Each week, The FADER staff rounds up the songs we can't get enough of. Here they are, in no particular order. Listen on our Spotify and Apple Music playlists, or hear them all below.

Brooklyn indie rock duo Sex Week return with "Coat," a song about dissipating connections and anxiety around taking a relationship to the next level. Like the band's excellent 2024 EP, "Coat" feels gloopy and romantic. It's a song that twinkles beneath its own indelible murk. —David Renshaw

Taken from his forthcoming album Fada<3of$, out April 25, "Mumbleman" finds Brooklyn-via-Florida rapper Niontay letting you in on a secret. As the title suggests, pulling out lines is tricky but his muttered flow is both relentless and laid-back, while the glimmering Nephew Hesh and Garcon Dior-produced beat shines up the croak in his voice perfectly. Catch Niontay on tour with MIKE across North America starting next month. —DR

Oxis is an enigmatic and prolific bedroom artist who packages all of her songs with fish-based titles and artwork. "Baqui," named after the bait-like creatures, is both brittle in its construction and hypnotic in execution. Like a Beach House song in miniature form, it's something you slowly melt into. —DR

“Dancing In the Club,” taken from This Is Lorelei’s Box for Buddy, Box for Star that landed in our best of 2024 list, is a zany jangle-pop cut that is perfect for crying at the club. Nate Amos’s happy-sad dynamic is a perfect formula for MJ Lenderman to work with, whose new rendition of the song is more melancholy and mournful as he carves out spaces for its more pensive, wistful quality to shine. Nobody is more equipped at writing about heartbreak than Lenderman, and this cover just adds to the lengthy repertoire of the sad-hearted characters he sings about across his own discography. —Cady Siregar

The closing track from Los Thuthanaka, the new LP from siblings Chuquimamani-Condori and Joshua Chuquimia-Crampton, is eight minutes of ecstatic sound collisions. Above a steady huayno pulse and Chuquimia-Crampton’s driving guitar and bass lines, Chuquimamani-Condori spins a storm of synths, samples, and fiercely jabbed keys. Like both artists’ solo music, their collaborative pieces are utterly jarring and completely absorbing. —Raphael Helfand

On the first single from her album a strong desire to survive, duendita’s voice shapeshifts, expanding and contracting over slowly rising piano arpeggios. “I’ve been awake and alone all this time / But finally, my body’s clear from all that tragedy,” she sings, soaring into the higher reaches of her register, then dropping down below her natural alto to add, “Oh, my man be making love to me.” As the song settles into its closing bars, a faraway voice beckons a choir, their harmonies wandering and wordless at first before converging on the phrase “No means no.” — RH

The second taste of Big Thief drummer James Krivchenia’s forthcoming album, Performing Faith, moves like constantly molded clay. Krivchenia’s slowly coalescing percussive triplets form the foundation on which Sam Wilkes’ bass, Joshua Abrams’ guimbri, and a slew of other sounds dance like flames. It’s a textural rollercoaster that’s always twisting in new directions. — RH

After taking a break from dance music to create & The Charm, an album of revitalizing indie pop, Avalon Emerson is back to her roots with her latest single “Treat Mode.” The song is taken from her ongoing club-focused song series Perpetual Motion Machine; the title has a bitter aftertaste in the streaming era and its relentless pressures for musicians to constantly produce, but it’s overwhelmed by the sweetness of songs like “Treat Mode,” a welcome and Kraftwerk-ian return for one of electronic music’s keenest melodicists. —Jordan Darville

What is the “New Detroit” that Michigan rapper Lelo insists he’s at the vanguard of? On “Pot of Greed,” it’s a Harry Fraud-ish beat as steamy and luxurious as a marble bathroom with poor ventilation, with Lelo slouching down into the bubble bath, unbothered but always on beat. His jewelry looks like a Yu-Gi-Oh card, his spot resembles the strip club from The Sopranoes, and he’s ready to dismiss the mutts who insist they’re on his level: “How we dodge you? You ain’t even my pedigree.” Whatever sound Lelo’s intent on spearheading, it’s clear he’s going to be the leader or nothing at all. —JD