A torch song from Mars, “Long Road Home” is OPN with his romance meter at full gauge: romance of the very far away, romance of a car at night with a long way to go, romance of reuniting after isolation. The latter, A Written Testimony, often grapples with the pressure that drove Electronica from the spotlight. Standing confidently at the center of the saga is Bad Bunny himself. By the time "Robber" reaches its urgent climax, Lindeman has transformed a personal reckoning with societal failures into a reflective prompt for the listener. –Jessica Kariisa, “I Know Alone” may have been written before the pandemic, but its reflections on solitude hit especially hard in a year when pretty much everyone was forced to live life as a glorified hermit. 82. user score (14) Jan 15. None were greater than “We Paid,” his triumphant collaboration with protégé 42 Dugg. –Evan Minsker, Flo Milli’s “Like That Bitch” is like a shot of bad bitch juice, a potent steroid for dealing with enemies, envy, and haters in general. You can practically feel a distance being bridged between her voice and the microphone, and between despondent fans across the globe. He’s always been less concerned with genre confines than with rapping over anything that ensures that he’s the main character, and this Paris Is Burning credits-worthy, vogue-ready burner feels like a final, ascendant role by several orders of magnitude. Discover releases, reviews, credits, songs, and more about 54 – 46* - You'll Never Get To Heaven at Discogs. Light on its feet and effervescent, “Do It” is the sound of Chloe x Halle gracefully gliding across a vocal tightrope, with each sweetened back-and-forth accented by fabulous self-confidence. The five-minute song is an all-consuming aesthetic maelstrom that is continually transforming; each beat change connects another link in a chain of references, establishing a masterful reggaetón timeline. With the intrigue of a story song and the intimacy of a biography, Swift delves into socialite anthropology and returns with an epitaph for a woman she’ll never meet. “I don’t believe in that stuff anymore,” she admitted in “Funeral,” a song about being consumed by the tragedy of a classmate’s death. –Jayson Greene, There were so very few reasons to break out in ecstatic dance this year, but Jayda G offered a sublime exception. –Abby Jones, The world might not need a song of triumph from Drake in 2020, but when he steps into the role of self-aware charmer, it’s hard to resist. The song’s final scene—forgive the spoiler—is indelible: A man drifts off to sleep while two elder strangers stand in the doorway. Warm, lo-fi keys and a loosely strummed guitar cushion the restlessness of self-work and sobriety, as she plainly states that she’ll “put on a good show for you.” Her voice crackles as she wrestles with the precarity of declaring acceptance—what it means to give it to yourself, to others—and the nerves of speaking a truth in shared company. The music illustrates the Sisyphean task of feeling better: Each time it reaches some measure of calm, the noise comes roaring back. Bridgers has said that her first album documented her trauma, while her second, this year’s Punisher, is about understanding how she processes it. It’s the sound of a precocious pop star throwing off the restraints, cracking her knuckles, and stepping into the fray. –Katherine St. Asaph, Listen: Jessie Ware, “What’s Your Pleasure?”, With euphoria in short supply and dancefloors shuttered around the globe, 2020 hasn’t been particularly kind to dance music. The vocal melody encompasses a range you could find under one hand on the piano, just a few notes, while her fingerpicking works its familiar, comforting magic. But neither quite nails it. 2320 Followers. “I’ve never been a natural,” she sings over dreamy electric guitars and a lapping drumbeat that sounds buried under several layers of comforters. 75. But on “The Neverending Story,” he raps over Alchemist’s pensive Litto Nebbia loop about the wonder he still sees in the world—a motorcycle ride to the desert, the gold teeth that make his smile shine like a Frankie Beverly song. And yet: "I'm in debt, man!" –Anna Gaca, The title of Fiona Apple’s spectacular fifth album is a call to “fetch your tool of liberation [and] set yourself free,” and its title track captures the cautious jubilation of accomplishing that feat. Beneath the lackadaisical surface, however, is a distinct lack of joie de vivre. In places, the young woman’s voice flickers and trembles with playful delight, sounding impossibly alive. “We’re okay.” –Andy Cush, A decade ago, the New Orleans native Jay Electronica enchanted with a series of cryptic dispatches, then vanished in a cloud of smoke and British tabloids. “Hit Different” is misted with heady sluggishness, dragging drums, and Ty Dolla $ign’s honeyed voice, soft with the truth of a late-night realization. –Sheldon Pearce, Argentine composer Beatriz Ferreyra is renowned for the disorienting spatiality and shape-shifting abstraction of her electronic and tape-based work, but it’s the human scale and raw intimacy of “Echos” that startle. –Mano Sundaresan, After eulogizing his late mother on 2015’s startlingly bare Carrie & Lowell, Sufjan Stevens is now grappling with the death of his own ego. At 17 minutes, “Murder Most Foul” is similarly extended and retrospective—the 79-year-old slowly spins a story that orbits around the 1963 killing of President John F. Kennedy while rattling off many of America’s finest musicians along the way. The most pristine love, he suggests, is found as a whisper back in the dead of the night. –Ryan Dombal, 070 Shake’s hypnotic voice makes hard things go down easier. The driving vantage point, though, is still his frantic mind. Based on 31 ratings. We've no one to blame but ourselves, they report; meanwhile the third album by maximalist art-poppers Everything Everything feels like the final part of a trilogy about mankind's desperate self-destruction. While she luxuriates in the heady, horny stuff of the verses—of perfect symmetry and blown candles—the beat throbs with lockstep control, less feeling love than meaning business. Last updated on 08.27.2014 As her narrator bites her fingernails and fends off a mother’s backhanded expressions of concern, the song oscillates between nervous, flayed post-punk and outbursts of metallic distortion. At the beginning, it’s just Roddy, screeching “eeech urh” into the mic, like a toddler exploring vowel sounds for the first time. That he would cut a record full of the same kind of lyrics being used against him in a sham court proceeding is more than just chutzpah. "Maybe you're the coldest if you never felt it," sings Higgs of that desperation to do something, as the rest of the band chant the song's title like monks, over a '60s girl-group beat. So on its lead single, “Garden Song,” Bridgers is dissecting her dreams again, delving into her subconscious to understand what she wants and what it feels like to actually get it. Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion rapped such a rich tapestry of filth on “WAP” that it earned a face-breaking 93 million streams in its first week and immediately went No. His voice, dexterous as Prince’s, does the most in a full range of light and shade. 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