The Fifty Best Songs of 2018

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The standout track from Hayley Kiyoko’s ambitious debut Expectations, “What I Need” speaks to an experience most queer women are familiar with. It’s not a straightforward tale of unrequited love but of confusion and pain on both sides, of understanding the other person’s feelings but knowing that your needs might not be met whilst they are in the midst of that. The catchiness of the chorus is undercut by a hint of desperation – the repetition acting as a request for clarity in the situation.

The song’s video is also a masterpiece in its own right, directed by Kiyoko herself. It shows two young queer women on a road trip, heading towards what we hope is a little bit more freedom and a whole lot more clarity. It feels more like a short film than merely a music video, and betrays the true emotional undercurrent of the song – whilst also remaining fun and flirty in moments.

Sophia Simon-Bashall

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"Narcissist" is the Dirty Hit confection that saw the mergence of pop powerhouses No Rome and The 1975. This is a hedonist’s anthem: it holds the mirror up so close to our collective faces so close you can see your breath on it. “She told me I’m a narcissist doing it again / Took a bunch of acid and she told me "not again" / Now I've gotta tell her that I'm lovin' her friends”, No Rome pouts.

The verses are unquestionably penned by Matty Healy: a pastiche of the pretentious society we live in, where commitment is a burden and drugs are an escape from the flatness of reality. ‘Narcissist’ is a billowing soap bubble of pop. It has an unstable, twinkling instrumental where vocals distort and skitter. It unites the lo-fi electro beats of No Rome and The 1975’s irresistible melodies – the result is bubblegum-sweet perfection.

Sophie Walker

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The second single from Aussie synth-pop magician Handsome, “Save Some Love” had a lot to live up to. Predecessor “Late Night Ball Game” is about as close to perfect as debuts come; flickering electronics spread with gossamer layers of pitched and distorted vocals. Its shadowy, self-amplifying beauty sits in opposition to its pacy, upbeat follow-up, as the two battle it out for best track on Handsome’s stellar debut EP. While “Save Some Love” employs many of the same tricks as “Late Night Ball Game”, its sound is beefier, more down to earth. Light, tight percussion keeps the track’s feet firmly on the ground, whilst judicious vocoder use and that signature pitching down on the chorus lend surreal, syrupy topnotes to the mix.

Pip Williams

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Rising Midlands artist Emily Burns offered up a slew of spine-tingling numbers throughout 2018, and Studio Black collab “Friends Don't Kiss Friends” is at the top of the bop-laden pile. Out via tastemaker label 37 Adventures (Geowulf, Royce Wood Junior), the track racked up over five million Spotify plays and infected Sad Banger Playslists across the country.

The singer/songwriter has an obviously bright future ahead, proved via refreshing takes on staid love-song formulas that grip you by the heart, and this breakthrough is well deserved after years of toil behind the scenes (including a lengthy stint at Abbey Road behind the reception desk).

Larry Day

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As a lead producer on XL recordings’ 2016 New Gen compilation, Jevon has his finger firmly on the pulse of UK rap. With his debut single though, he’s thrust himself into the midst of the buzz. “This mixtape’s my throwaways, imagine what my album’s like,” he rallies. “I don’t watch the ‘Ones to Watch’ list/Because the ones you watch are the ones that are watching me.” “Redemption” is darkly uplifting, built around a menacing beat and a looping choral sample. Jevon says he was aiming for a Kanye, “Jesus Walks” kind of vibe – outlining the loftiness of his ambitions - and he’s certainly grabbed our attention.

Dannii Leivers

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Garnering over 644 million listens on Spotify - blowing “Bodak Yellow” completely out of the water - "I Like It" combines Cardi’s fierce raps with trap vibes c/o Bad Bunny and J Balvin. Add in a sample of the 1967 hit of the same name by Pete Rodriguez and it was guaranteed to be the song of the summer. The lyrics are so much fun: “Told that bitch I'm sorry though / 'Bout my coins like Mario.”

Released as the fourth single from Invasion of Privacy, "I Like It" also hit the number one spot on the US Billboard Hot 100, giving Cardi the record for female rappers with number one singles.

Allison Kamel

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There’s a lot about drag that is completely artful and that Christine and the Queens tapped into for “Girlfriend”. The entire persona of 'Chris', a tribute to the act’s namesake: the London drag queens of now-defunct Madame JoJos who took Héloïse Letissier under their fabulous wings, giving her both confidence and a family.

