On the biggest, most straight-up rock-sounding Waxahatchee song to date, Katie Crutchfield tears "you" apart: now you're someone else's mess tonight, she sings. It's raw and it's real; Crutchfield harmonizes with herself, her strained and wobbly voice, as always, driving some sharp feelings home. The verdict? She thinks you're expendable. — Misha Sesar
Everyone has different music they like to listen to while they work. In the FADER office, we spend a good amount of time with headphones on, in our own heads. But the other day we played "No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross," the new song from he nearly 40-year-old singer/songwriter Sufjan Stevens, altogether, through the big office speaker. It was nice: we all stayed mostly quiet, and the only sounds were the acoustic folk song—with its quietly devastating lyrics about vampires, getting laid, drugs, etc—and some keyboard strokes. It's the kind of background noise that, for once, everyone could agree on. — Patrick D. McDermott
New inc. sounds like old inc. and feels just as good to listen to. The video of a waterfall that was released alongside sad, sensual new song "A Teardrop From Below" is fittingly uncomplicated, offering a symbol for serene catharsis that—just like the brother duo's groovy, sedated R&B—transports you somewhere else entirely. —Patrick D. McDermott
Blanck Mass is the solo project of Benjamin John Power, aka one-half of electronic duo Fuck Buttons. Although the group hasn't released an album since 2013, Powers has a new record, Dumb Flesh, coming out on Brooklyn institution Sacred Bones this May. If EBM-tinged lead single "Dead Format" is any indication, it's going to be a ripper. The track is basically a pure, strobing jolt, leaving subtlety out of the equation and going right for the gut. — Alexander Iadarola
For the first single from their first album in nearly twelve years, the English statesmen of Blur return with a song that sounds...well, a whole lot like Blur, actually. And that in itself is a surprise, since their last album was 2003's submersible, sublimely depressive Think Tank; on "Go Out," though, guitarist Graham Coxon's steady, tuneful crunch is already giving enough hope that Magic Whip will be more than an exercise in nostalgia. —Larry Fitzmaurice
Robyn Sherwell lives in London, but she grew up on a tiny island called Guernsey off the coast of Normandy. I like to imagine her walking on an empty beach, casting her impeccable voice over the waves. She is the kind of singer whose every tiny breath is deliberate. Last year she released a string of R&B-inflected pop songs, but "Tightropes" is a different creature. It may be quieter than her previous songs, but it packs an even heavier emotional punch; underneath all that softness is an unshakable confidence.— Molly Long
KIT may have ditched town for warmer days on the West Coast, but he hasn't left Chicago behind entirely. This week the rapper/singer shared a video for the slinky bird call "I Sell Everything" that finds him back in Chi's icy streets with his co-star Sasha Go Hard. And while I sincerely hope he's enjoying the L.A. sun, I hope he doesn't lose touch with the dark, outré sound he's perfected at home. — Zara Golden
I'm a sucker for a guy like Adrian Marcel. "2AM," with it's DJ Mustard adjacent beat and Sage The Gemini guest spot, is still seeing action in my iTunes library. Here, the Oakland crooner does his best to convince someone else's girl she's playing herself. It's so smooth, and certainly toothless, but I'd be fooling myself if I didn't admit that I like it anyways. — Zara Golden
Rabit is an experimental producer from Houston who often works with a grime palate, and on his new single, "Bloody Eye," he's turned in something that hits you with all the weight of a charred, melted amp. It's got a hi-fidelity sound, but it's clouded with stray moves that suggest a noisier background—recalling the direct force of a basement show, or an encounter with a mean stray dog. All I know is that if Rabit continues making tracks this good, he deserves to be thanked personally, often. — Alexander Iadarola
Colin Stetson's fire-breathing saxophone tactics typically sound threatening, ominous, and oddly serene. Here, paired with Arcade Fire violinist Sarah Neufeld, his evocation of the ever-approaching unknown is as powerful as ever. The pair are teaming up for a full LP, which will hopefully be filled with cuts as passionately impressionistic as this. — Larry Fitzmaurice
It's fucking cold. Not in the corny "it's winter" way, but a mind-numbing, soul-crushing freeze that humans clearly weren't meant to inhabit. I stumbled on this Renny Wilson album years ago and thought to revisit it this week. "Lady Pain" sounds like warmer days but is still fuzzy and sad enough for winter: Time has only proven that this needle in our side is here to stay, Wilson floats, before the cruise ship disco bursts through like sunbeams. Bon voyage, see you in April. — Matthew Trammell