The Best Songs of 2026 So Far

Centuries from now, historians will study 2026 with this Charli xcx classic, in which spring and summer are doomed because “We’re walkin’ on a runway that goes straight to hell/Nothing’s gonna save us, not music, fashion, or film.” The instrumentation is minimal — some electronic drums here, subdued, fuzzy riffs there — leaving room for Charli’s hilariously brutal songwriting to bask on its own. She revisits the Brat era and Kamala Harris’ 2024 presidential campaign (“Think my politics could work as a press strategy”) and pokes fun at cancel culture (“Wrote a really good notes-app apology”), culminating in a wild time capsule for the ages. We can’t wait for her take on fall and winter. —Angie Martoccio

In January, federal immigration agents killed Minneapolis residents Renée Goode and Alex Pretti. Shortly after the incidents, Springsteen released “Streets of Minneapolis,” one of his most immediate and powerful political songs, recalling Sixties protest folk as well as the stark realism of his own classic Nebraska. He excoriated “Trump’s federal thugs,” and “(Stephen) Miller and (Kristi) Noem’s dirty lies,” and celebrated the memory of Pretti and Goode, channeled the street protest chant “ICE out now,” and got loads of local credit for pronouncing Nicollet Avenue correctly.–Jon Dolan

This year’s most surprising Hot 100 chart-topper is a sparkling entry in the tear-in-my-beer canon. Over weepy slide guitars and a brisk rhythm, the Alabama-born country phenomenon broods about her intended being two-stepped out of her life by a Lone Star-born babe. Langley’s vocal has a bruised quality on the verses, opening wide when she admits that she knew what was coming on the chorus: “It doesn’t take a crystal ball to see/ A cowboy always finds a way to leave,” she declares, sounding as annoyed with herself as she is with her ex.–Maura Johnston

“Drop Dead” was the first taste of You Seem Pretty Sad for a Girl So in Love, where Olivia Rodrigo captured the feeling of being so deliriously head over heels that you feel literally sick. She was bored in bed and stalked a dude on the internet, and now she’s comparing the way he waits in line for the bathroom to an angel on the walls of Versailles. There’s sugary Eighties synths and a Cure reference here — which hinted at what this fantastic album would be like — and an astrological pairing that will live in our minds forever. But perhaps Rodrigo said it best when describing the track: “It makes me wanna skip around and roll the windows down and make out!” —A.M.

“Do you love me now? Do you? Do you?” Harry Styles asks on “Season 2 Weight Loss.” “Do I let you down?” Away from the screaming crowds and sold-out shows — away from the performance of who his audience knows him to be — Styles begins to wonder how they would react if he showed up as the person he knows himself to be when they aren’t around. Would they still love him the same? Would he? The song revels in the tension it creates, reflected in choir-like harmonies set against thudding percussion. It’s one of the smartest, most intriguing records Styles has made to date.–Larisha Paul

Nothing screams summer quite like a sexy beat — and that’s exactly what Young Miko and her producer Mauro deliver with “BIAF.” On the track, Miko declares “Baby, I’m a freak” over sleek drums and synths that echo Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy.” With the confident, masculine energy ripe in “BIAF,” it’s no wonder the song has racked up 18 million streams so far. —Maya Georgi

New York electronic dance duo Fcukers dropped their debut album, Ö, this spring, making it abundantly clear that the dance floor is definitely not dead. No one on the scene currently captures the nonchalant, deadpan club-rat disposition of the 2020’s like Jackson Walker Lewis and Shanny Wise — just check out their single “L.U.C.K.Y.” On the track, Wise’s kittenish vocals float above a sea of flickering synths and throbbing wubs, drolly delivering what actually — if you listen closely — is a pretty earnest love song, albeit not so sincere that it kills Fcuker’s addictive, too-cool facade. —Leah Lu

The hit lead single off The Romantic, Bruno’s long-awaited first album since 2016, is the kind of effervescent pop-funk sugar that’s made him one of the most popular showman in pop music. “I Just Might” is dance-the-night-away bubblegum, steeped in the Seventies disco classics of KC & the Sunshine Band and Hot Chocolate, with Bruno posing the metaphysical conundrum, “What good is beauty if your booty can’t find the beat?”–J.D.

