I lean on songs to cope every year, but 2020 was especially different. This year is marked by disappointment — the cancellation of my college graduation, an abrupt ending to my four years at college, unfinished goodbyes, and the death of so many people at the hands of our incompetent government and broken system. However, 2020 was also marked by new opportunities — a summer singing in Cape Cod, a dream job in music and entertainment, and a lot of time for self-reflection. Through all of those extremely jarring and overwhelming moments, I relied on music more than ever to make sense of it all.

Without the stress of college on me for most of the year, I found I was able to genuinely appreciate and consume music more than I ever have before. Spending the summer with eight other singers gave me so many incredible music recommendations. It felt like the whole world was turning to music as much as I usually do, and via that we could share these moments together.

And thus, I knew this year couldn’t come to a close without me reflecting on what that process looked like, and sharing it with the people who I went through it with.

So — this is CED Radio’s Year-End Top 40. The “Top 40,” while abstractly referring to “popular songs,” is also a real music industry concept. “Mainstream Top 40” is the official name for the format of many of the most listened to radio stations in the U.S. (think z100 in New York or KIIS FM in LA). As you can imagine, Top 40 is usually synonymous with “pop,” which is often synonymous with white and generic — rather than popular, or better yet, good. So, why not shake things up and reimagine that mainstream top 40?

In year that tested us all to no end, we all used to music to get through it. On the imaginary CED Radio airwaves that I broadcast my music to, these songs were deep in “heavy rotation..”

Artists With Multiple Entries

Albums With Multiple Entries

40. Simmer — Hayley Williams

Rage is a quiet thing/
You think that you’ve tamed it/
But it’s just lying in wait

They say Black people love Paramore. And they’re right.

You can imagine how excited I was when Hayley Williams announced her first-ever solo project entitled Petals For Armor and dropped “Simmer,” the first single off the album, all on the same gloomy winter day in January.

“Simmer” feels like onomatopoeia. In lieu of the usual Hayley screams and belts, the song bubbles with a quiet, unsettling intensity, like a tiger in a cage begging to be released. And it evokes that same intensity in you. Simmer takes me back to my mid-2000s angsty pop-punk phase (which was also defined by Hayley Williams’ voice on tracks like “Misery Business” and “That’s What You Get”). The song depicts Williams battling with herself, struggling to “draw the line between wrath and mercy.” She duels with a high-pitched “give in” before each chorus that tempts her to turn her simmer up to high-flame and lose control. She sits in this tension the entire song — we never quite get a resolution.

In a year where I felt like I was losing my mind so many times, this song’s message is more than relatable. And while it didn’t commercially impact like Paramore’s biggest hits, it had to be on my list. It reminded me why I fell in love with Paramore in the first place — Hayley fucking Williams.

39. HONEY — KLARK

Who knew tonic could come so sweet /Oh, oh /Like honey.

There’s a particular type of 2020 song that is so good it’s frustrating — the songs that, upon your first listen, you imagined yourself dancing to on the beach or with your head sticking out of a window or something.

And well, you know how the story goes — none of that happened. We stayed inside, but songs like “HONEY” got me through. The epitome of fresh-sounding, with the help of a very tasteful Diana Ross sample, “HONEY” tells us a story about unadulterated, and perhaps irresponsible, love.

The song is about someone who you can’t take your eyes off of— who makes you abandon all responsibility and succumb to hedonism. It never fails to make me smile. Like some of my other favorite KLARK tracks (see CROWNS + CASTLES), it reminds me of times when the stakes were lower, decisions were more inconsequential, and you didn’t need a mask to be daydrunk at the beach with your lover. Also, any song that talks about love coming down or all over you is automatically great. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

38. Cool — Dua Lipa

Got me losin’ all my cool/’Cause I’m burnin’ up on you/In control of what I do/
And I love the way you move

Surprise, I’m gay.