“Girlfriend” is the kind of 80s pop jam that gives off the same masculine-yet-genderfuck swagger as its writer. It’s the kind of shit you can dance your feelings off to, especially queer feelings, or a track that can bring those queer feelings out into the world where they should be. Chris, the album, would bring back pop music in a big way; but it was “Girlfriend” that paved the way for the rest of its tracks.It was a huge part of the summer of 2018 and kind of an anthem for those of us on the outside looking in. Listening to it brings back the sweltering heat of summer, of drinking wine in the park and of Pride and of portable speakers blaring the favourite songs of a group of 30-somethings about to get their lives together(ish).

And more than anything, it’s just an absolutely banging debut single from a banging second album.

Em Burfitt

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Lorely Rodriguez ventured out to make a less personal record in Us, the follow-up to 2015’s Me. The LA-based artist has succeeded in painting vivid vignettes on her latest effort – such as the stoop-dwelling New York scenes in “Everything To Me” – and these depictions are shared experiences. But when “When I’m With Him” unfurls at the tail end of Us, it’s clear that Rodriguez is still wont to open up. Over a sparse weaving of air-light drums, piano jabs, and muted funk guitars, Rodriguez details a sad story of deficient love. “I feel like I'm the outside looking in / When I'm with him / I don't know how to love now, I pretend / When I'm with him,” she sings, flocking between breathy falsetto and gravelly mid range.

This chorus is arguably Empress Of’s most melodious refrain to date. It sticks to the brain, trapped, like a relationship that’s not fully reckoned with. Rodriguez, who is Honduran-American, also sings some parts in her native tongue as if we’re invited to eavesdrop on her natural thought process. “When I’m With Him” is one of Us’ strongest tracks thanks to its shattering display or vulnerability and hooky pop prowess.

Charlotte Krol

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Richard Swift’s untimely death in July of this year had us totally shook. A musician, collaborator and producer of such versatility and flare, his work with the likes of Damien Jurado, Alex Cameron, The Shins, Kevin Morby, The Arcs and countless more cemented him as one of the true greats.

With him, he left us with The Hex, a record that arguably features some of his best work - most notably the instant classic “Broken Finger Blues”. Playing out like a long distance cousin of 2009’s “Lady Luck”. With Swift’s angel-like falsetto crooning over a soul drenched wall of sound - the track sounding like a long lost northern soul 45 haunted by the ghosts of Wigan casino. The perfect swan song to Swift’s flawless career.

Rich Thane

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It takes just 14 seconds for duelling drummers Tom Skinner and Eddie Hick to own this song. That’s also precisely how long it will take your arse to start wiggling to the sound of their propulsive, cowbell-infused double time groove. But what’s this? Waiting in the wings is tenor saxophonist Shabaka Hutchings and tuba player Theon Cross. Their understated soulful riffs seem intrusive at first until they gather pace to flip the script, pushing their runs into a punishing lockstep. As their lines ascend and descend in dizzying fashion the once imperious drummers sound like they’re struggling to keep up. It’s a breathless six-minute tune that will have you shouting for more.

Geoff Cowart

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Khalid, Ty Dolla $ign and 6lack came together to create the R&B track we all needed. “OTW” is the kind of song that plays in the background of a 2am conversation, the kind of song that you can’t help but vibe to. It combines Khalid’s soulful sound with Ty Dolla $ign’s flow and 6lack’s R&B influence. The lyrics describe a relationship based on love and trust and the fact that Khalid will drop anything he’s doing to be with his girl. The '90s nostalgia the song brings combined with the collaboration of these three artists was bound to produce a hit.

Allison Kamel

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When Harry Styles tweets your lyrics, you know you’ve got it made. Despite his cryptic, uncredited missive, King Princess’ debut immediately rocketed up every hotlist, to this date clocking an impressive 160 million streams on Spotify alone. To her credit, King Princess has gone on to release a steady stream of solid gold singles, but it’s the Styles-endorsed “1950” that’s held our attention since first hitting play. “1950” is a gentle queer fairytale of a track, combining King Princess’ signature subtle styling with an unforgettably melodic hook. It’s not a song that goes anywhere fast, but its tender vulnerability lodges somewhere in your heart and settles there with a comfortable ease. There’s a quiet magic in that – one you’ll be hard-pressed to find replicated elsewhere.

