October + November

In this special dual edition, I compare songs I've listened to throughout the last two months, plus take a trip to The Met for this month's album.

Who did it better: “Nothing On (But The Radio)” by Lady Gaga + “Nothing On (But The Radio)” by Addison Rae

While preparing for my piece on Addison Rae for the New School Free Press earlier this month, I spent a lot of time exploring Addison’s catalogue. When scrolling through her debut EP, AR, I came across a song title that I recognized: “Nothing On (But the Radio),” a famous Lady Gaga unreleased demo. It turns out, after years of collecting dust in the Gaga archives, the song had been given to Addison to publish her own version of as part of her debut into the pop world. It certainly marks her immediately as part of a pop legacy, almost implying a cosign from Gaga herself. But having listened to both leaked Gaga versions (cut from both Born This Way and Artpop), Addison’s felt flat in comparison. I think she does the best job that she can, but it’s hard to match the depth and texture in Gaga’s voice. It’s such a quintessentially early Gaga song that it sounds so strange being done by anyone else. I’m a part of the group that strongly believes it could’ve been one of Gaga’s most successful songs had she released it, but it did barely anything coming from Addison in the end. We’ll never know just why Gaga scrapped it, but I’m glad someone at least did give it a published version in the end, even if it wasn't quite as powerful. It’s the kind of legendary pop song that doesn’t deserve to be forgotten. 

Songs for fall: “Love Takes Miles” by Cameron Winter + “Ex-Con” by Smog

Both of these songs came from a night in a friend’s dorm room, sitting on the floor coloring while a couple people played music off a laptop. Both these songs came on — one of them I felt brave enough to ask about, one I just secretly Shazamed. Cameron Winter’s comes from this modern movement that seems to be an evolution of the early 2010s indie rock scene (think Vampire Weekend, The National, even a bit of Mumford & Sons), which in itself was built on the 90s folk-rock stuff. “Love Takes Miles” seems meant to be both a nostalgic revival and an introduction of a new sound. Interestingly, though — and I didn’t realize this until I started researching for this list — Smog’s is actually from 1997. They sound like they could’ve come from the same recording studio in the same week, let alone the same 20 years. It certainly speaks to Winter’s nostalgic ideals that he managed to create a song so in line with something 20 years older. Both are equally beautiful songs for walking through the trees as the leaves start to fall, though. Something in me always finds this sound again every time autumn comes around. I’ve listened to both on the streets of Manhattan and in Central Park as the wind starts to pick up and I start having to wear scarves for the first time in my life. I highly recommend both of these as the soundtrack to the season. 

The modern remix: “Stateside” by Bladee + “Stateside” by Zara Larsson

Pinkpanthress’ “Stateside” was one of my favorite tracks of the summer, so I was excited to hear what she had in store for it when she released her remix album Fancy Some More? this October. While a total of four artists took it on, I want to highlight two (though I made the tragic of mistake of just discovering the Groove Armada version as I work on this, otherwise it probably would’ve made it on here!). Bladee brings the track completely into his own universe, turning it almost unrecognizably into something that sounds like it could’ve been easily his own original creation. This angle is certainly one of the most appealing among the recent trend of remix albums: wouldn’t you want to know what Charli xcx’s “I think about it all the time” would sound like if it was a Bon Iver song? It’s a cool project for young music fans who love to see the crossovers of their favorite artists. Zara Larsson, however, takes it in a different direction. A relative music veteran of 11 years, Larsson opts instead to create something of a personal ode to Pink’s original “Stateside” out of her own sonic palette. She makes each original hit of the beat more intense, takes the American-British dynamic and flies it over to Stockholm, and adds her own ad libs across the track to bring you into her world without taking over Pink’s. It’s a wonderful combination of two extraordinary pop stars. 

TikTok and the death of the full song: “Florida Girl” by Nep + “My Love” by Hannah Jadagu

