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The 25 Best Singles of 2016

The best singles of the year were attuned to a worldwide drift toward maintaining one’s own financial and psychological bottom line.

The 25 Best Singles of 2016

Ask just about any mainstream pop critic what the anthem of 2016 was, even a politically agnostic or avoidant type of critic, and they’ll likely find themselves settling on Beyoncé’s “Formation,” which kicked off the year with a jolt of empowerment and sustained its position through force of will. Don’t believe us? Just ask Spin, who had it at the top of their list of songs at the year’s halfway point, along with Rolling Stone and NPR, who just named it the year’s best track.

And yet, was it really so ubiquitous? Or influential? Or representative of the year at large? At no point in the year did it top the Billboard charts. What ruled in this most apocalyptic election year of our epoch? Justin Bieber’s “Sorry,” Drake’s “One Dance,” Justin Timberlake’s “Can’t Stop the Feeling,” the Chainsmokers’s “Closer,” and Sia’s in-this-context appropriately titled “Cheap Thrills.” Rihanna might say we’ve all got a lot of “work, work, work, work, work” to do, especially given the departure of some of pop music’s finest and most conscious practitioners: Prince and David Bowie.

So many of the highlights and lowlights of the year in singles were, for better or worse, attuned to what feels like a worldwide drift toward maintaining one’s own financial and psychological (same diff) bottom line at the expense of anyone else’s. Beyoncé, of all performers, was far from immune, though her particular brand of exceptionalism continues to dress itself up in the finery of collective consciousness raising. Far more common were the unfussy, ruthlessly entertaining likes of Fifth Harmony speaking on behalf of Melania Trumps everywhere. Or Kanye West’s epic clapback against Taylor Swift, which in turn presaged his detour into the mental hospital, which we’ve now seen firsthand more or less counts as the first step in a presidential bid in 2020. Eric Henderson


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25. Massive Attack f/ Hope Sandoval, “The Spoils”

Massive Attack reteamed with singer Hope Sandoval of Mazzy Star for this gauzy trip-hop ballad about the uncertainties and insecurities of love. Even an acknowledgement of love feels spoiled by possessiveness and fear: “I somehow slowly love you/I wanna keep you the same/Well, I somehow slowly know you/And wanna keep you away.” The Bristol band’s most accessible single since at least 1998’s “Teardrop,” “The Spoils” unravels patiently across nearly six minutes, with spacy synth drones, lush orchestral swells, a minimalist drum loop, and electric organ enveloping Sandoval’s creeping doubt. Sal Cinquemani


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24. Bob Mould, “Voices in My Head”

Because it came from the bald, white-goateed, 55-year-old version of Bob Mould, and not the young, Hüsker Dü-backed hardcore pioneer incarnation, it’s unlikely that “Voices in My Head” will come to be remembered with the same level of reverence as the likes of “Celebrated Summer,” “Something I Learned Today,” et al. That’s a pity, because the track is as concise and accessible a summation of Mould’s songwriting themes and prowess as he’s managed to date. What the song lacks in the unhinged intensity of Hüsker Dü’s work, it makes up for with brazen, charging hooks, all triumphant Townshend-like chord changes and disarmingly sing-song-y vocal phrasings. Through it, Mould puts his two most historically reliable tools—abrasive guitar fuzz and bone-deep lyrics about personal demons leading to something verging on mania—to use as expertly as ever. Jeremy Winograd

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23. James Blake f/ Bon Iver, I Need a Forest Fire”

Pairing Bon Iver’s abandoned coo with a haunting loop of James Blake’s voice, “I Need a Forest Fire” is a celestial ode to rebirth, a theme that’s played heavily into both artist’s catalogue but hasn’t been captured as elegantly as it is here. The song seems to move in one long, slow breath, as Blake gradually builds shimmering organ and glitchy bass into a sweltering cavern of sound, then deconstructs those same elements for a quiet coda. “I hope you’ll stop me/Before I build a wall around me,” sings Blake, sounding in his characteristic way like someone who knows better what he doesn’t need than what he does. Jonathan Wroble


