The annual rundown of Guardian writers picking their most played tracks of the season goes from club-ready pop to sunny tech house

• Check out a Spotify playlist of the choices

Kim Petras’ greatest song to date is also the best outsider country song in recent memory: if Ethel Cain and Lana Del Rey could ever put the beef behind them and duet, the dusty gutter romance of Jeep is exactly how you’d want it to sound. The song creates a flyover state love story in a strangely effective union of hyperpop and Americana, creating a windswept fantasy of “doing some middle America shit” with your man: Four Loko-fueled hookups, gas station canoodling and screaming along to rage music beneath the stars. The truly audacious thing is the bridge, a whispered and impressionistic slur that feels like Petras is eight drinks deep, doing donuts in her car until everything blurs. It’s total make-believe, but Petras is so good at making you feel her longing that it gets me choked up. When she recently came out at a Charli xcx show to perform Jeep unannounced, it already felt like an anthem. Owen Myers

The genre-bending R&B artist’s new album finds fresh focus for her uncompromising vision, blending soul, sex and shoegaze

More than most musicians on a typical promo cycle, Kelela has been appearing on my social feeds in increasingly surreal combinations. In one clip, she blows kisses to an enormous crowd of onlookers on the streets of Soho New York; another sees her posing for fans against a fog-strewn background somewhere between South Central and survivalist video game Silent Hill. In the video for idea 1 the singer saunters down a corridor with windswept silver hair, looking like Storm if the X-Men movies had been directed by Hype Williams. In a widely circulated tribute/parody, the track is synced uncannily well to a cut of RuPaul in the 90s strutting her stuff to the song’s throbbing guitar, while sporting a remarkably similar sleek, platinum blonde wig.

“If there were a fan competition amongst artists, I feel like I would win,” the actual Kelela tells me when we meet at a recording studio in east Williamsburg, New York. “No shade to nobody!

Tipped by Lorde and Billie Eilish, the New York musician twists sublime folk and chaotic synths into bewitching new shapes

At first Shane Lavers can’t get through. Then he’s on video call but I cannot speak. When we finally make a clear connection over the phone, I can hear that he’s surrounded by nature, with faint snatches of birdsong at the edge of his measured, slightly gravelly speech. The musician who performs both in and as Chanel Beads (it remains unclear even to its core members whether they’re a band or a solo project) is on location shooting a music video somewhere on the coast of North Carolina. Encountering him as a disembodied voice, never mind one competing with worldly twittering and chirping, somehow feels more fitting than it would for most other musicians.

For years, Lavers has honed in on a cryptic, panoramic sound that ricochets from catchy, shout-along rock music to flare-ups of dissonant experimental noise. If the typical payoff of a pop song is to encapsulate a clear emotional arch in three-minute, verse-chorus structures, the appeal of a Chanel Beads track is much more unwieldy. Earlier singles such as Ef, Police Scanner and Male Friendship flicker in and out of focus, establishing a ground-floor of groove, only for Lavers and his bandmates to upend it with swelling strings, chiming guitar and ear-splitting samples. Lyrically, his songwriting gathers around an unstable emotional core that is so dense in its unspoken feeling that it manages to achieve an aching kind of orbit. It’s Lavers’s great talent to handle all of that swirling intensity while keeping everything suspended in the air.

Director Adam Shankman and drag queen actors explain putting a brilliantly madcap twist on Airplane! style parody

Drag queens are never more striking than when they’re set against an everyday background. “Kristen Stewart is a buoy … ” the Laotian American beauty Jujubee muttered spacily to herself in the hallway of Bleecker Street Media’s New York office, reading out the tag-line of a framed poster for the 2024 sci-fi/romance Love Me. The former RuPaul’s Drag Race contestant and star of the new disaster-comedy Stop! That! Train! was lingering outside an office cubicle in a structured blazer and fishnets as an attentive PR took her order for lunch. By that point she’d been in full wardrobe and make-up all day fielding press, including a mid-morning stop with her castmates at NBC’s Today with Jenna & Sheinelle.

I’d heard Jujubee and her co-star Ginger Minj before I saw them, laughing like glamorous hyenas from another room. When they made an entrance, they did so in coordinated cheetah print looks, greeting me with the kind of mega-watt smiles that told me I was now their audience. I was impressed by how “on” they were, but could imagine it was taxing to keep up. How had the whirlwind of press been for them? “It’s been a lot of work but it doesn’t feel like it,” Ginger admitted. “The tour has absolutely mimicked the making of the movie.” “We have to schedule our sleep,” Jujubee added as she slowly began to peel off some cumbersome press-on nails. “But I’m so high on life and all of us have been able to stay in the moment, and live in this stormaganza of press.” They immediately started cackling again.

There’s nostalgia to the New York/London duo’s lo-fi laptop sound, but their second album pushes them into vivid, weirder new territory

From Hudson valley, New York, and London
Recommended if you like the Books, Leila, Worldpeace DMT
Up next Rumspringa released 29 May

Jonah Paz and Yaelle Avtan recorded their first ever track as Ear on an iPhone in the Bard College library. That song, Nerves, pits their murmuring voices against weightless strings and barely perceptible drums. Just as it seems poised to float away altogether, the track is suddenly overtaken by a blaring bass synth that cleaves the first act’s aching plea into an emotionally fraught, black-lit banger.

Madison Square Garden, New York City

The British artist’s brilliantly ambitious first arena show is a breathtaking showcase of her artistic range, with pole dancing, vogue battles and sword fighting

From time to time, photographs from FKA twigs’ stint as a backup dancer make the rounds on social media. In the early days, when her name recognition was secondary to the likes of Jessie J and Peter Andre, Tahliah Barnett would take to the stage and use her body and talent in service of someone else’s vision. The drama of being visible yet never being fully seen would become an important subtext to her work. Misrecognition from a lover, by the public, from the internet, provided powerful emotional stakes to her songwriting, which she complemented with ultra-tactile music that teased and staggered payoffs that went further than any expected beat.

The most definite proof that she has become an undeniable star in her own right comes tonight, when she tears the house down on her first ever arena date at Madison Square Garden. “Did you truly see me?” the singer whispers from bed in the show opener, Mirrored Heart. The immediate, roaring response is at funny odds with her lament that follows: “No, not this time.” If anything, the evening proves again and again just how intensely she and her audience seem to recognize one another. For one thing, the crowd is styled in her image, in fulfillment of her wish from Home With You to “see a hero like me in a sci-fi”. From blocks away, you can follow the stream of make-do Rick Owens looks and be certain that you are headed toward FKA twigs’ location. Inside the arena, it feels like New York is doing its best approximation of a Berlin nightclub: an orgy of black tank-tops, Lucite pleaser heels and constellations of facial piercings that must be a nightmare for the people running the metal detectors.