With 2021 drawing to a close, it’s time at last to finish our list of the best songs that I’ve discovered this year. If you missed part one, you can read it here.
20. Sexy Villain
from Juno by Remi Wolf (pop)
I concluded last year’s review of Remi Wolf’s incomparable Down the Line by mentioning how excited I was for even more material in 2021. I was not to be disappointed. Chinese calendar aside, 2021 was the year of the Wolf when it comes to indie pop hype, and October’s debut full-length album Juno at last earnt Wolf the radio time and mainstream recognition she’s long deserved. This album presented Wolf as the fully-formed, maximalist funk-pop queen she was always destined to be, and Sexy Villain was one of the near faultless batch of singles from Juno that had my fingers twitching for the repeat button. It’s a song with so much going for it: witty lyrics, a cracking bassline and more quality hooks than your local butchers. In fact, as with all great pop songs, you’ll be hard pressed to find a corner of Sexy Villain that isn’t a hook. The multitude of strong ideas are juggled well by Wolf, with one riff popping up in the background of verse two and then after the chorus before being reincarnated again in a screeching guitar solo. It’s all unbelievably inventive and a joy to listen to over and over again. Believe me, I’ve been doing just that for three months straight.
Also hear: Quiet on Set, Grumpy Old Man, Buzz Me In
19. Questions
from Today We’re the Greatest by Middle Kids (indie rock, folk rock)
Undertone favourites Middle Kids returned with a second album in March, but only managed three stars out of five thanks to some lazy songwriting and an degree of over-ambition with their sudden change of direction from noisy indie rock to more folk-oriented musings. Questions, however, is none of the above and at last presents a sound unmistakably Middle Kids. Hannah Joy’s strained, emotive vocals sound right at home amid intricate layers of percussion, synths and melancholic guitars. It’s the surprise entry of a horn section, however, that deals the sucker punch midway through, helped along by Harry Day’s scintillating rapid drums. Joy’s lyrics are just as urgent: “I got questions / You got answers / I’m not sure if they’re fact or fiction”. Mistrust builds like a river in Questions, accumulating in time for an unstoppable wave of a final chorus. Forget the rest of the album; Questions is an easy five-star song if I’ve ever heard one.
Also hear: Stacking Chairs, Cellophane (Brain)
18. Feet Don’t Fail Me Now
from Skin by Joy Crookes (R&B, soul)
The wonderful, soulful pop music of Joy Crookes has been one of my biggest musical discoveries this year. Her critically-acclaimed debut album Skin comes fully equipped with plenty of intriguing grooves that draw on her Bangladeshi-Irish heritage. A direct response to the extraordinarily widespread aftermath of George Floyd’s murder in June 2020, Feet Don’t Fail Me Now felt like the album’s most important statement. Crookes’ take on BLM is unique, writing from the perspective of a disingenuous supporter that “poses with picket signs” and “signs petitions” whilst, as Crookes puts it, remaining “complicit in the fear of speaking out”. Beyond the valuable social commentary on cancel culture, Feet Don’t Fail Me Now is a compelling listen right from the opening bass riff. Soaring strings give the chorus an epic, filmic quality, evoking the image of one person standing still as the world collapses around them. In a way, that’s part of what that month of careful social media activity and heated household arguments around race relations felt like: a complete collapse of order on top of the still-fresh pandemic. Crookes’ ability to turn all the turmoil and injustice into a profound and moving piece of music is remarkable.
Also hear: Trouble, When You Were Mine, To Lose Someone
17. Solar Power
from Solar Power by Lorde (acoustic pop)
I’m willing to accept that a song’s timing – whether or not I discover it at a time in my life when the song feels personally relevant – was an important and entirely subjective factor that I couldn’t avoid when making this list. Like many of the tracks below, Solar Power found me at just the right time. Fresh from leaving school for good and with a long, sunny summer of adventures ahead of me, I was in need of a musical expression of my new wave of unprecedented freedom and hope. Lorde reappeared almost miraculously after a four year hiatus to fulfil my needs with of the shimmering, hippyish pop sensation that was Solar Power. It was not just the song’s strong linking of summer and happiness that had me sold. Everything about Solar Power sounds light and creamy, from the gentle pitter patter of the acoustic guitars to the subtle purr of a muted bass. The real magic comes in an extended coda, which sees the Hey Jude chords used to their full potential, complete with some euphoric singalong group vocals. I’m sure to be happily listening to Solar Power for many summers to come.
