100 Songs I Thought Were Very Good, 2023

So, uh, this is awkward. Relishing in finally, actually finishing one of these lists for the first time in five years, I forgot to prepare an intro (aka, the thing that most people read before skipping to see #1 and clicking away). Here goes nothing.

This was a strange year for music. We’ve shaken off the pandemic’s shadow but remain dogged by its long tail. Touring is very expensive and precarious, TikTok is changing every facet of creation and consumption and music media continues to collapse into itself.

Amid it all, we were gifted plenty of phenomenal music. There were so many songs that seemed like locks for this list that found themselves relegated to the 150+ territory once I really dug into all of the music I enjoyed this year.

I haven’t given this preamble enough thought to make sweeping statements beyond ‘things are bad but music remains great’, but usual provisos: this list is subjective and stupid, it’s not the “best of the year”, it’s my personal top 100.

I’m also trying to use this space to be a little weirder and, hopefully, be a touch more wonderful with my writing. Sometimes, reaching for the stars is going to result in a tumble and a faceplant. Be kind, if you stumble across this whole beast. For any editors reading this, remember all the good and block out all the bad. Cheers.

50. IRL — BabyTron & BLP KOSHER (MegaTron 2)

These two weirdos are peas in an off-coloured pod. They’re one-upping each other for insanity, going bar-for-bar in a battle that starts with a shrink ray and a torn ACL and only escalates from there. ‘IRL’ could pass for a turbo-charged Lonely Island cut if BabyTron and BLP KOSHER didn’t commit so hard to the bit.

There’s no irony in their delivery, no smirking or sense of camaraderie. Instead, it’s a fight — two proud rappers dedicated to leaving the other one in a pile of smouldering ash. It’s like someone told them that hip-hop will only accept one deeply unserious rapper, locked them in the booth and left them to rap to the death. It’s hard to understand how these two did this song with a straight face, but we’re the beneficiaries.

49. mum is calling — Two Shell (lil spirits)

On ‘mum is calling’, Two Shell set up two competing emotions and start the clock to see which wins out. In one corner is a snappy wobble that makes me want to knock over chairs in a frantic rush to the dancefloor and in the other is the most unsettling chorus of AI voices and notification pings.

That battle cuts to two extremes, starting with a horrifying second act in which a GLADOS-sounding voice reads the script of a conversation between mother and child with chilling sterility. But – if you survive it – Two Shell releases all of the air in the awful balloon with a euphoric run home, mercifully bringing in real people to remind us how cherished connection can be.

48. Talk To Me Nice — Tinashe (BB/ANG3L)

Tinashe traverses desire like few others in music and ‘Talk To Me Nice’ is her standout entry in a strong 2023. On the pre-chorus, she sings “You got options, I got options, Want you but don’t need you,” juggling the delicate balance of aggressive lust and an alluring indifference.

It’s two sentiments that feel at odds with one another on the surface, but there’s something powerful in it all– a conscious choice, opting in when it’s just as easy to stay out.

47. Houdini — Dua Lipa

Dua Lipa’s latest album Future Nostalgia was cursed by its brilliance, so prolific that it became ubiquitous right as the world started to shutter amid the COVID-19 pandemic. As we tried to fumble through the unknown, things got weird: new fad apps sprung up each day promising new ways to feel connected from afar, daily press conferences became appointment viewing and some of us were disinfecting door knobs in our sharehouse.

In this setting, Future Nostalgia became a triumph and tragedy: an electric blue shot of energy to power us through a confusing and scary period, a communal party record that was gathering dust by the time we were allowed to congregate.

All of that is to say that ‘Houdini’, Dua Lipa’s first release since the album that made her an international superstar, came with a lot of expectation and baggage. It doesn’t miss. ‘Houdini’ retains a lot of the disco revival production choices that keeps it in the satisfying wheelhouse of Future Nostalgia, but there’s enough driving it forward to be a clean break from a bygone era. Kevin Parker’s sunny psychedelic is tuned down and Dua Lipa keeps her vocals quick and light, creating something instantly enjoyable and enduring.

46. Good Lies — Overmono (Good Lies)

So, what’s the deal? Does the UK government give every set of brothers CDJs? Is this some arts initiative that’s somehow flown under the radar of the Tories? If so, let’s keep it quiet and instead talk about this dazzling debut album from British brothers Tom and Ed Russell, led by title track ‘Good Lies’.

Transforming ‘No harm’ by Smerz, ‘Good Lies’ moves with a new heartbeat and a sharp set of shiny fangs. Where the original is tender and soft, this feels shrouded in smoke, less of a yearning and more of an enticement. The honest few may say “good lies” is an oxymoron, but Overmono turns it into a thrilling promise. Sign me up.

45. Lean Beef Patty — Danny Brown & JPEGMAFIA (SCARING THE HOES)

“First off, fuck Elon Musk” raps JPEGMAFIA and, well, amen to that. ‘Lean Beef Patty’ is a sensory overload gauntlet that dares you to skip out of, confident you won’t. JPEGMAFIA and Danny Brown don’t spend much of SCARING THE HOES trying to solve the world’s problems, they’re just here to talk their shit. And how good they sound when they do.

