The Top 100 Mandopop Singles of 2022: #50-1
the best Mandopop of the year from dream pop break ups to pop-punk reconciliations and everything else in between
50. Ann Bai - “All About You”
Ann Bai revels in the idea of a crush, pouring her adoration and longing into her image of him. “No one’s written a song for you before, right?” she questions, bent on getting his attention. It won’t last. She knows they’ll grow apart, but holds the flame in the permanence of the song. A sunrise opening and an arrangement that should build to a heart-racing confession shuffles into a bittersweet divergence: “as long as you can remember me, it’s like being loved.”
49. FORMOZA - “It was like”
Pure sensory overload, doesn’t this just make you want to punch someone?
48. Victor Ma - “Bonnie & Clyde”
Light touches of synthwave in its escapism but driven wholly by its drum line; Ma makes the feeling of cruising too fast sound like a sunny picnic.
47. SOWUT - “ALL RED”
The virtual reality of “ALL RED” is a thrilling adventure as SOWUT raps about the red pill and the white rabbit over B E N N’s hallucinatory UK bass production.
46. Lily Chou-Chou Lied - “The Foreteller”
Lily Chou-Chou Lied are magnetic, building early into grand prophecies only to drop out the background choir and hang you on hushed vocals and handclaps. Rounded out by steel drums, “The Foreteller” is both holy glow and fraudulent deception.
45. Iruka Porisu - “Badminton Youth”
The indie-pop quartet punctuate exasperating defeat with charged guitar riffs. From a broken family to a bad Tinder date, it culminates in an infuriated question of why it always comes back to your hometown.
44. WeiBird - “Most Important Person in the World”
A clumsy attempt to convey love by giving it everything. All the thwacks stem from the raucous guitar performance but WeiBird sets the heart aflame with adoration that’s long moved beyond rose-coloured glasses.
43. Zhang Yihao - “一毫升美夢”
The important parts of “一毫升美夢” (“One Millimeter of Sweet Dreams”) are clear; the drream pop guitar line traces quiet but brilliant stars while Zhang finds clarity in the emptiness of the night sky.
42. Pets Tseng - “My Heart Belongs to You”
A lovingly longing dance with a ghost. “I only care about your everything,” Tseng sings, her voice soaring with obsessive devotion as she clings to the airy chorus.
41. waa wei - “OOPS”
waa wei becomes the joke, as the embarrassing version that talks to herself in a last ditch attempt to make a lover stay. “OOPS” is unsuccessful at shaking off the feeling of being a failure but a looming sense of renewal lies in its charming dream pop.
40. Our Shame - “Lost Souls”
The folktronica duo stutter in the space between electronic drums and singer-songwriter arrangements. On the verge of a breakdown, “Lost Souls” is pulled apart by the disconnect as Our Shame wonder when the relationship became so distant and if you’ll be okay.
39. Lil Ghost - “Ruling the Universe Before 18”
A rebellion emerging from Lil Ghost in that feeling at the height of your youth where you think you know all the answers; pounding guitars and electric guitars make you believe him.
38. Pharaoh - “桃克希克的爱 Part 2 (feat. eclps)”
“Love is a strange thing / I’ve watched it fade from multicoloured to gray,” eclps sings as an introduction to Pharaoh’s spiral. Heady raps over the suffocating production of “桃克希克的爱 Part 2” (“Toxic Love Part 2”), a refraction of one-sided love, despair, and agony.
37. insecteens - “In a Flash”
Slow and languid indie-rock, “In a Flash” is that summer where you woke up and realized everything changes a little too quickly for your liking: “in a flash, you say goodbye and disappear / in a flash, we can’t go back to yesterday.”
36. Crispy - “Sorry X 100”
On “Sorry X 100,” the newlyweds write a manifesto on how they got there. “To love is to say ‘sorry’ one hundred times,” the pair sing. Lu’s fond drawl and Ting’s tolerant wince are prominent, but their voices wind around one another in a cherished glow.
35. Sammy Chang - “討厭粉紅”
“討厭粉紅” (“Hate Pink”) is a satisfying inner monologue that rejects all expectations lauded against Chang by merging pop-punk’s rebellion with dance-pop’s sense of freedom.
34. Sweet John - “Accidentally in Love (feat. waa wei)”
Set up by a rolling fog, a snaking guitar line, and sinister drums, the trio of vocalists come together in a foreboding premonition: “you are a blooming jasmine in June / people can’t help but whisper as they pass by.” It’s ominously enchanting.
33. L8ching - “Relax (feat. EMMA)”
Backed by just a light drum set-up, “Relax” is a welcoming meditation, breezy in its coos, earnestly warm in L8ching and EMMA’s fullness.
32. Limi - “Ice Cream (feat. EMMA)”
Here, EMMA’s call to “just chill and relax” comes with a seductive bite. Limi are just as game; Li is tipsy off wine and ready to throw caution aside, while Mi decorates it with bubbly synths.