I’m willing to concede that TikTok has done some great things for the music industry. I honestly think its overall impact has been more positive than negative, but that comes with some major withdrawals, one of which is my personal pet peeve: songs these days are so short. If we go by the traditional pop song structure this is usually due to a lack of a bridge or the lack of a second verse (or simply some sort of combining of the two). It’s become increasingly rare to find a song over 3 minutes. This disappoints me the most when I hear promising young artists becoming participants. Nep is a newer creation of the internet generation, only starting to prominently release music in the last year after her excellent track “Florida Girl” went viral. The call-and-response of the first verse is catchy, funny, and irresistibly charming, and the bridge (“Takes one to know one, so I’m gonna be the bitch this time”) is flippant in just the right light-handed way. But something is missing: why does it end so fast? Where did the second verse go? The first one was so good, it would’ve been easy to just continue the formula for another minute. It feels off without. “My Love” came to me from the Spotify algorithm, a digital tool I also have complicated feelings about. From the moment I heard it, I knew that I liked it. The production is gorgeous, slotting right in alongside all my pop favorites like Lorde, Caroline Polachek, and the best of Taylor Swift. But just as it was finally building, it dropped right off — and I was left wondering, where did the bridge go? This type of romantic pop song is probably the bridge’s most vital subject. But in skipping it, the song doesn’t feel more accessible to shortening attention spans. It just feels afraid to be full. I think both these artists have massive potential, and I’ll be keeping an eye on them. But I hope to god they both learn to commit to their artistry and make full length songs. Especially for female artists, it feels important now more than ever to be unafraid to take up space in art. 

Ezra Furman’s punk sensibilities: “One Hand Free” + “In America”

Ezra Furman released a new single this month, a late cut from her album Goodbye Small Head. She describes it as “a break-up song about the end of a long abusive relationship, namely, my imagined love-hate affair with the pop culture public at large.” It embodies something that’s become clear as I’ve attended two of the shows on her most recent tour: she’s become an elder. I promise that’s not to call her old, but to comment on the transition she’s made from the young, spry punk-rocker she used to be to someone who’s been around long enough to gain a holy kind of respect among both the punk-rock and queer communities. When she sings or even speaks, people listen. I’ve seen audiences of all ages hold their breath to catch every last one of her words, because we understand them to be some of the wisest we can get. “One Hand Free” sees her imagine herself as part of the last two animals in an apocalyptic world and release herself from the weight of saving humanity. It’s a fitting turn of events in a 16-year career where she’s spent so much time trying to save the world — this time, she’s saving herself, and she’s earned it. But I’ve also been revisiting her peak as a wild and free punk, a version that still very clearly lives within her today as she performs songs from this record with some of the most glee I’ve seen her have onstage. “In America,” a track off of her 2019 record Twelve Nudes, has been part of my soundtrack lately as I’ve had a bit of my own punk rebirth while walking through the leaf-covered streets of the West Village. It’s a satirically nihilistic exploration of patriotism as she watches America’s great downfall a few years before the mainstream liberals noticed it. Ezra Furman has been punk as long as she’s been making music, but I’m glad to see her grow into a softer version, even as her younger self will never truly leave. 

Stylistic perfection: “Second Sleep” by Magdalena Bay + “Sailor 99” by Maude Latour

Magdalena Bay and Maude Latour are both artists I’ve followed for a while. I’ve been around since Latour’s sophomore EP Strangers Forever, and since Magdalena Bay’s sophomore full-length album Mercurial World (albeit a year or two after its release). I’ve watched as they’ve both experimented with style: hardcore synth pop, romantic stripped-down ballads, experimental indie rock. But each released songs at the end of September that feel emblematic of the styles they’ve come to reside in. Latour’s “Sailor 99” is a synth-driven nostalgic anthem, reminiscent of the best of early 2010s indie (MGMT, Beach House). She weaves in and out of being grounded in reality and drifting into a technological dreamscape, referencing kissing in a parking lot in Texas alongside romanticizing the Y2K computer bug. It feels like the completion of all her pop experiments so far and serves as the perfect concluding track to the Sugar Water era, holding down the last spot on the deluxe edition. Magdalena Bay’s “Second Sleep,” on the other hand, marks (somewhat of) a distance between them and their synthesizers past. It’s a beautiful, retro-infused, dreamlike piece of music, yet balances with a gothic lyricism. Their ode to “second sleep,” or death, is an epic of instrumental proportions: there’s a whopping 26 musicians credited on the song, and you can hear each one. Though it’s a bit of a newer direction for them to move, it feels undeniably like the right one. 