‘Lean Beef Patty’ might be the first song to name-drop Tony Khan, Kyle Rittenhouse and Busta Rhymes and I’m perfectly happy if it’s the only one. It should carry the disclaimer that used to air before WWE broadcasts: these performers are trained professionals, don’t try this at home.

44. Space Jam — Angel Du$t (BRAND NEW SOUL)

This is 90 second headfuck that asks what an 80s pop hit would sound like if it were shoved in an industrial wood-chipper and we tried slam-dancing in the debris. ‘Space Jam’ has the frenetic energy of a, uh, jam, where no one’s quite sure where it might go next.

In less potent hands, this might take some random left-turns until it becomes a snake munching on its own tail. But if Angel Du$t bandleader Justice Tripp is one thing, it’s potent (well, that and hardcore). Under Tripp’s tutelage, ‘Space Jam’ stays firmly on the rails like a rollercoaster that rockets through loops and corners — terrifying, giddy and a hell of a lot of fun.

43. Not Strong Enough — boygenius (the record)

The posse cut is one of the greatest traditions in rap music, when a cadre of emcees pass the mic and try to obliterate one another with lyrical prowess. ‘Not Strong Enough’ isn’t a rap song, I know, but it’s the closest I think boygenius should get: three incredible songwriters lining up their verses to see who can lacerate your heart the fastest.

My vote? Julien Baker, if not for anything but the stunning verse opener “Drag racing through the canyons/Singing ‘Boys Don’t Cry’”. And when they bring their voices together in unison on the chorus, it sounds spectacular. It’s true, boygenius don’t reinvent the wheel — do they have to? They’re so good at working within a space they’ve collectively mastered.

42. 1x1 (feat. Ravenna Golden) — Ninajirachi (4x4 EP)

This song is a dirty bomb, waiting to explode. Ninajirachi makes us wait a full minute before letting the blast loose, but when it detonates every window within a ten kilometre radius is at risk of shattering. Somehow, ‘1x1’ keeps the energy levels dialled for the entire way from there.

It’s a relentless club jam that garnishes its chunky foundation with Ninajirachi’s talent for intricate touches. Ravenna Golden is the latest in a long line of talented collaborators who have their star turn with Ninajirachi, lining her vocals with a careful blend of angst and nihilism — masking a hopeless hopelessness with the illusion of leaving it up to the stars. A sugar hit to savour.

41. In Ha Mood — Ice Spice (Like…?)

Given the long lineage of recorded music, I’m always impressed when an artist manages to win me over doing very little. I know, I know: Ice Spice and minimalism doesn’t exactly feel like a hand in glove fit, but ‘In Ha Mood’ honeslty doesn’t do a lot: RIOT’s drums skitter over a persistent vocal sample and Ice ducks and weaves around some blown out bass lines. It’s just that simple.

In an era of bombast, Ice Spice’s unbothered splendour feels like a precious commodity. While the wave of sleepy rappers emanating largely from Detroit have something cool going, Ice Spice feels like a quantum leap ahead, having already translated the touchstones of the sound to monstrous chart success.

40. GOMD — Veeze (Ganger)

Veeze delivers his lines slowly and lackadaisical, forcing you to lean in a little to hear each bar. If he wasn’t so good, you’d shrug and tune out. But Veeze knows you’re a captive audience, craning in closer and closer until you’re rubbing your neck and putting the physio on speed-dial.

‘GOMD’ is a boutique dessert, a sweet chilled treat best enjoyed slowly. The titular phrase “get off my dick” is aggressive but in Veeze’s hands, it becomes playful. He goes on an odyssey of name-drops, from Pooh Shiesty to Justin Timberlake, and yet it still feels like there’s so much more to go. I want to listen to Veeze write a bar about everyone from Angela Merkel to Simon Prestigiacomo.

39. namesake — Noname (Sundial)

It’s so hard to hold a pop culture moment. Everything is always happening, all of the time. But Noname managed to bend the timeline to her will more than once, for better and worse. Let’s talk about the good since that’s why we’re here: ‘namesake’ is a scorching molotov throw right into the palace of rap royalty, calling out by name Jay-Z, Beyonce, Rihanna and Kendrick Lamar for their collaboration with the NFL.

It’s edifying to see a rapper at this level go directly for another, especially after seeing Noname so potently dissemble J. Cole while on the defensive last year. This time, Noname charges forward into the flames and dances in the fire, chastising herself for committing the same sins as her targets. Helmed by a cantankerous and wonderful Slimewav beat, Noname comes with venom and a smile, telling us a joke with sting. It’s just not apparent yet what exactly is so funny.

38. Common Ground — RVG (Brain Worms)

Every time Romy Vager sings “You don’t want me” it’s tinged differently. The first delivery is a painful admission, a confession inwards herself as much as outwards, and the second comes with resignation. By the third and fourth time, the bitter realisation starts to set in.

