The Inlander crew spotlights their favorite songs of the year

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You are simply not going to find a more cutting opening line than Rosie Tucker hollering "I hope no one had to piss in a bottle at work to get me the thing I ordered on the internet." Tucker's next-level songwriting is on full display throughout the astounding album UTOPIA NOW!, but their cultural criticism is at its most cutting on this ridiculously catchy indie rocker about being a plastic cog in the system of crap capitalism. The weight of moralism versus nihilism weighs heavy on this "middle-sized fish in a pile of plastic wider than Texas" in a world where they're conditioned to "want everything all at once." Rocking out to righteous anger isn't supposed to be this entertaining, but it makes the message hit harder than any dry lecture could. (SETH SOMMERFELD)

Fugee's-esque in its chiller-than-thou aesthetic, Orion Sun's LP Orion has been one of the few records that truly held my attention this year. With lush layers of vocals, pocket-deep bass lines, and some of the chillest beats I've heard in a minute, Orion has been on repeat since I came across it. While it's hard to single out one track, "Already Gone" served as my entryway to the album. If you've ever been utterly heartbroken on a rainy day, this one's for you. (TAYLOR WARING)

As someone who was in eighth grade when rapper J-Kwon released "Tipsy" in 2004, my Millennial ears instantly perked up when I heard that nostalgic "One, here comes the two to the three to the four" coming over the radio while driving to work one spring day. Only I wasn't initially familiar with the song borrowing the lyrics. A bit of Googling revealed Virginia's Shaboozey had given the line a country twist for "A Bar Song (Tipsy)." The single sure felt like it was everywhere this summer, with its rousing strings and devil-may-care chorus. "A Bar Song (Tipsy)" is perfect for rowdy singalongs, on or off Fifth Street. (AZARIA PODPLESKY)

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There wasn't another song in 2024 like "Boa." On the surface, it's just another killer single in Megan Thee Stallion's discography, but beyond her cleverly sexy lyricism and unrivaled rap flow there are a couple references that just feel like they were added with me in mind. For starters, the song samples one of Gwen Stefani's most iconic songs, "What You Waiting For?" It's one of the first songs I remember my parents playing in the house, so Meg's use of the iconic tune is weirdly nostalgic. Plus the rapper's art direction and the song title are pulled directly from my favorite One Piece character: Boa Hancock, the stunning pirate empress. (COLTON RASANEN)

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Who would've guessed that one of the punkest songs of the year would be an alt-country bluegrass track with a hoedown-fiddle-on-fire breakdown and foot-stompin' hoots and hollers? West Virginian genre trickster Sierra Ferrell packs punk urgency and attitude into "Fox Hunt," her primal, high-octane ode to hunters who are motivated not by antler trophies or Hinge profile pics, but by their kids' "rumbling bellies." "I'm just a hunter / Just tryna survive" belts Ferrell, the high stakes of hunger haunting her notes. It's the ideal song to hype yourself up before doing what's difficult yet necessary. "Fox Hunt" was the first single release from Ferrell's Trail of Flowers, a cohesive, instant classic of a record already crowned Album of the Year at the 2024 Americana Awards and that earned multiple Grammy nominations. (ELISSA BALL)

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Finally, a "Y.M.C.A." for the gays! (//knowingly winks at the camera) (SS)

We're always searching for our true identity. Something, someone, anything that makes us feel like a true part of a collective. This single from Dawes' newest album Oh Brother makes me crave community in the form of "house parties and local bands" and "yelling at Kanye fans." With the mantra of "that's where I belong" ringing throughout, the song urges listeners to embed themselves in something larger than themselves and to discover the true heart of their city, something I've tried to do over the past year with the help of Taylor and Griffin Goldsmith's encouraging words. It's not complex musically or lyrically, but that's what makes the song so relatable. It's a reminder to sink your teeth into any opportunity for connection that you might stumble across. (MADISON PEARSON)

Far be it from me to dispute the songwriting of the inimitable Dolly Parton, but my feminist tendencies have no idea what to do with her classic country heartbreaker "Jolene." Staying with a man who calls the name of another woman while he sleeps? Putting the onus on that woman to keep your man from cheating? I can't decide if it's tragically beautiful or devilishly self-erasing to love someone through their infatuation with someone else. Beyoncé, though, makes it pretty clear what she thinks. In her 2024 genre bending album COWBOY CARTER, the newly country-fied Queen Bey reimagined Parton's ballad, no longer begging but warning. "I know I'm a queen, Jolene / I'm still a Creole banjee bitch from Louisiana (don't try me)." It might be less sacrificial, but selfishly, it's way more satisfying. (ELIZA BILLINGHAM)

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The opening ceremonies of the Paris summer Olympics were a lot, and some of it absolutely did not work (sorry, Gaga). But French metal dudes Gojira combined forces with opera singer Marina Viotti, a bunch of classical musicians and many, many headless Marie Antoinettes to turn this French Revolution-era tune into a rifftastic jam that inspired many replays on YouTube (more than a billion and counting). (DAN NAILEN)