16. Blame Game
from Blame Game – EP by Beach Bunny (rock)
Chicago indie rockers Beach Bunny somewhat upsettingly dominated my Spotify Wrapped top five for a second year in a row (once again I felt an urge to insist to my friends that I listen to more than just one band, promise), except this time they only took third and fifth, rather than all five. It was Blame Game that took the bronze, and even though the January release date certainly helped, there’s still plenty about this song deserving of Spotify’s esteemed recognition. This was the crux of Beach Bunny’s starkly feminist EP of the same name, and Lil Trifilio’s lyrics are as blunt as ever. “Guess it’s my fault my body’s fun to stare at,” she belts furiously on an athemic chorus. It’s vital songwriting and lines like “Guess you’re the victim and I’m the suspect” gained even more potency in the turbulent political discourse in the UK surrounding violence against women after the killing of Sarah Everard months after the song’s release. Nearly one year on from Blame Game and Trifilio’s message remains as important and relevant as ever. I can think of few better ways to campaign against injustices than a perfectly-written song like Blame Game.
Also hear: Good Girls (Don’t Get Used), Nice Guys
15. We Need To Talk
from Good Morning It’s Now Tomorrow by Matt Maltese (acoustic pop)
It would take a brilliant song for me to break my self-imposed one-song-per-artist rule for this list, and Matt Maltese’s We Need to Talk seems to be the one. For now, I’m going to discount Maltese’s genuinely incidental feature on Etta Marcus’ Salt Lake City (song number 23) as, in all honesty, it would be a travesty to exclude either song. Forlorn piano ballad We Need to Talk sits at the heart of Maltese’s introspective recent album Good Morning It’s Now Tomorrow and is textbook Matt. The songwriting here is intelligent but never overbearing, and a brief moment of brightness for the stunning bridge is just one of the song’s many selling points. Everything about Maltese’s fragile vocals and haunting melodies feel heart-breakingly honest and vulnerable. We Need to Talk is at its core an intimate soundtrack to a collapsing, long-doomed relationship. Maltese sounds lonely with only the company of an upright piano, and lines like “I don’t know where to start but we need to talk” reek with tragic desperation. Rich backing vocals are a simple but potent addition for the song’s rousing finale, with enough emotional weight behind it to turn even the most sceptical listener into a puddle of tears. To listen to We Need to Talk is to wallow in Maltese’s sorrows for three enthralling minutes. The result is pure catharsis.
Also hear: You Deserve an Oscar
14. All Eyes on Me
from Inside by Bo Burnham (experimental pop, electronic)
There are many reasons why Bo Burnham’s April Netflix special Inside very quickly became a worldwide cultural phenomenon and recieved the label “masterpiece” by every critic and fan alike. The social commentary was sharp and pithy, the creativity was off the charts and the cinematography good enough the spawn an entire YouTube subgenre as fans desperately dug for more subtle details of genius to smugly point out in endless video essays. The 60 minutes of music embedded within the comedy was just another aspect of Burnham’s complete package of flawless artistry. Welcome to the Internet personified the chaotic online world by way of an In the Hall of the Mountain King spiral towards insanity; How the World Works effortlessly deconstructed late-stage capitalism in the guise of a kids edutainment song; That Funny Feeling drew on deep seated modern-day anxieties around everything from gun laws to the looming climate catastrophe (“20,000 years of this / Seven more to go”).