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22. Young Thug, “With Them”

A game of pass-the-AUX-cord at the Madison Square Garden premiere for Kanye West’s The Life of Pablo led to the spontaneous debut of Young Thug’s “With Them” and you could feel the self-seriousness rush right out of the room: “She suck on that dick on the plane and I call her an airhead (woo).” With that “woo” acting as the tardy pop of a starting pistol, we’re off on a three-minute marathon of virtuosic, gleeful, effortlessly melodic rapping for rap’s sake. The unbearably high stakes of Kanye’s labored-over but immense opus were to be upstaged by no one that night, but Thug’s necessary decompression pointed the way forward. For all the heightened anxieties and expectations that 2016 would bring, we would need some pure irreverence. Sam C. Mac


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21. Drive-By Truckers, “Surrender Under Protest”

A little over a month ago, Mike Cooley’s steely eyed diatribe on the myth of the Confederacy’s Lost Cause played as a stinging rebuke of the white nationalists whose grip on power and cultural relevance seemed to be in its death throes. Post-presidential election, it works just as effectively as a rallying cry for those afraid of being left behind and abused in Trump’s America. Whatever message you take from it, “Surrender Under Protest” is one of Drive-By Truckers’s leanest, angriest rock songs, spearheaded by utility man Jay Gonzalez, who weaves seamlessly between roiling guitar solos and angelic piano fills. Winograd


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20. Angel Olsen, “Shut Up Kiss Me”

Most of the songs on Angel Olsen’s My Woman utilize the singer’s marvelously evocative voice for poignant purposes, bemoaning the loss of love in damaged, defensive terms. But the undertone of aggression that undergirds those imprecations bursts to the fore on “Shut Up Kiss Me,” an attempt to salvage a foundering relationship that finds Olsen embodying both traditionally male and female roles simultaneously, delivering soft and hard in equal measure. Backed by a surging tide of guitar and drums, she pushes from wounded desolation to commanding confidence and back, eventually settling for the latter. Along the way, the song pursues a swaying, woozy build-up that walks a fine line between heartbreak and renewal, while working as a strong showcase for the singer’s staggering musical chops. Jesse Cataldo

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19. Flume f/ Kai, “Never Be Like You”

Australian producer Flume stacked his sophomore effort, Skin, with heavy-hitting featured guests ranging from Vince Staples to Beck, but he achieved the album’s strongest hit in collaboration with the lesser-known Toronto-based singer Kai. Flume pares back his production for a more minimalist approach than usual, using mellowed trap effects, future-bass elements, and ambient synths to complement Kai’s pained, repentant vocal in a song that confronts the emotional fallout of having “fucked up” in a relationship, as she begs to be absolved of these sins—because she’s only human, after all. “Never Be Like You” thrives in these contrasts, at once both forceful and tender, Kai’s vocal both assertive and contrite. Josh Goller


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18. Danny Brown, “Really Doe”

The crew track, while uniquely representative of hip-hop’s communal origins, isn’t the genre’s most auspicious tradition. While a well-calibrated machine like the Wu-Tang Clan was able to turn it into an art form in itself, one-off collaborations between thrown-together groups of MCs often devolve into interminable pile-ons, each participant trying to outdo the others. Not so for “Really Doe,” a rare collaborative effort which, in addition to boasting perhaps the most addictively demented beat on Danny Brown’s twisted funhouse Atrocity Exhibition, also manages to cohesively coordinate some of the most talented rappers working today. Brown himself starts off with a characteristically manic verse, Ab-Soul adds his own impressively convoluted contribution, and Kendrick Lamar carries the minimal hook while further ratcheting up the energy. The track concludes with a rare guest appearance from Earl Sweatshirt, who stops the song dead in its tracks while retaining his own uniquely sleepy, knottily propulsive momentum, downshifting into an ominous ending that acts as a perfect capper to this outstanding collection of diverse voices. Cataldo


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17. Beyoncé, “Formation”

