According to my 2021 Spotify Wrapped, I listened to primarily “yearning” music. I feel like that’s reflected in my list of the top songs of the year as well. It features a lot of interiority, but the conclusion of that interiority seems to be that these songwriters are longing for more exteriority, to connect with other people, to finally satisfy their wildest dreams or desires. It feels like an entire music community emerging from quarantine hungry but a little bit weary, ready to take on the world once again.

I’d go on, but what better way to try and convey what I mean than giving you the full list? These are The Postrider’s Top 30 Songs of 2021.

30. “Oversharers Anonymous” – Wild Pink

I feel pretty comfortable saying that removing stigma from discussing and treating mental health issues has been a net good for society. But boy am I tired of hearing some of you people talk about it. So are Wild Pink, who attempt to wrestle with a whole host of contradictions in this sun-tanned fusion of dream pop and country. Amidst glimmering synths and soaring fiddles and steel-pedal guitars, they carve out a compromise as satisfying as this unlikely merging of styles itself: “You’re a fucking baby but your pain is valid too.” The first four words of that lyric might be hard a pill for some to swallow, but with instrumentation this pretty, they shouldn’t have any trouble washing it down.

29. “rom com 2004” – Soccer Mommy

One of indie rock’s foremost 90s nostalgists, Sophia Allison seems to have moved on from the Clinton era to the 2000s with this yearning track tailor made for a Dawson’s Creek or The OC sync. Not merely content to cash in on the Y2K revival, though, Allison punctuates “rom com 2004” with glitchy breakdowns that make listeners reevaluate the lyrics about dying in someone’s arms and ripping out ones own heart, while the dead eyed Mii that stars in the song’s video floats around in a world that constantly breaks down and reforms around her. Whether it’s a comment on the lies we tell ourselves when we look backward or the pain masked by pleasant pop melodies, the effect is as unsettling as it is tuneful.

28. “brutal” – Olivia Rodrigo

The genius behind High School Musical is that it recognizes that the children in its target audience don’t want to be adults – they want to be teenagers, because teenagers seem like they get all of the cool parts of adulthood (driving, dating, having enough money to eat out) without all of the uncool parts (a 9 to 5 job, taking care of kids, faded looks). How appropriate then, that the start of High School Musical: The Musical: The Series used the first track of Olivia Rodrigo’s first album to try and dispel those notions as once and for all. Teenagerdom, it turns out, is not all showtunes and aspiration: it’s frustrating, anxiety inducing, and parallel parking is hard as hell. For as bleak as the modern pop music landscape can be, if there’s anything that gave me a glimmer of hope, it was a product of the Disney star machine writing a song with big, angry guitars telling everyone telling her to enjoy her youth to fuck off, and doing it on Nirvana’s old label. “brutal” is hardly “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” but it’ll give some gloomy kid locked in their bedroom something to match their mood, and that’s just as good.

27. “Oxytocin” – Billie Eilish

For years I have been lobbying for an established pop star to collaborate with Trent Reznor, hoping that the Nine Inch Nails mastermind’s fluency in industrial music and electronics would make him the perfect bridge between today’s bubbly, overproduced pop to something actually interesting. Well turns out I was wrong – his collaboration with Halsey, If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power, was a dud that lacked any of Reznor’s trademark combination of eroticism and menace. 

Luckily for us, Billie Eilish was around to pick up the slack. An outlier on the otherwise slick Happier Than Ever, “Oxytocin” is uncomfortably steamy when you realize it’s coming from someone who was introduced to the world as a teenager, and while it’s lyrics can feel awkward and technical (oxytocin is the hormone released into the bloodstream during sex), it’s production is thrilling and spooky, a true chip off of “Closer”’s seedy, leather-clad block. While Eilish has displayed a tendency to revert to gloomy, conservative ballads, here’s hoping the clipped synths and distorted screams of “Oxytocin” make their way into some of her future releases.

26. “Chasm Killer” – Silver Synthetic

If there’s one thing I gleaned from The Beatles: Get Back, it’s that, even when you’re the greatest band of all time, not all of your songs have to mean something. Sometimes, it’s good enough to write something that sounds cool. It’s that music-for-the-sake-of-music attitude that attracts me to garage/psych revival supergroup Silver Synthetic’s debut album, and to “Chasm Killer” in particular. It’s gently rocking, sun-dappled riff and deeply satisfying guitar solo are all about the journey, not the destination, to the point where the lyrics barely matter at all. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the vibes.

