Top 100 Songs of 2018

80. BROCKHAMPTON – “Tonya”

from iridescence (Question Everything/RCA)

“Tonya” was the first song Brockhampton released after the departure of founding member Ameer Vann. It’s not about Vann, exactly, though; it doesn’t address him by name or deal with the allegations against him. Instead, it’s more about the feelings that setback dredged up for the boy-band’s core members, about how a loss can remind you of what else you’ve lost. The song doesn’t try to conjure any of the group’s trademark chaotic energy; instead, it settles in grief, in contemplation, in stirring pianos and swirling group vocals. “I don’t matter like I used to” is, more than anything, a recognition of change, and the boys are doing all they can to grow up, thoughtfully and considerately. They’re trying. – Ben Dickerson

79. Frank Ocean – “Moon River”

(Self-released)

This was a quiet year for Frank Ocean; other than a few excellent guest verses and some (ahem) merch drops, the R&B luminary skirted the spotlight. And even so, he found time to turn all of us into Nelson Muntz crying in the auditorium with this cover of the 1961 classic. Frank’s “Moon River” is quiet and composed, and while it trades the sweeping orchestration of the original for some gentle, muted guitar work, it holds onto the wistful, yearning spirit of Johnny Mercer’s lyric. – Ben Dickerson

78. Sheck Wes – “Mo Bamba”

from Mudboy (GOOD)

Originally released as a single in 2017, Sheck Wes’ soaring mainstream debut “Mo Bamba” garnered international praise and attention, becoming an ultimate sleeper hit for Pitchfork critics and barstool bros alike. Sharing its name with Sheck Wes’ friend and NBA center Mo Bamba, the certified global banger is chock full of lore. After requesting a name drop, Mo Bamba was surprised to find himself the titular figure of “Mo Bamba,” Sheck Wes’ sinister, bass-throbbing Soundcloud cut that makes me want to put my head through a fucking wall. The song’s best moment comes when the beat cuts out at the 1:38 mark. Sheck Wes’ ad-libbed flow stalls and transitions with the most eloquent and incomparable series of expletives we may ever hear: “Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” – Patrick Pilch

77. American Pleasure Club – “This Is Heaven and I’d Die For It”

from A Whole Fucking Lifetime of This (Run for Cover)

As dreary as the year felt, a lot of good came out of 2018—mostly in the form of music. One of those pros was Teen Suicide changing their name, from that, to American Pleasure Club. Riding a bit more optimism, they released their first album under the new name, featuring “This is heaven,” a slightly less fuzzy brand of emo rock, rock climbing from melancholy-ridden Elvis Depressedly to sun drenched Cloud Nothings circa Turning On. “This is heaven” explores the lighter side that frontman Sam Ray and his bandmates are now ready to soak up. – Virginia Croft

76. Dedekind Cut – “Tahoe”

from Tahoe (Kranky)

The ambient alias of Lee Bannon (born Fred Warmsley) is named for a method of mathematics, and the song for the famously scenic Californian lake. With a background in hip-hop and R&B but since migrating into almost completely ambient territory as Dedekind Cut, Bannon makes Tahoe work to its nominal metaphors—never more so than the title track. Almost completely favoring texture over rhythm and melody, it conjures the rich calm of its title—ripples and all—yet nonetheless betrays the flickering holograms of ordered structure his name and background imply. The result is haunting, otherworldly and utterly beautiful. – William Lewis

75. Deafheaven – “Canary Yellow”

from Ordinary Corrupt Human Love (Anti-)

If any track on Ordinary Corrupt Human Love acts as a summation of Deafheaven’s style, it’s this one. Bright and incandescent, the band displays an almost unnatural aural acumen from movement to movement, funneling genre hallmarks like a grab bag of accumulated music experience before channeling it all into a searing, triumphant wave of brilliance. This is Deafheaven sounding freer than ever, a medley of their potential turned up, even beyond 11. – Brian Roesler

74. Palberta – “Fake Out”

from Roach Goin’ Down (Wharf Cat)