When ‘Common Group’ gallops towards its conclusion, the epiphany has escalated to something approaching acceptance. Not yet past it, but well and truly understanding it. Almost everyone reading this will have been on that journey at some point and, if you haven’t, I’m very happy for you. For the rest of us, being guided through the voyage by a band with the class of RVG is the kind of therapy that money can’t buy.

37. BARBIE — 454 & SURF GANG (FAST 5)

‘BARBIE’ has little in common with Greta Gerwig’s billion-dollar baby, eschewing the film’s bubblegum pink Kenergy for a slush of reverb, piano loops and understated hi-hats. It’s an unabashed love song that doesn’t couch its affections, embracing an uncomplicated deluge of adoration.

One of 454’s best qualities is the way he cuts through sludge and steers a song wherever he desires. It’s often weird, it’s always wonderful. He finds buoyant partners in SURF GANG, the New York collective who quietly ran rap this year, who give him the ideal playground to do what he does best. It’s music to walk down to the aisle, if only a wedding could be as cool as a 454 track.

36. Antarctica (feat. FRIDAY* and TT) — BAYANG (tha Bushranger) (Antarctica)

“Don’t you worry babe, this body’s just a rental,” sings FRIDAY* midway through ‘Antarctica’. Well, ‘sing’ is the easiest way to put it. What FRIDAY* actually does is something like a melodic groan, which sounds like a vessel fighting for its soul amid an episode of supernatural possession.

It feels rude to zero in a solitary moment in such a luscious song, but the moment FRIDAY* hits the track might be the best five seconds of music recorded this year. He arrives with such force that the beat itself flickers and acts like an apparition, vanishing almost as soon as he arrives.

35. Tantor — Danny Brown (Quaranta)

Some Alchemist beats give me knots in my stomach in the way maths homework did. It’s a puzzle that seems beyond me to solve. Just as I’d stare at the array of numbers, letters and symbols and try to decipher a way through, a great Alchemist beat crashes and heaves and leaves me discombobulated trying to picture a rapper cutting through it.

But Danny Brown is rap’s actuary, finding pockets and flows where others see a labyrinth. To mix metaphors, ‘Tantor’ has the rhythm of a raging bull and Danny clings to the beast like a world-class bull rider, muscling in his bars as the beat bucks and thrashes.

34. Echolalia — Yves Tumor (Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds))

‘Echolalia’ is an invitation to do the thing you’re not supposed to, permission to indulge in the thing you’ve been warned off of. It’s outright seduction when Yves Tumor whisper-moans, “The way I’m thinking, is this unnatural?”

The answer doesn’t really matter, the song has you by the throat either way. Built around a bass line that could melt steel and drums that pitter-patter like a fluttering heart, ‘Echolalia’ runs away with the award for steamiest song of 2023.

33. Shit Talk — Sufjan Stevens (Javelin)

When did you know it was over? I love asking this question unprompted, because I can always see the flicker in someone’s eyes when their mind jolts them to a solitary second in the long record of their life. Was it a quiet branch breaking, an unspoken acceptance that something wasn’t right, or an explosion in the heat of the moment? Did it surprise you or was it a long time coming?

These are the decisions imprinted on us. They’re inflection points, haunting or celebratory. They’re re-contextualised with knowledge that comes after: what seem like mistakes turn into bullets dodged, irreconciliability can turn into a pockmark of immaturity.

‘Shit Talk’ makes me think about the moment I knew it was over, a raw memory in a narrative I’ve otherwise polished through repetition to curious and at-the-time concerned friends. It’s not nice to sit with, but it’s the exact territory that Sufjan Stevens does his best work.

32. Where Are Your Kids Tonight? (feat. John Grant) — CMAT (Crazymad, For Me)

Depending on the angle and the light, ‘Where Are Your Kids Tonight’ is somewhere between camp, sinister and devastating. Irish songwriting maestro CMAT broke out this year with a slew of off-kilter pop ballads but this one stands head and shoulders as the masterpiece.

Flanked by the magnificent John Grant, CMAT crafts up the perfect soundtrack for a slasher montage: it’s got far too much pep to truly kill the mood, but it’s got enough bite to draw blood if you’re careful.

31. Nah, That Ain’t It — Spiritual Cramp

Cracking skulls and stealing bikes has never sounded so breezy. Spiritual Cramp frontman Michael Bingham has a casually intimidating swagger on ‘Nah, That Ain’t It’, a joyous romp through town square that generously tips its cap to the band’s touchstone, The Clash.

Come for a chorus that was made for the mosh pit and stick around for the ridiculously hammy handclaps that pepper the last pre-chorus. It’s a gleefully ridiculous cherry on top of what amounts to a very bloody sundae.

30. A&W — Lana Del Rey (Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd)

When we talk about Lana Del Rey, so much of it is about the intersection between the true and false stories. Sometimes, in a fun way: Del Rey’s music are vivid watercolours that conjure up new narratives for old America, concocting fantasies drawn out of real and often grim realities. At other times, the intersection is joyless: tabloid scrutiny, debates about Del Rey that sideline Del Rey, manufactured controversies and so on.