25. “Red with Love” – Pom Pom Squad

A seemingly textbook example of the “bubblegrunge” genre that thousands of people found out they were huge fans of after viewing their Spotify Wrapped, “Red with Love” is as indebted to Buddy Holly as it is to Courtney Love, a determined but pure expression of obsessive love tinged with the minor key. The lover-as-narcotic trope is as old as music itself, but Mia Berrin’s meticulously detailed description of her physical reaction to her lover’s touch and absence takes things to a new extreme. She’s truly lovesick, feeling their touch when they’re gone and never feeling close enough to them when they finally do embrace, wishing that they could truly become one with each other. Science has yet to find a way to make that possible, so in the meantime she makes due by merging a skipping drumbeat and jangly chords with an alt rock sourness, the perfect song for the ‘50s school dance taking place in ‘90s Seattle.

24. “Michelangelo” – Cassandra Jenkins

We like to think of ourselves as individuals who are capable of making their own choices and realizing their own sense of self. But how does that factor in those things we can’t control? What power do we have over a worldwide pandemic or the way we were raised? How do we forge our own path when our only points of reference are the paths that have been blazed before us?

Such is the heady topic explored by Cassandra Jenkins on “Michelangelo,” a chorus-less rumination on trauma and identity that begins with one pensively strummed guitar before slowly growing into an entire orchestra. Jenkins wants nothing more than to be a blank screen or a plain piece of marble – something which the past is merely projected onto but not absorbed into, something she can mold as she sees fit. Jenkins opens the song by comparing herself to a three-legged dog, singing that “Part of me will always be”/”Looking for what I lost.”

She waved off that metaphor in an interview with Northern Transmissions, saying that “falls apart” because “everything in their physiology adjusts from imbalance to a new orientation.” I disagree – I think this only makes the metaphor more potent. For all of the things we can’t control about our lives, we find a way to soldier on – “Michelangelo” is proof of that.

23. “Jackie” – Yves Tumor 

The most popular misconception about rock stardom is that it’s some kind of power trip for the rock star, when in fact it’s merely desire personified and amplified. The rock star needs the audience as much as the audience needs them, and ensures their devotion by reflecting their wants and dissatisfactions back at them. No modern artist understands this more than Yves Tumor, and it’s the energy of this unrealized desire that powers both their 2020 album Heaven to a Tortured Mind (my favorite album of last year), and their 2021 single “Jackie,” which traffics in the same glam metal by way of experimental noise trappings, but in a more compact, digestible package.

Yves Tumor is down bad in “Jackie” – they can’t eat, they can’t sleep, and all they can think about is if the song’s subject is going through the same thing. The Olympian riffs and atmospheric synths may make Yves Tumor sound like some kind of dark god, but the song’s very scenario betrays their vulnerabilities – the reason they have to know if Jackie is feeling the same thing is because, if they aren’t, then the hell that Yves Tumor is going through is all for not. Who said rock stars couldn’t be relatable anymore?

22. “to some i’m genius” – snow ellet

When I first saw the title of the opening track from snow ellet’s EP Suburban Indie Rockstar, I rolled my eyes at what I assumed was his arrogance. Of course, anyone who’s listened to the song will realize that “to some i’m genius” is brilliantly self-deprecating, a rumination on the effort that Eric Reyes puts into his music, and how the level of underground fame he’s reached still doesn’t satisfy him (in his own words, he’d like to “make a hit song”/”For all the kids”/”Sitting in dorms”/”While they’re drinking a fifth”/”With all their friends”/”That they’ve known for a month”). If this fizzy, hooky, 2000s throwback of a song is any indication, he may be closer to reaching fame than he realizes. But even if he doesn’t, having some people think you’re a genius is better than having no one think so.

21. “Control” – Mannequin Pussy

Mannequin Pussy can do the sub-two minute punk banger as well as anyone, but it’s they’re longer, more melodic and anthemic tracks that really make them stand out. “Control” is their latest foray in that form, starting off slow and soft before kicking into a cathartic, shout-a-long showstopper about trying to maintain, well, control. Slot it in next to “Drunk II” and “Who You Are” in their list of modern rock classics, and hope that the band’s affiliation with Mare of Easttown nabbed them some new listeners along the way. 