Sarah Silverman’s immediate Twitter assessment of Bey’s latest, arguably greatest, mass missive can hardly be improved on: “Can anyone else in the history of the world release a song and the same day sing it on the motherfucking Super Bowl & we all know the words?” In a year (of all years!) in which pop largely checked its consciousness at the door, Beyoncé connected the dots and made it look easy. Because, she argued, it is easy! Or at least should be, as much so as a date night at Red Lobster. “Earned all this money, but they never take the country out me/I got a hot sauce in my bag, swag.” Knowles 2020. We’re all with her. Henderson


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16. The Weeknd f/ Daft Punk, “Starboy”

Few people would accuse Abel Tesfaye of being too modest. Yet, the artist known as the Weeknd has described “Starboy” as his manifestation of the “more braggadocious character that we all have inside us.” That heightened swagger finds Tesfaye looking down at the gaudier accoutrements of the celebrity lifestyle, blaming pop culture at large for creating his outsized persona in the first place (“Look what you’ve done/I’m a motherfuckin’ starboy”), all while signaling a transformation that’s portrayed literally in the single’s music video, where Tesfaye assassinates his former palm-tree-afroed self to announce the arrival of his shorn Starboy period, a not-so-subtle nod to David Bowie. By joining forces with Daft Punk, Tesfaye adds gloss to this smooth, bombastic sound, resulting in a song that sleekly and effortlessly thrums and sparkles like one of his beloved luxury cars driven under neon lights. Goller

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15. Fifth Harmony f/ Ty Dolla Sign, “Work from Home”

Back in February, Fifth Harmony’s ebullient new pop song seemed hot enough to thaw the winter; during the peak of its chart ascendency a few months later, its chiming bed of crystalline synths sounded like Christmas in July. It’s a song for all seasons, like a Fifth Harmony calendar come to life: Camila’s steamy come-on (“Put in them hours, I’ma make it hotter”) sells sex in the summer as surely as Normani’s come-hither one (“You’re always on that nightshift/But I can’t stand these nights alone”) plays on “Baby It’s Cold Outside” horniness, because a yearning for your boo is evergreen. At first, letting Ty Dolla Sign have his say in this seems like an unnecessarily democratic gesture—at least until you realize his role is really just the manifestation of the girls’ own wish fulfillment. The group who sang “Bo$$” stays in control. Mac


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14. KING, “The Greatest”

A tribute to Muhammad Ali (one of the greats 2016 took from us) by an R&B girl group who curried major favor from Prince (another), though you wouldn’t exactly clock it from listening to “The Greatest” for the first or 50th time. Because producer-keyboardist Paris Struther treats the vocals of her twin sister Amber and Anita Bias as another sonic layer, unfurling luxuriously in a perfect synthesis of dream pop, 8-bit, and soul balladry. KING took their sweet time finally issuing their debut LP, more than a half-decade after unveiling its first songs. “Worth the wait” doesn’t begin to describe it, though this song’s title certainly comes close. Henderson


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13. Alicia Keys, “In Common”

While she bares herself throughout Here, her first album in four years, Alicia Keys is particularly perplexed by romance on “In Common,” seemingly resigned to the notion that anyone drawn to her must be equally “messed up.” She reins in her often stretched-thin vocal to a nearly whispered earnestness, punctuated in one instance by a wry chuckle at the idea of marriage vows. The song is propelled by a bouncing bassline and slinky chorus while its dancehall influences reflect an acceptance of contemporary pop trends, even as Keys presents a reluctance to come to terms with the fact that what she’s convinced herself is a fling may actually be something deeper. Goller


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12. Ariana Grande, “Into You”

What should have been the song of summer 2016 was instead a slow burner that slinked up the charts over the course of three sweaty months—peaking just outside the Top 10 at the height of beach season. The single’s gradual rise was as measured as Grande’s vocals and producer Max Martin’s beat, which—punctuated by finger snaps, squelchy disco synths, and 1990s house percussion—takes its time building to a euphoric climax during the song’s bridge. “I can’t, I can’t wait no more,” Grande confesses before finally unleashing a torrent of vocal runs that unapologetically announce her thirst. Cinquemani


