Every Thursday, the Paste staff and contributors will choose their five favorite songs of the week, awarding one entry a “Song of the Week” designation. Check out last week’s roundup here.
Song of the Week: Mandy, Indiana — “Cursive”
“Cursive” begins with a wait, as this steady, hypnotic pulse percusses like the foreword to a beat drop. Then: a pause. Alex Macdougall’s hand drumming clatters into Valentine Caulfield, who uses the French language as an instrument of static. The song’s itchy rhythms bleed into Simon Catling’s synthesizers, which grow abrasive, violent like knives breaking through muscle. Short breaths hang onto the melody until Scott Fair’s guitar blasts skronk and suffer like screams beneath a cauterized wound. “I dance while waiting for the world to disappear, and my dreams refuse to be held on a leash,” Caulfield rattles. Her bandmates respond by turning her sideways. Mandy, Indiana traffic in the unease of bang. “Cursive” is ecstatic art cloaked in disharmonic madness and textural heresy. Four diabolical Mancs arrive speaking in tongues and then cut them all out. This is dance music that splinters and squirms and suffocates. —Matt Mitchell
Heavenly: “Excuse Me”
From the remains of the short-lived but widely influential Oxford pop punk band came Heavenly, a group whose sweet, scrappy blend of twee and Britpop charmed fans across the globe. Following their recent reunion and 2025 single, “Portland Town,” Heavenly have announced their first new album in 30 years. Paving the way for Highway to Heavenly is a sun-drenched lead single called “Excuse Me.” Jangly and bright, their comeback shows the group at their catchiest. “We never realized that what had would be the best it gets,” goes the refrain, but judging from Heavenly’s most recent material, I can safely say that that’s where they’re wrong. —Grace Robins-Somerville
Iron & Wine: “In Your Ocean”
Sam Beam’s having a renaissance. Light Verse was great two years ago, after what I’d call a 13-year span of OK releases. Of course, the eternal “Call It Dreaming” came out in the middle of all that, but Beam uncorked something potent while making his seventh Iron & Wine LP. An excitable successor is coming 50 days from now and new single “In Your Ocean” is, undoubtedly, my favorite Iron & Wine song in at least eight years. This is the guy who made The Shepherd’s Dog, so I am obligated to at least window-shop whatever thing he’s putting out. I’m glad I pressed play on “In Your Ocean.” Beam could sail the seas of banality that many of his peers have long submitted themselves to. But he clearly doesn’t put much stock in any kind of hunky-dory folk-picking. “In Your Ocean” is anything but obvious. Here we have a dense and absorbing, bluegrass-flecked rock tune, thanks to an impressive coterie ransacking the backdrop: musicians Paul Cartwright, David Garza, Tyler Chester, Beth Goodfellow, and Sebastian Steinberg. Who let Sub Pop into Big Pink? The magnetic tape inside Chester’s mellotron whirs and sings; Garza’s zither aches like a porch-played mandolin; the snare in Goodfellow’s kit patters and splashes. “We all learn what we will about devotion,” Beam tells. Hearing “In Your Ocean,” I’ve learned a thing or two myself. —Matt Mitchell
Joyce Manor: “I Know Where Mark Chen Lives”
Joyce Manor make compact, kinetic punk songs that refuse to waste even a moment, and their latest and best single ahead of their forthcoming seventh album, I Used To Go To This Bar hits with sharpshooter precision. Its ammunition? A bouncy, elastic guitar melody; couplets that hit with the punchiness and density of a medicine ball; Barry Johnson’s desperate, yelpy delivery; and a hook whose singalong potential could go toe to toe with the catchiest ones on Joyce Manor and Never Hungover Again. When all the instruments fall silent just before the final chorus, you can almost hear the crowd going wild. —Grace Robins-Somerville
Robyn: “Talk to Me”
“I feel like the purpose of my life is to stay horny.” Now, we don’t have a Quote of the Week column, but if we did, this one-liner from Swedish pop icon Robyn would easily take the crown. “Talk to Me” takes that philosophy and turns it into a laser-cut pop banger: all tease, no rush, maximum payoff. Co-written with Max Martin (his and Robyn’s first collaboration since Body Talk), “Talk to Me” slides effortlessly into pure pop perfection: the synths shimmer, the groove locks in, and the hook refuses to leave your brain. Written during the pandemic, the song treats talking—texting, calling, staying on the line—as the hottest possible activity, stretching anticipation until it’s basically the point (and, like, it kind of is!). Robyn sounds mischievous, relaxed, and fully aware that restraint is sexier than release. With her at the reins, it’s looking like 2026 will be the year of foreplay, baby! —Casey Epstein-Gross
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