It was the film’s big finale, though, that affected me the most. All Eyes On Me sees Burnham both at his most ambitious and spine-tinglingly sinister. With eerily down-pitched vocals and a distant synth bass, Burnham sounds like a broken performer, with the demand “get your fucking hands up” morphing from overzealous crowd work to an alarming manifestation of police brutality as the song progresses and intensifies. Burnham takes a moment to explain how the pandemic ruined his opportunity to finally return to the stage after overcoming his crippling anxiety, with plastic-sounding laugh tracks tellingly used to deflect from the raw pain telling this story must give Burnham. In the end, All Eyes On Me is an ode to total hopelessness. “You say the ocean’s rising […] You say the whole world’s ending? Honey, it already did,” he tells us in one devastating turn of phrase. After Cop26, it’s tempting to feel like he’s absolutely right. Either way, All Eyes On Me is a crushing expression not just of Burnham’s deeply personal struggles with anxiety and depression but of an entire generation burdoned with the realisation that the society as we know it might end before our children can grow old.
Also hear: Shit, Welcome to the Internet, That Funny Feeling
13. 2 AM
from Weddings & Funerals by Part-Time Friends (pop)
There’s something irresistible in the relatively straightforward indie pop of 2 AM, a stunner of a single from Parisian duo Part-Time Friends. In a way, harmonic simplicity is key to the song’s success, allowing absorbing lines like the refrain “I don’t know if I’m scared enough” to cut right through the mix. 2 AM‘s USP, however, is undoubtedly the inclusion of a posse of clarinets, which work remarkably well as an expressive, heartfelt substitute for a standard guitar or keyboard. The result is a chorus that is as impactful as it is understated. A switch to bass-led indie rock in the bridge helps make the return of the bittersweet chorus feel all the more compelling. 2 AM doesn’t thrust creativity down your throat in the style of Remi Wolf, but rather gently prods you to listen closer, dig into the close harmony and gain a unique insight to the unique world of the songwriters.
12. Madison
from Woman on the Internet by Orla Gartland (acoustic pop)
It seemed certain in the build up to her debut album that Irish indie rocker Orla Gartland‘s standout track from Woman on the Internet would be an uptempo singalong classic. Self-assured lead single You’re Not Special, Babe seemed to provide plenty of foreshadowing with its steady build and melodramatic bridge, whilst Codependency thrillingly chopped and changed from heavy grunge rock to innocent indie pop like a wild, unpredictable beast. It was a surprise, then, that Madison, a song built almost entirely around just Orla and her acoustic guitar, turned out to be the creative pinnacle of the record. Genius pop-folk songwriting is key to Madison‘s success as a exquisitely-paced ballad. Gartland’s melodies leap and dance over some percussive guitar, comfortably switching from indignant to disconsolate with a simple change of vocal inflection. The song laments the absurd relationship between therapist and client (“I told you every single secret and you sat there silent”), whilst equally serving as a dogged admittance of Gartland’s own failings (bluntly, “I guess I could be less of a dick”). Through it all, Gartland doesn’t put a step wrong. The song recently received an added layer of power with empassioned (and borderline abrasive) backing vocals from dodie and other friends, and both versions are well worth a listen. It’s a testament to Gartland’s development as an artist that big choruses and electric guitar heroics don’t need to be called upon for her to achieve greatness. Madison, with all its humility and authenticity, is perfect just as it is.
Also hear: Madison (orla & friends version), Codependency, You’re Not Special, Babe
11. pit-a-pet
from SOUL LADY by Yukika (K-pop, J-pop)
A bit like the secret to writing a viral TikTok song or why anyone would voluntarily listen to an Ed Sheeran album, the question of whether Yukika’s music is J-pop or K-pop has been baffling the world’s foremost musicologists for years – or at least I like to imagine so. On the one hand, she lives in South Korea, sings in Korean and her songs have the glitzy hyper-produced sheen typical of the intensely commercialised K-pop industry; on the other hand, Yukika is Japanese and loyal to the very Japanese genre of city pop, which first sprung up as a response to the era of American funk music back in the 70s and 80s. Undertone lacks the expertise in both inter-connected genres to make the call, but I would be open to the suggestion of Yukika being the producer of her very own Sea-of-Japan-pop.