31. Dai Yanni - “Run Into You”
Picking herself back up after stumbling, Dai looks to friends for inspiration but moves forward at her own pace on the dynamic pop moombahton of “Run Into You.”
30. GALI - “Color:Teriyaki / WhenSmokeClears”
Both tracks crave luxury and exhibit cautiousness: “Color:Teriyaki” is the rush, the rapper piling up brands and delivering knockout punches while “WhenSmokeClears” is the somber aftermath, opulence hummed about in autotuned isolation.
29. Shallow Levée - “See Through the Dark (feat. Joh Ung)”
Goonam’s Joh Ung layers Korean lyrics about loss on top of Yi-Ling’s Mandarin lyrics about hiding emotional pain. Paired together, “See Through the Dark” is a gorgeously striking dance into the night by two damaged figures.
28. AJ Lai - “Suffocation City”
AJ Lai generates motion through “Suffocation City” using textures: propulsive pop-rock, R&B vocals, and spacey electronic production. A sharp rap turn to escape the feeling of being smothered before he confesses to the same desire as anyone else feeling adrift: “I just need someone to tell me, ‘I’m waiting for you.’”
27. Vinida - “Dumo”
Producer HARIKIRI overheard Vinida’s Fuzhounese and understood its intonations to be a perfect match for afrobeats. On “Dumo” she introduces in Mandarin before slipping into a liquid combination of English and Fuzhounese in her sing-song voice, letting all insecurities and annoyance dissolve at the touch of a lover.
26. Richael Liu - “Babe”
Richael Liu cares nothing for the odds. On “Babe,” she’s earnestly ready to love and be loved. In the intimacy of coffee and breakfast in a shared kitchen, she struggles to find the words to express it, settling on an adoring pet name and murmurs that sound like the sunny warmth of being in love.
25. Young Captain - “11 (feat. HooLeeger)”
Desperation rips through the question: “have you been doing well?” Young Captain lets the chorus bloom open before HooLeeger raps painful reminders in the emptiness. It cuts like a thousand regrets, a desperate apology left unsaid as his broken heart bleeds in anguish: “I couldn’t be with you until the end.”
24. DAZI - “Save My Love 4 U”
Cast in an affectionate glow, DAZI ponders if a crush is reciprocated over sterling synthpop comprised of heart-thumping synths and perfect drum fills.
23. Karencici - “99% Angel”
Confounding that Karencici is both like candy and eating it up, but “99% Angel” is stacked with enough sticky hooks atop its runway beat that it hardly matters. She mixes a drug potent enough to get your heart racing with an addictive sugary taste that’ll leave you craving.
22. Shi Shi - “jagi (feat. KIRE)”
“We’re like a dream,” Shi Shi sighs in adoration, “one or two episodes aren’t enough.” The reggaeton beat controlled the flow but the pair court each other in a combination of Mandarin, Korean, and English. Dreamy washes as Shi Shi plays coy, a more complex pattern to strengthen KIRE’s machismo. They’re flirtatiously hot, dangerously close to burning up as they ignore their own advice to take things slow.
21. Julia Wu - “otherside”
The questions at the crux of “otherside” are gentle but nag for an answer as Julia Wu places them at the top: “do you think you’ll always be like this? do you think that you’ll always feel like this?” She cuts into your indecision then placates, an innocent request to be swept off her feet disguising the demand for complete commitment before she loses herself. A ticking time limit looms but Wu’s already too deeply lost, a “fuck it” buried in the middle as she demands for attention. “otherside” is exhilarating adoration and any other path is impossible; the dreamy instrumental is heaven, her trills are ecstasy, and the final request is swallowed in a blissful swell.
20. Bloodz Boi & Quit Life - “365”
When my mom was depressed, she would look out the window at the end of the day and softly call it: “another day,” erasing anything but its dreariness. “365” is a reminder of that bleakness: one day devoid of anything, stacked on top of another and another, until you’ve collected a year’s worth of them. “Although I’m human, there’s nothing to miss,” Bloodz Boi notes of his own perceived insignificance. Perhaps even bleaker is the reminder in Quit Life’s stuttering cinema of a production that buries its protagonists that the world continues to keep moving, no matter how little you feel or want it.
19. G.E.M. - “F=mw²r”
Suspended in air, backed against the wall, and draped in darkness, “F=mw²r” (centrifugal force) is disco removed from the glitz, a broken heart trapped inside the ball. It leaves a metal taste in your mouth, the sound feeling liked devoted worship rather than love. Unreciprocated, G.E.M. continues her unstable rotation, orbiting around a partner who keeps her at a distance.
