Songs You Missed in 2017

Make sure to listen to these hidden gems before the ball drops

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Last December, on a self-released Christmas mixtape that never made it past SoundCloud, Chance the Rapper featured a breakup song whose refrain was especially temporal: “I Shoulda Left You (in 2016).” Chance spends a few moments here name-dropping notable celebrities who died over the course of the year (“Please can we get back Prince? Please can we get back Craig Sager?”) between insults of an old flame he wishes he could trade them for. It’s one of those songs that makes you smirk, because it’s pretty stupid, but then forces you to think about yourself and the world around you to an extent that might make you uncomfortable. “Who should I be leaving in 2016?”

Looking back a year later, “I Shoulda Left You” has one glaring problem — it “expired” about two weeks after its release. The references and the words themselves aged out. No matter what, the song will always hearken back to 2016. It cannot travel to 2017 or 2018 or 2050 and mean the same thing. (Notably, Billy Joel’s “Miami 2017” is getting dangerously close to its expiration date, and, while Derek Jeter now owns the Marlins, this week’s Giancarlo Stanton trade shows that nobody’s going to put the Yankees up for free any time soon.)

The songs below, all 2017 or late 2016 releases, are not going to expire, but they are worth listening to over the next few weeks when you’re in a reminiscent mood. All of them either went unnoticed or were overshadowed by more popular tracks on their albums, perhaps because they all make you think about the passage of time, what has transpired, and what is still to come. More importantly, they’re excellent pieces of songwriting and unique sonic experiences. Listen along as you read about them.

Bleachers, “Dream of Mickey Mantle”

In advance of his album Gone Now, Bleachers frontman Jack Antonoff funded a to-scale re-creation of his childhood bedroom on the group’s tour bus. Listening to the album can help you do the same in your own mind, and the effect probably gets stronger the further a listener is from home.

The first track on Gone Now, “Dream of Mickey Mantle” purposefully foreshadows subsequent tracks, all of which find a way back to the coming-of-age narratives that show up here. Even if it’s primarily an opening salvo for deeper dives into Antonoff’s young-adult musings, this song has a stand-alone value that “Don’t Take the Money” and “Hate That You Know Me,” the album’s better-known singles, cannot emulate.

“Dream” serves as a microcosm of the entire album, and thus a tightly-packed expression of all the grief and expectation Antonoff shares with everyone his age. The way the crazed background voices (all Antonoff distortions) repeat the line “Rolling thunder / cursed my bedroom” is frenetic, energetic, manic — just like the rest of the song. It’s is a three-minute snapshot of how you feel when you’re moving up in life, but it comes at the expense of your mother not recognizing you. Those memories of your neighborhood video store and your awful braces are dashing around your brain like the pinballing neuroses. You feel like your subconscious is overcoming you — you’re dreaming — but you know you’re awake. You‘re in the in-between, honey.

Elementary Penguins, “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

You may have come across a few of these tracks before, but I can almost guarantee you missed this one. “The Charge of the Light Brigade” is a song from a Dutch indie rock band, based on an Alfred, Lord Tennyson poem, based on a random Crimean War battle that the British lost. I don’t even know what to compare it to — imagine if a Belgian country singer was inspired by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow to write “The Ballad of Droop Mountain.” That’s the level of esoteric we’re talking about here.

But don’t let these facts deter you; give “Charge” a listen before the year is over. The militant percussion and intermittent electric guitar twangs are perfectly executed — in fact, the first 85 seconds of the song build up to the actual battle depiction, where singer-bassist Dale Wathey peppers in some funny euphemisms that Tennyson couldn’t have landed 150 years ago. Thematically, the song oozes with British nationalism, but the actual words are far less endearing: “You see the void as victory fades;” “A forward charge that was simply denied;” and “I see no reason why we’ve got to do or die.”

Overall, “Charge” is either a political statement or a historical hot take. The Elementary Penguins might be saying that “war is stupid” (one feasible side of a debate on which generations of musicians have commented) or they might be saying that “the Crimean War was stupid” (which literally everyone already believes). Regardless, this song will help you reminisce about all the pseudo-patriotism and war-mongering that has floated around Donny Small-Hands in this bizarre year.

