This week, we kick off our 2024 Year in Review series, reflecting on the year’s biggest surprises, letdowns and unveiling our annual “Best of the Year” lists.
Finding the best 50 songs of 2024 is a year’s worth of work. I listened to these songs over and over again: on the train, right before bedtime, and at gigs when I want to experience the tracks live. It has been an intense year of listening, and I could not be happier to present you with this list.
Some of the songs listed here take cues from the past and pay homage to their influences; some encapsulate the sound you’d expect of Malaysia in 2024 but most importantly, they also capture the sound of its future too. That future sounds like a pop band rising from underdog status to playing festivals, a 2001-born startlingly talented musician from Ipoh, or a self-proclaimed underground princess. We’re only at the beginning of something bigger to come.
50. “In My Head” – Su San
If most tracks on the indie pop singer-songwriter Su San’s debut album WHERE THE SUN CAN’T FIND US shimmer with grand, ringing productions reminiscent of 2010s Lana Del Rey, “IN MY HEAD” takes a different approach. This minimalist, glossy track effortlessly stands out by embracing the power of simplicity. It doesn’t try to overstate its emotions but rather reflects an intimate plea for pain — or the cause of it — to remain confined to her mind. With haunting piano and vocals teetering on the edge of breaking, the song captures the torment of carrying burdens until the narrator chooses to release herself — if that’s even an option.
Listen: Spotify
49. “LUNCH MONEY” – Splintr
“Lunch Money” is a fiery anthem of hustle and ambition by the trio Splintr. The track exudes a rowdy, braggadocio energy, with a sharp edge aimed at habitual defaulters: “It’s a hot planet, dah tak rasa cold feet / I’m a hot-headed, stay up sampai nosebleed / Balut tebal hutan, but tak pernah OD / Got dat duit tepi, takyah fikir OT.” Delivered with a rasping intensity, it brims with gritty determination. As a debut, it’s a strong statement from the trio, signaling their intent to carve out a larger space in the scene.
Listen: Spotify
48. “Marhanoise” – Meor Hailree
When curating the Ipoh Sound compilation album, indie rocker and producer Mohd Jayzuan sought artists who embodied the “slacker rock” spirit — a celebration of Ipoh’s laidback, playful, and irreverent charm. While most tracks on the album fit this ethos, Meor Hailree’s “Marhanoise” completely defies it.
The track sounds like a street-side spoken word performance fused with the spiritual energy of a marhaban at a neighbourhood kenduri. Backed by an electronic kompang, the track is rough, chaotic and deeply visceral. Meor’s words tumble between incoherent shouts and frenzied screams as if he’s exorcising his own soul. In a city brimming with talent, Meor Hailree’s unapologetic chaos sets him apart, showcasing a wildly unpredictable and electrifying side of Ipoh’s musical identity.
Listen: Bandcamp
47. “Brewing Beans” – Kelibat
Kelibat often writes about the mundanity of life, but none quite capture the repetitive humdrums that spin one’s head into mania like “Brewing Beans”. With bassist Peggy Lisa stepping into the vocalist role, the band immerses itself in the never-ending cycle of modern life (perhaps in their hometown Kuching) effortlessly puncturing through with cries of existential dread, vividly painting life’s emptiness. “Blink! It’s already yesterday!” is all one can say when watching life slowly slip away between their fingers. It pulls you into reality, yet you can’t help but get lost in it. Not to enjoy it, nor to rush through it, but simply to stay still, hoping it will all eventually fade away.
Listen: Bandcamp
46. “No Spekka English” – No Good
No Good has always been unapologetically political, sure. But they’re equally known for their sharp comedic lyricism. “No Spekka English” takes this blend to a new level, turning the defense of one’s mother tongue into a hilarious yet biting commentary. The song skewers the entitlement of outsiders (read: rich, classist foreigners otherwise known as “expats” or “colonizers” depending on your stance) who expect locals to adapt to an English-centric worldview. It’s also a fiery rejection of the notion that non-English speakers are inherently less intelligent or cultured. Verses like “What is that sir? What do you mean / You cannot understand me sir? / We all speak two bahasa / If we can we learn why ccccant you woi?” has Smek faux-stuttering, turning what might seem like clumsiness into a mocking jab. The deliberate broken English makes the message a lot more fun. Of course, the track has to end in a way that still captures the essence of Kelantanese pride: “So duo tigo pat / Sek Kito don’t give a fuck!”
Listen: Bandcamp
45. “PARA PENDUSTA” – Raksar
Raksar — the Ipoh indie rockers bringing stoner rock back to life, often dubbed the “Black Sabbath of Malaysia” by YouTube commenters (a reflection of the Malaysian tendency to compare local musicians to Western counterparts, as if we can’t carve out our own identities) — delivers a sharp jab at those in power with their track “PARA PENDUSTA.” With poetic lyrics like “Mereka yang rakus dengan pangkat hanya menggunakan lidah memutuskan persengketaan / Mereka ibarat tuhan dan langit kelabu tidak lagi mampu menahan sendu,” the band offers a biting critique from a narrator witnessing the cracks in a system that claims to uphold justice. It carries that familiar heroic tone typical of political songs, yet Raksar’s melodies (complemented by their music video) present it with a playful edge. They refuse to fall into the cringe-worthy stadium-rock trap that many bands use to create “big” sounds. Raksar stays true to themselves, adding a little bit of edge. And what a relief that is.