King Princess

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In Childish Gambino’s star studded ‘Feels Like Summer’ video, released earlier this year, he placed Azealia Banks in tree – high above every other rapper featured, but disconnect from them too. It might have been the most accurate portrayal of her career in 2018.Banks’ music – while terrific – is more often than not overshadowed by her public image. If you missed out on “Anna Wintour” this year, but heard plenty about her line of anal bleaching soaps, how she got trapped in Elon Musk’s house, and Lana Del Rey offering her out for a fight, that isn’t shocking.

But every now and again, she likes to prove she does more than just mouth off on Twitter. “Anna Wintour” should’ve been her big comeback; the follow up to ‘212’ she deserved. Its impossibly catchy 90s house beat plays host to both Banks’ powerful voice and unstoppable bars. It treads the pop/rap line in a way that no other artist is doing in 2018. It feels retro but not dated, and sticks to Banks’ signature sound without feeling too same-old. It’s got a video reminiscent of Janet Jackson’s ‘Pleasure Principle’, where Azealia dons an Anna Wintour bob and dances around an empty warehouse, while unapologetically flashing her nipples through a white shirt; and somehow that still flew relatively under the radar.

It seems silly to call Azealia Banks underrated. It’s common knowledge that she’s fantastically talented, she just can’t stop getting herself into trouble. But while recently convicted TekashiSixNine sits at the top of the chart, known abuser XXXTENTATION is posthumously thriving, and the industry rallies around Kodak Black, Banks should be given another shot. Let “Anna Wintour” be the song to convince you she’s not all bad.

Abigail Firth

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Of all the songs released this year, none have had the ability to cheer me up quite as immediately as Kacey Musgraves' “High Horse”. Though I think there was at least some element of irony when I would first put it on in front of friends and sing along with its opening lyrics–“Oh, I bet you think you’re John Wayne”–I think by the thirtieth play it’s safe to say that had faded. This far deep into Musgraves-mania, it’s hard to remember.

2018 was a landmark year for the Texan star, perhaps filling the country-pop space that Taylor Swift had long left void, and amongst the delicate pop ballads that made up most of her celebrated third album Golden Hour, this hybrid extravaganza “High Horse” shone brightest.

Supposedly inspired by a world where the Bee Gees were introduced to country music, the track gives its sanctimonious subject a sassy and scathing what for, with all the brilliant and dizzy “giddy up, giddy up” energy of a roller disco. It’s that satisfying feeling of putting someone rightfully in their place (“Ride straight out of this town / You and your high horse”) expressed with just the right dose of dreaminess, energy, and melodic enamour of a classic floor-filler. The little shuffle on the high-hats not only adds a flair to the four-on-the-floor beat, but of course mimics the gallop of a horse, nodding its cowboy hat to not only the song’s namesake and theme, but this overarching, cosmic meeting of disco and country. It’s long odds, but I hope I never tire of this song.

John Bell

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A much needed dose of the humid Georgia summertime washed over us as winter took hold last month. Atlanta native Faye Webster dropped revealed “Kingston”, the first fruits of her as-yet untitled third album due out next year via her new home Secretly Canadian.

Awash with lowkey R&B undertones and lush pedal steel, the 21-year old singer songwriter has a voice that’s instantly disarming: hitting a sweet spot somewhere between Natalie Prass and Kathleen Edwards. “Kingston” is wholly romantic, Webster crooning “the day that I met you I started dreaming…. Now I write them down if I remember in the morning time” as jazzy flecks of rhodes piano twinkle and dance.

The song feels like a sunrise on a clear summer’s morning. Calm, welcoming and warming - “Kingston” effortlessly displaying Webster’s knack for whimsical melody and turn of phrase. The song playing out like a conversation - the cooing “he said baby (that’s what he called me), I love you” - delivered with all the smoothness of a fresh set of silk pyjamas.

After serving a tenure at Atlanta hip-hop institution Awful Records, Faye Webster is gearing up for a year that’ll no doubt see her positioned alongside her peers in no time.

Rich Thane

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As Let’s Eat Grandma, Jenny Hollingworth and Rosa Walton are one-offs; well, two-offs, to be precise. The title of their debut, 2016’s I, Gemini, neatly summed up the hermetic seal of their relationship and songwriting, but its follow up I’m All Ears saw their musical vision explode into even more vivid technicolor. Especially so on “Falling Into Me”, where to paraphrase Neil Tennant, the childhood friends tell a story of venturing out into the night to a disco beat.

