instead, they bellow out short, satirical one-liners like “My mother worked seventeen hours, seven days a week!” and “The best way to scare a Tory is to read and get rich!”.

It’s difficult to put my finger exactly on which angle(s) the track is coming from, but the abstract lyrics, partly thanks to the petrol-soaked aggression in their delivery, are surprisingly readable. Every time the chorus rolls around, the enraged “MOTHEEEEEERRRR… FUUUCCCKKEEEEERR…” seems like a typical show of punk-spirited anger.

This changes once the bridge comes around, though, revealing the chorus’ true context – a fist slammed against those who engage in sexual assault. The added context behind the lyrics brings up more possibilties behind the track’s true intention – perhaps a reminder of how odd it is that a phrase like “mother fucker” has become a casual part of our society’s language – but there’s no denying it makes the song a little more harrowing to listen to again.

Best moment: When the bridge finally gives context to the chorus in the most chilling way.


5. Elbow – “Magnificent (She Says)”



“Made my year” is such an overused phrase – I feel like it’s almost lost its meaning. This song, though? It made my year.

The song is like a warm hug, with those strings that just soar on the chorus; that awe-inspired feeling of wonder, fuelled by Elbow’s most anthemic titular phrase since “once day like this a year would see me right”. This time, Guy Garvey instills hope into the listener with “it’s all gonna be magnificent”.

Best moment: The sense of wonder in those strings that flutter and soar on the chorus before Garvey bellows out "It's all gonna be magnificent".





Pushing onward isn’t easy. In the face of our greatest fears and obstacles we can feel tempted to let go because we never know how long it’ll be before we’re in the clear. Feist explored this concept of time in a song that kept itching at me over the months. It’s not often that I link these songs to my personal life but most of my 2017 was spent wandering and wondering through my ambitions with an unclear destination and time. How long it would take before I was fully satisfied with myself is an unanswerable question when currently on that journey, and “Century” was a song that felt poignant in that regard.

Feist is constantly waiting for “someone, who will lead you to someone, who will lead you to someone…”; but such a hope seems futile when this time is unknown. “At the end of the century”? That sounds like a period of time long enough to outlive you – and Feist repeating the phrase is like a contrite admission of that, even if she would like to make you believe the opposite.

Don’t get the idea that this song is any anthem of ‘giving up’, because it isn’t. It’s more like an anthem for pushing on, because despite any doubt or unease instilled by the amount of time she waits for a conclusion, Feist encourages you to perservere and continue fighting until you reach one.

Best moment: The pent-up frustration beginning to leak through in Feist's crumbling voice as she sings "someone, who will lead you to someone, who will lead you to someone...".





The whistling lures me in. The guitar motif that bursts in continuously grabs me by the collar and shakes me side to side. Each stomach-churning string crescendo makes me feel like I’m being torn right in half.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so genuinely shaken by a song. That said, I’m enchanted so much by its masked beauty that I feel no remorse in returning to it again and again. There’s a theatrical grandness, even splendour to the music but the primal pain and fear in Eugene Robinson’s vocals feels so very real, whether he’s whimpering in fright or growling to instill fright himself.

I can barely speak any more words on the music itself – my feelings are as illegible as Robinson’s lyrics here, but such has never been an issue for me, especially with emotions so tangible and vivid. If you tried to decipher them anyhow, you’d surely catch ear of;
“While they say the best things in life are free,
Everything around you comes with a fee!”

Gosh.

Best moment: The beginning has the most menacingly foreboding whistle since that of Kill Bill.





My piano ballad of the year. Susanne Sundfør flourished this year by nailing the songwriting game for what is one of her more bare-bones and stripped-down albums, revealing nothing but honesty and opening up a lot of room for her to show the power in her voice. And my word, she does exactly that here. Being the climax of the stunning Music For People In Trouble, there is not a second of this track that I don’t find utterly astonishing. Watching live performances of this song on YouTube only showcased how much of a talent Sundfør is – with control over her voice but unafraid to reach for those big notes that will make the song tower even higher than it already had before.

Best moment: That moment. You'll know it if you've heard the song. Or 2:48, for those who haven't.





Perfume Genius really transcended with “Slip Away”, but there was still a tangible human emotion to grasp; an intimacy from Mike Hadreas the songwriter. This song sounds bold, but maybe a little more than bold – I’d say magical.

In the context of its album No Shape, this is a song celebrating the triumph of romance and commitment. It’s a fist in the air, and a proud one too. In general, however, I find myself connecting to the lyrics for so much more than a romantic message.

“Oh, ooh love,
They’ll never break the shape we take.
Oh, ooh
Baby, let all them voices slip away.”

It’s an empowering song. It boldly tells you to dismiss those that put you down, and find joy in expressing yourself through what you feel passionate about. It’s obviously not the first song to make such a statement (boil it down even further and you’ve essentially got “haters gonna hate”), but it’s one of the best to do so because it translates musically as well, quite literally ‘blowing up’ all throughout. I’d make the bold statement itself that Perfume Genius is at their brashest level so far.

Extra note! – Kate Bush is a common comparison to Hadreas’ musical ventures on this single. It actually makes plenty of sense, when you think about both artists’ ability to balance elegance and class with a sense of wild, unpredictable adventure. They can enchant as well as comfort, and sound all the more delightful as a result. The sudden ‘blast’ after the first chorus is an example of surprise that this track isn’t afraid to hammer you with.


Disagree with the verdict? Don’t try to argue – you’ll never break the shape it takes.

Best moment: The clankering of the tinny piano at the very end, sounding as if the song is finally falling under its own weight after feeling as if it was always destined to do that from the very start.