An online leak rarely suggests someone is in a position of agency, but U.K. R&B trio FLO take the power back into their hands on “Leak It,” a track that’s as razor sharp as the stilettos they’re strutting in. A surge of confidence finds the girls exposing some racy photos of themselves just to get back at their boos, and between FLO’s sky-high vocal runs, the production’s Timbaland influence, and the barbed yet hilarious lyrics, “Leak It” is pure ear candy, just like those pictures they threaten to drop. Seriously, how could they not? —Jaedan Pinder

New York electro-jitter outfit Lip Critic capture the uniquely claustrophobic feeling of a long night indulging in vices on this track from this year’s Theft World. As lead yelper Bret Kaser outlines the scenario in which he’ll take a “swan dive right into (his) swan song,” stuttering drums and malfunctioning-machine blips close in on him the way a casino might after a long night of riding the odds. It’s a jarring, adrenaline-rush listen that’s also an ideal set piece for the era of prediction markets and slot-machine apps. —M.J.

In the spring, New Orleans rapper Juvenile scored his first Billboard Hot 100 hit in 20 years with “B.B.B.,” the breakout single from his album Boiling Point. Much of its success is due to guest Megan Thee Stallion, who delivers a blushingly sexual verse that matches Juvie’s legacy as the author of booty-twerking classics like “Back Dat Azz Up” and “Slow Motion.” “Come feed me, Big Daddy,” she raps seductively. Juvenile, for his part, gets equally ribald: “See, when you do that maneuver you do with your pussy ‘round me, I be losing my cool.” —Mosi Reeves

Any concerns over Max B’s ability to regroup and adapt following his release after a lengthy prison sentence were quickly silenced by “Ever Since You Left Me (I Went Deaf),” an addictive groove reuniting him with longtime collaborator French Montana. With production built around a prominent sample of “That’s the Way (I Like It)” by KC and the Sunshine Band, the song finds Montana taking charge on the hook and opening verse, while Max B’s disarming charm and melodic sensibilities are favorably displayed on this contender for rap song of the year. —Preezy Brown

T.I. has long been in the stage of a rap career where he could rest on his laurels. Yet, when you call yourself a king — a proclamation he bestowed upon himself two decades ago — heavy is the head that wears the crown. Thus, defending that status is paramount to survival, as he lyrically reminds his constituents on “Let ’Em Know,” the lead single from his (alleged) 12th and final album, Kill the King. Produced by Pharrell, the track is T.I.’s highest-charting Billboard Hot 100 hit in 12 years and a reminder to anyone questioning his rank. —P.B.

“This a motion party, you cannot get in,” claims Bossman Dlow. He’s undoubtedly being facetious: The Florida rapper’s single, which peaked at Number 37 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, is full of sly seductions over a glassy, bass-heavy track reminiscent of Mannie Fresh’s Cash Money hits that’s intended to draw in an audience, not repel them. Meanwhile, the remix features Megan Thee Stallion, who uses the opportunity to air out her widely publicized breakup with NBA all-star Klay Thompson. “I ain’t goin through no phones, that shit stupid/If I catch a nigga cheatin’ on me, it’s deuces,” she raps. —M.R.

Featuring Future alongside the red-hot Southern California rapper Molly Santana, “Ran to Atlanta” chips away at the faulty logic of Drake’s detractors. What distinguishes Drake’s participation in Atlanta’s musical ecosystem from the countless other artists, executives, media figures, and corporations who have profited from the city’s cultural output for decades? And what does it mean that virtually no major Atlanta rapper publicly embraced Kendrick’s framing of Drake as outsider-villain in “Not Like Us”? “Ran to Atlanta” proves that framing barely stands scrutiny. —Jeff Ihaza

The opening track of this shape-shifting Houston artist’s fifth album, Octane, makes a sweeping statement from its opening synth crashes, with Toliver’s processed falsetto — professing that he’s been both tryin’ and cryin’ — adding to the spectacle. From there, he embarks on a trap&B joyride that can only end up in the backseat — but his charm (“We laugh all day like Dumb & Dumber”), obvious affection for the song’s subject, and fervent vocal performance make getting there more than half the fun. —M.J.

