The high of last year’s Brat summer/Chappell Roan … situation would have been hard for anyone to top. But from the shadows of our pop giants emerged a new trove of queer artists, bearing sounds we’ve never quite heard before. This year, LGBTQ2S+ artists were feeling dancier, hornier and weirder than ever before—from Rosalía’s haunting choirs to Amaarae’s dance-floor beats to the emotive vocals and guitars of singer-songwriters like Ezra Furman and Annahstasia. Everyone’s kissing and crying at the club. Everyone’s playing violins.
Here are some of Xtra’s editors’ and contributors’ top picks from queer and trans (and queer-adjacent—heaven knows we love the pop girlies) artists this year.
“Fineshyt”—Amaarae
Any track on Amaarae’s flawless Black Star could have made this list, but “Fineshyt” elevates the classic “horny in the club” banger to new and gloriously queer heights. Sonically, it embodies the best of EDM. Strobing synths? Check. Beat drops? Check! Amaarae wraps her syrupy falsetto around the thirsty lyrics, proudly declaring that she’ll lavish her high-femme princess with all the cash and drugs she can dream of. The one-liners are so catchy too: you’ll have “My sexy sex machine” stuck in your head for hours. “Fineshyt” isn’t just Sapphic longing under flashing lights—it’s another chapter in a long lineage of queer Black dance-floor excellence.
—Jake Hall, contributor
“Veil Song”—Ezra Furman
I wouldn’t call it a quiet year, but I’m going somewhat quiet for my queer song of the year. Perhaps something deep, emotional, powerful, but not aggressive is what I needed to balance the cruelty of the year. I was torn between this and “Grand Mal,” the showier first single (with its gorgeous music video) off Ezra Furman’s May release, Goodbye Small Head. The whole record is an anthology of Furman’s talent, and really showcases her scope.
“Veil Song” is based on the Maggie Smith poem “Bride,” which Furman describes reading “500 times after finding it in 2020.” Smith herself posted that Furman created “something astonishingly beautiful and singular out of words and music” after Furman read the poem aloud at a show in Smith’s hometown of Columbus, Ohio, with Smith in the audience.
“The future’s blank and shiny like an animal eye/ I’m ready to get married like I’m ready to die/ It’s comforting to say it, but it’s not true,” Furman sings on the track. It’s honest, it’s haunting; it was a poem and it is a poem again. To me, Furman is the obvious choice for capturing the joy, pain, grief and contemplation of 2025.
—Tara-Michelle Ziniuk, managing editor
“Gnarly”—KATSEYE
While it would be impossible for 2025 to meet the pop-girlie highs reached by 2024’s power trio of Charli XCX, Chappell Roan and Sabrina Carpenter, this year still presented some intriguing new tracks and artists emerging from the woodwork. One of my personal favourites is the girl group KATSEYE, and particularly their hyper-pop track “Gnarly.” Drawing dual inspiration from K-pop’s dominance and American pop music, its six members hail from around the world and really distill the best of pop music right (plus, two members—Lara and Megan, are openly queer!). Their chart-topping songs like “Gabriela” are catchy, infectious and have skyrocketed them to a Best New Artist Grammy nomination this year.
But it’s “Gnarly,” a much weirder song, that excites me most about what they are capable of. Through innovative production, auto-tune samples and just some good, crunchy synths, the track evokes the best of the sort of hyper-pop you dance to in a dimly lit warehouse surrounded by other gay people. It’s hard to not feel the ghost of the late SOPHIE coming through, and it’s cool to see a girl group as mainstream as it gets playing around in this space. The song’s only problem is its tight 2:17 length—but then again, there’s always the repeat button.
—Mel Woods, senior editor, audience engagement
“the cage”—Kevin Atwater
For so many of us, an intoxicating-but-toxic fling with an older man was a formative part of our gay teenage years. It certainly was for Kevin Atwater, the New York City-based singer/songwriter whose debut album, Achilles, released back in March. The whole album is terrific, with Atwater baring his soul across 11 tracks. Despite much of the album fitting in the guitar-and-haunting-vocals model of an artist like Sufjan Stevens, one of the standout tracks is actually the most rock-influenced: “the cage.” In just under three minutes of offbeat syncopation, Atwater angsts over a secret relationship with an older guy while he was in high school, comparing the secrecy to a cage that thrilled him at the time—but that he now recognizes as a trap. Atwater has said his goal with the song was to not take the easy route and present himself as a victim, but instead reclaim his own agency in the situation. It’s a sensitive banger, and you’re as likely to empathize with Atwater as you are to rock out alongside him.
