The 5 Best Songs Of The Week

Stream-of-consciousness is one of Charli’s best modes. Brat’s “I Might Say Something Stupid” felt like a casual glimpse into her psyche while she was in the midst of an overthinking episode. “Camera” operates similarly. Sometimes an artist is at their most interesting when asking themselves questions; on “Camera,” she wonders aloud, “Do I wanna make music? Am I being fuckin’ stupid/ If I try to be a girl on the screen when I’m turning thirty-four?” Though vulnerability is a currency that many pop stars love to cash in for marketing purposes, no one seems to get as exposed and sincere as Charli, and it feels genuinely inquisitive rather than serving as a cheap attempt at relatability. —Danielle

Colin Stetson bends and warps saxophone sound into something that makes me pay attention. He’s probably the only living saxophonist — although he’s also much more than that as an accomplished composer — that I could recall by name. This might point out how little I know about the baritone saxophone community, or it just reveals how extraordinary Stetson is. Either way, his latest collaboration with bagpiper Brìghde Chaimbeul is no different. It’s as frenetic as the movement of a hummingbird. But after a while, the blaring cries become more than a noisy conversation between woodwinds. It becomes hypnotic and glistens. When the bagpipes come in for a clinching solo at the end, it’s clear why the busyness of the front half of the track is so necessary. It feels clarifying like a cold plunge. —Margaret

Greg Freeman’s already becoming an alt-country mainstay. Last year’s Burnover was a real treat, and now another lyrical, fuzzy masterpiece is on the way. “Indu” is the first taste of All Set The Bone, and it’s a jaunty love song, armed with lines that tug at your heartstrings: “My heart’s still ringing, baby, hold the phone/ I wanna feel like a drummer, felt but not shown.” The bed is a desert, the pillows are dunes, and time zones are prison — there’s no shortage of endearing, vivid poetics. He delivers the serenade with as much charisma as ever; it might make you blush. —Danielle

“Reach Out” brings me back to the late 2010s, when Kaytranada’s breezy beats were first making waves and pop artist Ambar Mark had just released her debut EP. It feels both fresh and nostalgic — groovy yet wholesome. Even the message lands with a quiet poignancy: Connection may not always come easily, but sometimes the best place to start is simply by making the first move. Monét continues to deliver tracks that feel effortless, as though they’ve been floating around for decades, waiting to be rediscovered. —Margaret

2hollis first came to prominence as part of a wave of glitchy, damaged rage-rap insurrectionists, but he quickly took his strange hybrid style into the hyperpop realm, and then into a the kind of splintered goth-rave that his entire Targaryan vampire presentation already suggests. On the new one-off "Hurt," he gets back to rapping, or at least to breathlessly reeling off percussive syllables. It's a feint, or maybe just a starting point before everything else comes flooding in — classic house organs, Nintendo Entertainment System blip-bloops, disorientingly chopped-up sub-bass globs, a sampled bloodcurdling scream, a weirdly vulnerable emo-pop chorus delivered through so many vocal filters that it no longer sounds human. When 2holls goes hunting for sonic elements, I don't think he even thinks about genre. I think he's chasing a feeling — an urgently overwhelmed physical cathars, a chaotic rush of emotion. With "Hurt," he gets there. Best consumed with the self-directed music video, which looks like what Lady Gaga might've made if she'd grown up on SoundCloud rap instead of Madonna. —Tom