When a song resonates so broadly and intensely that it becomes the longest-reigning No. 1 hit in Billboard Hot 100 history, a music critic needs to pay attention. Thankfully, "A Bar Song (Tipsy)" is well worth the focus.

Shaboozey's breakout hit came on the heels of his star-making turn in "Cowboy Carter," an album that knows the value of an unpredictable, well-placed sample. Shaboozey used that strategy to great effect, flipping J-Kwon's 2004 club hit "Tipsy" into a heady pub chant. It was a Beyoncé-level stroke of genius; the hook has shown to transcend both genre and generation.

If you like this, listen to: "Anabelle," "My Fault (feat. Noah Cyrus)," "Vegas"

Just one month before Sabrina Carpenter released "Espresso" and commenced her plan for world domination, she stole the show in "You Need Me Now?" with a cheeky fourth-wall break.

Carpenter presumably crossed paths with Marie Ulven, aka girl in red, the darling of sapphic bedroom pop, while they were both booked as openers for the Eras Tour. At first glance, this feels like an unlikely team-up — but Carpenter's polished vocal shimmer is the perfect foil for Ulven's grittier vibe.

"You Need Me Now?" was released as the third single from Ulven's sophomore album as girl in red, "I'm Doing It Again Baby!" Her unrelenting, feisty tone recalls the fan-favorite track "Serotonin," while the lyrics reveal a scathing kiss-off to an ex, which turns out to be Carpenter's specialty.

"You know what would be really fucking cool on this? Sabrina," Ulven declares in the bridge, turning a solidly good indie-rock song into a lively, interactive experience. Now that Carpenter is as famous as she is, Ulven's epiphany feels slightly prophetic — and Carpenter's enthusiasm is even more delightful.

"Oh my god, you're so right!" Carpenter cuts in, eager and prepared for her moment. "I'm gonna sing now."

If you like this, listen to: "Too Much," "Phantom Pain," "New Love"

Hana Vu is only in her early 20s, and she already has a timeless song under her belt.

The Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter is truly of the millennium (she was born in 2000, making her the same age as Ice Spice and Reneé Rapp), and yet, her single "Care" is not mired in trends or modern touchstones. (Sure, there's a thinly veiled jab at consumerism, but it's not like Gen Z invented existential ire toward the status quo.)

This isn't the case for all of Vu's music; in 2019, she named her EP "Nicole Kidman/Anne Hathaway" after her two favorite actors. But "Care" is an extra special song, anchored by Vu's lush melodies, soulful delivery, and ever-relevant ruminations — about what it means to be human, to love, to hope, and to "find it all too much."

If you like this, listen to: "Hammer," "Dreams," "Find Me Under Wilted Trees"

Katie Gavin is known as the lead singer of MUNA, but in her debut solo album, "What a Relief," she strips away much of the band's arena-sized bravado to make room for more intimate meditations.

"The Baton" is Gavin's masterpiece: stark, folksy, and acutely compassionate. The song pays homage to her mother, who guided Gavin's growth, and the hazy silhouette of her future daughter, for whom she'll follow her mother's example.

"I'd pass her the baton and I'd say you better run / 'Cause this thing has been going / For many generations," she sings, suggesting an optimistic inversion of Fiona Apple's "Relay." Still, Gavin's lens is not entirely rosy: "There is so much healing / That still needs to be done."

Unfortunately, "The Baton" hits way harder post election, now that women and queer people across the US are getting ready to fight for control over their own bodies — and, ideally in doing so, to protect future generations from having to do the same.

If you like this, listen to: "As Good As It Gets," "Sanitized," "Sparrow"

Earlier this year, acting on little beyond a gut feeling, I was lucky enough to catch Fabi Reyna, aka Reyna Tropical, perform in Brooklyn. I found myself hypnotized by her organic production style, her seamless weave of multicultural traditions (Reyna was raised between Mexico, Texas, and Oregon), her tender embrace of queer themes, and, most of all, by "Conocerla."

Now, whenever I return to this song, I have a hard time putting my finger on what it is I love so much — but I always have the same recurring, insufficient thought: "This is the coolest thing I've ever heard."

Luckily, for Reyna, that instinctive pleasure is the whole point. She told Paper that "Conocerla" is about "personal exploration" and creating a space to nurture emotion, not logic. "Through art and music," Reyna explained, "we can hold more than we realize when we don't rely solely on our minds."

If you like this, listen to: "Cartagena," "Lo Siento," "Conexión Ancestral"

Donald Glover's final release as Childish Gambino, "Bando Stone and the New World," is an apocalyptic concept album that follows his character, also a musician, while he navigates doomsday on a remote island.