It’s a giant step from their first foray into dance music. I, Gemini’s “Eat Shiitake Mushrooms” was an incredible, loping house anthem replete with cowbells and rapping but “Falling Into Me” is something else altogether. Audacious in its ambition, scope and invention, it’s underscored by a supreme confidence and joy; the spoken refrain of “We got this” sounds wonderfully sure-footed.

Words about falling in love and discovery fly in every direction - “When all the words you say are hanging onto me / You occupy my mind by every which way” - and as the song progresses the rush of infatuation grows from the poeticism of “We’re so illuminated in the night” to the intimacy of “You, me, this…” Musically the rush is equally euphoric, with the arrangement filled with big beat drums and stabbed house pianos. When a saxophone appears at the songs’ close you wonder where the reference points are coming from, it recalls early ‘90s pop/dance blends like 808 State’s “Pacific State” and The Future Sound of London’s “Papua New Guinea”, but so unique is Hollingworth and Walton’s writing, the joyous sax solo sounds like an instinctual rather than referential addition to the mix.

By the end of its near six minutes running time the song has traversed trance, house, disco and baroque, but ultimately it’s more than the sum of its parts. “Falling Into Me” is one of the best and most original pop songs of 2018.

Ed Nash

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Most of Mahalia’s tracks are peppered with intimate and personal lyrics, they almost feel like diary entries. "Mother and father I want to make you proud," she sings over a soft and soulful beat, with the accompanying video showing her around her Leicester hometown haunts, hanging out with friends. It somehow manages to have a kind of nostalgic feel to it, even for someone who’s never stepped foot in Leicester.

By the time Simz kicks in with her verse, I’m completely feeling the swell of music and already sold on what it was saying, ready to follow them down that rabbit hole. It’s that universal, underdog/coming-of-age track that’s either relatable, brings up memories - and apart from both of those things, it hooks you with the chorus melody.

Krishanthi Jeyakumar

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Let’s choose to ignore the insipid “Sky Full Of Song” and pretend that “Hunger” was the dramatic return of Florence and the Machine we’d all been waiting for. How could it not be? There’s a lyric about crucifixion, and sub-bass to rend your ribcage in two. It’s hard to tell if it makes you want to dance or scream but either way you’re compelled to play it on loop for days at a time.

It’s the stand-out track from fourth full-length High As Hope, if not from Florence and the Machine’s decade of existence. “Hunger” sees Florence Welch’s everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach to songwriting balanced with clean, crisp production - though thankfully none of the sanitised gleam of 2012’s Paul Epworth behemoth Ceremonials. That chilling first lyric lays bare the bones of the horror at the band’s core, the horror so many previous releases aim to obscure and obfuscate. It’s an admission that, amongst the heady swells of emotion underpinning Florence and the Machine’s discography, there lies ground as uncharted as the dark side of the moon. “At seventeen, I started to starve myself/I thought that love was a kind of emptiness,” Welch tells us, frank and unapologetic in the humanity of her ignorance. “And at least I understood then the hunger I felt/And I didn't have to call it loneliness.” Welch knows loss, knows heartbreak, and drama, but love is something she’s yet to pin down. It’s the rare and coveted butterfly that’s escaped her collector’s net; to employ cliché, her white whale.

In laying herself bare to that absence, that emptiness, Welch acknowledges her insatiable hunger. She allows us a glimpse into the fragility of every soaring love song, the superficiality of every saccharine “You’ve Got The Love”. The resulting track? Without a doubt, Florence and the Machine at their opulent, unnerving best.

Pip Williams

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Lana Del Rey’s early work was a rose reared under hothouse lights, fresh for the picking; a cinematic, shimmering fantasy of the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. "Venice Bitch", the second single of her upcoming album Norman Fucking Rockwell, is something organic – a natural wildflower.

Clocking in at no less than ten minutes (to the despair of her management), Lana murmurs that she’s, “Fresh out of fucks, forever”. She sings with the cadence of someone cynical and bored, rhyming with “ice cream” with “ice queen”. You can almost see her twirling her hair absent-mindedly around her fingers. We are welcomed with gentle acoustics, which dissolve into buzzing guitars and her dulcet sighs for the chorus.