Listen: Bandcamp
44. “honey-soaked” – aerie
On “honey-soaked” the indie pop singer-songwriter aerie crafts a story with the same tender, heartfelt storytelling reminiscent of Taylor Swift’s debut era: “Haven’t eaten for weeks / Give me love / I’m starved, I’m so weak.” It’s a coming-of-age track that captures the bittersweet tale of a narrator forced to grow up too soon, now yearning for the fleeting youth and memories that will never return. Her vocals, shy and unassuming, contrast beautifully with the weight of her words, which resonate with the ache of lingering absence. The result is a sweetness tinged with melancholy — a taste you can’t fully recapture, but one that lingers in your mouth. It’s as addictive as it is haunting.
Listen: Spotify
43. “Pintu Sir” – Feral
Out of all the shoegaze bands that debuted this year, Feral stands out as the one that play the dreamier side of shoegaze. With members rooted in hardcore backgrounds, their debut album is a clear experiment in exploring their gentler, sunnier side. “Pintu Sir” exemplifies this shift, packed with jangly, head-bobbing guitars and atmospheric, lulling hooks that firmly place them on the “melody first, reverb second” side of the shoegaze spectrum. It’s catchy, fun and as free-spirited as birds flying in the open sky.
Listen: Bandcamp
42. “HARINI” – Eemrun, Wish
On “HARINI” the 18-year-old rapper Eemrun delivers a moody pop track that frames the disillusionment of losing faith in those you once relied on. The track sees Eemrun confronting the bittersweet realities of transitioning into young adulthood — that the connections forged during adolescence were not built to last. Some relationships are destined to end in heartbreak, sure. And there’s still a lot of growing up for Eemrun to do. Yet, he doesn’t let that stop him from crafting a pop song that knows how to find moments of pleasure amid the pain.
Listen: Spotify
41. “Ngomel” – Svasta
Svasta’s Ngomel sees the band blend rapcore with head-banging pop rock, leaning more heavily on the latter’s accessible and familiar structure. The result is pretty straightforward: A high-energy track that sticks, thanks largely to the undeniable charisma of its star, Heidi (formerly known as Kungfu Heidi). With tight instrumentation, it provides a balanced backdrop for Heidi as she blasts the hypocrisy of egotistical individuals navigating an equally self-absorbed world.
Listen: Spotify
40. “Take It Easy” – Aressa
With “Take It Easy,” 21-year-old singer-songwriter Aressa embodies the vulnerability of a betrayed lover wrestling with unanswered questions. It’s tempting to dismiss her immense songwriting as yet another Phoebe Bridgers-inspired effort, but the emotional weight she brings to the track transcends such comparisons. Over sparse guitar chords, Aressa confronts her own flaws as a partner: “So I spit it out / Fuck it up / Scared to admit / That I messed up.” Yet, in the next verse, she pleads for a second chance, desperate to make things right despite everything.
The sadness intensifies as the song culminates in an emotional collapse: “If she didn’t ruin / The love I had / I wouldn’t have / Half the problems I have,” Aressa screams, her voice cracking with anguish. Despite everything, she’s still asking her partner for something that clearly can’t be fulfilled: “Can you fix me / or try to at least / Can you fix me / ‘cause I’m getting tired of the shitty plot.” It’s a sad ending, unfortunately.
Listen: Spotify
39. “Nightstalker” – SHOPLIFTERS
On “Nightstalker” Shoplifters draws inspiration from 2000s alternative rock, blending it with the tangible songwriting of emo: “I’m healing punctures, sealing what I think of you / But skin is but a cover for a terror that’s a brew.” True to its influences, “Nightstalker” holds that addictive power that makes you want to sing along to its heartbreaking lyrics, all while sharp, unexpected guitar solos punctuate the track’s conclusion. It can make a good karaoke anthem, but also a song you can cry your heart out to. Talk about nostalgia done right.
Listen: Bandcamp
38. “Secukupnya” – Syiqin Azln
Syiqin Azln’s “Secukupnya” is a love letter for the people who sincerely love her and those who simply don’t. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, she welcomes everyone into her life with warmth. Its airy instruments and swaying melodies stick to you the second she sings: “Dan di mata mereka / Aku si penjahat / Yang menjengkelkan / Yang harus ditinggal.” Being unlikeable is a painful pill to swallow, she declares underneath it all. But Syiqin’s songwriting is self-aware, recognising her own imperfections. The track closes with a parallel statement, affirming that she is enough for those who are willing to accept her wholeheartedly: “Dan di mata mereka / Aku secukupnya / Lebih atau kurang / Aku masih disayang.”