I have to give props to Dua Lipa. Truth be told — I was unconvinced by her last era, and was shocked by her Best New Artist win at the Grammys in 2019. I found her first album generic and commercially curated at best, and did not think the mild #6 U.S Hit “New Rules” warranted her crowning as “next up” at the ceremony over artists like H.E.R. However, Dua disproved the alleged curse of the BNA award and came out swinging with a second album that solidified her as a modern Pop girl. Her record, Future Nostalgia, blends pure pop, disco, and funk to create a truly enjoyable pop record.

One thing about me: if a release is resonating with the world, I try my best to listen and find out why. So, I asked a friend to give me a Dua song rec that would help me get into Future Nostalgia. He played me “Cool,” and well, the rest is history. The song on that record I consistently went back to this year was “Cool.” It’s a summer pop smash, reminiscent of something I’d hear on the radio between 2010 and 2012 (an iconic moment for pop — think Katy, Rihanna, Miley, Nicki). Dua’s voice and personality are shining through on this track in a way like never before. It’s the kind of song that makes you wish you were in all-white, at brunch somewhere, drinking mimosas and dancing your life away. The production in the chorus is what sells it for me though — the guitar, the percussion and Dua’s cadence force you to bop your head, clap your hands and stomp your feet. Sorry I doubted you, Dua.

37. Disappear — Tei Shi

I wish there was a pill that could make me feel nothing/I don’t wanna be here, I don’t wanna feel nothing/Wish that I could disappear/ If you wanna disappear/Maybe we can disappear

Imagine you’re driving down the Pacific Coast Highway, in a convertible. And there’s a J in rotation in said convertible (You’re in California so it’s mostly legal). You’re not having the best of day or week, but you’re with someone you love, perhaps a friend or a lover, and on your way to escape whatever pain is plaguing you. Got that picture painted? That’s Disappear.

While that description above may imply it’s a rather happy song, it’s really not. The song is about the familiar feeling of wanting to disappear. The speaker is going through it, letting us know that “usually I wouldn’t try to numb the pain/But I don’t think that I can take another day.” However, there is a sense of solace in the song — accepting that life fucking sucks, and that if we could disappear we would.

What keeps the song uplifting despite the sad emotion it harbors is that Tei Shi is not yearning to disappear by herself. Although seemingly stooped in her melancholy, she isn’t alone in it.

36. Can’t Fight — Lianne La Havas

I can’t fight away this love/
I knew that I should give you up
I tried to run but got my heart stuck/I can’t fight away this love

Lianne La Havas is just so damn talented. She is a stunning vocalist, and an even better songwriter. Her self-titled third studio album captures all of her talents in such a comprehensive way. The album is so cohesive, feeling like you’re riding a breeze the entire time. Lianne syncretizes soul, pop and jazz to create her sound, calling back to that of Esperanza Spalding, India.Arie, and Corinne Bailey Rae. She also sometimes sounds like Jennifer Hudson which I know sounds bizarre, but just listen to the background ad-libs at 2:04.

“Can’t Fight” is probably the catchiest track on the album, which I’m always a sucker for. She details the story of realizing feelings of love are taking over — she “can’t fight away this love.” It’s a simple, beautiful and relatable love song that makes your heart dance and head bop. It will immediately bring a smile across your face, and is a fantastic way to force yourself to listen to the entire album. After hearing the ascendance that is “Can’t Fight,” it’ll be hard not to dive into Lianne’s entire discography.

35. Marry Me — Rileyy Lanez

I will never hurt you/Do anything to make you cry/I will always love you/Even when I’m right, I’ll still apologize/Why? ’Cause you are my baby.

A tender ode to her girlfriend, “Marry Me” by Rileyy Lanez is one of the most effective, simple guitar-based love ballads I’ve heard in years. Juxtaposed with the more chaotic and toxic nature of some other songs on this list (stick around for #34), there’s something incredibly pleasing about the simplicity of Rileyy’s lyrics. In this short, simple ballad, she declares she will love her baby through thick and thin. She showcases her vocal prowess, her artistry, and the potential that her sound has to fill voids in R&B.