"Venice Bitch" is a brilliant shade of blue: temperamental and loaded with Lana-isms. The crescendo of this epic are distorted, crinkled guitar riffs that feel like a faraway transmission on a 70s FM radio. ‘Venice Bitch’ is another illustrator of Lana Del Rey’s power to take you places, with an imaginary montage of Cadillacs, cherry cola and James Dean whirring through your head like a dusted-off movie reel.

Sophie Walker

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Little Simz is stamping her name into the brains of rap fans across the world. Having already been endorsed by the likes of Kendrick Lamar and Lauryn Hill, the 24-year-old Londoner has plenty of reason to dish out the orders. “Offence” is built on a kickin’ 80s hip hop beat, overlayed with rumbling, reverb-y basslines that unintentionally deliver an old school, boombox feel to the track.

Simz projects authoritative lyricism to coincide with the heated instrumentals, putting her listeners in their place by riding her own praise wave. Delivering an opening line like “I’m Picasso with the pen” is a forewarning to not block her path, before she sets her own song alight with “I’m Jay-Z on a bad day / Shakespeare on my worst days.”

There’s no qualms over saying she’s one of the UK’s best female rappers, particularly with her adept lyricism and energetic delivery, which has allowed her to create and release two albums independently. “Offence” only projects her expertise further, and shows her playfully confident personality as she raps “Fuck it, lemme get a birthday cake and it ain’t even my birthday.” She calls out her haters like she’s stood in their personal space, adding bouts of aggression and passion when she raps “You do not scare me, no you are not a threat”. The chorus is a liberating ode to believing in the power of your own voice as she yells “I said it with my chest and I don’t care who I offend”.

Thick skinned and ready to take a punch, Simz is standing her ground for the forseeable future, and will offer up a nail-biting fight to the person attempting to deliver “Offence” and take her wordsmith belt.

Cerys Kenneally

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“Wild Yout” was Flohio’s fourth and best release of 2018. SE16’s finest rapper had an insanely brilliant year and 2019 is only going to get better for her….a wild thought given the strength of her Wild Yout EP.

“Wild Yout” is a track which refused to be boxed in by its influences. A menacing opening in which electronic noises bounce around, echoing off tower blocks and fading out in open concrete spaces takes its cues from grime, but as soon as production whizz HLMNSRA drops in booming 808s and Flohio unleashes her stuttering, rhythmic delivery then we’re heading off into hip hop and trap, all with a London-through-Lagos twist.

Flohio is a ball of energy throughout. There’s not been a more electric rapper in 2018, no one more mesmerising on the mic. It takes a couple of listens to “Wild Yout” before you realise that all you’re suddenly focusing on is Flohio’s frenetic delivery; there’s moments when she races ahead of the low end and the blown-out beats and “Wild Yout” feels thrillingly chaotic and genuinely innovative. Flo even has to take a little bit of a breather before the mid point of the track before storming back, doubling-down.

The best thing about “Wild Yout” is that combination of almost slo-mo beats and Flo’s x2 delivery, it’s almost expressionist or improvised - as much as this is 21st century UK rap drawing from south London’s incredible, varied scenes, Flohio’s ridiculous energy draws just as much from punk.

“Don’t look behind you / keep on running from the wild yout.” Next year everyone will be playing catchup.

Andy Hannah

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On "T N Biscuits" rapper slowthai delivered one of the most memorable opening lines of the year: “Drug Dealer/I wear Nike not Fila”. It’s seven simple words, more of a Tinder bio than a manifesto, but somehow the line conveys the attitude and intent that underpins all of slowthai’s work. He is clear, raw and as in-your-face as any UK artist right now.

The self-proclaimed ‘King of Northampton’, slowthai’s lack of proximity to the London-centric grime scene has given his music a contemporary edge that comes from being different. Slowthai’s production marries grime’s raw intensity with a hip-hop tempo that gives him the breathing space to showcase his gold-toothed swagger and genuine wit. The track is a breathless blend of lyrical dexterity and switched-up flows. His voice practically hums in time with the crack of the snare. It’s a rowdy track that hits hard throughout, particularly live where slowthai often performs from within an unruly mosh pit.