Listen: Spotify
37. “farewell” – DASAWARSA
Dasawarsa’s fosforus EP is a gift for anyone seeking that pleasing shoegaze sound — one that immerses you in your gloomy days while keeping you afloat with twinkling guitars. “farewell” is the perfect example. Glossy in sound yet drenched in desolation, it combines moody, jangly guitars, pop-inspired melodies and almost-whispered vocals that leave you guessing at the lyrics. But it doesn’t matter what’s being sung; all you can do is surrender to the feelings and let yourself drown.
Listen: Bandcamp
36. “Osaka” – Awkward Pedestrian
In “Osaka” Awkward Pedestrian, the solo project of Anwar Hadi, delivers the tale of a narrator yearning for the past — not to seek answers, but to ask the questions that should have been asked long ago. The vocals have its narrator almost trembling with his emotion as if he’s choking on his own words. It begins with a once-upon-a-time view of the relationship, with memories of the former lover punching the narrator in the stomach and dancing to Maroon 5 and Coldplay rushing in. It set the stage for what could’ve been a happy ending.
The track, however, takes a sharp turn toward a bitter dissolution, fueled by anger held for too long: “So you win, yet again / And that’s all that this is / A fucking competition / Not a relationship.” Stripped down with a demo-like production, this emo track feels tailor-made for reliving the regret of a haunting mistake made years ago.
Listen: Bandcamp
35. “Stay” – the world ends with you.
In this eight-minute opus, Klang Valley-based shoegazers the world ends with you. bring a darker, grittier take on shoegaze, capturing a kind of melancholy few others can. With haunting guitars and heavy bass lines, it tells the story of a partner attempting to control a failing relationship: “You asked me to stay / But why are you leaving? / You pushed me away / Your words bring no meaning.” The song takes its time, slowly building to its end. Just when it seems over, it lingers over drums that are as clear and sharp as sunlight. It mirrors the slow, painful end of a relationship that’s gone on too long.
Listen: Bandcamp
34. “Aku Dah Mati” – Hawa
When Eff Hakim, or Hawa, drops “Aku Dah Mati” she makes one thing abundantly clear: she has finally found the music she’s meant to create, that it’s almost impossible to imagine her doing anything else. On the debut track of her solo project Hawa, Eff sings about betrayal so profound it feels like a personal death. Yet, the song isn’t steeped in sorrow. The chorus brims with biting sarcasm, as Eff mocks the betrayal with a sharp wit and a relentless, “I don’t give a fuck” attitude toward any future treachery. The old self may be gone, but the reborn version is someone you wouldn’t dare cross.
Listen: Spotify
33. “Siren” – Faye Faire
“Siren” introduces Faye Faire as a band deeply attuned to channelling grief and longing through folk-rock melodies. It’s a poignant work, made all the more personal by the tragic passing of founding member I-Shan Esther before the band’s first album. Alena Nadia takes centre stage, delivering an aching lead vocal that feels prophetic of the sorrow that would follow: “I want to see her again / I want to know that she’s fine / before there’s no turning back,” she pleads, as I-Shan’s haunting echo repeats, “Please come back!” The layered vocals create an overwhelming sense of regret — representing grief’s inescapable weight. While many tracks in the band’s debut album honour I-Shan, “Siren” stands out for its all-consuming emotion. It’s not just a song but an elegy that mirrors the unrelenting nature of loss.
Listen: Spotify
32. “Serba salah” – Teman Lelaki
Teman Lelaki’s “Serba Salah” underwent several demos before finally reaching its definitive form this year. The 2021 demo was quieter and more minimal, though Eidi Arif’s vocals remained as compelling. The decision to evolve it into an epic, full-blown heartbreak with more powerful instrumentation and a melancholy guitar solo that aches for resolution was undoubtedly the right move. With soothing, fairytale-like vocals, it becomes a powerful five-minute ballad that perfectly soundtracks the final moments of your losses. This is Teman Lelaki at their very best, so far.
Listen: Spotify
31. “TUESDAY” – hancurjack, Faux Goth
No one captures the chaotic, confusing essence of young love quite like hancurjack and Faux Goth on “TUESDAY”. Their collaboration perfectly embodies that strange space where you’re both soaring on the high of love yet sinking under the weight of an uncertain future.
Faux Goth’s verse is irresistibly addictive, shifting from worry to nonchalance: “I might go on a heist / Cause everything is overpriced” to “Let’s bake a macaron / Go on a honeymoon / Watch your stupid cartoon / Eat spaghetti with a spoon.” It’s a blend of carefree absurdity and the subtle anxiety of wondering if you’re ruining your future — even when you’re in it together. But in that moment? Who cares? They’ll spend this Tuesday together and deal with tomorrow’s worries when it comes.
Listen: Spotify
30. “Pok Snahu” – Awang Samrow
The tale of “Pok Snahu” unfolds like gazing into a snow globe — its story compact, centered on minimal characters, yet resonating with a universal message. In the track, Awang Samrow sings of a figure he reveres as a mahaguru named Pok Snahu. The verses stomp forward with commanding urgency backed by jarring synths, urging listeners to follow this leader for their own betterment. Then comes the chorus, a shimmering twist of glamour that dances around the lyrics, further solidifying the mahaguru‘s greatness: “Dalam rumoh banyok lampu / tapi sayang takdok api / Dalam otok banyok elmu / Buleh jadi bekalan.” The imagery is vivid, the conviction palpable — you can’t help but trust that he’s right.