Karriem Riggins and Liv.e’s collaboration as GENA, The Pleasure Is Yours, is a delightful throwback to the synthesized and beat-heavy grooves of the aughts, with sounds clearly inspired by the likes of D’Angelo and Sa-Ra Creative Partners. On the opening track, “Who’s Got a Problem With GENA,” drummer and producer Riggins — who worked with the Roots and the late J Dilla — offers rolling percussion and warm, Rhodes-like keyboard tones. Meanwhile, fans of Liv.e’s heady and cryptic solo experiments will find her funkily down-to-earth, wailing away as she sings the title with a passion reminiscent of Erykah Badu. —M.R.

“We discovered a complete freestyle rap from Proof that we had never considered using before,” Jamie Hewlett said earlier this year. That’s how the rapper and Eminem collaborator who passed away two decades ago appears on Gorillaz’s The Mountain, the British ensemble’s homage to fallen friends that feels more like a joyous revival than a mournful wake. On “The Manifesto,” Proof’s voice rings out again as he brags, “Y’all ain’t ready for death.” Meanwhile, amid horn fanfare and a cheery chorus from Gorillaz mastermind Damon Albarn, Argentinian rapper Trueno offers verses about embracing the future no matter what it brings. —M.R.

J Balvin and Ryan Castro offered an initial glimpse into their joint album, Omerta, with this explosive track, which also marks their first-ever collaboration. The pair sample Kriss Kross’ “Jump,” but make the hip-hop classic all their own by infusing Colombian rhythms into the Nineties beat. With Balvin’s son introducing the two artists in a sweet snippet at the beginning of the song, it’s truly a family affair. —M.G.

The first post-breathrough release from New York pop wunderkind Sombr is a hazy plea to a lover who has a partner waiting at home. It glides on a lite-funk beat (with a bass line laid down by former Prince muse Wendy Melvoin) as Sombr lays out how he’s been strung along, including till-dawn fire-escape chats; while he’s sympathetic to his romantic rival (“I don’t wanna talk down on your lover/I don’t wanna be a homewrecker,” he bellows on the chorus) his all-in vocal indicates that he really, really wants to win. —M.J.

The Kid LAROI’s greatest strength has always been his willingness to lean into the reality of blatantly uncomfortable circumstances around love and heartbreak. “Thank God” is proudly honest to a fault as he tries to move on from a breakup with a new relationship, admitting, “She sits right next to me, but I still look at these old pictures of us.” His heart is still tangled up elsewhere. Frustration, loss, and disbelief are clear in his tone, though his vocals are light and airy with the love he still holds. “Thank God” is one of the most convincing and emotional performances of his career. —L.P.

Earlier this year, Ravyn Lenae told Rolling Stone, “The thing that people can expect from me every time is I’m going to try something different.” Her single “Handle” is a testament to this. Lenae sinks into an indie-rock dream on the guitar-heavy record. The sound serves as a fresh backdrop for her succinct accounts of what it takes to go toe to toe with her heart. “Oh, my love, my love is like a landslide,” she sings, throwing her voice with sensational elasticity. “Hold on tight, one with me in the undertow.” By the end, “Handle” cranks up the anticipation for what Lenae might do next. —L.P.

The Los Angeles sparkplug’s 2025 debut, Switcheroo, smashed together surrealist pranksterism and DIY synth-pop in charming fashion, but the crushed-out single added to its March reissue showed how high she’d raised her game in a year. Its sing-song refrain is full of vowels that are begging to be turned into Silly Putty by Haha and her crew; its verses find her delighting in the magic of consonant blends (“I’m in the crowds, I’m in the club, I’m in the cumulus,” she trills) and collective countdowns, and its chopped-up synth squiggles give the whole thing a kind of contagious effervescence. —M.J.