There is something so incredibly refreshing about hearing a tender ballad from a queer Black woman in R&B about loving another woman and being loved back. So much of the R&B genre has been historically defined by black women in anguish, often responding to pain inflicted on them by black men. That makes “Marry Me” all the more enjoyable. I had the pleasure of meeting Rileyy earlier this year and she was just as sweet, genuine and kind as this song— I cannot wait to hear her first full project. She is a name who I’m sure we will all be hearing about over the next few years — get into it before it’s mainstream.

34. Guilty Conscience — 070 Shake

Five A.M. when I walked in/Could not believe what I saw, yeah/You were on another one’s body/Ghosts of the past came to haunt me/I caught you but you never caught me/I was sitting here waiting on karma/There goes my guilty conscience

We all love a good toxic anthem. Like that 20% of Beyonce’s discography that you bump but would never actually agree with lyrically (see Cater 2 U, 2004), you can’t help but love to hate it. “Guilty Conscience” by 070 Shake is just that — a soft, overembellished anthem about catching your lover cheating, and realizing you can’t even be mad because you were cheating too. The song is deftly trippy without feeling cheesy, and the melodic layering and clamoring EDM-like production make you feel just as disoriented as you would if you walked in your lover at 5am on another one’s body.

I was thankful to be introduced to 070 Shake by two friends who attended her concert. Since then, she’s had an incredible year, beginning with the release of her first debut studio album, topped with a feature in Rihanna’s Savage X Fenty Show Vol. 2. A quote of hers from a 2018 Pitchfork article stands out to me: “I don’t really identify myself as queer or gay or anything. I just like girls.” In a similar way, her music refuses to define itself. It’s just good. Her refusal to fit into the conventions of the semantic sexuality mirror the risks she takes in her music, and it definitely pays off.

33. Call Me Queen — Citizen Queen

If you a real one / It’s a habit / You respect me / It’s automatic

Citizen Queen is the new girl-group on the scene. Beginning as a cover group, they launched into the public eye last fall after their Evolution of Girl Groups cover racked up over 20 million views on YouTube. Since then, they’ve inked a deal with RCA Records and put out their first ever original song — “Call Me Queen.” And when I tell you I haven’t been able to gather myself since…

“Call Me Queen” is everything pop needs from a girl group right now. A stomping, pulsing beat (think “Bo$$” by Fifth Harmony or “Busy Boy” by Chloe x Halle) and songwriting that lets you know these girls did not come to play. All five girls are bringing it the entire time, but the song takes off when alto Kaylah slides into her sultry first verse. And by the time bassist Kaedi Dalley sings “you respect me, it’s automatic,” you’ve bought in. And you can tell Kaedi believes what she’s singing.

And that’s the best part about Citizen Queen. They have garnered comparisons to groups like Fifth Harmony and Danity Kane, and while flattering, they do not capture the unique brilliance of this group. Past girl groups were told to be “girl-positive” while being sabotaged by male executives or rife with internal abuse and strife (see the racial abuse Camila Cabello facilitated against Normani while a part of Fifth Harmony). Citizen Queen’s debut effort shows that they actually walk the walk. The track was written by producing and songwriting duo NOVAWAV, two queer black women who have worked with Beyoncé, Rihanna, Kehlani, and more. It was produced by non-binary pop maverick Justin Tranter. Citizen Queen was assembled by a diverse team of mostly queer folks whose mission is to allow the five girls of CQ to tell their own story of women empowerment, rather than use it as a prop to make some men more money. I cannot wait to see what Citizen Queen does next!

32. You Sad — Tkay Maidza

Don’t pull up to tell me how you feel/’Cause it won’t end up going your way

A hilarious ode to the modern day phenomenon. The man. The myth. The legend.

The sad boy.

