This year, I began writing up a Chune of the Week in my weekly newsletter. While that section will continue to be published, I also wanted to collect every song I’ve written about on one easy-to-read page. So here it is: every Chune of the Week of 2026.
Smash that Subscribe button to get the full newsletter delivered direct to your inbox each week.
And while you’re at it, peep the accompanying playlist on Spotify:
August 15th
Cameron Winter: “$0”
Man, what a knockout.
It took me a while to get around to Heavy Metal. I don’t think I started seriously listening until nearly a year later, after Getting Killed dropped. Since then, I’ve returned to the record every couple months, drawn unconsciously to the cockeyed little snowglobe in which it seems to exist, and I’ve fallen madly in love.
Let me state for the record: I understand I’m not saying anything novel or interesting. Heavy Metal has been universally lauded since its release, and opinions on Cameron Winter and Geese are pretty firmly fixed—you either love ‘em or you hate ‘em. Still, I can’t go anywhere else this week. I knew when I woke up this morning that I needed to listen to this record. Now that I am, I’m thrilled all over again.
It’s probably best for the culture at large if Winter devotes himself to his role as frontman of Geese—a great rock band is a much rarer thing these days than a great solo artists. But damn if I’m not absolutely titillated by the concept of a Heavy Metal follow up. And what ever happened to those Carnegie Hall performances that PTA and Benny Safdie were filming…?
August 8th
Neptune’s Core: “Lemon Car”
Allow me to direct your attention to Pivot, the debut record from Neptune’s Core, a Chicago quartet composed of two pairs of sisters. Lead single “Lemon Car” is easily one of my favorite tracks of the year, a tight chunk of bubblegum garage pop that verges on addictive. Dig the elastic, wordless chorus they explode into at the 0:57 mark, which *pops* with just as much force as “Taxes” does at the 1:33 mark. If there’s a more satisfying 15 seconds of rock music released this year, I haven’t heard it.
I’ve been spinning Pivot a ton recently. The record scratches any number of itches: imagine a cleaned up version of the first Vivian Girls record with the catchiness quotient dialed way up, plus the laconic lyricism of early Courtney Barnett and a dash of Room on Fire guitar tone. An utterly self-assured debut, perfect for the dog days of summer. I fully expect big things from this crew in the future.
The full album just dropped yesterday, and I’ve got an interview with the band coming here in the near future. In the meantime, smash that play button.
On a related note: I’ve started a running Spotify playlist of all my Chune of the Week picks so far this year. Give it a follow to keep track of all the goods in the weeks to come.
August 2nd
The Strokes: “Dine N’Dash”
One of the few songs I failed to highlight in my write-up of Reality Awaits—not because it isn’t deserving of love, but because it’s so clearly an instant classic. A delicious, obviously “Strokesian” riff, airtight percussion from Fab, and any number of lines that would fit right in on Is This It or Room On Fire (“Do what you will, you can leave when you want / Leave if you want but I bet that you won’t”). What more could you ask for?
The critical reception to this record continues to baffle me. The day after I posted my take, Pitchfork weighed in with a muddled review that tried to give The Strokes some small amount of credit while ultimately settling for the same negative verdict as Rolling Stone. My brother in podcasting Steven Hyden wrote an extended (and predictably excellent) analysis of both the album and the critical reaction, but other than him (and Barack Obama, I guess?) it’s been difficult to find anyone who even halfway understands what’s happening here.
Oh well—not my problem. Just means more good music for me…
July 25th
The Beach Boys: “When A Man Needs A Woman”
I haven’t been spinning this little Friends gem a ton lately, but it’s still the Chune of the Week for one simple reason—my wife and I are having a dang baby. He (it’s a he) is due at the end of October. We may have a name picked out, but I won’t be sharing it until he’s out of the oven (and no, it’s not “Bob”).
We couldn’t be happier, but there’s been a lot of “hurry up and wait” for the last several months. Brian puts it well in this song:
You know it makes you nervous
When you wait for your boy
You wait nine months for a bundle of joy
There’s a baby
Yes there’s a baby about to born
“When A Man Needs A Woman” is going right on the nursery playlist along with any number of Beach Boys tracks (“Vegetables,” “Pet Sounds,” “Ding Dang”). Feel free to drop a line if you’ve got any nominations…
July 18th
Leonard Cohen: “Democracy”
In a career of sardonic songs that walk the fine line between cruelty and sincerity, perhaps the most sardonic song, walking the finest line between cruelty and sincerity.
Implicit in the structure of the refrain—“Democracy is coming to the USA”—is the fact that the United States is not, at present, a democracy. That may be good thing, in this universe at least: “democracy,” whatever it means to Leonard Cohen circa 1992, seems as much a threat as a balm, coming as it does through a hole in the air, from the ashes of the gay, and on a visionary flood of alcohol. At the same time, there’s a minor note of hope here, as democracy also manages to seep in through a crack in the wall (that’s how the light gets in, remember). A study in contrasts. Black and white, good and evil, yin and yang—that kind of shit.