Nerdy genre classifications aside, funky pit-a-pet is just one example of Yukika’s ebullience from 2020’s city pop celebration SOUL LADY. pit-a-pet in particular is more than happy to jump around the genres, with trap, dance, and funk grooves all sitting alongside each other and glued together in a series of creative and convincing transitions. A Don’t Start Now-esque antichorus has all the confidence and more of the Dua Lipa hit, with the simple bass and kick drum pairing proving more than enough to get the started. The joyful smorgasbord of sounds doesn’t even stop there. A delightful acoustic guitar lights up verse two before a masterful bridge sees a brief switch towards lofi hip hop. It really should sound a mess, but as the musical loose ends are all pulled together for a massive final chorus, it becomes clear that Yukika has all the pop experimentalism well under control. pit-a-pet is the jewel in Yukika’s increasingly impressive discography, further proving herself as one of the shining stars in the technicolour worlds of Korean and/or Japanese pop.
Also hear: Loving you, SOUL LADY, Yesterday
10. Grapes of Wrath
from OK Human by Weezer (chamber pop)
The narrative surrounding somewhat ageing American rock band Weezer seemed set in stone by the time 2021 rolled around. According to all but the most die-hard fans, it’s been all downhill since their first two albums, the fan favourite ‘blue album’ and cult classic Pinkerton. It was something of a shock then when my friend Ewan, who still manages to keep track of the band’s activities like a old fan following a once glorious football club, reported that January’s Grapes of Wrath was actually worth listening to. Moreover, the opening 15 minutes was apparently extraordinary. He was absolutely right – the first four tracks of OK Human are surely the best collection of Weezer tracks not just for years but decades. The main draw of lockdown-penned OK Human was a switch from classic rock to smartly composed chamber pop, with sprightliy strings and piano helping along Rivers Cuomo’s memorable hooks no end.
It was a close call, but in the end I decided that track 3, Grapes of Wrath, was my pick of the bunch. It’s remarkable how seamlessly the chamber group meld with the veteran rock band on this song in particular. Cellos mimick a chugging electric guitar in the verses, while the call and response between Cuomo’s vocals and sliding violins in the chorus is a joy. The bridge is composed with a baroque level of harmonic precision, serving as a brilliant prelude to Cuomo’s showstopping high note. It all makes it very easy to forget the unpleasant truth that this song is really just an eleborate paid promotion for multi-national corporation Audible. With a song this good, however, a dearth of lyrical authenticity simply doesn’t matter. Grapes of Wrath makes me sing, dance and smile, and I shouldn’t expect anything more.
Also hear: All My Favorite Songs, Aloo Gobi, Numbers
9. good 4 u
from SOUR by Olivia Rodrigo (pop punk)
Never has a piece of music taken over my life quite like good 4 u did. I struggled to contemplate a bigger smash hit than earlier single drivers license in my glowing review of Olivia Rodrigo’s debut album SOUR, but 11 months later and the two hits are on par with each other in terms of global popularity, each with a respectable one billion Spotify streams under their belt. Even beyond chart domination and endless radio plays, good 4 u became unequivocally adored by almost everyone I knew. During frequent car rides with friends over the summer the song became almost sacrosanct in its untouchability. Everyone knew the all the words, as well as the exact length of the guitar solo and how to air drum every last fill. A coveted performance by the Strictly Come Dancing band felt like a strangely proud moment for our little pop-rock song, even though the reach of good 4 u stretched far beyond my circle of friends.
The reasons behind good 4 u‘s staggering success is no mystery. Rodrigo’s chorus is one for the ages – a punching pop punk groove and soaring melody that succeeds in being both satisfying and easy enough for everyone in the car to sing at full pelt, no matter their vocal ability (trust me, I’ve learnt from experience). There’s also plenty of details to delight repeat listeners, from the delayed drum reentry in verse two to an sweetly executed breakdown. It all leads nicely to the now infamous “like a damn sociopath” line which did a good part of the heavy lifting when it came to achieving Tiktok virality back in June. Rodrigo’s lyrics do occasionally sound like a stereotypical lovesick teenager, pointedly dropping the F-bomb at one point as if she’s only just learnt it. That said, moaning about Rodrigo’s lack of self-awareness is completely besides the point. After all, Rodrigo’s target audience for all of SOUR was undoubtedly fellow teens in emotional turmoil and, as me and my friends can all testify, she’s hit the bullseye in that regard.