Australian born songwriter and rapper Tkay Maidza deserves way more love. Her mixtape, Last Year Was Weird (Vol 2) was released in August and featured this absolute bop, “You Sad.” The song is hilariously smug, detailing her aversion to the modern archetype of the “sad boi.” Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think Tkay isn’t denouncing men for being sad. Rather, she is rejecting the all too common dynamic in which emotionally immature and manipulative men use women (and specifically black women) as free therapy. Unable to properly deal with their emotions, the sad boy saddles the women in his life with them instead: “3AM you alone right now/I can’t come to the phone right now/You sad, I know you way too sad (so sad).” She does what many of us wish we could do — reject men whose only goal is emotional manipulation. The cheery, giddy guitar, paired with carefree whistles and Tkay yelling “So sad!” intermittently let us know she is definitely not cut up about this man.

This song definitely got my eye on Tkay Maidza, and I’m looking forward to her future projects — and will be playing this song when those “I know we ain’t talked in a while but…” texts come rolling in this New Year.

31. Hit My Phone (feat. Kehlani) — Megan Thee Stallion

Window to the wall/throw it back, throw it back/
And if I leave with him/ he gon’ eat it for a fact

2020 was the year of thee Stallion.

In lieu of her delayed debut studio album, Meg held us over with the stellar EP Suga, released in March of this year.

Home to the Billboard #1 hit “Savage,” Suga had some quiet hits packed in it. “Hit My Phone” is one of them — Meg comes swinging out the gate riding the groovy, funk-inspired beat. Her flow is infectious, painting the picture of a “toasted, posted” Meg who is ready to get lit, find a man, and stay out of trouble…mostly.

While I love Meg, Kehlani is the standout for me on this track. She rides the beat vocally with a flow that rivals Meg herself. She opens the verse talking about how she “get[s] nasty/When the moon come out and the juice kick in,” preparing you for an absolute bop. And then, there’s the chorus: an absolute BANGER. Kehlani took this track to another level and showed us we’ll definitely need another Meg x Kehlani in the near-future.

30. Me in 20 Years — Moses Sumney

Hey, after all these years/
I’m still here, fingers outstretched/ With your imprint in my bed/A pit so big I lay on the edge

One thing about Moses: he gon write his ass off. He knows how to capture pain, longing, self-mutilation, and heartbreak into words too specific to be analyzed, so, instead you sit, wallow, think and listen. “Me in 20 Years” is a prime example of Moses’ devastating pen game. You may recognize the song from Euphoria — it was featured in the recent “Part 1: Rue” episode released in early December. The song details the story of a lost lover, the “cavity” in Moses’ bed, “a pit so big I lay on the edge.” The track is a prime example of how healing isn’t linear — in Moses’ case, it is perhaps completely negative. He speaks to himself in 20 years, knowing he will still be unhealed from the loss of his lover, stuck in the cyclical, quotidian: “Hey, me in twenty years/Does your milk still turn to rot too soon?/Do you still hoard souvenirs?” He wonders if it’s “laced within my DNA/To be braced in endless January.”

The song stands alone, but its placement in Euphoria is an example of brilliant sync. It captures a character like Rue’s refusal to heal or move-on, and how much of her self-preservation she placed in the hands of someone else. Moses Sumney is one of the most talented artists of our generation, and while award shows like the Grammy’s have not gotten on board yet, we do not need their validation to recognize just how powerful his artistry is.

29. my future — Billie Eilish

Can’t you hear me?/
I’m not comin’ home/
Do you understand?/
I’ve changed my plans

At a first glance, the first half of “my future” is reminiscent of a lot of Billie’s early discography — slow, brooding, moody and contained. However, a deeper dive into the lyrics shows you Billie is…happy?

Ostensibly, the song is speaking to a love interest who wants to take her home, and she stands confidently, declaring that she is in love with herself and nobody here. However, I can’t help but find that the song is a sweet part 2 to her earlier 2019 hit “everything I wanted.” That song features Billie dreaming of her own suicide, while “my future” tells us that she’s changed her plans — she is “not coming home” because she is “in love with her future.” If we understand “home” as a euphemism for whatever the hell happens after death, “my future” is a declaration that Billie is here to stay. My favorite line: “I’m supposed to be unhappy/ Without someone / But aren’t I someone?” This mindset shift from Billie feels so organic and empowering. The simplicity of the above line is a helpful reminder that we can find our own solace with ourselves within ourselves. I am really looking forward to her next album.