Listen: Spotify
29. “Wait and See” – FUAD
“Wait and See” opens with two lines that craft a storyline so vividly you need little imagination to feel the narrator’s torment: “I’ve been sleeping without bedsheets for weeks on end / Thinking of ways I can talk to you again.” It’s an erratic portrayal of a protagonist seeking forgiveness from a former lover, fully aware of their past mistakes. The song loops through a cycle of regret and forgiveness that remains out of reach, with Lisa Fuad delivering lo-fi vocals that balance between confidence and the fear of failure.
Sonically, FUAD embraces their alternative rock side, channelling the spirit of ’90s raging female anthems and shedding the dreamy pop allure of their debut. Just as it begins, the track ends with another pair of compelling lines that reflect the narrator’s wavering confidence and possible delusion: “You’re forgiving, and I know that / And I know that you’ll come back / Just wait and see.” It’s undeniably ‘90s prom-esque, as if it were crafted to soundtrack a film’s climactic scene under pink-studded, sparkling lights. There’s an underlying suggestion that the narrator may never reclaim what they long for, but surely the determination is worth shouting from the rooftops.
Listen: Spotify
28. “Hadirlah Cahaya” – FUGŌ
On “Hadirlah Cahaya,” FUGŌ evokes nostalgia for their earlier works, like the beautifully swaying “Lagu Balada di Kala Hujan” from their 2021 EP. The track is a study in elegance, though it isn’t afraid to embrace quirky choices — such as the random deep laugh in the background during “Semalam / Kau layarkan siang / Yang sering tertawa.” It’s a cheeky addition to an otherwise refined piece, yet it somehow fits perfectly. Hakim Kamal’s vocals are the highlight — sweet and sultry, carrying a timeless quality that bursts with the magic of first love, from the initial burst of fireworks to the intimacy of a first dance at a wedding. This is FUGŌ at their most elegant.
Listen: Spotify
27. “mata(hari) – empty page.
In recent years, Empty Page has rebranded themselves from an indie pop band eyeing a slot in Atas Angin’s Rising Star shows to where they are now: a stylish, sad-boi indie pop outfit sharing festival stages with acts like Hujan and Masdo. The transition was unexpected, judging by their earlier albums, and yet, here they are. Beyond building an audience on TikTok and showcasing vocalist Ziq’s transformative showmanship and style, Empty Page has also grasped the art of crafting damn-good pop music.
This is especially evident in “mata(hari)”, a regretful yet sunny confession to a former lover. The song overflows with the things the narrator should have said while they were together but didn’t. “Pada diriku hanya kamulah yang terang / namun aku yang terlalu selesa dengan malam,” Ziq admits with palpable remorse. There may be no way to win back his former lover, but we get an exceptional pop song. In its own way, that’s still a win.
Listen: Spotify
26. “Rindu Boleh, Kembali Jangan” – SLATAN, Akkimwaru, LastKhalif, Quai
SLATAN, the hip-hop collective, has a knack for sweeping up fans in one fell swoop, often leaving outsiders (read: uh oh, gatekeepers? otais?) puzzled by their appeal — egotistical kids rapping over minimalist beats. Nothing groundbreaking, nothing new. And yet, “Rindu Boleh, Kembali Jangan” is the kind of track that exude magic, enough to have their loyal fans passionately bumping along, reciting every word as if delivering the next great masterpiece. The track simmers rather than erupts, offering less thumping rap and more braggadocious displays of a supposedly lavish lifestyle. Does any of it make sense? Not entirely. Yet somehow, it works. If I could try to make sense of it all: Slatan’s inflated ego doesn’t feel delusional; instead, it reads as a manifestation of ambition, turning tracks like “Rindu Boleh, Kembali Jangan” into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Listen: Spotify
25. “Lighthouse” – August Fear, Lurkgurl
On the seventh track of his album Birdcage, August Fear presents “Lighthouse” as a haunting song that seems to capture the voice of someone on their deathbed, unwilling to let go of the world. It’s a desperate plea to stay alive, to feel the warmth of a living person again, yet the inevitable truth is clear: time has run out. The track is further elevated by Lurkgurl — a surprising cameo to have following her quiet departure from the music scene. Beyond her tender vocals, Lurkgurl or Khadijah Juswil’s songwriting has piercing sharp intensity that never fails to cut deep. Her words punch through, with lyrics like “God take me back again / As a wreck, toast of the machine / Bring it to its knees / Break the final seal,” she speak-sings to the initial narrator. The thoughts of death here are so vivid, so real — because when you’re that close, nothing is soft or serene.