20. “THE SERVER IS IMMERSED” – The Spirit of the Beehive

In the 2010s, most psychedelic music was “vibey” – warm, danceable, and meant to make you feel high in the warm and fuzzy sense. The trippy abrasiveness of The Spirit of the Beehive has always been a counterpoint to all of this blissed out nonsense, stitching together spooky field recordings and distortion with music that alternates between being noisy and gently hazy. This makes them much more of an albums band than a singles band, but “THE SERVER IS IMMERSED” is perhaps their first truly great track, what Tame Impala might sound like if Kevin Parker stumbled into the studio zonked on Ativan. Like most psychedelic music, the lyrics aren’t really the point – there’s some vague references to preachers, pulpits, and a half-considered critique of capitalism, but what you’re really meant to do is just sit back and let these Philly weirdos lead you down the garden path, as the edges of your mind’s eye begin to warp and your thoughts all begin to bleed together. 

19. “Dealer” – Lana Del Rey

If there’s one thing that’s prevented Lana Del Rey from being a massive, world conquering, name-in-lights pop star, it’s probably her voice. She’s a fine singer, but her glacial, understated melodies make her incompatible with most modern pop arrangements, despite the Charlie’s Angels marketing team’s insistence to the contrary. She’s always been evocative, but only so emotive, which can make some of her weaker albums really drag. But on “Dealer,” she finally decides to let it rip, putting her back into the accusatory wails she aims at her deadbeat duet partner Miles Kane as the two go back and forth about who owes who what, and which authority figure they can best contact each other through. While “Dealer” is decidedly downbeat, there’s something a little swinging 60s about its electric piano and, uh, swinging rhythm. Even when Lana lets loose, she still insists on doing so in an immaculately curated and moody environment, proof that she can still be herself even as she pushes her voice to its limits.

18. “Jimi & Stan” – Strand of Oaks

What’s the point of living without the ones we love? Such is the question Timothy Showalter asks on “Jimi & Stan,” a fantasy (or maybe a prayer?) that envisions Jimi Hendrix and Showlater’s late cat Stan linking up in heaven, hitting paradise’s hottest rock clubs, and chilling out, watching the universe go by. It’s a simple and direct song that contains within it an immense amount of pain and longing, a power-only power ballad that wrestles with what one does when they’ve lost their best friend and long for someone they’ve never even met. “Back in life I wonder, why we hang around so long?,” Showalter asks about the reality of having to live life amidst such absences, before coming to a conclusion. “For me it’s all the songs I haven’t found.” A sentiment that surely anyone who’s woken up excited at the prospect of hearing something new for the first time can relate to.

17. “Favorite Song” – 2nd Grade

The original version of “Favorite Song” appeared on 2nd Grade’s lo-fi debut album and featured only frontman Peter Gill’s voice and guitar, making for a pensive, reflective affair. The reimagined version, from the band’s rerecording of their debut, is beefed up with a full band and a more excitable, expressive vocal that brings out the composition’s latent power-pop potential. Its Chilton-esque melancholy and Pollard-aping guitars place it firmly up there with 2nd Grade’s genre inspirations, while its lyrics, about marking time and moods with the songs you love, ring true with any music obsessive.

16. “In the Stone” – The Goon Sax

In a world where most indie rock bands seem to take their cues from scruffier, more proletarian genres like punk, grunge, and folk, The Goon Sax stand out as being a little moodier, a little sexier, and a bit more mysterious, more content to parade around in big David Byrne suits than flannel and denim, and more likely to palm mute their guitars than let the feedback fly. All their best elements are on display in “In the Stone,” in which Louis Forster and Riley Jones trade verses where they ask each other if it’s better “not feeling/Any of this at all.” The song feels like a failed attempt at anesthetization, crawling slowly but steadily with post-punk guitars and an inhuman drum machine before Forster and Jones barely break out in the chorus about a vampiric figure that’s broken their hearts and left them cold. They’re meant to sound detached, but the goth instrumentation and their deadpan delivery makes them sound sexy the way a scowling supermodel looks sexy, a kind of artful-if-unattainable level of non-emoting that one rarely encounters in the real world. Of course, it’s that unattainability that makes it all so desirable in the first place.

