In many ways, it feels like we’re living in a post-single world. People may not be lining up outside of record stores to buy full albums, sure, but the idea of a song of the summer or a generational anthem seems all but obsolete. Instead, artists are reappropriating ancient memes in the hope of scoring a TikTok hit or, in the case of Kate Bush and “Running Up That Hill,” hoping a decades-old song of theirs gets featured in a Netflix team teen drama. Given this context, it may seem pointless to try and rank the best songs of the year. But just because it may be pointless does not mean that it’s futile. Operating just beneath that stagnant pop landscape is an exciting world of talented songwriters and musicians who poured their blood, sweat, and tears into some excellent entries of the popular music canon. The ten best of the year are listed below.

10. “80s” – Empath

A few months ago, my mom showed me a picture of my dad taken in the late 80s, when he would’ve been about my age – and it was almost like looking in a mirror. In some ways it was horrifying (who actually wants to grow up to become their parents?) but there was also an odd sense of comfort in knowing that I’m part of a larger lineage, that my parents were young once, and that, despite some bumps in the road, I’m also becoming a productive adult.

I don’t know if that’s exactly what was going through Catherine Elicson’s mind when she wrote “80s,” which is about realizing on a drunk walk home that she looks like her mother when she was young, but it at least seems to be in the same neighborhood. Like all Empath songs, “80s” is controlled musical chaos, with an eruptive and elliptical rhythm that mimics the throbbing nature of racing thoughts, but through that chaos, Elicson is able to come to a kind galaxy-brained revelation that there are things in her life that have already been determined for her decades ago (“You made no vows but vows were made for you”), but those things are also what make her unique (“There is no equivalent to fill the vacuum”). And that line about being “a visitor in your own fantasy?” Sounds to me like that’s the most literal version of living the dream.

9. “The Extra Sees the Film” – Kiwi jr.

Dark and dreamy, “The Extra Sees the Film” is, in the words of Kiwi jr. frontman Jeremy Gaudet, “a literal change of pace” for the Toronto-based band, who broke through in 2021 with the smartaleck-ey songwriting of Cooler Returns. Instead of coming off as roguish know-it-alls, this track sees Kiwi jr. in a much more reflective mode, mocking the self-importance of a “human scorpion jacket from Drive” before coming to terms with their own self-concern when they abandon a roadside accident to make a gig. The extra and the film are metaphorical – we all feel a twinge of embarrassment when we realize we aren’t actually the stars of our own movies, and that we’re just one character in a much larger universe that moves on, with or without us. And yet, like this song, we try to glide through that embarrassment and convince ourselves that, someday, we’ll get our big break.

8. “Easy On Your Own?” – Alvvays

Indie rock has always been synonymous with a certain kind of smallness and scrappines, and the cold coziness of Alvvays, with their layers of clean guitars, distortion, and Molly Rankin’s airy vocals, personified that ragged intimacy. But they’ve also always had the potential for arena-filling bombast, and “Easy On Your Own?” is their biggest step towards becoming a huge band. Opening with a line that’ll be repeated by disaffected college students for generations (“Iiiiii, dropppped, ouuuttt”), “Easy On Your Own?” sounds like a standard issue Alvvays song until the band loads up for a monster of a chorus that promises to shatter windows live. The irony is that the title question at the chorus isn’t an affirmation – it’s a genuine question that’s been asked by many independent artists and independent people for years. Is it easier to set out on your own? Or is it better to make compromises in the interest of comfort and companionship? We may never get a definitive answer, but we will always have the noisy melodicism of Alvvays to make sure we never truly feel alone.

7. “Rockstar” – Momma

At some point in the mid-2010s, a series of “is rock and roll dead?” pieces came out, questioning whether the defining genre of the 20th Century was fading away in the 21st. There’s no question that rock music is no longer at the forefront of popular culture like it had been even as recently as the 1990s, and that hip-hop has taken its place as the youth’s non-pop music of choice. But asking whether or not the genre is “dying” ignores the millions of young people who still devote their energy to playing this music and delight in its tropes and cliches, and none do so with more glee than LA-based trio Momma do on the aptly titled “Rockstar.” 

Built around an extremely 90s loud-quiet-loud structure, “Rockstar” is a knowing juxtaposition between Momma’s dreams and the reality of being a touring band in 2022 – they may be aiming to be number one on the charts, but for now they have to deal with pre-show traffic, an alcoholic singer, and some mild insecurity. But they also revel in the struggle – after all, what rock fan has never fantasized about being let into clubs for free, staying up all night singing karaoke, or knowing that you’re the coolest thing to roll through whatever backwater your low-paying show is in next? Rock music may have faded as mainstream concern, but what Momma and their crushing riffs make clear is that even if they don’t ever top the charts, rock music as a subculture, as a way of life, will never die.

6. “Runner” – Alex G

Like most Alex G songs, “Runner”’s lyrics are vexingly opaque. We can’t say for sure if Alex G is singing about a dog, or a friend, or even God, but either way, the sentiment conveyed through “Runner” – a call for a forgiving, non-judgemental love – shines through this mid-tempo rocker. Free of any pitch-shifting or distortion and pulling liberally from Soul Asylum’s “Runaway Train,” “Runner” is one of Alex G’s most straightforward songs, and yet even then he manages to fill it with his little idiosyncrasies lie the deep backing vocals, the percussive piano, and, of course, his high pitched scream at the end of the last verse. Is it a cry for help? Forgiveness? Joy? Like the subject of the song, the answer remains unclear, and the only sure thing is Alex G’s mastery of his own weird little corner of indie rock.