28. Pussycat Doll — Flo Milli

I feel like a Pussycat Doll/ I don’t answer when he call/
Keep that nigga on his toes and make sure you put up a wall/
I can’t trust ’em, I don’t love ’em/
We can’t fuck without a rubber /

To me, Flo Milli was the most robbed artist of 2020. We already know institutions like the Grammys fail to adequately recognize and honor black artists, but the fact that specifically black media and hip-hop media almost completely glossed over Flo Milli’s impact this year is criminal. She is an immensely playful and clever lyricist, giving the same type of infectious personality that made us love artists like Nicki Minaj, Lil Kim, and Lil Mama while still creating a completely unique sound. I can come up with many reasons why Flo Milli’s impact was glossed over this year — the first that comes to mind is her being a darkskin black woman. I just hope the rap game (and industry in general) realizes no matter how much they try to ignore the complete renaissance and takeover of black women rappers right now, we will keep streaming and they will keep looking dumb as they only rank and speak about male rappers.

“Pussycat Doll” is one of the many songs from Flo Milli’s debut mixtape Ho, Why Is You Here? that solidifies its place as one of the best hip-hop releases of the year. Flo Milli, in her words, “never gave a fuck,” and it shines through on “Pussycat Doll.” She harbors a type of carefree black girl that isn’t nearly as respectable or packageable for the respectability politics corner of Twitter. She raps about not trusting niggas and ensuring you keep them at a distance. She discusses her haters, already well-aware that their hate is poorly disguised jealously. My favorite line is: “Make a nigga blow a check on me/
Save his number under “We gon’ see.”” Let’s all make the move to save his number under we gon see in 2021.

At only 20, and without a proper studio album, Flo Milli has grabbed our eyes, and I can’t wait to see what she does next.

27. BLACK PARADE — Beyoncé

Honey, come around my way, around my hive/Whenever momma says so, momma say/Here I come on my throne, sittin’ high/Follow my parade, oh, my parade

“BLACK PARADE” feels like a sweet extension of Beyoncé’s graduation from the “industry.” Freed from the chains of chart success and sales, Bey is saying and doing whatever the hell she wants. The song almost feels a stream-of-consciousness ode to the Diaspora, to Blackness, to Black love, and to Black liberation — a literal parade of Blackness. She talks about letting her hair dread out, telling us to fuck laid edges, waves and fades. She reminds us to connect with our ancestors, to charge our crystals, and to remember “our history is herstory.” She dedicates the free-flowing, infectious chorus (the best part of the song) to her Hive, letting us know how vicious their bite is when provoked (and trust me, we know.) The song ends with a simple, bouncy and curt flute melody.

There was lots of discussion on the TL about the swath of nominations “BLACK PARADE” received versus its impact on the charts. While I agree that ultimately the Grammys have no idea what’s going on in the world of music, “BLACK PARADE” is genuinely a fire song. Many credited the nominations to the Grammy’s obsession with Beyoncé and Jay-Z. While this obsession is real, it’s a bit ahistorical as they have consistently snubbed Beyonce for years. While she has been nominated for one of the Big Four awards fifteen times (Best New Artist + Album, Record and Song of the Year), she’s won one (1) — record of the year for “Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)” in 2010. She also has only won 4 awards outside of the R&B category in total. We can all laugh at that, knowing Beyoncé is the biggest pop star of the past 20 years. So, yes, these nominations may be a reflection of the academy’s obsession with Beyoncé as their token black awardee, but it also may be them scrambling to try to right their wrongs from past years. Either way, I look forward to what happens in January, and I’ll be bopping to “BLACK PARADE” all along the way.