‘A&W’ isn’t the typical pushback, it doesn’t speak directly to Del Rey’s critics and it wasn’t released with a coordinated media tour of revenge. It’s an epochal epic that runs over seven minutes, a hazy arthouse film that manages to edify, humour and mostly horrify. Del Rey places us in the shoes on “an American whore”, simultaneously showing us all the ways she’s under siege without ever sounding like anythng less than the strongest force in all of entertainment today.

29. Delete It — MSPAINT & Militarie Gun (Post-American)

I could think hard about ‘Delete It’ and talk about all the ways it’s profoundly brilliant: the genius fusion of MSPAINT’s frosty cybernetic production with the raging inferno voiced by Militarie Gun’s Ian Shelton, or chorus that speaks to an intensifying need to connect amid more lifelike artificial intelligence, but I won’t do any of that.

Instead, I’m just going to recommend you jump to 29 seconds into the song and hear that juggernaut of a chorus for yourself. It’s a concussive blow, stuttering into life and blasting the doors off the song when it finally takes. Fast, furious, a little revolutionary fire you won’t be able to tear your eyes away from.

28. Now U Do — DJ Seinfeld & Confidence Man

This is where I’d say Confidence Man’s Janet Planet had her breakout moment, if she hadn’t already had about 60 already. ‘Now U Do’ at least puts her in new territory, turning down her wattage and instead tasking Planet with skating over a wet hot DJ Seinfeld beat.

The song is constructed around the alluring payoff before the drop — “You never used to listen now you do” — and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the pathos that goes into a line like that.

It’s the centrepiece of the track: everything is building the tension to its reveal, and then the air leaves the balloon and the track pulses. What might it mean? Doesn’t matter: things don’t really need to be too complicated when they’re this slick.

27. I Thought You’d Change — Hotline TNT (Cartwheel)

Hotline TNT is a project that tests the limit of distortion — how close can a band go to washing out without losing their stickiness? Will Anderson pushes it beyond what you could fathom, drenching tracks in fuzz and noise, but the sharp hooks manage to pierce the veil at any frequency.

Many times this year I’ve been at live music and turned to a beloved friend just to say something stupid like, “God, guitars are good” but they are! Hotline TNT is among the best reminders of that.

26. block hug — Jim Legxacy (homeless n*gga pop music)

The cover art of Jim Legxacy’s homeless n*gga pop music is an appropriate analogue for his music: a collage, sticking together fragments from a life to create something that embodies the roads taken to reach this point.

Across ‘block hug’, you hear a lot: the swirling groans of men in pain, chesty boasts from a man riding high, nimble plucked-acoustic moments of self-reflection that snap back into something with a vicious bite. Jim Legxacy leaves nothing off the record and on ‘block hug’, we’re all beneficiaries.

25. Chosen To Deserve — Wednesday (Rat Saw God)

Wednesday dominated seven days of the week, most weeks, in 2023. The band not only stepped out of the shadow of Big Thief comparisons into their own touring juggernaut, but guitarist MJ Lenderman became an attraction in his own right. ‘Chosen To Deserve’, though, belongs entirely to frontwoman Karly Hartzman.

It’s a gorgeous song that’s a little about owning your shit, but mostly about accepting that a lot of our shit just happens to us. ‘Chosen To Deserve’ caresses the emotional complexity of Hartzman sharing her life story with Lenderman, her partner and bandmate, and does it over the length of a commercial break through a medium that can only engage one sense. It’s an ambitious brief that Wednesday proves more than capable of delivering on.

24. Will Anybody Ever Love Me? — Sufjan Stevens (Javelin)

‘Will Anybody Ever Love Me?’ is a grand spectacle that swells and heaves, blending hyper-intimacy with biblical imagery to create one of the great character studies of loneliness.

It’s a pathetic feeling to be so alone that you’re unsure if you’ll ever be loved with a directness of which you have loved, but it’s eminently relatable. On the mystical rise that comes on the chorus, there’s an ambient confidence that hints at a dawning sun behind the hills: this isn’t the ballad of a man decimated to the point of feeling unlovable, it’s a call to action to the universe to hurry up and make it happen: I’m ready, my burning heart awaits, bring them to me.

23. Daddy — Nourished By Time (Erotic Probiotic 2)

‘Daddy’ overwhelms me. It’s horny, it’s campy, it’s fun, it’s anything you really want it to be. A wise person once told me that all good music falls into three boxes: music to fuck to, music to dance to, music to cry to. The best songs tend to two thresholds. Ed Sheeran’s ‘Shape Of You’? Bad song! You can barely satisfy one category with that garbage. Hinder’s ‘Lips of an Angel’? Don’t even try to make the case. Robyn’s ‘Dancing On My Own’? Phenomenal song: you can dance up a storm and, in the right light, it jerks a tear like no other.

But even Robyn, one of the greatest songwriters of our time, hasn’t made a song that you can fuck, cry and dance to. ‘Daddy’ hits all three boxes and expects you to say thank you for the privilege. A disorienting and delightful excursion into strobe lights and seedy dark corners.