Listen: Spotify
24. “Darling Silver Blue” – Joni Mustaf
Technically, “Darling Silver Blue” is a 2016 song. Along with the rest of Qurfusha — Joni Mustaf’s long-awaited debut album — it was completed eight years ago but officially saw the light of day only this year. With the collaborative efforts of eccentric avant-garde musician Kamal Sabran and model Nia Atasha, the track brims with an unfiltered romanticism that’s quintessentially Joni.
The track reframes romanticism not as a trait but as a world unto itself: “Run with me / From Ipoh to Sydney / You, my Love, and me / Together eternity.” Joni’s brand of romanticism is so singular it feels like he’s the third wheel in his own relationship. His voice carries the charm of a partner singing to their lover mid-moment — perhaps while cooking together, sharing a laugh. It’s random, casual and brimming with intimacy. Lines like “I love your rant / Like I love the sunrise / We are dreamers / And it’s fine” further amplify this sentiment, making “Darling Silver Blue” a love song that feels alive, personal and uniquely Joni.
Listen: Spotify
23. “F.T.I” – ChronicalZ
On his sophomore album, UK 8, ChronicalZ delivers tracks you’d expect from a young rapper — lavish, egotistical, and brimming with auto-tuned flair. However, the final track comes as a surprise: “F.T.I” is an 80-second lepas geram anthem venting his frustration with the internet. Several creative decisions make this track an irresistible head-banging feast. Set against punk rock riffs, it features ChronicalZ confidently shouting, “Fuck The Internet!” repeatedly. Yet, later he admits he sorta gives a fuck: “Aku lek je, but it hurts my brain.” The track also boasts a sharp cameo from No Good’s Smek, who kicks things off with biting humor, dismissing haters as “dickless” in his unmistakable Kelantanese drawl. These choices feel delightfully spontaneous, as if made on the spot in the studio without a second thought. Placing it as the album’s finale also serves as a cathartic, squeaky-clean palate cleanser, maintaining its momentum that makes you want to keep the track on replay.
Listen: Spotify
22. “PP at Bukit Tabur” – 53 UNIVERSE, Akkimwaru, DKyoumadethis, Meorey, YBJ
53 Universe’s sophomore album Semoga Dipermudahkan is boastful with one banger after another. But one track, in particular, “PP at Bukit Tabur” propelled them to greater fame, racking up over 4,000,000 streams on Spotify. Not even the group expected this track to be the one that caught everyone’s attention — thanks to its 15 minutes of fame on TikTok, during Hari Raya no less. But beyond being a catchy track perfect for TikTok fit checks, it also exudes pride for Taman Melawati, where the group hails from and where they got their name: “Bukit Tabur ada private party / Dalam Hidden Hills in the M-side shawty / Circle terdekat je / Korang takleh roger.” These very opening lines spark envy and FOMO in outsiders, who long to be part of the cool kids club. Like all great pop songs about parties, it taps into that universal feeling of wanting to be included in something exclusive.
Listen: Spotify
21. “Semoga Yang Pergi Dirahmati, Abadi” – heavëner
On their first track sung in Malay, “Semoga Yang Pergi Dirahmati, Abadi”, heavëner amplifies the melancholy of shoegaze to its peak. The song is a poignant farewell to the torment of this world and a delicate passage into the afterlife. Despite lyrics that promise peace for the departed — “Selamat tinggal / Damai dan sengsara / Hulur tanganku menuju abadi” — the music, in contrast, offers no respite. It’s suffocating, with loud, crushing guitars that feel almost claustrophobic. The lyrics seem to reflect the perspective of the deceased finding peace, while the music embodies the chaotic grief of those left behind. The track climaxes with all-caps screams of the title, as if the grieving loved ones are channelling their anguish into a final, cathartic release. The conclusion is clear: eternal peace begins now.
Listen: Bandcamp
20. “Kala Malam” – Mafidz
Let’s face it: Mafidz is a lot more fun when they delve into despair, and “Kala Malam” is proof of that. The track feels as heavy as a rainy dawn, told from the perspective of a narrator yearning for the end of their inner torment. Sonically, the song swings between haywire, combustive chaos and vocals that feel like soft, pleading cries for help. Simply put, it’s devastatingly beautiful. Is it too much to hope for more of this poignant, melancholic side of Mafidz?
Listen: Spotify
19. “Seberang Sana” – Bayangan
Bayangan’s “Seberang Sana” is an atmospheric, heartfelt ballad that captures the ache of love stretched across distances. Dedicated to a partner living far away, the narrator clings to the promises they’ve made together, longing for the day they can fulfil them: “Peluk erat / Janji ini ku peluk erat / Membakar / Janji yang membakar semangat.” What truly elevates the track is Fikri Fadzil’s airy, soothing vocals, reminiscent of a lullaby. His delivery feels like a gentle assurance — they’re steadfast commitments, burning brightly even across the divide. It’s a tender reminder of love’s resilience.
