I’m physically gagging on all this future nostalgia: Dua Lipa, “Break My Heart” – If you’re going to heavily reference Giorgio Moroder, in the run-up to an album named Future Nostalgia, you better give the girls something brilliant. Unfortunately, the grand-daddy of disco covered light-years of the great, big sonic expanse throughout his career, which worked well for him, and not so well for miss Dua Lipa. Unlike “Physical,” which felt self-aware in how mindlessly backward it sounded, “Break My Heart” shows the limits of the pop zeitgeist to continually reinvent itself as pop careers get shorter and everything churns together into one, big ’80s-flavored mush. Still, I will listen to this, and her album, plenty in the coming weeks. Just because there’s a shortage of future-hits to dance to doesn’t mean I can’t dance at all. And so dance I will, ignoring the nostalgia she and her producers are physically forcing down my throat. —Joan Summers
Nah: Miquela, “Speak Up” – Much like the message of Miquela’s latest single, “Speak Up,” it’s time to break up with digital avatars/Instagram influencers/robots/holograms/whatever the hell she is. Also, who actually recorded this song? Because she can belt. —Maria Sherman
Kinda, yeah: Noah Cyrus, “I Got So High That I Saw Jesus” – Aesthetically, I find Noah Cyrus public persona derivative; it often appears as though she stylizes herself around anything that would make a suburban/conservative parent mad, which is fine marketing but artistically dull. And then she drops a song like “I Got So High That I Saw Jesus.” It borders on sacrilege—no doubt upsetting people in her wake—but the song itself is her first foray into the country music she grew up on in Nashville. It matches her raspy tone, the same one she shares with big sis Miley, and I wouldn’t mind a full album of similar sounds. I’m sure she’ll go the other route and attempt something like Halsey’s chaotic Manic, an incohesive album of cohesive songs across styles, and maybe the ambition will pay off. Whatever the case, this song goes. —MS
Y: Alice Bag, “Sister Dynamite” (music video) – Chicana feminist punk legend Alice Bag (of the Bags) can’t not write a killer song about injustice. Revolution runs through her biting lyricism, and the video for her latest single, “Sister Dynamite” realizes it—watch as a woman destroys all the men in her path. Sometimes, the simplest ideas are the most impactful. —MS
Yup: Peel Dream Magazine, “It’s My Body” – This week, only dreamy pop harmonies bring me comfort. Luckily, New York’s Peel Dream Magazine (yes, like John Peel, if you know, you know) have released a new one, “It’s My Body,” for me to exhale to. “‘It’s My Body’ is an anthem about rejecting people who want to exert power over you and make you feel small,” the band wrote in a statement. “Sometimes it can take a while to realize that you’re on someone else’s trip, and when you want to remove yourself from that situation there is a lot to unpack… a lot of self-encouragement that needs to take place.” Relatable, but also such a soothing sound. —MS
I guess I’ll take it: PartyNextDoor feat. Rihanna, “Believe It” – Stop wishing on a distant star and let us bless Rihanna for concentrating on making good music rather than rushed music while trolling us with no music. Here, she drops in only on the chorus of PartyNextDoor’s poetry about “pussy power.” I’m not wowed by it and probably won’t be listening again of my own free will, but I was missing her singing. This counts as new Rihanna. —Clover Hope
I like that you can tell her music video director’s know she can’t dance – I’ve watched a few of Dua Lipa’s videos with Joan. Every time she’s surrounded with backup dancers, I think it’s sort of funny how obvious it is they give her the easy moves. —Joan’s Husband
Nah: Miquela, “Speak Up” – Much like the message of Miquela’s latest single, “Speak Up,” it’s time to break up with digital avatars/Instagram influencers/robots/holograms/whatever the hell she is. Also, who actually recorded this song? Because she can belt. —Maria Sherman
Kinda, yeah: Noah Cyrus, “I Got So High That I Saw Jesus” – Aesthetically, I find Noah Cyrus public persona derivative; it often appears as though she stylizes herself around anything that would make a suburban/conservative parent mad, which is fine marketing but artistically dull. And then she drops a song like “I Got So High That I Saw Jesus.” It borders on sacrilege—no doubt upsetting people in her wake—but the song itself is her first foray into the country music she grew up on in Nashville. It matches her raspy tone, the same one she shares with big sis Miley, and I wouldn’t mind a full album of similar sounds. I’m sure she’ll go the other route and attempt something like Halsey’s chaotic Manic, an incohesive album of cohesive songs across styles, and maybe the ambition will pay off. Whatever the case, this song goes. —MS
Y: Alice Bag, “Sister Dynamite” (music video) – Chicana feminist punk legend Alice Bag (of the Bags) can’t not write a killer song about injustice. Revolution runs through her biting lyricism, and the video for her latest single, “Sister Dynamite” realizes it—watch as a woman destroys all the men in her path. Sometimes, the simplest ideas are the most impactful. —MS
Yup: Peel Dream Magazine, “It’s My Body” – This week, only dreamy pop harmonies bring me comfort. Luckily, New York’s Peel Dream Magazine (yes, like John Peel, if you know, you know) have released a new one, “It’s My Body,” for me to exhale to. “‘It’s My Body’ is an anthem about rejecting people who want to exert power over you and make you feel small,” the band wrote in a statement. “Sometimes it can take a while to realize that you’re on someone else’s trip, and when you want to remove yourself from that situation there is a lot to unpack… a lot of self-encouragement that needs to take place.” Relatable, but also such a soothing sound. —MS
I guess I’ll take it: PartyNextDoor feat. Rihanna, “Believe It” – Stop wishing on a distant star and let us bless Rihanna for concentrating on making good music rather than rushed music while trolling us with no music. Here, she drops in only on the chorus of PartyNextDoor’s poetry about “pussy power.” I’m not wowed by it and probably won’t be listening again of my own free will, but I was missing her singing. This counts as new Rihanna. —Clover Hope
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