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Listen: Sufjan Stevens, “Will Anybody Ever Love Me?”
31.
Wet Leg: “Chaise Longue” (2021)
The Isle of Wight, in the English Channel, isn’t terribly large, but it has a storied history: It was once home to Queen Victoria and the poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson; Charles Dickens vacationed there while writing David Copperfield. Add to its list of notable residents the indie-rock duo Wet Leg, who immediately transcended their local scene on the strength of their debut single, “Chaise Longue.” Rhian Teasdale, like any good post-punk revivalist, sings with an alluring, disaffected deadpan, but she cuts through the pretense with a winking embrace of the deeply unserious, namely her on-the-nose sexual innuendos, including one straight from Mean Girls. A snappy, nonsensical hook cements “Chaise Longue” as delightfully dumb and instantly unforgettable. Teasdale and bandmate Hester Chambers claim they started Wet Leg on a lark and they don’t take their songs too seriously—an approach that, like their island home, turned out to be an assuming front hiding surprisingly fertile creative ground. –Marissa Lorusso
Listen: Wet Leg, “Chaise Longue”
30.
Sabrina Carpenter: “Espresso” (2024)
Every supposedly wrong decision Sabrina Carpenter makes during “Espresso” turns out to be the right one. She begins, for instance, with the chorus and not a verse, immediately telling us about some “he” with a whispery nonchalance that suggests we already know his deal. There’s the double “that,” the endless entendre of being “Mountain Dewed,” a string of similes and metaphors so ceaseless it’s hard to keep track of her shifting status as a Nintendo Switch, an amorous angiosperm, and an expert barista. The way she bounces to and from the coffee concept like she has the caffeinated jitters: They make you feel like the boy in the song, the addict who needs to run it back. When Carpenter calls herself stupid at last verse’s end, well… you might chuckle and nod.
All this, though, is the grit above a beat that’s as smooth as a single-origin shot, the things that catch and hold attention. Just as Carpenter is taunting the dude she treated so well but isn’t rushing to call back, she’s teasing us by speaking in winks, smiles, and linguistic pretzels, never wanting us to know exactly what she means or plans to do. That’s not stupid at all; that’s the smarts of seduction. –Grayson Haver Currin
Listen: Sabrina Carpenter, “Espresso”
29.
Ethel Cain: “American Teenager” (2022)
War, whiskey, Jesus, football, NASCAR, Journey, the First Amendment: “American Teenager,” Ethel Cain’s closest brush with pop’s mainstream, scoops up morsels of Americana like penny candies from a bin. The song is stitched with threads of the singer’s biography—small-town upbringing, God-fearing family—and her most effervescent songwriting impulses. It’s Bruce Springsteen’s populism and the ethereal incantations of Cain’s idol Florence Welch, packaged in shimmering, reverb-drenched arena-pop. But the specters of death, addiction, and isolation show up in the verses, mucking up the song’s sheen. A whiff of the guitar solo from “Don’t Stop Believin’” ties an ironic bow around this ode to disillusionment—a fist-pumping anthem of solidarity for all the young people that the American dream leaves behind. –Olivia Horn