"Bando Stone" is presented as a holistic body of work, but as with many survival epics, the hero is better off with some company. The album hits its peak when Glover is joined by Jorja Smith and Amaarae for "In the Night," which soundtracks a humid, nocturnal love affair. The women strike conspiratorial tones, singing about lustful dreams and illicit rendezvous; the mini-drama seems immaterial to the end of the world, but it succeeds in infusing the saga with fresh textures and intrigue.

If you like this, listen to: "Lithonia," "Talk My Shit (feat. Amaarae & Flo Milli)," "Running Around (feat. Fousheé)"

Immediately upon the release of "Eternal Sunshine," Ariana Grande's sixth studio album, "We Can't Be Friends (Wait for Your Love)" became the runaway favorite across the board. Fans sent it straight to No. 1 on the Hot 100. Keith Urban called it "audible heroin." Many critics (including myself) compared the sparkling synths and propulsive rhythm to Robyn's "Dancing on My Own," a compliment of the highest order among pop nerds. (Max Martin, who produced much of "Eternal Sunshine," has also worked with Robyn. The pair earned two top-10 hits in 1997.)

"We Can't Be Friends" is patently a reaction to Grande's recent divorce, but subtextually, it confronts the inevitable public fallout — that is, the stigma of being a famous woman with a string of romantic missteps. Still, at least in song, Grande can emerge from the fray with her ecstatic falsetto, unashamed and resilient as ever. "Know that you made me / I don't like how you paint me," she insists, "yet I'm still here hanging."

If you like this, listen to: "Don't Wanna Break Up Again," "Eternal Sunshine," "I Wish I Hated You"

Maggie Rogers has always been an exceptional producer, as evidenced by her famous Pharrell critique (or, more accurately, his lack of critique) that catapulted her from NYU student to indie darling.

In her underappreciated sophomore album "Surrender," Rogers pivoted from folk-electronica to a more organic rock sound as she came into her own as a vocalist. "I learned how to use my lower register," she told The New York Times, "to just sing with my whole body."

When it came time to record her third studio album, "Don't Forget Me," Rogers was already equipped with these polished-up skills. This time, it's her songwriting that comes into clearer focus, totally shorn of self-doubt and pretense.

This is especially true of the title track, in which every word has been chosen with keen precision. Throughout each verse and chorus, Rogers paints miniature portraits of Sally (a vision of domestic bliss), Molly (a besotted portent of mediocre love), and herself (an autonomous woman with a lust for emotional heirlooms).

As Rogers explained in her email newsletter, some of these details were invented for the song. "Pen to paper. Fully formed. There they were," she wrote. But that doesn't make them feel any less lifelike: "I think in this way, some of the deepest truths about my present were able to come forward."

If you like this, listen to: "The Kill," "If Now Was Then," "On & On & On"

Grace Cummings makes music as though she's building a bridge between the old and the new. Her album "Ramona" is vivid and nostalgic, saturated with hues of old-school blues, yet dauntless in a distinctly modern way — the kind of music that a Gen X dad and Gen Z daughter could play on a roadtrip and equally enjoy.

The centerpiece is "Common Man," which juxtaposes vintage instrumentation and familiar pastoral imagery (thunder booming overhead, a sunrise on the horizon) with Cummings' singular, androgynous, anything-but-predictable voice.

Even in this wide-open landscape, her belting easily swells to fill the space. So when Cummings delivers the song's thesis, "I can't stand to be the common man," it's no challenge to believe her.

If you like this, listen to: "On and On," "A Precious Thing," "Help Is On Its Way"

"Too Sweet" is Hozier's highest-charting song ever on the Hot 100, which is kind of a miracle, since he didn't even bother to include it on his latest full-length album, 2023's "Unreal Unearth."

Thankfully, "Too Sweet" didn't get buried forever. It was released seven months later on the EP "Unheard," a brief collection of songs from the "Unreal Unearth" sessions that Hozier had scrapped "for different reasons."

Perhaps Hozier felt the song was too radiant and playful — or, ahem, too sweet — for the album's conceptual journey through the nine circles of hell. That could explain it, although the narrator is certainly at risk of being punished for gluttony (he has a whiskey habit and a 3 a.m. bedtime, so I'm assuming he's not a fan of moderation). Or perhaps Hozier sensed that he had a smash hit on his hands, and didn't want it to overshadow the rest of the project, like "Take Me to Church" did with his debut.

We may never know his reasons for unleashing "Too Sweet" when he did. We can only be grateful that he did it at all — and maybe consider this a learning experience. As his career trajectory has proven, he's a more patient man than most, and something this sweet is worth the wait.

If you like this, listen to: "Nobody's Soldier," "July," "Fare Well"

"Soup," the second track and fifth single from Remi Wolf's "Big Ideas," is a shining example of an earworm done right. Backed by Tame Impala-esque guitar riffs and bright '80s synths, Wolf delivers a series of airtight melodies and just the right amount of quirk.