My two favorite Hayley Williams songs: “Blood Bros” + “Parachute”

As with many of my best recommendations, I would’ve passed this record by if not for the insistence of Ambrielle Ayllon, a friend and musician I adore. I listened to it while working on research for a project, but I kept having to stop and note down new favorite songs. Hayley Williams goes in every possible direction on Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party, from rage to nihilism to mourning to affection. The top two I was torn between for this list are “Blood Bros” and “Parachute,” both tracks near the end of the record. “Blood Bros” is a heartbreaking and gentle ballad, sonically reminiscent of The Backseat Lovers’ Waiting To Spill, which is one of my favorite albums of all time. While it’s not a new sound, she blends into it excellently, creating a masterpiece of the acoustic-guitar-dreamscape style. The lyrics are a melancholic reflection on a love gone wrong, still softly bleeding from the paper cuts they shared. It stands in contrast to original closing track, “Parachute,” which is a rock ballad that brutally tears down her ex-lover in what is easily one of the greatest second verses in music history (see kids, they’re important!). I get chills every time I hear her beg her subject to tell her the moment they decided to give up. She seems to jump straight through the speakers to personally shake you by the collar, only to be reined in by the anthemic chorus based around the excellent central metaphor (“I never stopped falling for you…Never let me leave home without a parachute”). Both are exemplary of Williams’ generational power, still growing 20 years after Paramore’s debut. 

Combining two legends: “Chains and Things” by Joe Bonnamossa and Gary Clark Jr. + “Over” by Robert Glasper and Yebba

If I had a nickel for every old song remade by two modern legends and released in October 2025, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right? Though originally released on jazz pianist Robert Glasper’s 2022 Black Radio III, a new live version of his Yebba collaboration appeared on Key to the City Volume 1, released a couple weeks ago. It’s a beautiful and personality-filled live performance, where Yebba goes back and forth between dropping stunning vocal runs and laughing at her own errors. Glasper’s keys sound lovely under her vocals, combining to create the perfect sound of the city. I’ve listened to this track walking through the streets of New York and felt it captured exactly the feeling of being surrounded by so much talent living and breathing in every corner. The other track, “Chains and Things,” is a blues standard written originally by icon B.B. King in the ‘70s. Here, it’s done by modern blues rocker Gary Clark Jr. and guitarist Joe Bonnamossa, who got his start opening for B.B. King himself. I’ve seen both artists live at pivotal moments in my life —- my dad dragged me to see Bonnamossa’s show at the Long Beach Auditorium in 2018 when I was just beginning to get a sense of my musical interests, and Gary Clark Jr. delivered a jaw-dropping performance live at the 2020 Grammys that I was lucky enough to witness with my own eyes and ears in person at Staples Center. While Bonnamossa stands more directly in line with the blues legends of years past, Clark (who’s appeared on this list before) represents the modern era of blues as it’s being updated for a new generation of listeners. He’s a phenomenal artist who stands at the midpoint of legend and future, and is doing great things with it. It’s wonderful to hear these different eras come all crashing together in one song. 

Getting Killed, Geese

Sometimes records go viral because of controversy, shock value, or successfully being written to appeal to the most people possible. Sometimes records go viral because they’re the absolute best music out right now. Geese falls into the latter category with their 2025 album Getting Killed. 

I listened to it in one of my favorite ways: traversing through the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my earbuds in. I was first introduced to this sort of music/art/cross-cultural meditation by a journalism teacher my sophomore summer of high school, and I’ve been doing it frequently ever since. I find the music brings the art to life, and the art adds a certain dimension to the music that’s impossible to find anywhere else. For this visit, I didn’t restrict myself to a gallery like I sometimes do — I spent all 46 minutes wandering wherever my feet would take me and entering new locations and time zones during each song. I visited the dancing woman of Greece as the record opened, and she waltzed along to the suspenseful bass. By “Husbands,” I was in the midst of Paris’ Hotel de Tessé picturing what women and their husbands may have come though a room like this. By the excellently lively title track, I was staring down the brawl of seven brothers glowing like a god in a dark room. Their arguments seemed to come to life with Cameron Winter’s howls. The heartbreak of “Au Pays du Cocaine” kept me company as I wandered through the Italian spiritual masters. As the saints gazed up towards the heavens in desperation, I wondered if Geese’s plea for a loved one’s salvation wasn’t the very same thing. As the album closed, I found myself in Egypt, and Winter’s faraway pilgrimage seemed to echo from the many sarcophaguses who had too been taken so far from home. 

I kept all of these stories in mind as I replayed the album time and time again over the last two months, and the dynamism of the music kept them all alive. Geese has made one of the most musically diverse yet sonically cohesive records I’ve heard, and their unique palette makes it feel like it could’ve existed at any point in time: among the Ancient Greeks and Egyptians to Medieval France to the biblical times depicted in their glowing colors. This album is worth a listen, and so too is a walk through a good museum. I’d highly recommend taking the two in tandem.