Also hear: jealousy, jealousy, brutal
8. Something to Say
Single by Michaela Jaé (soul)
Michaela Jaé’s sparkling disco on Something to Say was much more of a personal obsession for me, but no less a party. The song is a great addition to the blissful wave of the so-called ‘disco revival’ that first hit the mainstream in 2020. I’m not convinced all the new disco pop songs are some elaborate manifestation of lockdown as some commentators have claimed, but I’m not complaining – certainly when Something to Say is in the mix. Gospel-tinged group vocals enrich this track with pure joy, giving the simple message that everyone deserves to be listened to a new lease of life. For a new artist like Jaé, the mix is glorious, with the dense mix of rhythm guitar, intricate horn lines, glistening synths and pumping bass all given plenty of space to breathe. The endless repetition that so often turns classic disco tracks into a drag is avoided with some great creativity in the song’s climax, with a fabulous a capella breakdown and one breath-takingly high note. The future looks bright for the ever-dynamic world of nu-disco.
7. Talk About It
from Loving in Stereo by Jungle (pop, soul)
“Watch them play Talk About It first after all this,” I joked to Emma whilst strolling along Manchester Ship Canal on the way to catching London soul duo Jungle live in concert last September. For both of us (and especially Emma) we were to some extent heading to Victoria Warehouse not to see a band but a song, and exactly where the instant classic Talk About It would sit in the set list was a topic of hot discussion. Distressingly, my half-serious prediction was proved right. We looked at each other as a purring bass guitar revved up its engines following a lengthy ambient build up. We weren’t properly warmed up for the dance and singalong that followed, but we made the most of those three minutes of pop heaven.
It should go without saying that Talk About It is not just the best song on Jungle’s 2021 album, but perhaps their best song since bursting into the mainstream with the arena-filling riffs of Busy Earnin’. Tom McFarland’s bass leads the show, but there’s also plenty more to enjoy. Strings are used sparingly to make the big moments even grander, coming into their own with an awe-inspiring rise into the final chorus. The drumming is precise and funky; the hooks are plentiful. The heart-warming bridge (“The highs and lows / I will always be there”) offers a moment to breathe before the fast paced action kicks off once again for a victory lap. If Jungle’s UK tour consisted of nothing more than this song on loop I’m sure neither me nor Emma would have any complaints.
Also hear: Fire, What D’You Know About Me?
6. Disco D
Single by Housecat (disco, funk)
The waning of the pandemic for a summer offered a sudden, all-encompassing rush of hope that was inevitably mirrored in my listening habits. Just like Solar Power, my discovery of Disco D was timed perfectly at the start of the summer, and the song became an essential soundtrack for my various new adventures away from home. Lyrically, young Massachusettes collective lean into a longing to return to the dancefloor with simple retro-styled lines. Anaphora like “Let’s get down / Let’s get high / Let’s get loose etc.” has all the directness of Daft Punk’s modern classic Get Lucky, and the instrumentation on Disco D deserves to be just as iconic, even if Housecat are yet to hook up with Nile Rodgers. The horn hook is sophisticated and expertly performed, whilst a quietly buzzing clav adds a much-needed layer of light-heartedness. MK Charron clearly understood the task at hand with a bubbly and charismatic vocal performance, digging into a bit of ad libbing to finish. The summer may now be long gone, but Disco D will always sit alongside my happiest memories of 2021.