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11. Frank Ocean, “Nikes”

Frank Ocean’s Blonde involved a painstaking method of production, with dozens of versions of certain tracks developed. Hints of that process are revealed on lead single “Nikes,” a song that differs substantially from the album version, and which is in many respects the more effective iteration. The track follows an unusually aggressive Ocean as he splits his voice in three—a pitched-up chipmunk croon and spoken-word basso rumble acting as opposing contrasts to the singer’s unprocessed voice, which only properly appears three-and-a-half minutes in. Touching on the pitfalls of fame and the difficulty of maintaining authenticity through references to brand names and dead comrades, three Oceans vie for control of this singularly strange song, a process that slyly mirrors the persistent struggle for self waged across two mirrored albums released nearly simultaneously. Cataldo


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10. RY X, “Deliverance”

Ry Cuming grew up surfing on the coast of New South Wales, and “Deliverance” finds the Australian singer-songwriter riding waves of cool synths and clattering percussion, which build with a slow pulse, transforming the track from piano dirge to house anthem, in less than four minutes. Cuming’s wraithlike vocals evoke James Blake, Bon Iver, and Peter Gabriel at their most ethereal, while the disquieting sensuality of his verses (“I’ve been crawling up inside your lungs/Feeling up your mind with my tongue”) offsets the spiritual platitudes of the song’s mantra-like hook. Cinquemani


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9. Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, “Jesus Alone”

The structure of “Jesus Alone” serves as an appropriate mirror for the emotional state its composer found himself in while formulating it. As the song begins, with a grumbling electronic groan and Nick Cave reciting vivid but obtuse imagery, the singer sounds despondent and detached, adrift in darkness and abstraction. But as the improvised track builds, its cold swirls of electronics, strings, and piano gradually coalesce into a grievingly reposeful refrain, as Cave comes to grips with his pain: “With my voice/I am calling you.” It’s a pretty chorus, but when considering that Cave is “calling” his dead son, it becomes far more devastating than the gloomier musical passages that precede it. Winograd


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8. Chance the Rapper f/ Lil Wayne and 2 Chainz, “No Problem”

With a blissful choir and a crawling bassline, Chance the Rapper’s “No Problem” initially sounds like church, constantly ascending and full of joy. But the song’s subject matter is far from religious: Chance uses his verse to attack the music labels he’s continued to resist as well as the rappers who sign record deals; 2 Chainz sings the praises of drugs and money; and Lil Wayne bemoans his ongoing financial and industry woes. Chance channels his mentor, Kanye West, the originator of repurposed soul music, and a master of misdirection, by making “No Problem” feel like gospel, and then preaching from the book of himself. Wroble

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7. Justin Jay f/ Josh Taylor, “Make You Mine”

In the grand tradition of dank deep house, Justin Jay’s “Make You Mine” doesn’t immediately attach its virus onto your core. The track takes its sweet time getting into you, flirting a little with the kick drum, winking with a low synth report, and then finally letting the bottom drop out as vocalist Josh Taylor intones, “I can’t see straight, with this anticipation.” He sounds like someone who’s recently been fucked by NY Stomp’s “I Feel It Comin’ On”…until the chorus arrives and the accompaniment of a vocodor reveals Taylor as the pushy belligerent. Even on dance floors, 2016 put its hands where it damn well pleased. Henderson


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6. Solange, “Cranes in the Sky”

I’ve perhaps unfairly regarded hipsters’ many declarations of preference for Solange over Beyoncé as the micro-est of microagressions. But “Cranes in the Sky” singlehandedly makes the hierarchy worth at least considering. The song was reportedly eight years in the making, but to be honest, its centered, droning majesty sounds like it’s been in the slow soul cooker a lot longer, passed down through generations like a treasured family heirloom. Co-written with Raphael Saadiq, “Cranes in the Sky” aestheticizes the lurching ennui of depression. As counterproductive as that may sound, who among us hasn’t slept it away, sexed it away, read it away, and ultimately found solace in the pleasure of a solid groove? Beyoncé may be out to conquer the world, but with “Cranes in the Sky,” Solange achieves something universal. Henderson