15. “Slide Tackle” – Japanese Breakfast

“I want to be gooooood,” Michelle Zauner croons over the sleek synths and sophisti-pop guitars of “Slide Tackle,” the closest her acclaimed third album, Jubilee, comes to being clubby, and with lyrics about “I want to navigate this hate in my heart,” also one of its darkest tracks. Zauner recognizes that one of the biggest hurdles to happiness is the self, and the doubt, hate, and hopelessness that can too often seize our hearts in minds, allowing us to retreat into bitterness. “Slide Tackle” is the sound of her sliding into a zen state to stave off this mental “void.” Lyrically, we leave her still “obsessing in the dark,” unsure if she’s finally won out. Musically, the song shifts into a sax-aided rave, leaving us no doubt that she’s mastered the voice inside her head.

14. “Little Things” – Big Thief

Even for a band that sounds like they pull their music from another world, “Little Things” is a massive song that feels like it should never end, less a musical composition than a natural phenomenon like the aurora borealis. Whereas Big Thief’s music has always been defined by spaces they left unfilled, “Little Things” is all about filling those spaces as much as possible, featuring a jangly, spectral guitar propelling it across the continent from a sweaty bedroom to a rural backyard to the streets of New York City, while Buck Meek adds his scratchy scribbles across it like a mysterious radio signal caught on the edge of the atmosphere. Its massive instrumental scope mirrors its lyrical themes of obsessive love, the kind that makes a person’s flaws feel like gifts, and their presence in your life feel like a life-or-death proposition.

13. “Nashville Wedding” – Kiwi jr.

Kiwi jr.’s Cooler Returns is full of metaphors, allusions, and cryptic word association, which, while frequently entertaining, can get a little draining ten songs in. “Nashville Wedding,” however, takes lyricist and songwriter Jeremy Gaudet’s penchant for Dylan-esque abstractions and applies to it a relatable, depressing event – namely, attending an ex’s wedding – to great effect. Beneath the anti-social hijinks (tent poles are smashed, a jangle pop band is strangled), heavy drinking, and mischievousness is a true sense of hurt, and the idea that Gaudet’s outrageous behavior, and his droll, deadpan delivery, are merely a mask he wears to hide his jet black feelings of contempt and heartbreaking level of sadness.

12. “I Know I’m Funny haha” – Faye Webster 

This languid, chorus-less ode’s light groove and sighing pedal-steel perfectly encapsulate the country/R&B crossover that’s become Webster’s calling card, and its lyrics are full of her trademark understatement and mundanity. So many of Webster’s songs are about loneliness and love lost, but even when she does fall in love, she has to undercut her emotions and sense of importance, the way you might try and smooth out a vulnerable text message with a “lol” or a “haha.” This track stands as a prime example of Webster’s mastery of the modern Internet argot and her ability to blend genres into something that always feels fresh and new.

11. “Headlock” – Snail Mail

Part of the appeal of Snail Mail’s 2019 debut album Lush was how big and teenage its emotional pallet was – “Pristine’s” iconic “I’ll never love anyone else” would’ve felt a little shallow coming from anyone other than the then-19 year old Lindsay Jordan. What’s so striking about “Headlock” is how much wearier and more beaten down Jordan sounds than she ever did on Lush. Beginning as a simple ballad about romantic regret, “Headlock” slowly builds as Jordan descends into the darkest corners of human emotion, but even if you’re well versed in the “sad girl” songwriters who’ve taken over indie rock the past half decade, the second chorus and third verse will hit you like a ton of bricks. 

“Man enough to see this through.” 

“To see what through?“

“Thought I’d see her when I died”/”Filled the bathtub up with water”/”Nothing on the other side.”

It’s a striking stanza from an artist who built a career off of teenage melodrama and shocking to hear her be so blunt and downbeat. Even her decision not to kill herself is painted as a failure (“one more thing I won’t get to”), and even though she keeps her life, she still ends up melting into the feeling in an attempt to reach the object of her affections, futilely asking, as the band picks up for a coda that sounds like a Lush track on downers, “Are you lost in it too?”

