Our Favorite Songs Right Now: Green Day, Miranda Lambert and More
Green Day's return is the big rock news of the moment, but our latest Rolling Stone playlist takes you deeper, from Radiohead's appropriately Trump-timed live revival of "The National Anthem" to Miranda Lambert's ode to the (newly) single life. You'll also hear the moody latest from Warpaint, a standout track from Chicago R&B up-and-comer Noname and a surprisingly unironic love song from Father John Misty. Scroll through to hear the rest of our picks.
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Father John Misty, “Real Love Baby”
Indie-folk hero Father John Misty usually undercuts his sensitive-Seventies tunefulness with dark irony. Not this time. The achingly lovely "Real Love Baby" might be his prettiest song, and it's definitely his sweetest.
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Green Day, “Bang Bang”
Green Day's first studio album in four long years is out in October, and its first single is a harrowing punk rager, sung from the perspective of a mass shooter drunk on twisted fame. They've never channeled American angst so terrifyingly.
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Noname, “Sunny Duet”
Chicago rapper-poet and Chance the Rapper pal Noname kicks some lithe, fluttery R&B with a summer-stoop vibe. It's like vintage Erykah Badu at her most optimistically chill.
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Radiohead, “The National Anthem” (live)
A Kid A classic thrown down on the first night of their U.S. tour. As the crowd sang, "Everyone has got the fear," the Trump-era dread felt explosive.
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Mac Miller feat. Anderson Paak, “Dang!”
Confessional rapper Miller serenades his own amazing skill at getting dumped by women on a bright dance jam with L.A. soul visionary Paak that turns relationship misery into a party.
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Warpaint, “New Song”
The moody L.A. rockers have a new album influenced by Outkast and Björk; the dubby grooves and sinewy guitars here evoke a predatory glide through the Southern California night.
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Miranda Lambert, “Vice”
The country queen drops her first song since divorcing Blake Shelton, and it's a smoldering heartbreak burner full of bleary synths and dark guitar churn. She hasn't exactly been sitting around reading Blake's old letters: "7 a.m. with shoes in my hand," she sings, making the walk of shame feel like an act of steel-belted resilience.