Like all the greatest top-40 bops, the chorus is ideal for screaming in the car — yet there's no risk of tedium or replay-induced headaches. "Soup" can be played on a loop and Wolf's songcraft stays fresh.

If you like this, listen to: "Cinderella," "Toro," "Alone in Miami"

As with the two singles from "Guts" that preceded it ("Bad Idea Right?" and "Get Him Back!"), I remain aghast that "Obsessed" wasn't a No. 1 hit.

Olivia Rodrigo is at her best when she's a little punk, a little rock, and completely unhinged — and this "Guts (Spilled)" deluxe track about developing a fetish for her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend ("I know her star sign, I know her blood type") may be the most loosely hinged track in her entire catalog.

In polite society, it's rare that women are allowed to express the full spectrum of emotion — rage, envy, lust, self-loathing, and, of course, obsession — without getting labeled crazy. Rodrigo actively bucks against that sexist custom with her songwriting, flinging herself into the deepest trenches of her psyche and emerging even stronger. In her capable hands, "I can't help it, I've got issues" becomes less of a confession and more of a rallying cry.

If you like this, listen to: "So American"

I tuned in to Fontaines D.C. last fall, when I saw them open for the Arctic Monkeys' The Car Tour. The Irish band had already released three albums and won a Brit Award, but it still felt like they were on the cusp of greatness, like they were building toward a true breakthrough.

That catalyst arrived seven months later with "Starbuster," the celebrated lead single from their new album, "Romance." The song is punchy and cinematic, like Kasabian's "L.S.F." meets Gorillaz's "Dare" meets the atmospheric, suburban angst of "Skins" (the original UK series, not the busted US version). But despite its traceable lineage, "Starburster" is no mere imitation; it synthesizes its post-punk and rap-rock influences to craft something new.

If you like this, listen to: "In the Modern World," "Sundowner," "Death Kink"

In Luca Guadagnino's horny tennis drama "Challengers," the thrilling reveal of a young, headed-for-stardom Tashi Duncan ("The hottest woman I've ever seen," in the words of Patrick Zweig) is set to the equally thrilling thumps of "Yeah x10."

The aptly named song is the highlight of the movie's soundtrack, created by Nine Inch Nails maestros Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. The Oscar-winning duo provides the precise mix of tension, delight, youthful awe, and "unending homoerotic desire" that's needed to match the characters' churning drama.

Tashi (played by Zendaya) struts onto the court, lithe and confident, as her two future suitors (Josh O'Connor as Patrick and Mike Faist as Art) revel in their shared surge of desire. The scene-and-song combo kicks off a riveting chain of events that dominated cinephile discourse this year. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah," indeed.

If you like this, listen to: "I Know," "The Signal," "Challengers: Match Point"

In 2022, FKA twigs launched a new era of pleasure with "Caprisongs," an aura-heavy, electro-pop mixtape designed to sweat out the demons.

This year, she doubled down with "Eusexua," the lead single from her upcoming album of the same name. The twigs-invented word seems to be derived from the Greek word "euphoria," modified to reflect something more erotic, something truly ineffable. The song is an intricate choreography of techno beats and cascading synths, the exact kind of soundscape where twigs and her peculiar mystique tend to thrive.

If I had to define "Eusexua" based on how the song makes me feel, it would be "feeling present in one's body." Not the body-positive platitude of "feeling comfortable in one's skin," per se, but a sensation of full aliveness — every hair on your arms standing in salute, your heartbeat thumping in your fingertips.

If you like this, listen to: "Perfect Stranger," "Drums of Death"

Over the summer, shortly before the release of her new single, Raye told me how she's willing to sacrifice profit for her creative vision.

"It upsets me to do a half-assed gig or to do a half-hearted thing," Raye explained. "If I was in this to make money, I wouldn't even be releasing the kind of music that I am."

"Genesis." is proof positive of that credo; the amorphous, seven-minute song is the kind of big swing that artists take after years of hard work and honing their creative vision. During the three-part odyssey, Raye unspools everything weighing on her mind, from algorithmically encouraged envy, self-loathing, and substance abuse to political causes she cares about, like universal healthcare and worker rights. It's a lot to digest in one go, but this song deserves the time and effort.

If you like this, listen to: "Oscar Winning Tears."

The cultural impact of "Not Like Us" is self-evident. By many accounts, Kendrick Lamar was already winning in his rap beef with Drake, largely thanks to his Pulitzer Prize-winning lyrical skill. But then, Lamar did the most devastating thing he could to a chart-topping, best-selling behemoth. He dropped an absolute banger.

It takes a truly remarkable diss track to have consumers, gatekeepers, and corporations alike in a chokehold: No. 1 on the Hot 100 for two weeks; six Grammy nominations, including both record and song of the year; plus a much-anticipated performance at the Apple Music-sponsored Super Bowl in February.

