Best Songs of 2019 (Tracks 15-1)

Bruce Springsteen released The Wayfarer as a track accompanying his film Western Stars, where he made his directorial debut. Despite singing about being a wayfarer, wandering around “from town to town”, it’s certain there is no drifting in his twangy delivery. The opening riff that slips itself into the duration of the track, proceeded by a heavenly string section brings a cinematic element to the track. To further create the grand cinematic experience, The Wayfarer recruits backing vocals that are like a gravitational pull, drawing you closer to the track. 

Caroline Polachek on So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings is a reimagined Imogen Heap, into a more upbeat stratosphere. Polachek’s voice is unusual pop, yet unusually pop all in one track. Her vocals are refreshingly malleable and nimble, alongside chirpy production and self-deprecating lyrics. Her vocals are a standout, with some moments of delivery morphing into the synths and becoming unrecognisable and warped, yet other screams so powerful they stampede over the mania of the production. 

Thom Yorke imagines what it’s like to go back and repeat regretted moments, singing with a melancholy, “If you could do it all again”.  Dawn Chorus provides a wedge between hope and growth, and chasing circles and never reaching your desired destination. Creating a sensory rush with complements of Yorke’s whispery vocal and soft sonic buzz sends shivers down the spine and leaves the question open on whether there is any value of reliving a day, or waking up wishing to change the past. 

Stormzy’s grime is one of a kind. Taking turns between aggressive, heavy delivery, the artist also opens up the door to a cooler tone, as if engaged in deep conversation. Whilst braggadocious in its verses, Vossi Bop does not succumb to arrogance, instead conjuring the idea that Stormzy only wants credit where credit is due for his achievements and growth as he pushes through and re-sculpts his artistry. What’s most worthy of mention is his unapologetic aim at the political situation in the United Kingdom and his combative stance against the unruly power prime minister Boris Johnson exercises. 

Charly Bliss take the reins and capture control, surprisingly not by plunging into working harder, but by recognising the tendencies that cause a downward spiral. On Capacity, the emotional awakening so effectively encapsulated in the lyrics is equally delivered through the synth-pop, shifted into harder guitar textures of the track. With the bubblegum vocal of Eva Hendricks leading the song, Charly Bliss toss out people pleasing for forgiveness and liberation. 

Emerging off two incomprehensibly painful years, and a deeply personal, experimental album in Sweetener, Grande amplified the meaning of personal on fifth studio album thank u, next. The album’s final track break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored is cheeky in its portrayal of desire and jealousy. With its syncopated, eery trap influence, Grande uses the track as an opportunity to highlight the versatility in her voice, undergoing the shift from a powerhouse to a sleek performer. Using the themes of longing and switching allegiance however, may be a guise for the self-empowerment messaging she indistinctly alludes to in the music video. 

Delivering with a simultaneous passion and fragility, FKA Twigs’ vocal delivery is heartbreaking and devastating, yet warm and comforting. Effortless dance moves captured in golden light in the music video directly mirror the fluid and tranquil vocal performance from FKA Twigs. Textured, yet sparse, Cellophane deep dives into the cracks of love and its inability to withstand the test of outside noise and perceptions. Whilst its quietness could be lacklustre, FKA Twigs defies this with her graceful and sharp falsetto. 

RICKY provides some of the most energetic moments of music in 2019, in as little as two and a half minutes. In the pulsing, gritty track Denzel Curry reflects on his upbringing and the climate of his formative years. He expands on the theme of his environment, exploring how it’s sturdily shaped his desire to fight back and prove himself to those doubtful. Despite the raucous energy, Denzel Curry dedicates the track to his family and his “day-ones”, appreciating the lessons they’ve engrained in him, whilst also recognising the skeptics along the way, and how they have contributed to building a thicker skin. Curry tackles issues of gravity as he propelled himself to fame, namely religious and spiritual growth, family ties and the power of money. 

Vampire Weekend’s floating keys and soft strums of acoustic guitar build a floral, springtime image of sunlight and serenity. Secretly contrasting against the rich and flavoursome sounds of Harmony Hall are the echoing and cloudy lyrics “I thought that I was free from all that questionin’/ But every time a problem ends, another one begins”. Evoking a mood of respite in paradise through the heavenly, sweet arrangements and delivery, Vampire Weekend highlight that there is more than what meets the eye with their layrered lyricism. 

Sampling The Manhattan’s It Feels So Good to Be Loved So Bad, James Blake transforms the soul injected within the original into a choppier, electronic landscape. Can’t Believe The Way We Flow’s production mimics the peace and synergy that the right kind of love cements in individuals. Resemblant of the jubilance Blake has found within his personal life and relationship, the track has a glorious and victorious element to it, noticeable in the angelic quality to his vocals, and the repetition of the perfectly fitting sample. 

Bags reflects on Clairo’s first experiences with another girl, with unreserved and nervous lyricism. Self-written, accompanied by twinkling keys and stronger drums that frame the despondency in her voice, Bags narrates the challenge of expressing feelings without compromising relationships. Clairo finds a symmetry with her tranquility, highlighting the apprehensions that come with admitting love, yet also underlining the tingling feeling of savouring the specialness and intimacy of mundane moments.

Rosalía and J Balvin have navigated their way to the pinnacles of Latin music independently, and subsequently created their own peak on Con Altura. Melding flamenco infused origins from Rosalía with ruling reggaeton from J Balvin, the two were able to find the perfect line between their countless strengths to create a sensation. Naming the title Con Altura is no mistake, translating to “with style/elegance”; something the duo have clearly cultivated on the track. Shedding their shameless and carefree attitude, the collaboration is airtight and energetic, and a hopeful indicator to what the future of Latin pop morphs into. 

In the coming-of-age track, Sharon Van Etten converses with herself as she muses about her teenage journey. On the cusp of adulthood, and on the brink of setting out to achieve large dreams, Van Etten alternates perspective between her present self, and seventeen year old self, evoking an acute sense of nostalgia. Closing with, “You’re just seventeen/ So much like me” marks the sentiment that as we change with age, and grow out of our shells as people, sometimes our destiny is within our hearts all along, whether it is realised or not. 

Olsen’s Lark is what it sounds like to ‘walk down memory lane’. The soft sounding, contemplative nature gracing the beginning of the track soon swerves, with Olsen projecting fury as she nears screaming over an elaborate and pulling string section. The final crescendo appearing in the outro is Olsen’s way of going out with a bang, not a whimper. Almost wailing, “They say you love/ Every single part/ What about my dreams?” Angel Olsen’s emotion bubbles to the top, and she underscores what it is to be a woman making her needs and wellbeing secondary. 

Lathered with synths and robo-pop vocals, Charli and Christine construct the frantic energy they are tormented by on Gone. As they draw on tensions between being surrounded by others, yet still feeling a hopeless sense of isolation, the collaborators call into question and illuminate the obstacles the mind presents whilst overwhelmed by the pressure of social situations. The glitched intensity of the sonic accentuates Christine’s verse as she sings “Do they wish to run to me?/Am I a smoke? Am I the sun? Who decides?” In embodying a scurry of doubt and how easily the mind digresses, Gone paints a seamless blend of escaping, and being boxed in by social anxiety.