Palberta is a polarizing band. Their wonky and brief punk layers humor and camaraderie over spurting, stop-n-go pieces of varying approachability. While Roach Goin’ Down is most satisfying when listened to in full, songs like “Fake Out” push Palberta’s pop-bent proclivities into the foreground, showcasing the trio’s sharp faculty for songwriting. “Fake Out” is a stunning example of Palberta’s flawless execution of a dusky pop track under an experimental guise, bringing the band’s intoxicatingly caustic melodies into clear focus. – Patrick Pilch

73. Joey Purp – “Elastic”

from Quarterthing (Self-released)

Joey Purp’s minimalist execution on “Elastic” is a sneak peek into the future of what is to come in hip-hop; the Chicago emcee does more with less, tinkering with gliding key arrangements and vocal distortions. The glitchy, quick-witted rap on “Elastic” is alien, bouncing hip-hop that brings Purp’s smooth vocal delivery to the forefront. Purp has a firm grip on the spotlight with “Elastic,” two minutes of vulnerability that translates into a remarkable feat of in-your-face coolness. – Timothy Michalik

72. Anderson .Paak – “Tints” (feat. Kendrick Lamar)

from Oxnard (Aftermath)

Riding a ‘70s funk groove not dissimilar to “King Kunta,” Paak and Lamar reigned over fall 2018 as kings of cool on “Tints.” It’s one of the best summer songs to not be released…well, in the summer. Oh well. You can’t always pick your spots. Those looking for the emotional resonance of Lamar’s and Paak’s best work won’t find a ton of that here, but even poets need breaks sometimes. – Liam Green

71. Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever – “Talking Straight”

from Hope Downs (Sub Pop)

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever are probably really tired of hearing about The Feelies, and even more tired of being compared to The Go-Betweens, especially since the latter likewise hail from their Australian homeland. But there’s something charmingly anachronistic about a band so defined by guitar jangle and whose anthemic college-rock singles would have been a perfect fit for an episode of 120 Minutes circa 1988 that, naturally, it’s going to come up. “Talking Straight” is a top contender for best guitar song of the year, an intricate layering of three different players all intertwined in shimmering post-punk ecstasy. Perfect pop songs don’t sound like this much anymore; it’s so thrilling to hear one that does. – Jeff Terich

70. Mothers – “PINK”

from Render Another Ugly Method (Anti-)

Mothers’ 2018 album, Render Another Ugly Method, is disoriented, complex, and undoubtedly literary. Render Another Ugly Method’s finest moment, “Pink,” however, is the most steadfast, carefully balanced track on the album. Even so, the fastidious nature of “Pink” reflects that of Render Another Ugly Method, cruising and building atop a perpetual anxiousness, a nervous breakdown translated into an agitated freakout of glitchy oblivion. “Pink” is stuffed to the brim with thundering drums and stop-and-start guitar craftsmanship that elevates the Philadelphia-via-Athens band to another realm of self-aware post-punk. – Timothy Michalik

69. Sleep – “Sonic Titan”

from The Sciences (Third Man)

Sleep didn’t exactly pick up where they left off when they reunited, but this song from their first album in 15 years has all the trademarks one would want from their sound. Once this song hits, its massive lumber makes a clear differentiation between what’s doom and what stoner metal, as it’s more bong-inspirational than melancholy. When the vocals come in midway into this 12-minute, eh, titan, it creates their own signature sound in a world of Sabbath worshippers. You will be bulldozed by its power, no matter how stoned you are. – Wil Lewellyn

68. Human People – “California”

from Butterflies Drink Turtle Tears (Exploding in Sound)

There are a fuckton of songs about California, Red Hot Chili Peppers discography not included. But on “California,” Human People address music’s U.S. state of choice in deglamorizing fashion, as Hayley Livingston’s exhausted drawl labels California as a (probably mediocre) final destination. The vocalist’s nausea-inducing death anxiety is peak ennui for Livingston, diminishing the often romanticized Golden State with an additional expletive, asserting “I’m gonna go to Cali-fuckin-fornia/It’s where I will die.” Human People’s slacker twee highlight is like a successor to Times New Viking’s “Move To California,” proving a change of scenery might not change anything. – Patrick Pilch