Underscores’ April Harper Grey lived several lives by the time she got here (including being a teenage dubstep student and a moderately successful K-pop historian), and her love for pop maximalism shows no bounds on the ever-expanding “Hollywood Forever.” Across its distinct three acts, the self-proclaimed overproducer daydreams about the highs and lows of fame, from getting a hall pass to be a snob to being memorialized at a cemetery turned tourist attraction. She alchemizes the spirit of Skrillex, K-pop’s imperial-leanings, plus a Drake interpolation as a treat, to head-spinning effect. —J.P.

Australian electronic producer Memphis LK calls her latest Eurodance cut “angel pilled,” and between her breathy vocals and the pirouetting synths, it’s easy to see why. LK’s blissed out lyrics are par for the course when it comes to trance tracks (though a mention of dolphins might conjure the image of Lisa Frank’s saccharine illustrations), but the song’s glossy production keeps the cloud-nine high spiraling into eternity. As synths rip past one another and dodge piano plinks, “Out My Body” embodies the effect of zipping down Rainbow Road, and you’ll want to keep running laps over and over, even as the sun comes up. —J.P.

Kacey Musgraves delivers one of her strongest songs to date as the penultimate track of new LP Middle of Nowhere. The singer paints the sultry promise of a new flame over distinctly regional Mexican music rhythms, and it goes down smooth just like the whiskey she writes about. After an album spent decrying her sex dry spell and ghosting exes, the tale is more than earned — it’s welcomed. —M.G.

Rival Sons’ lead howler Jay Buchanan went solo on his Dave Cobb-produced album Weapons of Beauty, a record that shows Buchanan is just as at home doing rootsy and soulful Americana as he is at hard rock. “True Black” is the LP’s showstopper, a grooving jam of a song that reads like an apology to oneself. (“You have to be a lot of people to become who you are today,” Buchanan told Rolling Stone’s Nashville Now podcast of the song’s message.) “Paint my casket true black,” he sings, before delivering a rousing refrain of “Shoo-rah, shoo-rah, shoo-rah.” —Joseph Hudak

Mike Ness kicked cancer to return with the Orange County punks’ best album in years, and a title track that’s as ferocious as the tiger that graces Born to Kill’s cover. Over a massive electric guitar riff, Ness spits about upending the status quo, celebrates being a rock & roll animal, and reminds you that even at 64 he’s still “a-lookin’ for a thrill.” “Born to Kill” rages to an explosive climax, with SD marking their territory for all of the young bucks who come after them. Shouts Ness: “Look out, man, you’re in my pissing range!” —J.H.

“Alco-hol/Hall of Fame” is one of those puns so head-slappingly obvious, it’s shocking it took country songwriters nearly 100 years to hit upon it. One must hat-tip Riley Green for doing so first in 2024, but Luke Combs’ version earns the plaque. It’s a barn-stomping heartbreak anthem that finds Combs toeing the line between blubbering vulnerability and resolute defiance. His roughshod, yearning Carolina drawl is the perfect vehicle for the song’s monster hook — “I need a longneck bottle, I need a jukebox song/I need a neon angel to kickstart my moving on” — a chorus so good, you can’t help but raise a glass. —Jon Blistein

Title notwithstanding, Ashley Monroe’s stunner “I Hate Nashville” is far more love song than score-settling rant. Monroe has had the kind of career where she’s your favorite artist’s favorite artist — loved by Jack White, collaborated with by Miranda Lambert, produced by Vince Gill — but never quite became the name on the big marquee. Here, she comes to terms with her disappointment without underselling all of that Music City magic. “If I’m being honest,” she sings to lush production by Luke Laird, “I’d do it all again.” —Marissa R. Moss

Del Rey’s upcoming album Stove has had quite a journey — from title changes to release date postponement. But earlier this year, she gifted fans with another single from it: “White Feather Hawk Tail Deer Hunter,” co-produced by Jack Antonoff and co-written with her husband, Jeremy Dufrene (among others). The track sparkles in feathery instrumentation and mystical string arrangements, as Del Rey sings about domesticity (“I wanted to know if I could use your stove/To cook somethin’ up for you”) and whimsical phrasing (“Whoopsie-daisy, yoo-hoo!”). “This is the one I’ve been waiting for,” Del Rey said. We have to agree.–A.M.