22. Boy’s a liar Pt. 2 (feat. Ice Spice) — PinkPanthress (Heaven knows)

PinkPanthress runs a scythe through the entire grieving process of a break-up, tapping in with Ice Spice to blast it into warpspeed. Over a floating feast of turn-of-the-century beeps and bops, pop’s new guard breaks free of dishonest dates with nonchalance and flair.

It’s an endlessly replayable track that leaps off the page, thanks largely in part to Ice Spice’s sensational guest spot. Every line is delivered with aplomb, propelled by the New York prodigy’s transcendent charisma.

21. Olajuwon — Mach-Hommy & Tha God Fahim (Notorious Dump Legends: Volume 2)

Mach-Hommy has a lot in common with the legendary Houston Rockets basketballer Hakeem Olajuwon. Both deserve to have their jerseys in the rafters, both are immaculate poets when they’re in full flight, but each are a little overlooked relative to their flashier peers.

Olajuwon’s fingerprints are all over the modern NBA: it’s hard to imagine Nikola Jokic outfoxing defenders with such ease if Hakeem hadn’t laid the foundations, nor could Joel Embiid bulldoze his way to the rim with such velocity with The Dream’s tutelage.

I don’t know what the equivalent of an NBA championship is in rap music, but Mach-Hommy deserves at least two rings (I’m not going to say a Grammy, because would put Macklemore ahead of Snoop Dogg). Like Hakeem, Mach-Hommy is underrated and understated, but he’s as consistent and he is pioneering and ‘Olawujon’ is a picture-perfect Dreamshake on wax.

20. bingo — Vayda (breeze)

Remember playing Spider Solitaire on Windows XP? When you won, the screen would fill with wave after wave of cards, unfurling the decks you’ve tucked away until the entire screen was covered with evidence of your victory. That’s what listening to ‘bingo’ by Atlanta princess Vayda sounds like.

Vayda’s whisper has enough force to reach colosseum nosebleeds. She’s bridling with charisma, her flow is delightfully slippery and her workrate is reminiscent of her city’s godfathers, Gucci Mane and Migos. If rap was an investor’s game, and let’s pretend for our own sanity that it isn’t, I’d be going to the moon on Vayda stock.

19. Got Me Started — Troye Sivan (Something To Give Each Other)

We’ve all seen this go badly: an artist interpolates some pop hit from a decade back, cashing in twofold on nostalgia seekers and the wave of people falling in love with the catchy riff for the first time So forgive my cynicism when I woke up to a social media frenzy over Troye Sivan ripping from countrymen Bag Raiders’ ‘Shooting Stars’, a string of notes so addictive that it must be laced with something very illegal.

But where I had little faith, I should have trusted Troye. He makes ‘Got Me Started’ his own, even if it’s hard to pinpoint what the secret sauce is. It could be his chorus, which stands toe-to-toe with the catchiness of Bag Raiders, or the tension-building verses which retain their sizzle from the first listen to the 50th. Science needs to get onto it and maybe, just maybe, we can address this global emergency before we reach the point of no return (a Coi Leray Grammy win).

18. Beaming — FRIDAY* (Darling EP)

When my final moments on this planet come, I hope I am at peace with life as FRIDAY* sounds on ‘Beaming’. This lighters up anthem stops me in my tracks every time with its vaguely ominous songwriting, a song which hangs in the periphery of a disturbing dream. Each line carries immense weight but holds its ambiguity until the chorus erupts, bleeding with rich imagery of a beating sun and leather slick with sweat.

It hits with the force of a falling piano. This year has been a breakout for all of Western Sydney’s Full Circle collective, but no one in Australia proved their bonafides like FRIDAY*. I can’t wait to see where he is this time next year.

17. Making The Band (Danity Kane) — Earl Sweatshirt

Earl Sweatshirt has done more by his 30th birthday than most rappers will do over their careers, so why not fuck around and find out? ‘Making The Band (Danity Kane)’ isn’t exactly a pivot to pop, but it’s instantly pleasant in a way a lot of Earl’s music actively fights against.

On ‘Making The Band’, a loquacious Earl Sweatshirt settles in over a skittering beat from Evilgiane and Clams Casino to rap without consequence. He’s got nothing left to prove but so much more that he wants to give. After years of treating rap like an outlet to survive, Earl’s into an era where he can just do what he wants and, with a wordsmith of this calibre, it’s going to sound divine.

16. The Hillbillies — Baby Keem & Kendrick Lamar

Kendrick and Keem took a Jersey club beat, threw in some chopped up Bon Iver and made the best duo cut of 2023. Rap music can be so much fun. Kendrick Lamar shows up to work with no interest in seriousness, ad-libbing up a storm on the intro with a tirade that starts with the hilarious declaration “I don’t buy much, I buy land, bro”.

Baby Keem, on the other hand, means business. With the intensity of someone ready to take a big step out of his cousin’s shadow, Baby Keem rises to deliver one of his best verses, running stride to stride with one of the greatest to ever pick up the mic. True, Kendrick is just stretching his legs, but it’s fun to see him break a light sweat in this infectiously playful footrace.