67. Swearin’ – “Grow Into a Ghost”

from Fall Into the Sun (Merge)

The return of Swearin’, one of Allison Crutchfield’s many musical outlets, was an unexpected return, and the quality of Fall Into the Sun, Swearin’s first album since 2013’s Surfing Strange, was even more unexpected. The leading single, “Grow Into a Ghost,” finds Swearin’ in a much more polished state of mind than their previous work, and the steady power-pop and nuanced guitar leads reflect Crutchfield’s meditations: “Press my head against the glass / Infinitesimal city streets / And for a moment I welcome the axiom / A transfixing breeze of relief.” – Timothy Michalik

66. Moses Sumney – “Rank & File”

from Black in Deep Red, 2014 (Jagjaguwar)

Following the mighty success of Aromanticism, Moses Sumney spent 2018 riding a wave. “Rank & File” closed out the second of his two EPs released this year and encapsulates the record’s pointed political tone, a stark contrast to the wistful lamentations of last year. Sumney will always find beauty in his songwriting, but in borrowing staple military mantras and harboring a bubbling aggressive undertone, the track gives a deliberate edge to Sumney’s fragile public persona as he overtly reveals his anger at current climates. – William Lewis

65. Soccer Mommy – “Your Dog”

from Clean (Fat Possum)

Sophie Allison’s guitars on “Your Dog” might not exactly blaze their way toward stadium glory like Adrian Smith and Dave Murray at their peak, but they’re still pretty badass. They have to be—”Your Dog” is the harshest and most cutting song on Clean, a cathartic, vicious response to controlling, abusive men whose reckoning is far from over. “I don’t want to be your fucking dog, that you drag around,” she sings, maintaining a sense of cool while everything else seems to be in a state of chaos. It’s an intense moment on one of the best proper indie rock records this year—it demands some tasty riffs. – Jeff Terich

64. Noname – “Don’t Forget About Me”

from Room 25 (Self-released)

Noname’s music is so special in part because of her empathy, because of how she tries to understand the people in her life and the world around her. But on “Don’t Forget About Me,” she turns inward, trying to understand how she affects others—hoping that she does affect others, that she’s remembered, that she changed lives for the better. “All I am is love,” Noname says, and she recognizes her impermanence, but she’s still trying. That effort is valuable. This song is beautiful. – Ben Dickerson

63. Grouper – “Driving”

from Grid of Points (Kranky)

Is there more overused cliché about Liz Harris’, aka Grouper, music other than to call it “dreamy”? Perhaps. But that seems to be a recurring theme for Harris—ghostly compositions and sophisticated minimalism wound up in a darkly exposed concoction for even darker times. To listen to Grouper is to be in a specific headspace, to let your guard down and become swallowed—nay, devoured—by something so unpleasant that you can’t help but press repeat. Such is the case for “Driving,” the sparse, piano-ridden highlight track off of Grouper’s latest album, Grid of Points. – Timothy Michalik

62. Future – “Hate the Real Me”

from BEASTMODE 2 (Epic)

Future writes the best songs of his career while in the grips of a terrifying depressive low. As much of an earworm as the track is, it’s Future’s posturing, his reflective pain that actually spills forth into his voice, every verse oscillates between expected tropes and something painfully sincere. “Voices in my head/you the enemy/I got a portrait in my head/ I built a dynasty.” But what does a dynasty mean if there’s no way to enjoy its spoils? A fascinating banger of self-reflection and sincerity. – Brian Roesler

61. Andre 3000 – “Me & My (To Bury Your Parents)”

(Self-released)

It’s just a moment. A moment with your dad. A moment with your dad, and he’s smiling, and you’re smiling. He’s smiling, and you’re smiling, and the windows are down in the car, and your mind is clear. Or a moment with your mother. You’re with her, and you’re happy. You’re with her, and you’re happy, and she’s happy. And then, they’re both gone. They’re both gone, and it’s just you. It’s just you. And you remember that they’re gone. But you were happy. They were happy. – Ben Dickerson