Listen: Bandcamp
18. “Again, Brother” – Roadiarc
Roadiarc’s music always brings the intense struggle of choosing which is more devastating: Radhi’s chesty, pleading vocals or his self-reflective lyrics that don’t shy away from throwing the most painful aspects of grief into the limelight. “Again, Brother” particularly intensifies this question. The track tells the tale of losing someone close to the narrator, wrestling with their inability to release the lingering pain. The biggest moment in the song comes in its final verse, a dwindling finale that builds with big, meticulous guitar riffs and lyrics like “Empty the urn! / And pour it all out / Leave nothing behind / He’s no longer here.” The track amplifies the idea that grief is a labyrinth none of us can fully navigate. Simply put, it’s an awfully depressing portrayal of the struggle to move forward in life and leaving the pain behind — an effort that seems to last an eternity.
Listen: Spotify
17. “All For Nothing” – LUST
No other track on this list hits me quite as emotionally as when I hear, “I can’t believe when I was that age / Watching Nickelodeon cartoons / I embarked on a pilgrimage / From downtown Bangsar to Taman Tun.” The second song off LUST’s recent album TUGU sounds like it was sculpted for a fairytale, except it’s the one that we’re all living in. The transition from being supported through adolescence (“All I knew was everything I’ve been fed”) to navigating the desperately lonely mazes of adulthood defines this track to
It’s not exactly filled with hope, like a main character reflecting on their innocence and achievements in the rearview mirror. Instead, it’s steeped in the sobering realisation that, really, most of us don’t know what we’re doing in life. It’s sobering, all the more compressed by the soft, pillowy vocals and galloping beats, like you’re watching your entire life play out on a film reel, leaving you nostalgic for the dream life you once thought you had firmly within your grasp.
Listen: Bandcamp
16. “I see all of You (1+1=1) – Solaris
Very few debuts this year have stunned me with their brilliance, but Solaris is undoubtedly one of them. The Shah Alam-based duo delivers a track imbued with a warmth of melancholia unmatched by any other release this year. “I See All of You (1+1=1)” weaves together dimly swaying guitars, haunting, airy vocals and sampled dialogue from Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1975 film Mirror. The result is oddly beautiful, making it one of the most unforgettable debuts of the year.
Listen: Spotify
15. “Seperti Di Awan” – Okirama
Okirama is one hell of a prolific band — 16 singles, 2 EPs and one secret album since 2019 — but what sets them apart from other bands is their unwillingness to settle into predictability. On their Kanako Menti EP, they venture just far enough — not into full experimental corridors, but enough to give their listeners something beyond the atypical bedroom pop sound. “Seperti Di Awan” in particular is a soft-as-a-pillow, dreamy track that gently lulls you into a daydream the moment Shah Iskandar, their vocalist, coos an alluring “Aaaaahs,” inviting you into a dreamscape. Here, the narrator is you, and no one else — a rare kind of solitude that feels so blissful you don’t need anyone else. Then again, the title perfectly captures the song’s ethereal mood, and Okirama delivers it with effortless precision.
Listen: Spotify
14. “Bad Boys Cry” – Shelhiel, Eastern Margins, Mr FONG
By now, it’s clear that Shelhiel is the one-of-a-kind pop star we have today. You’d also know he has a sensitive side, shone through in tracks like “Sayang” and “Love, Repeat”. But with “Bad Boys Cry” — a track off Redline Impact, compilation album by UK-based label Eastern Margins — he pivots to a different kind of vulnerability, exuding second-gen K-pop spirits. Raunchy and mischievous, the track captures the magnetic pull of entanglements with walking red flags. It’s a fuckboy anthem. Lyrics like “Don’t just miss my body, miss me, baby / You’re so lonely, oh why don’t you call me” blur the line between genuine sensitivity and calculated allure, leaving listeners guessing. But while you’re unravelling the mystery, the sheer thrill of the track keeps you hooked. That’s the magic “Bad Boys Cry” delivers so effortlessly.
Listen: Bandcamp
13. “All That It Cost” – JAIE
On “All That It Cost” JAIE, the Malaysian-raised, New York-based R&B-pop artist, captures the excruciating limbo of waiting for heartbreak to heal. It’s the kind of pain that leaves you sobbing before your bedtime, no doubt, but beneath the surface simmers an unextinguished flame of fury. From a lover who naively hopes for a seamless transition from partner to friend, to the slow, painful wait for wounds to turn into scars, JAIE channels these emotions into waves of melody that crash with devastating force. Her sultry, pain-laden vocals echo a quiet resilience, as she sings, “All I can do / Is bear it all / All that it costs.” This nu-soul track solidifies JAIE as more than just a rising star — it positions her as a pop star to be reckoned with, someone who deserves to be on everyone’s radar, no matter what it costs.
Listen: Bandcamp
12. “Our time” – oddweek
Nothing stirs the emotions quite like a song dedicated to a loving father. On “Our Time” Perak-based one-man band oddweek candidly reminisces about memories of his father, expressing a deep longing for moments like “going around this neighbourhood with your motorcycle” or recalling when his father cried upon hearing his first single: “Every time we’re together / I feel so appreciated / You’ve cried when you listened to Darkness.” It has the essence of a timeless indie rock, where its concept is carefully studied. It’s a real tear-jerker, especially when Haziq Hamsa knows the exact words to capture the ache of longing for memories you’ll never relive or a person you can no longer hold.
