Welcome to our weekly roundup of the SPIN staff’s favorite new songs. Below, sample the best from pessimistic shoegaze groups, smooth-talking disco dandies, and more.
BRONCHO, “Señora Borealis” (Dine Alone)
Norman, Oklahoma’s BRONCHO are too clever for their own good. They called their previous album Just Enough Hip to Be Woman, and their femme-fatale obsession is still killing it on the equally cheeky Double Vanity (out May 27) and its chugging new single, “Señora Borealis.” It’s new-wave punk blues, music for freeway speeding, Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and Clyde. “Spillin’ the blood / Spillin’ the beans,” teases lead singer Ryan Lindsey, nodding to the plot of a pulpy Western thriller you’ll have to imagine for yourself. — ANNA GACA
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Cher Lloyd, “Popular” (Self-Released)
“There’s a really old demo floating around,” former X Factor U.K. contestant Cher Lloyd wrote on Twitter this week. “I can promise it’s not on #CL3. Working to get you new music ASAP!” The song in question is a sugary jiggler called “Popular,” and it showcases the best of Lloyd’s now-trademark aesthetic: a brash, British wit and her just-nasal-enough vocals. With its plucky, DJ Mustard-y beats and a strong feminist chorus (“Go ahead and shake that ass / ‘Cause you know they like it / Go ahead and do your dance / ‘Cause you know they’ll buy it / When you’re losing followers / I’ll still think you’re popular”), Lloyd’s afterthought is better than most pop stars’ A-game efforts. — BRENNAN CARLEY
https://youtube.com/watch?v=9f9COJqqSJo
CLIQUE, “Boundaries” (Topshelf Records)
A wistfully minor guitar melody halfway between Weezer and Elliott Smith, a mournful refrain of “Motherf**ker ran me off the road,” and a self-questioning minute-and-a-half run time. In other words, “Bad Habit” for ’90s kids too introverted to really lean on the car horn. — ANDREW UNTERBERGER
Jodie Abacus, “She’s in Love With the Weekend”
While he prepares his yet-to-be-announced debut album, South London’s Jodie Abacus has unleashed another disco-funkathon with “She’s in Love With the Weekend,” an ode to a woman who likes to party a little too hard. “She thinks it’s okay for her mind to blow a fuse,” he observes against silky ’70s synths and a bubbly beat. It’s not that he’s judging — it’s just that “her weekend never ends,” leading Abacus to (rightly) believe that his friend’s habits are more about emotional escapism than genuine thrill-seeking. — RACHEL BRODSKY
The Julie Ruin, “I Decide” (Hardly Art)
“I belong to the wolves who drug me in their mouth just like a baby,” sings national treasure Kathleen Hanna, who was recently awarded her own holiday in Boston. Thank God she’s not the “victory lap” sort; there’s always still work to be done. In this case, a pro-choice, pro-whatever-you-got women’s anthem holds the front lines firm amid the dark ages of an impending Trumpocalypse. The one-note pound could be a pickaxe in a mine shaft, almost a joke about punk primitivism while Hanna tries out all kinds of descending new throat textures. But nothing else about “I Decide” is a joke. — DAN WEISS
Nothing, “ACD (Abscessive Compulsive Disorder)” (Relapse Records)
Your stomach might churn in response to a title about multiplying pus pockets (just my interpretation). But thankfully Nothing’s “ACD (Abscessive Compulsive Disorder)” isn’t so much about physical discomfort — more likely that the Philadelphia shoegazers are urging you to ignore your gut, moaning nihilistic phrases like “I always knew I’d eventually hurt you” and “And I will leave you with a bad taste in your mouth.” Love the song, don’t envy the girl(s). — R.B.
William Tyler, “Gone Clear” (Merge)
In William Tyler‘s eyes, America is well past its peak: The roads are pockmarked, the middle class is strangled, and the presidency has become a prize that’s auctioned off as part of a carnival sideshow. But within William Tyler‘s songs, there’s still hope. “Gone Clear” — the first single from the Nashville guitarist’s forthcoming Impossible Truth follow-up, Modern Country, out June 3 — feels imbued with pride, not cynicism; with its contemplative pace and chiming midsection, the six-minute instrumental focuses on the bits of promise that have yet to be snuffed out. Crumbling empire or not, there’s plenty of beauty to be found among the decay. — KYLE MCGOVERN