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5. Rihanna f/ Drake “Work”

The year’s other great “work” song isn’t about work any more than it’s about really anything else: The disintegrating patois of its language signifies a kind of breakdown of meaning all together. That is, unless you consider the song from its most beguiling and largely unexplored angle: as a furiously manic self-interrogation, with the workaholic Rihanna reconciling with the desires and whims of the impulsive, unpredictable Barbadian youth Robyn Fenty. “I hope that you see this through,” she repeats, but it’s hard to imagine anyone’s unmet expectations affecting Rihanna more than her own. And there’s been no greater justification for the year of aborted singles and convoluted promotional efforts that preceded Anti than this ingratiating three-and-half minutes, which finds Rihanna’s personal (affected, individualist vocal) and populist (dancehall) instincts working together seamlessly. Mac


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4. Beyoncé, “Hold Up”

“What’s worse, looking jealous or crazy?” Beyoncé asks on “Hold Up,” not long after confessing to going through Jay Z’s phone and wishing ill on his girlfriends. With co-writers including Diplo, Vampire Weekend’s Ezra Koenig, and Father John Misty, the song is a musical curiosity, as its feel-good, reggae-tinged meld of bouncing synths, cloppy percussion, and stray air horns is bizarre enough on its own, not to mention as a backdrop to revenge fantasies and resentment. And yet “Hold Up” works, what with its mishmash of sounds and styles creating an indelible groove as Beyoncé breaks from a public image normally cool and calm. Or, as she puts it: “I’d rather be crazy.” Wroble

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3. Radiohead, “Burn the Witch”

Whether Radiohead’s “Burn the Witch” is interpreted as a warning against authoritarianism or commentary on the peril in quashing dissenting viewpoints within a more socio-cultural context, Jonny Greenwood’s expansive string arrangements pair with Thom Yorke’s soaring falsetto to present a song that is, at once, both gorgeous and unsettling, culminating in a discordant swell of twitchy strings as thrilling and ominous as a Bernard Herrmann score. A fitting anthem for a depraved new world. Goller


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2. Kanye West, “Famous”

“Famous” functions equally well as both banger and ballad, another baring of Kanye West’s softer underbelly that matches its gentle moments with another ready-made batch of strident controversy-bait. The latter comes courtesy of West himself, throwing out passive-aggressive barbs at Taylor Swift and a variety of other unnamed targets, building up his own name by denigrating others. The churning, hellish beat emphasizes the devilish, self-destructive qualities on display, but the song’s hook says otherwise, depicting the rapper’s sensitive side via a series of female voices. These range from Rihanna’s serene and aching take on a Nina Simone verse, to an ebullient Sister Nancy sample and finally the timeless voice of Simone herself, the entire progression further grounded by a thrumming organ line which underscores the song’s confessional structure. Cataldo


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1. A Tribe Called Quest, “We the People”

Sandwiched between the more unimpeachably grooveful “Whateva Will Be” and ambitious, high-concept opener “The Space Program,” the lead single from A Tribe Called Quest’s We Got It from Here… Thank You 4 Your Service is the song of 2016 because it sounds as palpably angry about, and disenchanted with, modern times as the rest of us. We the people, Tribe had obviously hoped (based on the more optimistic and empowered songs elsewhere on the album), wouldn’t be foolish enough to elect a man who’d nod approvingly at the lyric about Mexicans and Muslims being deported en mass, but well, here we are. And so Q-Tip’s dejected attitude on topics like gentrification and a dumbed-down media culture stings all the more, and exists as the album’s most cathartic moment of commiseration. At the same time, there’s just enough hope here to keep “We the People…” from being completely defeatist: How bad can the world be with new Tribe music…and ramen noodles? Mac

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