Every week the Stereogum staff chooses the five best new songs of the week. The eligibility period begins and ends Thursdays right before midnight. You can hear this week’s picks below and on Stereogum’s Favorite New Music Spotify playlist, which is updated weekly. (An expanded playlist of our new music picks is available to subscribers on Spotify and Apple Music, updated throughout the week.)
2hollis - "Sex"
Last year, 2hollis told GQ about his famously sultry "style" video: "I'm already being received on such a big level and sexualized, and I'm just going to take it to the next level and just put it in everyone's face." Sex has always been a part of the young star's music and appeal, but it was often just the exaggerated sexual bravado that most rappers flex. The electropop supernova "Sex" finds the singer in love and expressing the ecstasy of physical intimacy. "It's just so sincere, I wanna do it again and again/ And again and again, again, again," he yearns, dropping his persona altogether and baring himself to the world in the name of love. —Danielle
Julia Jacklin - "If I Had The Hand Of God"
Few artists in the indie-rock singer-songwriter sphere put our music as consistently rewarding as Julia Jacklin. With The Gem, out today, Jacklin once again delivers the goods. In our interview this week, the Melbourne artist talked about how every song does not have to be a universe unto itself; it can be a snapshot, a single idea brought to life. "If I Had The Hand Of God" affirms that notion.
The Gem's final advance single finds Jacklin visiting Nashville, getting deep in her feelings about legacy and self-worth. The song rumbles along at a casual medium tempo, reflecting the steady hum of everyday life. Because of that stability, every subtle shift hits harder, especially when Jacklin's voice briefly rises from a simmer to a boil. She wonders if a direct line to the divine would help her navigate her anxieties any better, if God could help her know when to walk away from this life, where her value would come from without our listening ears and fervent cheers. It's a portrait of a quiet meltdown, one of those existential incursions that dot our daily lives. When you can so vividly bring those moments to life on wax, you don't need to sketch out entire galaxies. —Chris
RIP Magic - "Stadium Drive"
The title "Stadium Drive" could mean a lot of things. It could be the street where a stadium is located, the one that comes up on your GPS when you're looking for parking. It could be one football team's march downfield. It could be the grit and determination that it takes to convince zillions of people to pay exorbitant prices to see you sing your songs in an outdoor concrete bowl. RIP Magic may or may not have stadium drive, but at the very least they have large club drive, festival mainstage drive. Their fried, beatwise post-punk zone-outs come with the kind of majesty that you can only achieve when you turn the drums and the synths up loud. Their thundering break "Stadium Drive" breakbeat flashes back on trip-hop's retro-futurism, while the scrambled melodies and warped vocals speak to the eternally damaged now. I bet it would sound great echoing out of stadium speakers. —Tom
So Faint - "Chain Chain Chain"
I love to yearn. Even when that yearning is bound to implode or explode or swallow me whole. “Chain Chain Chain” makes that violent yearning sound so good. So simple. So uncomplicated. The melody is playful. It yearns, too. Lyrically, though, So Faint are getting into some heavy shit: “I keep my head down, I’m chained to you/ Like I was made for you,” the duo sings, before the chorus that goes, “You flow like a river to me/ I’m the sea, baby/ I’m the motherfucking sea, baby.” Hannah Georgas and Lyn Heinemann make the heaviness of committing to a relationship sound weightless. —Margaret
Yangze - "Okay"
A bass drop can be many things. On Yangze’s “Okay,” it’s a moment of clarity. The song begins in a fog of murky tinkering and distant acoustic strums, as if we’re hovering just above the surface of the water, catching a clear but distorted glimpse of Yangze’s intricate electronic collage below. Then, after 30 seconds, we’re submerged. The beat crystallizes into something sharp and opalescent, its low end suddenly giving physical form to the haze that came before. The drop doesn’t resolve the song so much as deepen its spell.
Yangze lets us come up for air in brief moments when that lonesome guitar filters through, only to pull us back under. “Okay,” a childish voice repeats throughout, its plainness almost eerie against the song’s increasingly immersive textures. There’s something wonderfully strange about the contrast: an innocent voice offering reassurance while the music grows more enveloping, more difficult to escape. The voice is eager to return to the beat, and so am I. —Margaret