Rock music is always better when there's at least one young breakout band that fully revels in high theater kid levels of melodrama. The Last Dinner Party filled that void in 2024 in part because when Abigail Morris belts out the lead single's chorus — "And you can hold me like he held her / And I will f–k you like nothing matters" — it feels like every fiber of her being believes this love is the only thing that matters in the world. (SS)

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Kendrick Lamar dominated the hip-hop conversation in 2024 and bodied Drake with "Not Like Us." Regardless of where you land on the pair's rap beef, the song produced by DJ Mustard instantly solidified itself as a West Coast classic. Lamar continued his banner year with the surprise GNX album, and its first single "squabble up" embraces heavy bass and deep kick unity by using the classic freestyle sample of Debbie Deb's 80s classic "When I Hear Music," an essential backyard and party song for Black and Latino communities. Lamar's lyricism and production taps into the Angeleno lifestyle and accessibly respects the cultural importance and influences of hip-hop. (VCM)

So many of alternative rocker Sam Fender's songs feel like they come from a hyper familiar teenage angst, but Fender's cuttingly philosophical lyrics separates him from a cocky, self-important burnout. This time, Fender's iconic sound carries a more mature emotional weight — detailing going back home to take his grandmother out of an abusive nursing home and caring for her until she dies. He people watches on the rides through his childhood hometown, musing on youth and the loss of it. Fender has the skills to turn such exhausting themes into a jammy song that makes you want to hit repeat. (EB)

Ambient psychedelic drone isn't for everyone, but if it is for you, you've likely already heard all three LPs that make up Harvestman's Triptych. A truly alchemical listening experience, Harvestman (aka Coeur d'Alene's own Steve Von Till) explores all sorts of psychedelic soundscapes. There are some truly magical moments strewn across this three-albums-in-one listening experience. As a sucker for sonic experimentation built on groovy basslines, I'm a big fan of Al Cisneros' oeuvre and have always loved his dub renditions of Om songs, so it was a real treat to hear Von Till conjure all sorts of mercurial majesty over Cisneros' basslines on "Psilosynth (Harvest Dub)." (TW)

The beautiful voice of modern R&B queen SZA is reminiscent of Aaliyah (RIP), but she's no imitator. Listening to "Saturn," you notice the poetry of uncertainty, giving up and searching for meaning in life. The lyrics are thoughtful but work well to fit with whatever you're going through. The song's deep emotional breadth is universally relatable. (VCM)

How does Zach Top know what country radio sounded like "back in '94" if he was born in 1997? Well, the swiftly rising star (from Sunnyside, Washington!) had an older co-writer on this wistful track. (Plus, YouTube documents the vintage magic of that Pam-Tillis-and-acid-wash era for youngsters like Top.) "Sounds Like the Radio" sonically nods to Brooks & Dunn's "Boot Scootin' Boogie" and Joe Diffie hits. Lyrically, the single specifically praises Alan Jackson's "Chattahoochee" as well as the iconic hair choice of '90s "honky-tonk heroes" like Billy Ray Cyrus, Marty Stuart, and Travis Tritt — the mullet. Much like the party-in-the-back mullet, this song's "a damn good time." (EBall)

I nearly crashed my car while belting along with this infectious pop song's uplifting melody — and I'd do it again. (CR)

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The crushing difficulties of a chronically depressed brain trying to break out of its own cyclical anxiety patterns to get better and find a modicum of peace has never sounded so enchantingly dreamy as it does on this indie rock pearl. (SS)

It's always such a treat when two singers who are meant to perform together find one another. Hozier and Allison Russell's "Wildflower and Barley" (off Hozier's Unheard EP) fit that bill for me in 2024. Though written about the unsettling quiet of the COVID-19 lockdowns, there's ultimately a hopeful sweetness to the song. To my ears, Russell's "The healers are healing" sung hand in hand with Hozier's "This year, I swear it will be buried in actions / This year, I swear it will be buried in words" sounds like how the first rays of warm sunshine after a long winter feels. Seeing the pair perform this song twice during Hozier's Unreal Unearth tour was a highlight of my year. (AP)

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As a 27-year-old female, I didn't know if I was in the target demographic to enjoy MJ Lenderman's 2024 album Manning Fireworks, an album that — at surface level — falls into the modern "dudes rock" category. But four songs in, I was hooked. "Wristwatch" brings levity and humor and somehow makes the listener feel compassion for this pathetic narrator with a "funny face" that "makes him money." "Wristwatch" is a vignette of this precise moment in time politically and socially, driving home the point that there's no hope for self-awareness for these Andrew Tate/Joe Rogan fanboy types. It details my many frustrations with modern masculinity through killer guitar solos and hilarious depictions of overly brazen dudes while still assuring me that, as long as these guys stay in their "houseboats docked at the Himbo Dome," maybe everything will be alright in the end. (MP) ♦