Kendrick Lamar, “Duckworth”

Look, I’m here for the capital-A Art that Kendrick routinely cranks out, but Lamar with a stripped-down set, hopping on the mic and straight-up storytelling — that’s rap the way God intended. And that’s what we hear on “Duckworth,” sans the frilly braggadocio of “Humble” or the eardrum-blasting bass of “DNA.” K-Dot’s inimitably laconic lyricism is on full display here:

They say five-O came circling parking lots and parking spots
And hopping out while harassing the corner blocks
Crooked cops told Anthony he could kick it
He brushed ’em off and walked back to Kentucky Fried Chicken

The story of “Duckworth” centers around two new Compton characters: an underprivileged gangbanger named Anthony and a meager fast-food cashier from Chi-raq named Ducky. I won’t spoil it, but the (true) story told here is incredible, and hard proof that giving me an extra biscuit with my KFC could save your life.

None of this is to say that the typical Kendrickian artistic elements are absent on “Duckworth.” The beat (at least until it changes halfway through) is a backwards drum line from an R&B singer named Ted Taylor who — get this — died the year Kendrick was born. This song also includes a bizarre distortion that closes Damn., so if Kendrick re-releases the album as a “Collectors’ Edition” with the tracklist reversed, we might see “Duckworth” get a little more play in 2018. Until then, let this unforgettable track remind you of the bullets you dodged this year.

Ed Sheeran, “Shape of You”

Just kidding.

Ryan Adams, “Outbound Train”

Adams, that Taylor Swift cover-er who kind of sounds like the ’80s, released Prisoner in February to generally positive reviews. Critics praised the singer-songwriter’s heartfelt lyrics and their inextricable links to his divorce from actress Mandy Moore — leadoff track “Do You Still Love Me?” and the gentler “Shiver and Shake” were especially-on-the-nose favorites.

But the best song on the album is “Outbound Train,” in which Adams is his most Springsteen-y self. (The title itself might be a nod to “Downbound Train,” a deeper track from Born in the U.S.A.) You can almost see Adams’ eyes close between alternate guitar strums as he sings about his heartbreak:

I got this achin’ in my chest
Rollin’ ‘round like a pile of bones
In a broken little box
It sounds a lot like you

Sonically, the whole exceeds the sum of the parts here: the rhythmic overlay of the acoustic and electric guitars teeters towards country but doesn’t make it especially obvious, and the post-chorus interludes will let you get lost in them for a second before Adams pulls you back to croon a little more about his ex. If you’re fighting through the emotions of a breakup, “Outbound Train” is a relatable jam; if not, it’s a snapshot of your lowest points in 2017, and a tacit reminder that you made it through.

Mondo Cozmo, “Shine”

Let’s be clear: Mondo Cozmo’s Josh Ostrander is not Bob Dylan. And although the group’s debut album Plastic Soul was easy on the ears, Ostrander’s songwriting skills do not come within a country mile of Dylan’s. That’s fine, of course, because Bob Dylan is one of the 20th century’s most consequential artists, and a deserving Nobel Laureate. Mondo Cozmo is a talented band that will make exactly zero history books.

But gosh-darn it does “Shine” sound like a Bob Dylan song.

Ostrander strums his way through three acoustic guitar chords (about as expertly as one can perform that simple task), his raspy voice calling out to Jesus, praying that the Almighty will forgive his friends for getting high. The rest of the band crescendos and decrescendos at perfect intervals, and then everyone disappears, leaving only Ostrander singing plaintively to the heavens.

Come with me, Mary, through these modern lines
Stick with me, Jesus, till the end of time
Shine down a light on me and let me know
And take me in your arms and never let me go

Suddenly you hear a choir and the band begins to build back, and your heart beats a little faster, and then you’re lost in the song again, that moment of divine imprecation genuinely over. It might not be Dylan, but it’s a chance for you to look at yourself and those around you with genuine reflection. (And maybe schedule a trip to see these guys over the summer, because they’re going to be at every possible music festival.)

Want to keep listening? If so, these 5 songs are also worth a listen if you have the time:
Jonathan Coulton, “Don’t Feed the Trolls”
Barns Courtney, “Hobo Rocket”
Mischief Brew, “Olde Tyme Mem’ry”
Backup Planet, “Revival”
Collection, “You Taste Like Wine”