Karol G made her historic Coachella headlining set even more exciting when she debuted her new song, “Despues de Ti,” in collaboration with Cigarettes After Sex’s Greg Gonzalez. It’s only natural Karol tapped Gonzalez for this heartbreak ballad since his dream-pop band is one of her favorites, especially when the Colombian superstar is as upset as she is here. “Every time I’m going through something, I listen to them because their music makes me feel everything,” she told Rolling Stone last year. As Karol sings, “I fabricate fantasies that you’re still her,” in a hurt voice over an echoing kick drum, the track brings on all the feels. —M.G.

The lead singer of the New York rock trio Sunflower Bean drops a solo debut for the ages with this song-of-herself anthem. After years of hard work on the live circuit, Julia Cumming decamped to L.A., and decided to stop caring what other people thought and make the Seventies singer-songwriter music she’d always wanted to. “I don’t do this to impress you/I don’t wear this to undress you,” she croons with crystal clarity over sumptuous AOR piano and dreamy backing vocals. Can she get a “Hell yeah”? —Simon Vozick-Levinson

The first single from the visionary singer-songwriter’s forthcoming New Avatar is a document of tension — fingerpicked guitars giving way to room-filling fuzz, candy-coated background singers’ ripostes feeling like an anxious mind’s real-time machinations The lush unease of “Idea 1” is meant to reflect “the weight of being expected to witness, absorb, and speak truth at a time when the world feels like it’s unraveling,” she said in a statement — a burden that, she noted, is particularly felt by Black women. “Idea 1” holds space for the world’s ails and the assumptions that come with them sonically and lyrically. —M.J.  

Star Moles, a.k.a. Philly’s Emily Moales, is one of the most talked-about new phenoms in indie rock this year. On this highlight from her excellent Highway to Hell album, she spirals through punny lyrics about beefing with Ben Franklin: “You just messed with the postmaster general/The four-star postmaster general/And neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night can save you now …” But the real magic in “Real Magic” comes from her melodic instincts, spinning her arcane jokes into majestic DIY. —S.V.L.

This year, Beabadoobee came back to do what she does best: release grungy stunners, her wistful lyrics pushing up against heavy riffs. But the singer upped the ante when she tapped the Marías for this new track. On it, María Zardoya’s haunting soprano sounds like a literal dream, breaking up the nightmarish quality of the song. It also seems to be the first tease of new music from Beabadoobee, who described the song as “a nice bridge to the next thing I want to release.” Here’s hoping for a Bea summer. —M.G.

These indie-rock rookies from Adelaide, Australia, come spilling out of the speakers with a rush of irresistible hooks on the first single from their upcoming debut album. The guitars crash and swell around lead singer Venus O’Broin’s trembling vocals, and the band plays with an energy that’s both loose and locked-in. They’ve said that this song began as a wildly fun pre-show jam that they couldn’t tear themselves away from, and once you hear it, you won’t want it to end either.–S.V.L.

Bella Kay cuts right to the chase on “iloveitiloveitiloveit.” “I like being used, it means I have a purpose,” she sings in the opening line. There are flecks of country influence scattered across the track, but Kay undercuts the buoyant acoustics with a delicate vocal performance packed with personality. Few one-lines in pop this year come close to “I’m a couple minutes out from relapsing into you.” She’s an expert at playing up the theatrics. That you’re left questioning whether she’s being serious is a testament to this. Regardless, it’s clear there’s something about Kay that gives the song endless replay value. —L.P.

Julia Wolf has a gift for setting the scene. In the opening verse of her latest single, “Deep End,” she’s assembling furniture in her living room, much to the detriment of her press-on nails. The vivid details are almost inconsequential. She’s just trying to keep herself distracted. When she gets to the heart of what she’s really feeling — discarded and lovelorn — it’s obvious why she was avoiding it. “I’m doing handstands in the deep end of your mind, in the deep end till I’m blue,” she sings. “You know I’ll drown if I have to.” You can’t help but believe her. —L.P.