Also a major jam, one realized with all the finesse of an well-appointed recording studio at the end of history. The song is shellacked with a certain uncanny quality that could come off as corny if it weren’t so utterly guileless. In that way, “Democracy” (along with all the rest of The Future) slots in neatly alongside many other early Nineties favs, from Under The Red Sky to 11 Tracks of Whack to Mutineer. Unlike those records, however, The Future finds its author at the absolute peak of his powers. It doesn’t take any extra legwork to find your way in. It’s just plain-and-simple Good Music.
Will have much more to say about Mr. Cohen in the future (har-har). Stay tuned…
July 11th
Panda Bear & Sonic Boom: “Graveyard”
I was wracking my brain for a few days this week, trying to figure out what I’ve been listening to that’s worth highlighting (other than mid-career Van Morrison, about which I’ve said more than enough recently). Eventually, I realized the pick was right there in front of me.
Literally: I’ve been humming “Graveyard,” the last track on Panda Bear & Sonic Boom’s new album A ? OF WHEN, all week, tooting out a poor imitation of the idiot keyboard tone that serves as the song’s foundation. It’s a laugh out loud sound, the type of thing you’d expect to accompany a chorus of dancing skeletons in a Max Fleischer cartoon.
I spoke to Noah & Pete for an upcoming interview on Jokermen, and they mentioned how humor is a big part of their music-making process—when they make each other laugh, they know they’ve got something good. That’s very much the case with “Graveyard,” which blends that honking organ with a steady beat, a classic Noah vocal, and Formula 1 racecar sounds into a groovy boogie about staying focused on the ~posi vibes~. Perfect mid-summer listening—breezy, fun, and catchy as hell.
A ? OF WHEN is not available on streaming services, so you’ll need to hit Bandcamp or your local record store for the official release. Otherwise, you’ll have to make do with the Youtube rip of the 7” single posted above.
July 4th
Van Morrison: “Philosopher’s Stone”
This section isn’t intended to just be random late-era Van tracks, but I guess that’s how it’s worked out so far.
Unlike the boppin’ “Did Ye Get Healed,” this one finds Mr. Morrison in a wistful, world-weary mood, pondering his unique burden. It’s a great conceit for a song, deploying the Philosopher’s Stone as a metaphor for whatever quasi-mystical process allows us to transmute the ruddy substance of our daily lives into ecstatic, eternal art. Lyrically, it’s classic Van shit: daddios, lonesome roads, and mystical mumbo-jumbo, all underwritten by a simmering sense of misanthropy (“Even my best friends, they don’t know”).
Musically, the song is a marvel, nailing that uniquely Morrisonian mix of melancholy, spiritual, and optimistic. Van lays down a little harp while organ and piano call and respond to one another like two stray cats on either end of a lonesome alley, strings swoop in from up on high, and you go out feeling like you’re just about to see the face of God. Makes for a fascinating listen paired with the alternate take released on the 2008 remaster of Back On Top, which is played as a straight blues. It’s still a solid number, but it utterly loses that misty sense of wonder that you can only ever get from peak Van the Man.
I may not have loved Wonder Boys, but salute to Curtis Hanson for introducing me to this one.
June 27th
Aaron Olson: “Who Do You Think You Are I Am”
We’ve got a great hang with Aaron on coming next week on Jokermen, but his new record, the descriptively-titled Songs Album II, is out today. There’s tons to dig here, from heady odes to Neolithic structures, to lush instrumentals, to paeans to everyone’s least-favorite type of party attendee, the punisher—all of it rendered in a warm rock songs palette that gestures toward any number of artists and subgenres without coming off as nostalgic or self-satisfied.
“Who Do You Think You Are I Am” is a hard rocker driven by an insistent single chord. Aaron borrowed bowler Pete Weber’s immortal exclamation for the title, transforming the nonsense phrase into an emotional, oddly-eloquent refrain that defines the center of the record. The finished result: doo-wop by way of madman-mode John Cale, with a dash of 80s Van Dyke Parks wordplay thrown in for good measure.
Songs Album II is not available on Spotify, so peep the whole album on Bandcamp if you’re into it. Music is worth paying for.
June 20th
Van Morrison: “Did Ye Get Healed”
These days, Van pops up in my mind every so often and I fall down the Celtic rabbit hole all over again. My current go-to is Poetic Champions Compose, a silky smooth slice of mystical jazz-rock mumbo-jumbo. Imagine The Nightfly-era Donald Fagen if he were an Irish Protestant instead of a tri-state area Jew and you’re not far off.
I really started loving Champions last year when Bob swiped the melody of “I Forgot That Love Existed” for the 2025 incarnation of “Watchtower.” Since then, I can’t get enough. “Did Ye Get Healed” is maybe the tightest cut on the record, a swingin’, soulful slice of shamrock muzak made by a man at a spiritual peak.