In essence, ‘T N Biscuits’ is a window into slowthai’s life of crime and accordingly, he doesn’t shy away from depicting some fairly violent episodes: “If it's gonna get physical / Slyly I'm gonna bring in a tool / Try me you could get slumped in two”. This is a necessary part of slowthai’s appeal. So much of British popular culture is sanitised, agreeable and safe but slowthai’s lyrics fizz with danger and intimidation. However, what really sets him apart is his sense of humour. He openly mock symbols of British identity all the way from the police (“Certain man haffi kill of the mood / Come like Christmas, why be Scrooge?”) right down to the tea and biscuits which inspire the track's title. Ultimately, ‘T N Biscuits’ isn’t just the standout track from slowthai’s breakthrough year. It’s the soundtrack of a Britain in which people get used, laws get broken and it’s all for a bit of gold or a new pair of Nikes.

Alex Mistlin

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Someone might have many reasons to dance. Maybe they’re happy. Maybe they’re sad. Or maybe they’re horrendously heartbroken and use music as a way to personify and let go of their pain and anguish. With the lead single Missing U from her eighth album ‘Honey’, Robyn was definitely the latter.

The Swedish pop maestro still carries all the fizz and sparkle that was displayed in her defiant 2010 single ‘Dancing On My Own’. And, apparently, the same level of emotional devastation that burdened her mind is still very much intact eight years on.
So much so that it has almost become her trademark. However, the intensity of Missing U shows Robyn go above and beyond her previous work.

Produced by long-term friends Klas Ahlund and Metronomy’s Joseph Mount, the song mirrors 80’s-style soaring synths with heart-breaking lyrics to create something that defines Robyn’s trademark even further. The lyrics are ultimately poignant and hard-hitting. Lyrics such as “All the love you gave, it still defines me” and “There’s this empty space you left behind, now you’re not here with me” are heart-wrenching but are cleverly masqueraded by a pulsating beat that makes you want to sway your arms around in appreciation. This alluring contrast, combining with the looser, more free-flowing feeling of the song as a whole, staples it as ultimate pop perfection. After an eight-year break from her solo career, it is nice to see Robyn back to her usual ways. Creating pop music that hits both the body and the soul has always been her speciality, and it seems that with each new album, this speciality is constantly being perfected, re-wired and completely revolutionised. Maybe a similar static silence needs to accumulate for a few more years to allow her to create something more magnificent next time round.

Hayley Millross

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Mitski’s “Geyser” rings in this year’s Be The Cowboy with a single steady tone and her full, no-frills vocal. “You’re my number one,” she croons, as a deftly engineered glitch juts through the balance of her measured voice. A crescendo builds beneath it, all warmth and power: the sonic equivalent of the titular natural phenomenon.

Whilst “Geyser” can stand alone – and indeed did, as Be The Cowboy’s lead single – it’s most potent in its context as album opener, scene-setter, mission statement. Mitski outlined the LP’s narrative before its release, explaining how it loosely tells the story of “a very controlled icy repressed woman who is starting to unravel”. “Geyser” introduces us to this new chapter, in which – both lyrically and musically – we meet “something very primordial” within this inhibited protagonist that’s fighting tooth and claw to surface.

There’s something intimidating about this new sound. Though not altogether distant from that of previous records, where the gentle awkwardness of her lyricism was bolstered by towering distortion, the Mitski of Be The Cowboy has swagger without self-consciousness; has been broken open to find a wholeness. It’s the sonic equivalent of the manic gleam in a spurned lover’s eye; the realisation that with nothing left to lose, the real games are only just beginning. Never one to outstay her welcome, Mitski wraps “Geyser” as soon as it’s exploded into high-powered technicolour; concluding two sharply emotional minutes with rolling, exuberant percussion and a yearning promise to “be the one you need”. Melodramatic? Perhaps, but refusing to pull punches means “Geyser” cements Mitski as the patron saint of sad girls the world over. Not only that, but its clarity of purpose reminds us of the breadth of her musicianship and mastery of her craft.

Mitski means so much to so many people, and “Geyser” – along with the rest of Be The Cowboy – shows this is a weight she’s not afraid to shoulder.

Pip Williams

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The year is 2018 and there have never been so many ways to be alone. Some feel that loneliness is like a dense forest: impenetrable. Some feel that loneliness is like a wave, all-consuming as it pulls you under then churns you out. For others, though, loneliness is a hunger with no appetite, or a forgotten phrase in your native language—it’s borne from the knowledge that something is missing, and it’s a dull ache that lingers in the background. It’s a bruise that won’t fade. We cut our hair and change our sheets, but this kind of loneliness is as persistent as it is uninvited.