5. erase me
Single by Lizzy McAlpine feat. Jacob Collier (pop, electronic)
Much like her English counterpart dodie, I’ve always liked Philadelphia native Lizzy McAlpine more than her music. Her voice may be gorgeous, but her saccharine debut Give Me a Minute lacked the songwriting chops to show her at her best. Last month, that changed; at last, McAlpine has scored herself a true gem of a song in erase me. McAlpine’s lyrics are as strong as ever, placing us amongst the detritus of a suburban house in the morning after a wild college party. A dying relationship is brilliantly dissected alongside an acoustic guitar growing in intensity and a melody growing in ambition. Then, a left turn, and suddenly verse two gains a gripping electronica edge with the fuzz of a chugging synth bass and snappy drum machine. It’s unchartered territory for McAlpine but she seems more than ready for it, giving it her all as panned synthesisers battle it out in an enthralling bridge. The guts and emotion in the final chorus – with a belted high note absolutely nailed – cuts right through to the heart. Without a doubt, this is the best vocal performance of McAlpine’s career.
Then, of course, there’s the small matter of jazz virtuoso Jacob Collier. His contribution is surprisingly limited; only backing vocals to fill gaps and support McAlpine at opportune moments. Collier’s reluctance to take charge turns out to be one of the song’s biggest assets – any inclusion of Collier’s intense and cerebral jazz harmony would have been far too overbearing for this emotional ballad. In the end, Collier’s humility rightly allows the spotlight to settle firmly on McAlpine. My passion for the song is clear and, at last, her songwriting is top notch. I can only hope erase me is a sign of things to come.
Also hear: When the World Stopped Moving
4. Free
from Day/Night by Parcels (pop, funk)
It’s been a career-defining year for Berlin funksters Parcels. A summer of singles culminated in November’s unfailingly ambitious double album Day/Night. It was, of course, a wonderful record; a chocolate box of discopop packed with sweet moments but with the occasional dark edge (see the moody Reflex or heart-wrenching Outside). Famous was a revelation with its pure disco hedonism, whilst Somethinggreater offered more escapism with its hypnotic funk groove that gets more and more enthralling with every repeat (and boy, does it repeat). As lead single, Free is the track that started it all. Despite the album version being well over five minutes long, there’s really only one idea here: a bright, springy piano riff. The potential for over-repetition is a risk that Parcels are used to flirting with, and Free is a masterclass in milking an idea for all its worth. The song structure in particular is genius, with the first half building tension via Anatole Serret’s retrained drumming. The entry of a backbeat ends up being a monumental occasion, and from there the band can ride high on the pure ecstacy of the groove all the way to the outro. Vigorous strings and a clattering cowbell are both invaluable additions to the mix, transforming that humble original piano riff into something much grander. A blossoming, high-spirited manifestation of freedom itself, Free is a magnificent piece of work from the five-piece. Having learnt the aforementioned riff on the day of release, I don’t see my fingers forgetting the chord changes any time soon.
Also hear: Famous, Somethinggreater, Reflex
3. Now Is the Time
from Different Kinds of Light by Jade Bird (country, folk pop)
There’s a special place in my heart for Jade Bird’s stunning Now is the Time, a song bursting with a contagious love of life. Everything about the song – from the gently bubbling congas to the sunny acoustic guitars or the expertly-crafted bassline – sounds like joy in its purest form. I like to think of Now is the Time as a modern-day Here Comes the Sun with its boundless, perhaps naive optimism. Bird’s songcraft certainly wouldn’t sound completely out of place amongst the esteemed company on Abbey Road.
Bird’s lyrics gush out occasionally in an overly excited stream of consciousness. “Never have I ever seen a better day together doesn’t matter ’bout the weather now’s the time to go and get it!” she blurts out in a single breath at the end of each chorus, with her youthful earnestness prevailing over a risk of cheese. Now is the Time isn’t delusional hyper-positivity, either. “Grey skies” remain in Bird’s head, and verse one includes a direct instruction to not get “too excited” by temporary emotions. Instead, the emphasis in Now is the Time is on potential and a positive future, and simple affirmations like “they haven’t seen the best of you yet” land with sincerity amongst the fabulous country rock instrumentation.
Now is the Time proved to be the ultimate summertime companion, powering me through sunrise adventures and exciting new unknowns. Equally, the song holds its own even on the drizzly days when exploring the big wide world feels less appealing. Through it all, Bird and her song is a bottomless source of hope, capable of changing everything for me with little more than a good melody and a strong message. As far as I’m concerned, songs like Now is the Time is what music is all about.