10. “Both All the Time” – Faye Webster

Compared to most other songs on this list, “Both All the Time” is almost comically simple and understated, a straightforward song about loneliness from an artist who’s made a name for herself writing straightforward songs about loneliness. But the fact that Webster is able to pack so much power into such seemingly simple words (“There’s a difference between being lonely and lonesome”/”But I’m both all the time,” “I don’t get the point of leaving my house”/”’Cause I always come back”) is just further testament to her genius – most songwriters would have trouble writing something so economical yet so affecting. 

Despite “Both All the Time”’s simplicity, it’s not without Webster’s trademark quirkiness, displayed here through a single triangle note that substitutes for a proper chorus. Is this meant to be a small glimmer of light in what’s an otherwise gloomy song? A manifestation of our individual insignificance? Or is it another self-effacing way to try and smooth out such a heavy subject? It matters, but it doesn’t; the fact that Webster can wring out such questions from one simple note is proof enough that she’s accomplished something.

9. “Stay in the Car” – Bachelor

Doomin’ Sun – the debut album from Jay Som and Palehound collaboration Bachelor – is full of textured guitar licks that evoke longing and yearning desire, communicating that which can only be said through noise and not words. Nowhere do they ring louder than on “Stay in the Car,” which was inspired by an argument between “an absolutely beautiful woman” and a man in a car witnessed by Ellen Kempner that lead to a brief moment of obsession. The observations Kempner sings about – plastic bags, bloody fingernails, making a grocery lost – may feel everyday, but the anguished, longing guitars that ring out after every line and crash in on themselves in the chorus bring out their true, desperate meaning.

8. “How Can You Live If You Can’t Love How Can You If You Do” – Wednesday

On “How Can You Live If You Can’t Love How Can You If You Do,” Wednesday lap steel guitarist Xandy Chelmis takes a break from abusing his instrument in the interest of creating as much noise as possible to create some pretty licks for this tender ballad about being separated from the one you love, and the impossibility of being in love in the first place. It’s title is a catch-22, a question that’s impossible to answer – both love and the absence of love cause pain, so which pain is worse? – and Karly Hartzman’s weary vocals recall that of Lucinda Williams, who fit country music into an alternative mode the way Wednesday fit country music’s themes of poverty and heartbreak into noise rock and shoegaze. But no matter how they identify themselves on Bandcamp, this is a country song, and it’s the year’s best.

7. “Ben Franklin” – Snail Mail

In a 2018 Pitchfork Over/Under interview, Snail Mail’s Lindsay Jordan was asked about being “indie famous.” “Definitely overrated,” she said. “Everything is still trash.” She may have been onto something – three years later she revealed in another Pitchfork interview that experiencing so much success so early forced her to head to rehab in 2020, something she skillfully kept from the press until “Ben Franklin,” which addresses the retreat head on.

It’s also the first song where Jordan properly luxuriates in her own weird form of celebrity. Tight and groovy, “Ben Franklin” is a sharp contrast to the bloodletting ballads of Lush, and Jordan’s newly confident persona (“Got money, I don’t care about sex”) and breathy vocal delivery are a far cry from her shy, headbroken teenager persona of her early career. Of course, this is all an act too, a deliberate attempt to break out of her comfort zone and do things Snail Mail would usually never do, like dance in a music video and handle a snake Britney-style. But that striving in and of itself is testament to her innate rock stardom, which has always been about embracing the base and most devious parts of your personality. When Jordan sings “I never should’ve hurt you”/”I’ve got the devil in me” it doesn’t sound like an apology so much as a statement of fact and a warning. There’s a new rock star in town, and she’s ready to break hearts and make you dance, because that’s what rock stars do.

6. “Days Like These” – Low

If I never have to hear the words “unprecedented times” again, I will die a happy man. “Unprecedented” has become the go to phrase to describe the strange historical moment we find ourselves in, whether it be from politicians, advertisers, or the users of Dictionary.com.  

Low dance around that term on “Days Like These,” an almost gospel-like song about encountering troubled times and trying to come out the other end complete. They take a typically spiritual approach to hardship – arguing that completeness and salvation are in many ways a myth, that things may never be normal again, and that there will be other troubles that we will claim we never saw coming but that we should still expect – and do so through music that feels both heavenly and apocalyptic. Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker’s harmonies are typically divine, but in the second verse they’re forced to compete with deafening, overpowering noise courtesy of producer BJ Burton, who’s made a career out of pushing audio technology to its limits. Is this noise the sound of the end times? Of death? Of divine revelation? We can’t tell, and eventually it gives way to a much softer, three-minute-long coda that’s similarly inscrutable – either the sound of an army of angels descending from heaven or the light of the universe slowly going out. Either way, it’s unlike any other music released this year – accessible on one level but also uncompromisingly experimental – making for a song that feels, dare I say it, unprecedented.