Listen: Bandcamp
11. “Anthem” – Ichu, Dannqrack, ChronicalZ
Every Ichu-produced track in recent memory seems to fill a room with the lingering essence of life’s highs. On “Anthem”, resilience and raising a toast to a humbling life have never sounded sweeter. Featuring ChronicalZ (his softened East Coast accent adding a subtle charm) and Danqqrack, the track sees both rappers reflecting on personal growth and expressing gratitude for their pasts. “Anthem” has sleek, natural beats with a high-viscosity chorus that clings to the listener, turning it into an unforgettable earworm.
Listen: Spotify
10. “Catfight” – Pleasantrees
Pleasantrees had a warm arrival to the scene when they first released their 2020’s “Neon Eyes.” The rest of their debut EP, Thought I’d Let You Know, mostly continues with the same sensitivity and melancholy, with vocalist Kyra exuding her version of Hope Sandoval, delivering moody songs with a shy, timid stage presence.
But “Catfight” is a massive surprise, easily becoming the standout track of the EP. Written about a female friendship breakup, the track carries the rawness of riot grrrl godmother Kathleen Hanna’s “no-bullshit” attitude. The bass is delicious, the guitars as angry as ever, but the real kicker is how assertive and in control the lyrics are: “Dream me up / What the fuck / You say you love me and I’ll hiss.” Kyra makes it crystal clear — the friendship is over, and anger is the only resolution. Here, and on stage, she’s less the Sandoval-esque dream girl and more the fierce spirit of Hanna, unbothered by the expectations of what female friendships “should” look like. In this moment, she doesn’t give a fuck.
Listen: Spotify
9. “Gelap” – Satwo
In 2024, the pop-rock duo Satwo finally released their much-anticipated album, Di Persembunyian, with “Gelap” emerging as the record’s emotional core. Anchored by a twinkling piano melody and vocals that feel transported from another era, Satwo breathes life into existential dread, navigating a labyrinth of unanswered questions. The chorus is as addictive as a melancholic afternoon, delivering a poignant line: “Ku mencari suara / Dalam terang dan gelap / Melalui rasa (ku temui)” — a mantra for those grappling with the stark realisation that the world often demands survival in solitude. True to form, Satwo crafts a perfect ending. With a punchy, grand finale, the track crescendos and leaves its impact in one sweeping moment.
Listen: Spotify
8. “Killa Lumpur” – killamisha
It’s 2024, and the local alternative music scene is still locked in debates about what qualifies as art. For fanboys still clutching their Radiohead CDs, anything outside of poetic rock is dismissed as a shameful attempt. Weird? Not acceptable. For them, weird isn’t art. Weird is just weird.
Killamisha has become one of the many artists caught in this narrow-minded crossfire. But “Killa Lumpur” a standout track from her debut album Underground Princess, is worth more than those fanboys’ discussion on what’s art and what’s not. Backed by a fengtau-inspired beat that could soundtrack both a neon-lit club and the dizzying swings of a cheap funfair, the track strips things down to just 10 repeated words: “He asked me where I’m from / I said Killa Lumpur.” Those last two words alone conjure a world more vivid than any of the “deep” lyrics released by local Thom Yorke’s wannabes. In them, Killamisha emerges as a pop star burning too brightly for an audience unprepared for her brilliance.
Listen: Spotify
7. “Imaginasi” – aktadiri
If it was 2008, you’d hear “Imaginasi” playing on X-FM as you skimmed through radio stations, searching for the perfect track to jolt you out of microsleep on the road. It’d be the kind of song you’d eagerly wait for the DJ to announce, because back then, when things weren’t as simple, you couldn’t just Shazam it. Or perhaps it would’ve found its place among the iconic soundtracks of Kami The Movie, playing in the background of a gig where movie extras were mostly rocking slouchy Y2K fashion. The song radiates major 2000s nostalgia while embracing modern dream-pop sensibilities, making it irresistibly memorable. Capturing the adolescent frustration of chasing an elusive dream life, Aktadiri turns that exhausting feeling into a damn good pop anthem.
Listen: Bandcamp
6. “crying over nothing (wah wah)” – Lunadira
Despite the emotionally charged themes of her debut album, Lunadira still knows how to have some fun, as evident in “crying over nothing (wah wah)”. The track opens with her slight sobbing and snickering, setting the tone for a playful mockery of her past self for falling for someone who was clearly a walking red flag. The “wah wah” adds the perfect touch — sassy, a middle finger to the red flag itself. Yet, there’s also a subtle confession, unashamed to admit that she was the one blinded by love: “I can’t believe I didn’t see it comin’ / I’m usually the one to know.” Later in the second verse, she reassures herself on the throbbing second verse, emulating The Veronicas’ “Untouched” that leaving is the right decision. No regrets here.
