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Rob Sheffield’s Top 25 Songs of 2017

From “Bodak Yellow” to “Boys” and beyond

Rob Sheffield's Top 25 Songs of 2017

Rob Sheffield weighs in on his top 25 songs of 2017, including Cardi B's "Bodak Yellow" and Harry Styles' "Two Ghosts."

But enough about 2017. Let’s fast forward to what didn’t suck this year, which would be the music. These are my 25 favorite songs of 2017 (though some gems are over on my albums list, to avoid duplicating all the same artists). Including, but not limited to: hits, flops, obscurities, guitar monsters, cheap pop kicks, rap hustlers, bad liars, punk rockers, soul divas, disco disasters and karaoke room-clearers. And the Beatles, obviously. 

Rob Sheffield's Top 25 Songs of 2017

Swanning, “Drawing Down the Moon”

“I am just a moon of Jupiter/One of 67, I fall back in line.” Cynthia Ann Schemmer clears her throat with a modestly spacey guitar tune steeped in astronomy, as she sings about accepting that she’ll never be the sun. She saves a great lullaby line for the end: “Wake me up slowly and pour me out into the light.”

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Tove Lo, “Disco Tits”

The kickiest 1982 song of 2002 turns out to be this electroclash blast of sleaze disco, a morally depraved club banger full of Meet Me in the Bathroom ambience, with a bass line designed to bring out all your most appalling qualities. Needless to say, it’s Swedish. 

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Sampha, “(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano”

The British R&B poet croons an ode to the piano at his mama’s house, the instrument that felt his childhood pain when nobody else did.

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The Beatles, “Penny Lane (Vocal Overdubs and Speech)”

A studio snippet from the Sgt. Pepper anniversary box: just Paul and George in Abbey Road, listening to a playback of “Penny Lane,” a bit of homemade dynamite Paul just wrote about a street back in Liverpool. They try out harmonies and handclaps. George suggests, “This could have a backwards drum beat on that there.” Paul says, “Forward drum beat.” They hum, they sing along (“fish and finger pies, shall I do that harmony? Boom boom boom”), they joke around, they try to sound unimpressed by this thing they’ve created. To them it’s the next step of their future, even as they look back to their childhoods. (Last week John brought in his song about Liverpool, “Strawberry Fields Forever,” and not that Paul’s competitive, but well, you know, these two.)

Not even the Beatles, in their most delusionally arrogant moments, would imagine that 50 years later this trivial studio moment would be something people could listen to, much less cherish, much less cling to the heart as a reminder in dark times of what music can mean and how music can feel. They’re just stepping back to admire the art they made today. Whatever they try next, they’re sure it will be even more brilliant. (The next song they record is “When I’m 64,” so they’re slightly wrong about that.) But by the end, they’ve lost interest in throwing more ideas into “Penny Lane.” They’re already looking forward to the music they’ll make tomorrow. They’re waiting for it, that green light. They want it. 

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