5. “Long Distanced Conjoined Twins” – Home Is Where

Home Is Where are generally considered to be a punk or emo band, but whenever I hear “Long Distanced Conjoined Twins,” I can’t help but think of Grouplove. More than just the chugging guitars and quirky use of harmonica, the Grouplove really comes out in abstract lyrics of childhood fun and friendship, a harsher – at times more uncomfortable – version of the indie rock good times typified by “Tongue Tied.” Home Is Where is never afraid to delve into disturbing imagery like swallowed light bulbs or curb stomped Santa Clauses, but the music overcomes it all to create a joyous sense of the inherent danger and scariness of childhood.

4. “ALL FUTURES” – The Armed

The Armed, with all of their bits, misdirections, and ironic posturing are an exhausting band to follow. Their music is pretty inscrutable too, but “ALL FUTURES” is the closest they come to creating a pop song. It’s still heavy, even brutal, and still features larynx shredding vocals from two different singers (one of whom is only responsible for shrieking “YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH” during the chorus), but it’s rising and falling structure has more in common with mainstream alt rock than other nominally hardcore bands, and while its synths are meant to add to the chaotic noise, it helps soften some of the blow. Whatever this song may actually be about, and whoever The Armed may actually be, this song is thrilling and visceral, the sound of charging up Mount Everest to fight God himself, a perfect release.

3. “Be Sweet” – Japanese Breakfast

On its surface, “Be Sweet” is Japanese Breakfast’s pop radio play, a clattering, danceable singalong that even Michelle Zauner has admitted has more in common with Whitney Houston or Madonna than Japanese Breakfast’s lo-fi, shoegaze-influenced back catalog. But for as joyous and as escapist as it may sound, “Be Sweet” is all about mending and compromise, about demanding your partner admit when they’re wrong, and finding it within yourself to forgive them. That journey’s often framed as a struggle, but in “Be Sweet,” Zauner frames it as an opportunity for joy and excitement, for renewal and reignition. In another world, in another time, it could be her big pop breakthrough – but in our reality, we’ll have to settle for it being one of the most irresistible and compulsively re-listenable songs of the year.

2. “Like I Used To” – Sharon Van Etten and Angel Olsen

Sharon Van Etten and Angel Olsen have had similar career trajectories, beginning as intimate, folk-adjacent balladeers before releasing albums that expanded their respective sounds into bigger, pop/rock directions. They reach a kind of apex on “Like I Used To,” a duet that aspires to a Springsteenian scope and feels like a moment of self-coronation for these two indie rock veterans, a moment to separate themselves from the younger singer-songwriters who have made inroads the past half decade. It also feels like a uniquely post-pandemic song – this isn’t a Japandroids-esque “we’re gonna get together and conquer the world” anthem, but it does call for a kind of introspective adventurousness, of going forth into the world knowing thyself and wrestling from it that which will make you whole. 

1. “Assisted Harakiri” – Home Is Where

“Assisted Harakiri” is a contradiction, a quick and dirty punk song that leans on two rapidly strum chords for most of its runtime that also endeavors to be abstract and impressionistic, grasping at big ideas like trans rights (“Oh, the treachery”/”Of anatomy”) and anti-police sentiment (“Cops are flammable”/”If you try”) while also throwing in imagery of moths confusing manmade lighting for the moon and giant celestial meathooks just because they sound cool. It’s also full of things that are not supposed to be in a punk song, like guitar tapping, harmonicas, horns, and a drumless bridge. I won’t go as far as to call this a joyous song – Brandon McDonald’s vocal delivery is much too aggro, its politics much to angry, and there are far too many references to disembowelment – but it’s far from miserable, and in a world and a year full of misery, it feels good to just emote, even if you’re not sure where those emotions are going or what exactly they are. That kind of boundless, churning energy is what powers “Assisted Harakiri” for its entire four-and-a-half-minute runtime and makes you feel like you can run as fast as the Flash and jump as far as the Hulk. It’s a song you wish would never stop.