26. Waiting For (feat. Jamila Woods) — rUm.gold

You/I can’t get you out my head/You/Were the ghost to haunt my bed/You/I can’t risk it all no more/You/Can’t be who I’m waiting for

My roommate last summer put me on to rUm.gold, and “Cashmere Cage” quickly became one of my favorite songs of all-time. He is so undeniably talented (and handsome). His tone is unmatched — he sounds like no other singer out right now. He often sits in a breathy and raspy falsetto that floats like a balloon. I compare him vocally to Nao. Right when he floats in falsetto long enough for you to assume that’s the extent of his range, he dives into gorgeous, agile runs all the way to the bottom of his range. His artistry is ethereal.

On “Waiting For,” rUm.gold brings on Jamila Woods as a featured artist, a perfect choice to match the vocal and emotional energy he is bringing to the table. While they are perfectly in sync musically, the two singers just can’t match up lyrically. Unlike most duets, they clearly aren’t speaking to each other but rather to themselves. They desperately want to be in the others’ head, begging for a sign that they should let the other know of their feelings for each other. As someone who constantly tries to mask his brash, straightforward emotion in order to appear “chill” and “calm,” Jamila’s words resonate with me: “All in my head should I play it safe/Hide away feelings and play the game/How can I tell/if you feel the same/I hear a change, when you say my name.” The tension is immensely frustrating but painfully relatable, knowing that rUm.gold “can’t get [Jamila] out [his] head.” If someone could simply turn Jamila’s head to face rUm.gold’s, they would realize all they need to do is communicate.

Hey siri — I feel personally attacked by this relatable content.

25. Everybody Business — Kehlani

At my big ol’ age/I can’t be fazed/By what you mistake as goin’ insane/Like I’m just movin’ all wild/Fuckin’ all wild, runnin’ my mouth

For anybody who’s ever been told they love too hard, this song is definitely for you. You’ve had your disdain for limbo and murkiness be mistaken as “coming on too strong” or somehow flipped around to be a reflection of you being “too” into them?

Maybe I’m projecting.

“I ain’t never been a half-ass lover/Rather lay out on the train tracks for ya/
Hit the pavement for ya/Make a statement.” Everybody Business is on my list because it’s Kehlani being honest about being a fierce lover, regardless of what kinds of projections and categorizations others place on her for that. Musically, the song is rooted in guitar and a 6:8 swing beat, which is total bait for me. It’s similar to Ariana Grande and Justin Bieber 2020 #1 “Stuck with U,” but to me, this song’s lyrics and musical composition are a much more creative take on that structure. To me, the song represents Kehlani’s 2020 album It Was Good Till It Wasn’t — honest, brash and unapologetic.

24. Bi Fren — Omar Apollo

I wanna see you all night but I know you don’t care/Not in love but I’ll be right here/When I pull up on you and your girl/I’m still here, I’m still here

I’ve been a fan of Omar Apollo since a colleague of mine at an internship made an impassioned pitch to the interns to dive into his music. I dove into his last EP, Friends, and really enjoyed it. However, on Apollo’s most recent effort, his debut studio album, Apolonio, he reaches new heights musically, personally, and aesthetically.

On “Bi Fren,” he sinks into a rap-sing flow that suits his flippant swagger as he laments a relationship with a someone who’s not ready to admit who they are. “I still like him, I still like him/I used to drive around your block without no license/Separate you and your bitch, I’m not no hyphen/I hate your bitch, so I dipped out and jumped the high fence/He talking ‘bout hi friend, I’m talkin’ ‘bout bi friend.” You can’t help but laugh at the last part — we’ve definitely all had that thought before. It feels like a more angry, less concerned with etherealness B-side to Frank Ocean’s “Self Control.” He sings with confidence coated in contempt, clearly showing how unresolved his feelings are. Apollo’s plight with this presumably DL man is causing him a lot of stress and he’s — rightfully — tight as fuck.

Lyrically, “Bi Fren” brings a level of personality and storytelling that Apollo’s last project didn’t quite have. The song made me want to write a toxic song about some nigga. While another song about being a side piece may not seem groundbreaking, to me it reminded me how rarely we get to hear hear non-straight perspectives in music, especially in R&B. The song, even with its simple production, made me immediately dive into Apolonio and honestly..I haven’t been the same since.