—Kevin O’Keeffe, contributor
“KFC Santería”—Cain Culto
Cain Culto has been releasing music since 2022, but it was this bluegrass-Latin-hip-hop riot of a song that put the artist on my radar in early 2025. The bold, witchy and unapologetically queer visuals of the music video captured my attention, and so did the music, a blend of influences that sounded both unique and inevitable, as if the song couldn’t have been made any other way. But, as Culto has shared on socials, the song went through many iterations. In one video, he broke down his production, sharing how a sample of a squeaky chair made it into the beat, along with fiddle, flamenco guitar riffs and Middle Eastern and Chinese string sounds. That DIY spirit, and the willingness to let listeners in on his journey, is part of the song’s queer magic.
The remix featuring Sudan Archives is also not to be missed, with one particularly memorable line that often gets stuck in my head: “Fuck Trump, fuck ICE, free Palestine/ I’ma say that shit again, Free Palestine.” New stim unlocked. In the ultimate witchy, queer move, his EP occulto 001 released on Halloween, and I’ll be vibing to it all winter long.
—Ray Stoeve, contributor
“Swelled Roses, Red Balloons”—Oropendola
The music that Brooklyn-based artist Joanna Schubert makes as Oropendola is playful and whimsical, like a modern-day Roches. Schubert’s music calls to mind adult-friendly children’s shows like Adventure Time and Shape Island in its mix of wonder and mischief; Swimming features songs about squirrels and lobotomies side by side. On harp-led closer “Swelled Roses Red Balloons,” Schubert lists her incompatibility with a partner: “Your brain is a rose/ Mine is a tomb/ My heart is a dagger/ Yours a balloon.” She concludes by offering a mission statement for her music: “I must soften now/ make room, make room,” and repeating those last two words as backing vocals and synths rise around her. In a relentless year, it’s a sorely needed reminder to stay tender whenever possible.
—Hannah Jocelyn, contributor
“Touchdown”—Jake Jonez
This single from Jake Jonez (one half of the Mean Gays) is both camp and undeniably catchy, as he plays out a particular high school fantasy on his latest EP, Good Sport. The song opens and closes with the dream sequence cheer from Bring It On before Jonez recounts an ongoing relationship with the school quarterback, who still insists he’s straight and is going to get married, despite clandestine rendezvous with Jonez’s protagonist, with whom there is an emotional connection. The recurring line “Go tell your mom about me, you know I’m sticking around,” resonated with me on a deep level—even though the relationship in the song is sure to be doomed. There is also something very American about the video, which features 30-somethings pretending to be high school students, and Jonez playing both a cheerleader—showcasing his very precise choreography—and a fellow football player to the quarterback, as the tension between them escalates.
—Dale Smith, contributor
“Girl of Your Dreams”—Eli
I love the way that music can transport me to another place. When Eli’s “Girl of your Dreams” is on, that place is my parents’ computer room and I’m on Limewire, torrenting music for my MP3 player. There is no question that pop music has recently been going back in time for inspiration, and this song is an example of a throwback done correctly. The lyrics ride the line between witty and earnest: “For a man who’s such a child, you don’t know how to play with dolls.” Eli’s airy vocals seem to float like clouds above the track, raining emotion when the time calls for it. It would fit perfectly in a mid-2000s edition of Now That’s What I Call Music, right between JoJo’s “Too Little Too Late” and Rihanna’s “Hate That I Love You.”
No element of the project is overlooked, from the early-YouTube-era lyric video to the album cover that could be seen on a shirt at Claire’s next to the word “rock star.” I think one of life’s greatest privileges is to observe an artistic endeavour being executed to near perfection. This year the algorithm gods served me “Girl of Your Dreams” on a butterfly-shaped paper plate, and I licked it clean.