Also hear: Open Up the Heavens, Prototype, Headstart
2. Far Away the Hills are Green
from In the Half-Light by Joushua Burnside & Laura Quirke (folk)
Lying in bed whilst listening to Far Away the Hills are Green for the first time last August, I was dumbfounded. There’s an ethereal beauty about the piece that makes it difficult to write about. An enchanting mix of banjo, guitar and fiddle make a universally known pop chord progression sound earthier and prettier than ever, whilst Quirke’s vocal harmonies complement Burnside’s melody astonishingly well at the key moments when the pair choose to pull on the heartstrings. The two voices and a fiddle weave and dart around each other charmingly in the first half of the song, sometimes in sync, other times finding their own path.
Burnside’s vocals are succinct and evocative, placing us by the TV on a rainy, miserable evening in his native Northern Ireland. Uniform from the day’s work is strewn on the ground, soggy from the rush home through the rain. A couple reluctantly try to fight off sleep, knowing that the mess isn’t going to clean itself. Later, Burnside’s lyrical scope expands to the human need for something bigger, better, more meaningful. He points out the irony in his desire to move to sunny California whilst American tourists flock to Northern Ireland in search of ancient “magic stones” as he puts it. We’re all just trying to “fill some emptiness”, Burnside and Quirke conclude in blissful harmony.
Then comes the change. There’s a sense of the song growing bigger than itself as many layers of Quirke’s distant vocals gradually fill the mix. With the title lyrics repeated like a mantra, Far Away begins to transcend its Irish folk routes into something entirely original. The build is a pure, over-worldly couple of minutes that still give me chills when I stop and listen, enabling myself to notice every last detail. Amongst it all, Burnside’s message is deeply thought-provoking, equally tragic and consoling. Surely four-chord banjo songs don’t get much better than this.
Also hear: Taking the Wheel
1. Seventeen Going Under
from Seventeen Going Under by Sam Fender (rock)
It feels like all Sam Fender’s career – and for that matter, his entire life – has been building up to these four jangly guitar chords. Seventeen Going Under, the title track of Fender’s seminal, chart-topping sophomore album, is a glistening rock anthem for the ages, remarkable in its ambition and broad scope. Fender paints a picture of his challenging upbringing in the poverty-stricken northern town of North Shields with striking clarity. Depictions of “fist fights on the beach” and “embryonic love” are delivered with guts and pathos. Right from the first line, Fender’s deeply personal lyrics are simply flawless, with focus shifting from childhood to adolescense before settling on the sudden imposition of adulthood on a young Fender as his mother “cries on the floor encumbered” by debt. The journey of Seventeen Going Under is the journey of Fender’s entire life pre-fame, and his ability to distill so many years of emotion into a five minute rock song is unparalleled.
The instrumentation is just as majestic. Every slight change in texture – from a pounding drum groove entry to the introduction of a glittery glockenspiel – comes just when the song needs it, assisting Fender as his focus shifts from the miniscule of his earliest love life to the macro lens of 1980s British politics (“I see my mother / the DWP see a number”). Johnny Davis’ raspy, restrained saxophone playing lends the song a cinematic edge which is captured perfectly in an immaculate music video, which culminates in Fender literally rising from the terraced houses like the unlikely hometown hero he is.
Like all masterpieces, the magic of Seventeen Going Under is in Fender’s ability to make you feel emotions you’ve never felt before. The powerful sense of bittersweet nostalgia was made even more inspiring on the weekend I found the song, which happened to coincide with a September solo trip to the Lake District. I’ll never forget listening to Seventeen Going Under alone on a mountain as the sun dropped below the horizon. Though I can’t directly relate to Fender’s struggles growing up, Seventeen Going Under nonetheless connected with me. It was the perfect way to end the summer and – in a perhaps overly sentimental way – my childhood. Songs this perfect don’t come around very often.
Also hear: Get You Down, Paradigms, The Dying Light
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