15. CooCool — Róisín Murphy & DJ Koze (Hit Parade)

When Róisín Murphy sings on ‘CooCool’, she’s on the cusp of breathlessness. She hangs on every word like an alien, descending upon us from an impossibly fashionable planet, reimagining and improving the entire English language, one word at a time.

There’s no better dance partner for an extraterrestrial disco invasion than DJ Koze, the timeless Germany producer who seems incapable of making a bad song. Over dusty drums and a groove that subtly ratchets itself up over the patient four and a half minutes, ‘CooCool’ would feel out-of-this-world if it wasn’t so resonantly human.

14. Fukumean — Gunna (a Gift & a Curse)

The refrain of ‘Fukumean’ will live in my head for eternity. A simple “eyuhh” from P-Litty might be the codeword to awaken every sleeper agent fighting bad taste around the globe. It alone is addictive enough to elevate a plodding trap fare into one of the best songs of the year.

But then a chorus of voices, led by rapper Nechie, hits. The emphatic delivery of “Fuck you mean?” is a hand grenade. Written as it is in the title, ‘Fukumean’ sounds like it’s said in a run-on sentence. Perhaps a little nervous, perhaps a little playful. Listen to it on the track and there’s nothing gamely about it. ‘Fukumean’ is a forceful pushback that doesn’t need to pull any pyrotechnics to have staying power.

13. Sentry (feat. MIKE) — Earl Sweatshirt & The Alchemist (VOIR DIRE)

Earl Sweatshirt attacks ‘Sentry’ like he’s backed up against a wall. You can almost visualise it: Earl, swinging a scimitar, fending off waves of creatures closing in on the dimunitive rapper in time with The Alchemist’s drumless beat. The vocal sample wraps around the ears as Earl jabs and parries his blade, barely taking a breath before lobbing the mic to MIKE.

MIKE had a blazing 2023, putting out two of the best records the year. His idols became his rivals. On this one, the master clears the apprentice: Earl is bringing in Freddie Hubbard references while MIKE falls back on Drake. But that’s more to say that Earl is locked in than to criticise MIKE. Two of the hottest rappers alive, sparring over a beat from one of the best producers of the decade.

12. FKA MESS — ABRA

FKA is ‘formerly known as’, which I’m sure most of you know, but it’s important to understand when listening to ‘FKA MESS’, the song from Atlanta’s elusive queen of the underworld ABRA.

Because whatever this is, it’s not a mess, not presently. Club-ready drums, meditative guitar and hazy production set the stage for a torn ABRA to hold true and cut it off with a man who has somebody else waiting for them at home. Layers upon layers show the head and heart collide: “go, go, go” overlap with “get down”, “mess around” as the conflict rattles around. ABRA floats and sinks in the mix, rearing up to voice her most unrelenting memories and letting the track wash over when she’s toying with her moments of weakness.

Those midnight conflicts are where ABRA does her best work. The slight echo on her voice, the way she smulders down a camera with a smidge of uncertainty in every press photo, the ethereal textures: ABRA finds the crevices where we bend our own rules in pursuit of skin on skin and digs in a finely manicured nail.

11. I Believe — Caroline Polachek (Desire, I Want To Turn Into You)

Each pop star has their niche and Caroline Polachek found hers when she realised she could be perfect. A Caroline Polachek song is precise in a way that others cannot be. Whereas her peers like Charli XCX and Rina Sawayama can be agents of chaos, and Troye Sivan and Jessie Ware have nailed euphoria, Caroline Polachek’s songs simply find everything landing exactly where it needs to.

On ‘I Believe’, perfection coalesces: the song thumps when your neck is craving an excuse to snap on beat, Polachek’s vocals isolate just when you’d want a cascade of goosebumps to run along your neck and the garage-tinged dance break arrives on time to satiate the thirst to cut loose. Polachek is supernatural, a visionary superstar with the power to read minds and anticipate what you want when you want it.

10. Woke Up And Asked Siri How I Was Going To Die — Armand Hammer (We Buy Diabetic Test Strips)

‘Woke Up And Asked Siri How I Was Going To Die’ makes me think about the inevitability of death. We can make sensible choices that lower our risk of dying but the truth is, the only guarantees around the domain of death is that it comes no matter what and we get hundreds of chances to bring it upon us every day that we choose not to take.

And that’s a good thing. I’m glad I’m around and I’m glad you are, too. On ‘Woke Up’, Elucid and billy woods move like marauders. Motel rooms, smoking guns, roadside stops pepper a ghostly JPEGMAFIA beat that traverses its way to a restful endpoint: billy woods, clocking on at the graveyard, “appropriately lit”. So it goes.

9. Vampire — Olivia Rodrigo (GUTS)

Olivia Rodrigo gets it. She’s not really one of us, if she ever was, but despite being one of the most famous people alive before his 20th birthday, Rodrigo retains a vice-grip of resonant pop music. Her commitment and connection to authenticity gives Rodrigo licence to spill in other ways.