—Tyson Bears, contributor
“Give Me a Sign (feat. Caroline Kingsbury)”—MARIS
From the moment I first heard the irresistible chorus of MARIS and Caroline Kingsbury’s “Give Me a Sign,” I knew, undoubtedly, that it would be my queer song of the year. Tapping into the Cyndi Lauper-esque, ’80s-synth style of last year’s biggest queer song, “Good Luck, Babe!,” “Give Me a Sign” lays out pining relationship woes over a propulsive beat complemented by the bright blend of MARIS’s and Kingsbury’s vocals. The anxieties present in the song are palpable (the two reiterate the potential of “social suicide” if they confess their feelings to their female friend), but the upbeat, vibrant production and delivery make those doubts and insecurities feel exciting and hopeful rather than bleak. But it’s that aforementioned chorus that is the true selling point of the track. The satisfying staccato of the lyrical repetition allows this tale of unfiltered queer yearning to bury deep into your brain and make a home there. MARIS and Kingsbury are up all night looking at pictures of the girl they’re crushing on, but I’ve been up many nights throughout the year with this captivating, candy-sweet song bouncing between my ears.
—Anna Govert, contributor
“Waiting”—Annahstahsia
Is there anything that walks the line between the painful and the pleasurable more than the act of waiting for a lover—particularly one who left without warning? On “Waiting,” a song from her latest album, Tether, singer-songwriter Annahstasia walks that line, yearning for someone who is always trying to run from their obligations. Annahstasia has one of the most unique voices I’ve heard this year, or perhaps ever; it’s warm and husky and able to reach both resonant lows and delicate highs. Tether is an album of precise intention, whether its melodies are sparse folk offerings or swelling horns and gospel choirs. “Waiting” holds the best of both, a lush but delicate slice of a moment—the moment you see someone you love from far away, and know there’s nothing you can do to bring them closer. For Annahstasia, that’s okay. She doesn’t mind a little waiting.
—Oliver Haug, contributing editor
“IT girl”—JADE
Though I will be a Little Mixologist until I die, JADE has clearly emerged as the British girl group’s greatest cultural contribution. Her debut single, “Angel of My Dreams,” which came out last year, was instantly placed into permanent rotation by all gay men who claim to have good taste. This year, she dropped her daring, bizarre, idiosyncratic album That’s Showbiz Baby!, and though the record is chock full of classics, its best song is the sidewinder single “IT girl.” On the electrifying track, Jade slithers effortlessly from operatic vocals to Gaga-esque spoken word. “You make me SICK!” she screeches over vrooming synths. The song drips with charisma and confidence. It is the howl of a girl untethered from a collective and galvanized by her singular, solitary might.
—KC Hoard, associate editor, culture
“Berghain”—Rosalía
Finally, after all these years, pop has taken a direction I can get behind: ominous Satanic wailing soundtracked by a chanting German choir right out of The Omen. Rosalía has been open about relationships with women, but personal queerness is very nearly beside the point here. In a year filled with terrible news for marginalized people of all stripes, the cosmic horror of this song is the only thing to really capture all the doom in the air. And that’s before Björk shows up as—naturally—the voice of God.
—Jude Doyle, contributor
“Sue Me”—Audrey Hobert
I have become extremely charmed by Audrey Hobert this year. Previously most known for writing some of Gracie Abrams’s biggest hits, Hobert stepped into the spotlight with her eclectic and earwormy debut album, Who’s the Clown? And Hobert comes out swinging with “Sue Me.” It’s packed to the gills with aggressive synths and her slapstick, diary entry-style lyricism (“Just me or does he look amazing/ When he’s all in his Amazon Basics?” is in the running for one of my favourite lines in recent memory.) Hobert’s awkward confessionals, combined with her lust for fantasy, has especially endeared her to queer fans—and earned her a rightful spot in the new pop-girlie canon. “Sue Me” is loud and bombastic—expressing her most intimate desires by kicking and screaming and refusing to let you ignore them. She wants to be wanted, maybe she wants to ruin your life (and her own) in the process. Who could blame her when she makes it seem so fun?
—Cody Corrall, social video producer
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