5. “Pharmacist” – Alvvays

Alvvays broke through in 2014 with “Archie, Marry Me,” a droll, cheeky song that may have caused some casual followers to think of the Canadian group as another twee-adjacent indie band. But anyone who’s followed their career knows that Alvvays has always been more morbid and noisy than their biggest hit might indicate, undercutting the melodiousness of Molly Rankin’s voice with a near constant buzz and dark, searching lyrics. “Pharmacist” is an important song because it’s arguably the first in which Alvvays decided to foreground that noise, hammering My Bloody Valentine-style guitars over Rankin’s return-to-home melancholy and exiting with a frantic, distorted guitar solo. At just over two minutes, this song may seem slight, but it’s a table setter for the rest of Blue Rev, an album that expands the size and volume of Alvvays’ sound and turns the page on a band that almost didn’t survive the pandemic and an ensuing lineup shuffle. More than a great song, it’s a hint at greatness to come.

4. “Tastes Just Like It Costs” – MJ Lenderman

From a lyrical standpoint, “Tastes Just Like It Costs” feels like a joke. MJ Lenderman complains about a stupid hat, spends too much money on meat at the butcher shop, and then drops it all over the sidewalk. It’s hardly an anecdote worth his drawling sneer and the squalling, Neil Young and Dinosaur Jr.-inspired guitars that accompany it, but Lenderman sells it with a straight enough face that the episode becomes as violent and dramatic as the shootout in “Powderfinger.” Of course, the words of this song aren’t really the point anyway. This is just another excuse to sit back and hear one of the most exciting young guitarists in music cook, shooting off licks and solos so searing they could make the cheapest hamburger taste like filet mignon. 

3. “stabilise” – Nilfüyer Yanya

So much of modern music is backward looking. The 90s are hot in indie rock. Rap, which used to be built off of obscure samples, is now pulling from more popular and meme-ish sources, and one of the year’s biggest pop hits was actually released in the mid-80s. Nilfüyer Yanya’s “stabilise” definitely pulls from the past – the ravey break beats, the Bloc Party-style guitars – but it pools its influences into something that sounds crystalline and futuristic, a song that feels like it can be owned by today’s youth instead of merely rented from their parents. Beginning with a twitchy drum machine and cascading guitars, “stabilise” finds Yanya narrating the everyday freneticism of city life, looking for ways to steady herself as she knows no one is coming to save her. These aren’t exactly original sentiments, but Yanya wraps them in sparkly new packaging, shining a light towards a promising new musical future.

2. “Miracles” – Alex G

I’m at the age now where, instead of pricking my ears up in surprise when I hear someone I went to high school or college with has gotten married or had a baby, I accept that this is just my life now. In some ways, it fills me with a great sense of anxiety, but for the most part, I welcome it. I always found the sandbox that is modern youth to be somewhat nihilistic, and seeing people around you all of a sudden forced to become incredibly earnest and conscientious may be terrifying, but it’s also a refreshing change of pace. 

On the dewey and pure “Miracles,” Alex G turns a similar corner. A traditionally opaque and mischievous songwriter, he goes from being unsure about the prospect of fatherhood to embracing it fully, finding a sense of salvation and comfort in the love of his partner and their soon-to-be-born child. It’s still unclear how seriously Alex G is endorsing religion when he sings about eschewing drugs for “miracles and crosses,” but whether or not he’s literally reading the Bible or going to church is irrelevant to the point of the song. He’s found something holy in familial love, and it’s a holiness that helps him brave through his doubts about the future and gives him the will to keep up the thankless task of making art. It’s not a gooey call to optimism, but rather a suggestion that, at a certain point, cynicism runs its course, and the only thing that can save you – that can save us – is finding a similar love.

1. “Bull Believer” – Wednesday

In many ways, it feels a bit cliche for me to pick Wednesday’s massive “Bull Believer” as the best song of the year. It’s long, which makes it seem important, and it has a drawn out and cathartic coda, which makes it feel even more important, and gives it a similar structure to my 2020 pick for number one, Phoebe Bridgers’ “I Know the End.” What can I say, I have a type.

Even so, it’s impossible to deny the power and exquisite form of this song, a non-album single that only further established Wednesday as one of the most powerful acts not just in indie rock, but music as a whole. Vocalist Karly Hartzman begins “Bull Believer” by describing the bloody and terrible scene of a Spanish bullfight, with turbulent and nauseating guitars evoking the unsettling feeling of watching something die for sport. Eventually the scene shifts to a New Year’s Eve party, and the blood that was once gushing from the bull is gushing from Hartzman’s nose as she watches her crush absently playing Mortal Kombat, ignoring her the whole way through. The song slows down as Hartzman sings “finish him,” the game’s signature catchphrase. And then she sings it again. And again. And again. The full band hammers away on their instruments at full blast as she descends further into madness. Her words become shouts. Her shouts become ear piercing screams. Does she want to finish the bull? Her feelings for the Mortal Kombat guy? Either way, it’s the perfect encapsulation of exasperation, the sound of banging your head against a wall again and again because you feel like there’s nothing else to do. It’s also a demonstration that, after building something up, sometimes the most impressive thing you can do is tear it all down.