Devoid of realness, the campiness in ‘Vampire’ would dull its impact. The bloodsucking famefucker who only comes out at night is a silly caricature, but the way Rodrigo sings “I’ve made some real big mistakes, but you make the worst one look fine” mainlines right into a bleeding heart and gives everything enough weight. It’s the ultimate plate-spinning exercise but, just like everything else she tries her hand at, Rodrigo sweeps it superbly.

8. Do It Faster — Militarie Gun (Life Under The Gun)

A runaway winner for the most fun song of the year from by far most fun band of the year. ‘Do It Faster’ has infinite replay value, so much so that this song is best enjoyed immediately looped back following its first playthrough. Every time drummer Vince Nguyen brings stick to skin, it sounds like a collision that’ll rip a cratering hole in the kit. Every time the chorus launches, an angel gets another tattoo.

‘Do It Faster’ is also just a brilliant headrush of anti-capitalism. In a year in which cost of living became inescapably oppressive, there were something so gratifying about hearing a band verbalise the message we’ve all been implicitly hearing from higher-ups: “I don’t care what you do/Just do it faster”. It’s taking the catch-cry of every boss from building sites to office blocks and flipping into catharsis for everyone bound to the chase for rent money.

7. Kenwood Speakers — billy woods and Kenny Segal (Maps)

“Wire tap sound like Buju Banton”, “If it’s goin’ get gentrified, I’m not trying leave it empty-handed”, “Wreathed in gas, I’m a carburetor” — sometimes, it’s not hard to explain greatness. Why should I waste words to sell you on the brilliance of billy woods when his command over language is that much better?

Let’s use the paragraph instead to talk about the state of rap in 2023: it’s not dead, stop asking. Through his solo work and Armand Hammer, woods understands this better than most — the underground is polishing its sound, pushing the esoteric ever closer to the mainstream, and the mainstream are, as always, trying to rip up buried roots for their own gain (hi, Drake). Rap is changing, yes, and the new landscape might necessitate more digging, but the gold is as prolific as ever if you know where to look.

6. Pet Rock — L’Rain (I Killed Your Dog)

Disconnection can be at once freeing and trapping. On ‘Pet Rock’, L’Rain asks a lover “why would you go without me?”, letting the last syllable twist and contort as she lets go of the rope.

Freedom comes from finality, closing a door for good after letting it linger. Once it’s closed, there’s nothing, no chance that reconciliation can happen. That becomes constrictive in its own way: suddenly, control evaporates. They’re gone, you’re here, turn the lights off on the way out.

It’s an unsettling feeling distilled well on ‘Pet Rock’. Sonically, L’Rain’s vocals have the sheen ripped from 90s rock radio, but the rest of her band feel warped and woozy enough to be distinctly contemporary. ‘Pet Rock’ is the eye of L’Rain’s storm and it’s beautiful.

5. plz don’t cut my wings (feat. Earl Sweatshirt) — MIKE (Burning Desire)

Even if you’ve never heard of MIKE, if you’ve never rooted for his success as he toiled in underground obscurity, you can’t help but want him to win from the first line on ‘plz don’t cut my wings’. Behind a swirling orchestral beat, MIKE pairs disarming vulnerability with elite rapping. By the time Earl Sweatshirt, MIKE’s childhood idol, strolls onto the track, it feels like sweet relief from the tortured soul.

It’s rare for Earl Sweatshirt to play this role: for a solid five years, Earl was among the most candid and brutally dark rappers out there. But in 2023, he found his joy: he’s back on stage, joking and having fun (cf, ‘Making The Band (Danity Kane)’, #17). It serves as a benchmark and promise for MIKE, only four years Earl’s junior but fresh into his stardom: it gets better, hang tight.

4. No One Knows We’re Dancing — Everything But The Girl (Fuse)

‘No One Knows We’re Dancing’ is a secret pleasure. It’s not just the promise of the title, but also in the way the song comes to life throughout the song as Tracy Thorne colours in the portrait of a sweaty hedonistic club, heaving at 5pm on a warm Sunday.

Thorne’s vocals might be the biggest weapon on ‘No One Knows We’re Dancing’, still steeling and sharpening over 40 years since Everything But The Girl came together. Ben Watt’s synths land like stones in a lake, building up a song that transports you right into the club. Whether it’s Fabio with the Fiat, Amy from the pet store or Peter at the bar, ‘No One Knows We’re Dancing’ introduces us to a slew of mysterious characters. We don’t get a lot of answers but, frankly, the unknown is half the fun.

3. HEALMODE — Jeff Rosenstock (HELLMODE)

It can be disconcerting to hear Jeff Rosenstock catch his breath. Usually, everyone’s favourite pop-punk auteur is shouting over a frenzied wall of guitars, drenching something furious and devastating in rambunctious noise.

But on ‘HEALMODE’, Rosenstock channels his idol Neil Young and gives us a slice of life ode to a rare bout of evening drizzle in his adopted home of California. It’s as refreshing as a blast of cold air after a long stint bunkered down, as balming as it is beautiful.