Listen: Spotify
5. “When The Stars Aren’t Looking” – LUST
LUST’s first single in four years feels less like a song and more like a gentle assault on your senses. Moving away from the weird industrial rock of their 2019 instant classic Tekesima, “When the Stars Aren’t Looking” offers a glimpse into the hypnotic, upbeat world of their new album, TUGU. It’s a dance-pop track that hits like a fever dream — chaotic, sweaty and brimming with anxious energy on the dance floor. Subtle, intricate, echoey details are scattered throughout the song, rewarding only the most attentive listeners. It’s a track destined to feel as fresh years from now as it does today.
Listen: Bandcamp
4. “Pentas Sandiwara” – FUGŌ
When I interviewed FUGŌ this year, the trio was adamant on performing at intimate scale gigs because they don’t necessarily believe high streaming numbers equal to high number of fans. That particular perspective on their success stick with me when I watched them performed in the rain at Futureland Festival. Because at this scale, a small, intimate FUGŌ gig feels nearly impossible to happen again. They’re made for festivals now, and there’s no turning back. And “Pentas Sandiwara” is the perfect bridge for them to transition from an indie pop band to a festival full blown festival.
The track has everything that makes the perfect FUGŌ song: slow, velvety verses to a grand, climactic crescendo, later punctuated by a melancholic saxophone break that elevates its emotional depth. It encapsulates the reflective musings of an ageing narrator, looking back on life as a fleeting performance — a series of roles and cherished moments. “Hargai senyuman yang menerangi / Dirimu / Di akhir waktu,” Hakim sings, as if he was advising the audience. “Pentas Sandiwara” stands out as a defining moment in FUGŌ’s discography — an unforgettable ballad that firmly establishes the band as one that will only get bigger from now on.
Listen: Spotify
3. “Mayat Hidup” – hawa
We’ve said it before, and we’ll say it a hundred times more: if the ‘90s riot grrrl movement is making a comeback, Hawa is ready to lead the charge. Eff Hakim’s solo project boldly distances itself from her pink-tinged, electronic pop past — a style her former bandmate still clings to. There’s nothing wrong with that, but to leave your past behind and resurrect as a glamorous rock star channelling ‘90s riot grrrl vibes mixed with heroin chic is one hell of a way to rebrand yourself. In “Mayat Hidup” especially, Hawa’s resurrection is laced with righteous anger, blistering guitars and just the right amount of sass in her delivery. “Tolong jangan datang sini / Musnah kau nanti” is a nightmare for anyone who’s wronged her, but for the rest of us, it’s a thrilling gift to behold.
Listen: Spotify
2. “Lemas” – Mafidz
Straying from their folk-pop roots in their debut album Ada Angin & Hati, 2024 saw Mafidz return with their highly anticipated sophomore album TELEPORTASI, a project four years in the making. The long wait, fueled by the pandemic, built anticipation that felt almost like a slow, aching process — one that, when finally fulfilled, proved worth it. TELEPORTASI marks a bold shift, with Mafidz exploring their melancholic side with remarkable depth.
In particular, “Lemas” stands as a testament to this evolution. With its hauntingly powerful chorus, the track feels like the moment that could bridge Mafidz from being a beloved indie band to a mainstream contender. Why this hasn’t happened yet is anyone’s guess, but “Lemas” is a ballad that could effortlessly outshine the high-note-waving performances dominating Anugerah Juara Lagu. Even without mainstream validation, the track stands on its own as a universal, soaring anthem, despite its sombre theme. Mafidz is undoubtedly one of the best bands we have today, and “Lemas” is a peak in their career thus far.
Listen: Spotify
1. “Ulangan” – S. Razali
The biggest breakout star of 2024 is none other than S. Razali, a 21-year-old musician from Ipoh. His arrival was a sudden jolt to the music scene — a whiplash no one saw coming. With his Ipoh-slacker persona and unpredictable, idiosyncratic music, S. Razali carved a niche for himself almost overnight. He also exudes the aura of a shy, tortured genius, singing about the mundane rhythms of life. From the moment he emerged, his name became a permanent fixture on “to-watch” lists—at least for those eager to discover new talent.
This year, no other track quite captures the effervescent, ocular sounds like “Ulangan” does. His debut single paints the repetitive cycles of a young slacker’s life: nothing to do, yet everything tantalisingly close. Boredom, according to S. Razali, is a complex blend of enriching guilt: “Realiti amat menyakitkan / Segalanya hanya berulang / Hari, minggu, bulan, tahun yang sama,” he laments, reflecting on the monotony of existence. Yet, this very boredom becomes the canvas for a vibrant display of his boundless potential.
A true DIY musician — he crafts the entire Kembang Mas EP on his iPhone — S. Razali architects his vocals to shift from melting, religious-recital-esque “Aaaahs” to the gravelly, stern tone of an old man’s musings. Its sonics overflow with psychedelic rock influences and a danceable edge — with wisdom in his creative decisions that surpasses his age and everyone else in this list — so head-bop-inducing that you’ll find yourself hitting replay just to experience the magic again. “Ulangan” frames 2024 as an exciting year for music, and manifests more brilliant music coming in the decade, only if we’re willing to open the doors for more of S. Razali and more of brilliant musicians waiting for their turns to surprise us all.
Listen: Bandcamp
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