But there’s a difference between being lonely and being alone. The former is defined by absence—to be lonely is to feel alone, and to be tethered to that which is missing—while the latter is defined by opportunity: it’s a place to grow and to reflect; to heal and to recover; to take a deep breath in, and then let it out slowly. Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next” is a celebration of this liminal space and of its many curves and edges.

Heartbreak is a feeling lived through modal verbs: We could have had it all; you oughta know; I will survive. But in “thank u, next”, Grande’s past flames are relived through clear eyes in the present tense. Over gentle, rolling chords, she starts by recounting time spent with her exes–Big Sean, Ricky Alvarez, Pete Davidson, and Mac Miller–before clarifying: ”I've loved and I've lost/But that's not what I see/Look what I got/Look what you taught me”.

To be famous is to be known, to be known is to be seen, and Ariana Grande’s life has been lived under the crushing pressure of hypervisibility. She’s spoken about this before—following her split with Big Sean in 2015, she took to Twitter to describe the pressures she felt as a young woman in the public eye. Her worth, she said, would always be attached to her partners and her exes—could she be valued on her own terms and for her own accomplishments? She continued:

“I’m saying this after literally 8 years of feeling like I constantly had to have a boy by my side. After being on my own now for a few months I am realizing that’s just not the case…. I have never felt more present, grounded, and satisfied. I’ve never laughed harder or had more fun or enjoyed life more”.

“thank u, next” was released as the young singer was caught at a similarly difficult crossroads weeks after her long-term partner Mac Miller tragically passed away at 26 and her starry-eyed engagement to Davidson fell through. Fans ran through her posts with a fine-toothed comb for clues about the cause of her breakup; dubious conspiracy theories swirled about, linking the engagement’s end with Mac Miller’s death and offering competing claims as to who was at fault; a rash of criticism spread suggesting that Grande should have been kinder or more private or more sincere or more gracious. Some love stories rise from the ashes of a tragedy, but while Ariana’s personal life was dissected under a microscope, perhaps there was never a better time to be alone.

The second verse picks apart this knotted web. Ariana starts with her recuperation: “Spent more time with my friends/I ain’t worried ‘bout nothin’/Plus, I met someone else/We havin’ better discussions”. She nods knowingly to her critics, anticipating their blows—”I know they say I move on too fast/but this one gon’ last”. Then, she pulls out the rug from beneath our feet: “Cause her name is Ari/And I’m so good with that”.

There’s a weary sense of reticence around self-discovery narratives rooted in heartbreak, and a sensible one at that: Are we the sum of our exes? The claim suggests that self-discovery is rendered only from breakups, questioning the role of personal agency in personal growth. On the other hand, were our relationships in the past tense simply roadblocks in the narrative arcs of our self exploration? A third option presents a more optimistic reading on the relationship between our exes and our sense of self: Perhaps our past relationships stand as artifacts of who we once were, and benchmarks of how far we’ve come. Ariana doesn’t seem particularly bothered by these questions, though, choosing instead to frame her past relationships as neither failures nor roadblocks nor pit stops on “thank u, next”. Above the track’s restrained instrumentation, her voice weaves in and out of heavenly harmonies as she does her own background vocals. There’s a gentle ringing of bells when she reaches her call-and-response chorus as she affirms, then reaffirms how she feels about her exes in no uncertain terms: “I’m so fuckin’ grateful for my ex”.

The final verse presents a vision from the future. Ariana pictures herself walking hand-in-hand with her mother as she thanks her father, a source of tension and drama from which her mother grew. These lessons she’s learned—the lessons of relationships past, present, and future—are often complicated and incongruent, but Ariana has aligned them under an axis of optimism she’s discovered now that she has space to breathe. “thank u, next” unfolds like a fairy tale, but it’s not one edging towards a happy ending or a Prince Charming. It’s an anthem about being alone. Loneliness might feel opaque or dull or turbulent, but being alone is a blessing, and one on which Ariana reflects on throughout the song. Love, patience, pain—they are lessons rooted in the past, but discovered in the present. They’re lessons she fostered while learning that there need not be loneliness when one’s alone. And they’re lessons she’s ready to share: “Look what I’ve found/Ain’t no need for searching”.

Nathan Ma

Listen to the full list over on Spotify