2. My Love Mine All Mine — Mitski (The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We)

Mitski has built a decorated career by voicing a special kind of vulnerability — the kind that swells and sinks in the chest, uncontrollably, catching us at moments we least expect and when we most definitely know it’s coming. She makes music to get dumped to, for cold relationships and overheated heartbreak.

‘My Love All Mine’ might, on the surface, be just another entry in that lineage. Mitski is singing to an entity she has no control over — this time, celestial instead of human — but ‘My Love Mine All Mine’ breaks from the field with its quiet power. Mitski is candid on her terms, wielding her love with agency and deliberation. Never before has Mitski felt so decisively in control of the emotion she has proven her mastery at articulating.

1. Contact — Kelela (Raven)

Call it the introvert’s burden: a big night out can be, on paper, unappealing. Pick your poison — expensive, exhausting, messy, the next day written off. But there’s always that question lingering question at the back of even the most pessimistic mind: what if this one’s different?

Because for as well as we all know how it feels for a night to flop, so too can we recall the moment it all comes together: the lurid alchemy that blankets the room when everything coalesces under the cover of darkness, the loud music and body heat that gives it all a sense of greater meaning.

‘Contact’ isn’t just the perfect snapshot of that sentiment, but a proud indulgence of it. At one point, the song slows and loops back unto itself — forcing back open the window Kelela is letting us peek into. Kelela becomes a wizard of time, contorting the track over and under to give us a step into club heaven for as long as she can possibly muster.

The rest:

51. Devil’s Chariot — LSDXOXO (Delusions of Grandeur (D.O.G.) EP)

52. Cut You Off — C.O.F.F.I.N (Australia Stops)

53. Only — Sampha (Lahai)

54. Watermelon Automobile (feat. Saba and MAVI) — Valee & Harry Fraud (Virtuoso)

55. (It Goes Like) Nanana — Peggy Gou

56. Dinah — Maple Glider (I Get Into Trouble)

57. I Said — Swami Sound (Back In The Day)

58. Goodtime! — Be Your Own Pet (Mommy)

59. 3 SUMMERS — Jeff Rosenstock (HELLMODE)

60. Vampire Empire — Big Thief

61. So You Are Tired — Sufjan Stevens (Javelin)

62. It Must Change — ANOHNI and the Johnsons (My Back Was A Bridge For You To Cross)

63. Me & U — Tems

64. drive ME crazy! — Lil Yachty (Let’s Start Here.)

65. Cuts On My Wrist — Sidney Phillips (I’m So Tired of Being Staunchly)

66. Co-Star — Amaarae (Fountain Baby)

67. I Been Young — George Clanton (Ooh Rap I Ya)

68. HYAENA — Travis Scott (UTOPIA)

69. MONONOKE — Ella Shimada & Jamahl Yami

70. Super Shy — NewJeans (Get Up EP)

71. Satisfy — Dylan Atlantis (VIOLET EP)

72. gun kontrol — BbyMutha

73. CYA (feat. Kuya Neil and ZK king) — Teether (STRESSOR)

74. SkeeYee — Sexyy Red (Hood Hottest Princess)

75. skateboard P (2013) — Chef Chung (WARRIOR POUNDS THE MOUND)

76. Oversized Sweater — Shamir (Homo Anxietatem)

77. Hollywood Baby — 100 gecs (10,000 gecs)

78. Opening Night — Scowl (Psychic Dance Routine EP)

79. BOSCO — DoloRRes

80. For Granted — Yaeji (With a Hammer)

81. Pinking Shears — Mandy, Indiana (i’ve seen a way)

82. uHhH HuH.Mp3 — TisaKorean (Let Me Update My Status)

83. Frauds (Mall Grab Remix) — Vv Pete (Frauds (Reworked) EP)

84. Wait On Me — Breakfast Road (Deluxe)

85. Battle (feat. Ice-T) — Kool Keith & Real Bad Man (Serpent)

86. The Sky Is Melting — Alex Lahey (The Answer Is Always Yes)

87. Parkour — Erick the Architect

88. GATA (feat. rusowsky) — Ralphie Choo (SUPERNOVA)

89. Damn Gloves (feat. Ty Dolla $ign and Yanga YaYa) — serpentwithfeet

90. New Face Of Death — Home Front (Games Of Power)

91. Alrite Alrite — El Cousteau (Dirty Harry)

92. Set The Roof (feat. Nikki Nair & Tayla Parx) — Hudson Mohawke

93. Motion — Ty Dolla $ign

94. Hyper Trophy — Citizen (Calling The Dogs)

95. kisses — Slowdive (everything is alive)

96. get him back! — Olivia Rodrigo (GUTS)

97. Sleepyhead — Fiddlehead (Death is Nothing to Us)

98. 10 Toes Down — Sunami (SUNAMI (L.P.)

99. Wild Animals — Liv.e (Girl In The Half Pearl)

100. Psychedelic Switch — Carly Rae Jepsen (The Loveliest Time)