Lamar may be the only artist alive who could've pulled it off — that is to say, the only rapper who's shrewd, ruthless, and respected enough to convince stuffy executives to let him call Drake a "certified lover boy, certified pedophile" on national TV.

If you like this, listen to: "Squabble Up," "Luther (with SZA)," "Heart Pt. 6"

There was a time this summer when I couldn't go on Instagram without seeing "Nissan Altima" shared on someone's story. More recently, videos of Doechii performing the frantic first verse — in which she calls herself "the new hip-hop Madonna" and "the trap Grace Jones" — have taken over my TikTok feed.

Despite the never-ending clips, I have yet to see Doechii botch the lyrics or trip over her tongue. "Nissan Altima" puts her star power on full display; she's a formidable, top-tier rapper with a flair for eccentric phrasing.

Released as the lead single from Doechii's latest mixtape, "Alligator Bites Never Heal," this is the kind of cult-classic crowd-pleaser that, sooner or later, fans will hold up as a turning point in the artist's career.

Although "Nissan Altima" is still relatively niche and has yet to appear on the Hot 100, it has sparked an undeniable groundswell of support, even snagging a Grammy nomination for best rap performance. Don't be surprised when you start to hear Doechii's music everywhere.

If you like this, listen to: "Boiled Peanuts," "Denial is a River," "Beverly Hills"

This time last year, I crowned Chappell Roan's "Red Wine Supernova" as the best song of 2023.

I'm willing to bet Roan wasn't stunned by the praise; "I'm not that surprised people like it because it's really good," she told Dork at the time. But the selection did get some pushback from friends and lurkers online. Back then, Roan was little known by mainstream standards, performing for crowds of a couple thousand at most on The Midwest Princess Tour. Upon its release, "Red Wine Supernova" debuted at No. 75 on the Hot 100 — nothing to sniff at, certainly, but nothing sensational.

Now, "sensation" is just one of many suitable labels for Roan's career. She's become a main character in pop music, performing for massive crowds at music festivals and millions of viewers on network TV. Her rise to stardom has been ferociously analyzed, nitpicked, and gawked at, but as Roan said herself, it should've come as no surprise. She boasts an exceptional, magnetic talent that, once witnessed, makes it impossible to ignore or forget.

This became clearer than ever at Coachella, where Roan performed the as-yet-unreleased single "Good Luck Babe!" with the conviction of a much bigger star. A clip of her singing the bridge while staring down the barrel of the camera, eyes alight with both anguish and clarity, went viral online. There, in the desert, standing face-to-face with "I told you so," she banished every flicker of doubt.

"Good Luck Babe!" is now a top-five hit on the Hot 100, a Grammy nominee for song of the year, and the epicenter of this year's so-called "lesbian renaissance."

In retrospect, it's no wonder that Roan's watershed moment was a song that nods to her own staying power, a magic touch that lingers for a lifetime. She was right all along: You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

If you like this, listen to: Roan only released this one song in 2024, but keep an eye out for her much-teased sophomore album, expected to arrive next year.

It'll presumably feature unreleased songs "The Subway," which Roan has performed at several music festivals, and "The Giver," a sapphic Shania Twain-esque bop that Roan debuted on "Saturday Night Live."

Charli XCX's "Brat" already earned the No. 2 slot on this year's best albums ranking — but I'm breaking my own rule, which forbids overlap on both end-of-year lists, for two reasons.

First, the "Girl, So Confusing" remix does not technically appear on the standard edition of "Brat." It was released as a single before its inclusion on the remix album, "Brat and It's Completely Different But Also Still Brat," which, as the name suggests, is a completely different thing. Second, the "Girl, So Confusing" remix is a force of nature unto itself and needs to be treated as such.

I can't remember another time there was such a consensus, from critics and fans alike, about the year's most affecting, most visceral pop song — let alone a spontaneous remix like this one.

Lorde had already heard the original "Girl, So Confusing" by the time Charli sent her a heads-up that, hey, long time no see, but there's a song about our unspoken rivalry on my album. Any Lorde fan would've expected her to respond with grace and mercy, but she went several steps further, offering a real-time resolution: "Let's work it out on the remix." She sent her entire verse over text, the same way it appears on the track, to which Charli reacted the same way everyone else did: "Fucking hell."

Cultural observers and political pundits have been asking each other all year, what makes someone or something "Brat"? Even Charli has struggled to articulate it, but of course, Lorde understood implicitly. Their public truce encapsulates the true essence and charm of the album: off-the-cuff, unedited, and vulnerable in the same way that throwing up in the club and letting a friend hold your hair back ends up bringing you closer.

If you like this, listen to: "Everything is Romantic featuring Caroline Polachek," "Apple featuring The Japanese House," "B2b featuring Tinashe"

Listen to BI's complete list of 100 best songs on Spotify.