The Queens-based singer-songwriter closes out her striking new album, Girlfriend, with this muscular empowerment anthem. “Stupid bitches can’t hurt me,” Ives sings over spiraling, grinding Wall of Sound production courtesy Ariel Rechtshaid and John DeBold that seems designed to embody the mess of emotional contradiction she’s fighting through in her urgent lyrics. It’s the sound of someone fighting through their own doubt and the glaring lens of the world to arrive at their own freedom — and grand a pop epiphany too. —J.D.

Holly Humberstone is all about packing big emotions into sticky pop songs — and she’s done it again on this gem. The British singer-songwriter takes the grandness of being head-over-heels in love and the frenetic heartbreak that follows and turns those feelings into a heart-swell of a song. With expansive Eighties synths and Humberstone’s quick wit, the song sounds like it could fit nicely into a rom-com soundtrack. —M.G.

The deluxe edition of Halsey’s The Great Impersonator expanded the haunting album with “Afraid of the Dark,” a career highlight at once devastating and disarming. The demo doesn’t have the same theatrical flourish as the rest of the record. It’s all the more cutting in its stripped-back state, spotlighting her songwriting with lines like “You spineless girl, you should donate your legs because you never stand.” Halsey sings candidly about the divide between her pop-star persona and the complex person she hides beneath it. “Do you recognize your own two feet inside my shoes?” she asks. “I’d rather be like you.” —L.P.

Since he scored a viral bloghouse hit in 2025, Fakemink is far from being the underground rapper he once was. On “Blow the Speaker .,” Fakemink drowns out the noise of online rap discourse, unsavory Rolling Loud critiques, and his ballooning fame with more noise. When the song’s ethereal intro bursts like a balloon just after the 40-second mark, the bass (courtesy of producer Wraith9) is sludgy and suffocating, with strings barely filtering through the fog. For less than three minutes, everything slips away on “Blow the Speaker .,” and Fakemink’s recurring command to crank the volume becomes something like a prayer. —J.P.

Abrams’ comeback single is about that feeling of unraveling, when you’re so exhausted and frustrated with yourself that you hit a breaking point. Her deceptively simple lyrics (“Hit the wall, I just hit the wall/I’m not a problem you can solve”) are part of what makes her such a compelling songwriter, and she holds very little back on this addictive standout. The track was produced by her longtime collaborator Aaron Dessner, who delivers subtle, sporadic synths that beautifully weave through each line. Come for the devastating lyric about not getting married, stay for the stellar Joni Mitchell reference. —A.M.

Temper City broke out with “Self-Aware,” n sleek, infectiously moody ode to a toxic relationship that went from TikTok virality to the Hot 100. Writer-producers Eytan Peled, Chen Kordova, and Aviv Barenholtz tapped a nostalgia for the hazy feel of early-2010s alt-rock gems like the Arctic Monkeys’ AM and Cage the Elephant’s Melophobia, and slung that sound around an earworm melody and lyrics that make romantic self-analysis feel vaguely unhinged. —J.D.

James Blake sleepwalks through a nightmare on “Death of Love,” a hazy appraisal of the state of compassion and connection. “I don’t know how we got here, everything feels different,” he sings matter-of-factly. “People are losing interest in the best of love.” The downcast harmonies surrounding his voice create a sense of desolateness. Samples from Leonard Cohen’s “You Want It Darker” are dispersed throughout the song, intensifying the unease of loneliness Blake sings about. In some ways, it feels like the heart of his latest album, Trying Times — emphasis on trying. “Don’t leave me behind,” he pleads, “over one bad hour.” —L.P.

There’s several standout moments from Lala Lala’s Heaven 2: the spellbinding “Even Mountains Erode,” the propulsive rocker “Does This Go Faster?” But the title track, tucked right in the center, is the heartbeat of the record. Lala Lala, real name Lillie West, admitted the song is a tad melodramatic, that she was feeling “very doomed and defeated” when she wrote it, and you can hear that downward spiral on the drums and synths that surge forward with each line: “Heaven is a moment/Hell is a life.” It’s a delicious downer that shouldn’t be slept on. —A.M.