23. Love Goes (feat. Labrinth)— Sam Smith

You’re broken, we know that/
And if you knew it/
You won’t fight me when I say farewell

If you read my 35 Favorite Albums of the Decade article, you know how much I love Sam Smith. I think they’re such a talented vocalist and storyteller, and emotion just bleeds through their voice and into their music.

“Love Goes,” the title track of Sam Smith’s recent album is a perfect Sam Smith song — another soul-crushing ballad about a diffused flame. Labrinth brings a level of restraint and beauty to the song that could be matched by few. He opens the song and his rasp immediately evokes emotion, and as Sam enters, they match the tension in Labrinth’s voice. Only 3 instruments play in the background. Then, after the second chorus, the voices drop out to make room for blaring horns.The song is just such a journey, with star-studded vocals to match. Right as the horns reach their peak, the song closes with a beautiful, string orchestration that fades out, sort of like the love that Labrinth and Sam Smith are pining over. “That’s how love goes, goes.”

As much as I enjoyed the dance-pop hits that led us into this era like “How Do You Sleep? and “Dancing With A Stranger” with Normani, they definitely showcased a bittersweet sound shift. Right at the perfect time throughout my first listen of the album, “Love Goes” gave us that classic Sam Smith balladeer energy. This song just reminds me of how thankful I am for their music, and I really really hope them and their team decide to put this out as a single. I think it could be another “Stay With Me.”

22. BELIEVE IT (feat. Rihanna) — PARTYNEXTDOOR

Best make me believe it (Best make me believe it)/
Believe you won’t deceive me

Alright — it’s time to accept that maybe, MAYBE, this is the last song we will ever get from Rihanna. And for that reason, I think we all need to appreciate it more.

“BELIEVE IT,” Rihanna’s first single in three years since N.E.R.D’s “Lemon” (2017), captures all her swagger, with stellar production to match. PARTYNEXTDOOR, who is doing his very best, is definitely outshined by Rihanna on this track. I think most people know that’s inevitable when bringing Rihanna on a track, and to be honest, I wouldn’t care. The percussion in the chorus is so electric, and Rihanna’s layered vocals are effortless but effective. They convey exactly what she came to tell us — she will not be played nor led on. It’s easy to believe her as PARTYNEXTDOOR raps “You got the power, pussy power/The floor is yours, the time is ours.” While BELIEVE IT definitely felt like something to hold us over during the Rihanna drought, I’m thankful to get any sustenance at all.

21. I’m Amazing — Omar Apollo

We still fuck on the side/
And I fucked up my mind/
I think of just you and I

During my campaign to get everyone in my life to listen to this album, I successfully convinced one particular friend who said she liked a lot of the songs, but that “I’m Amazing” confused her. And what she said makes sense. She was pointing to the first verse: “I’m amazing, that’s what they tell me/I don’t think of that too much, it overwhelm me/I don’t think you love me ’cause you don’t reach out/Yeah, you broke my fuckin’ heart, took a piece out.” There’s always a moment when you’re trying to heal and you realize you’re partially feigning the confidence you’re building back up. Apollo is going through it — he spends the first two lines gassing himself up, then spends the remaining two minutes and ten seconds telling us how much this man fucked him up. His erratic shift from OK to very not ok reflects how healing often is — nonlinear and messy. Sometimes knowing how amazing you are makes the fact somebody tried you even more enraging. “Moved away, but you got a girl now/Shit remind me when I used to blow your back out/You fuckin’ hate me, on different paths now.”

“I’m Amazing,” like “Bi Fren,” is another fantastic showcase of Omar Apollo entering his bag. He has found his sound, and the lyrical content that resonates with him, and you can feel the growth and artistic certainty that he has attained since his last project. “Since I was eighteen, I’ve had my mask off.” On this last album, that’s more apparent than ever.