18. BO$$ X - “LIFE”
BOSS X freewheels through “LIFE,” borrowing from the off-beat yet punchy never-ending flow of Michigan rap. Sharp stings open, but he raps with excessive familiarity, blurring the difference between Mandarin and Sichuanese as he tours his hometown. He raps with too much information—his weight used as a way of keeping track of time, while he ignores the trap beat. Intimidating yet friendly, BOSS X captures the chaos and affability of Chengdu.
17. jiafeng - “Twitter War”
“Twitter War” is a pop-punk song that’s been tinkered away at until it no longer resembles anything you’ve heard. The guitar tone sounds like a cartoonish joke but takes on math-rock complexities before he shifts an actual pop-punk guitar line. About an aggravating dispute, he absurdly laments, “I regret that I didn’t kick you in the head.” Bitterness apparent through the distortion, it rises to fury on the electrifying chorus: “Have I made myself clear yet?,” he screams. Drained, it changes one last time to an emo track, the same question posed with despair, hoping someone understands his sincere intentions.
16. Lisa Djaati - “Volcano”
David Ke’s lyrics came first. A romantic tragedy. Then Lisa Djaati layers components on top: synthesizer melodies, cooled over; recklessly clattering drums; and digital twists that immediately dissipate. Her voice, deep and weathered, distortion added on top. Its chaotic arrangement is one final eruption, touching on genres without delving in. Deconstructed club and acid techno elements unfurl and implode. A breakbeat spark instantly cools. In the absence of heat, she steels her resolve: “I won’t love again.”
15. JinxZhou - “Oolong Boba”
It’s difficult to make out the first part of the line—whether it’s “where’s my” or “wish my” remains irrelevant—but when JinxZhou pronounces “daddy,” it’s both erotically charged and condescendingly biting. She lives for the ambiguity, excited to confuse. (Its title, “Oolong Boba,” refers to the bittersweet drink but has a second slang meaning of “unexpected mistake with big breasts.”) When she spirals into French, it slides down easy, lingers hauntingly, and comes off as awkwardly laughable. With light trance influence, JinxZhou is a thrilling enigma: biting but seductive, comfortably amusing yet tantalizingly out of reach.
14. Shen An - “Back in 1995”
Shen An recounts two lovers, the woman never seen again, the man with blood on his shoes. “Back in 1995” packs such vivid detail, when he returns to the scene, its first chorus feels like a kick to the head: 1995, a park at 10:15 on a rainy night. A thousand other details are all laced with rage and regret in punchy guitar lines and stifled vocals as he wishes he could’ve done more for a woman who never got to hear his confession.
13. Sandee Chan - “Bondage”
From the perspective of dominance and submission, Sandee Chan unravels the pain of social media, the tight arrangement of militant drums and sawtooth strings locking her in as the eyes stare at her. “Bondage” looks for a release that never comes. There’s no anguish, no pleasure. Instead, she invokes a quote from the French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, “Hell is other people,” and binds you with it, helping you understand how you torture yourself through others. Chan offers a directive for relief in the same unwavering tone: “look into the mirror and say, ‘master, I love you.’” No grand revelation, she drills the lesson, an affirmation to inspire pleasure in the bondage.
12. Lexie Liu - “FORTUNA”
Lexie Liu loves to cobble together nonsense. Here, it’s an air she purports to borrow from Egypt, Spanish that sounds like she learned it solely from reggaeton, and a rotating lottery of random lyrics. Yet the snottiness of “FORTUNA” is easily her most personable performance; its pre-chorus reeks of condescension and on the post-chorus of 8-bit video game blips, she taunts you with bratty derision. Liu pummels through its mystifying thrill with the rocky spin of a wheel in its palpitating dancefloor drum’n’bass.
11. ATOM BOYZ URANUS - “DeJaLa”
Somehow, the still-developing ATOM BOYZ URANUS featured some of the most technically impressive rapping to come out of Taiwan. The six members impressively play off one another by quick handoffs and easily replicated ironic lilts but the highlight comes late as Auztin switches flow mid-verse amidst gunshots as he shifts from rapping about doubts to making his family proud. Its title, “DeJaLa” translates from Hokkien to “we’re here” and they use that call to pause, a chant of disbelief and affirmation. It balances itself on metallic whirring, mechanical roars, and ad-libbed yelps that intensify its momentum. The idol group spare no punches, opening fast and heavy with sirens and a call to “shut the fuck up.”
10. Astro Bunny - “如果我有勇氣失去你”
No strangers to loneliness, Astro Bunny have blown it to cosmic proportions, equating it to the end of the universe. But on “如果我有勇氣失去你” (“If I’m Brave Enough to Lose You”), vocalist Léna Cha confronts her fears to release herself from another after their relationship has grown to a paralyzing standstill. “If I’m brave enough to lose you, maybe I can find new meaning,” she ponders, before taking the leap. “Can’t return,” she finds at its end. “如果我有勇氣失去你” blooms into freedom, its expanse completely empty, ready to be remade however Cha sees fit.
9. E.SO - “Lucid Dream”
The horniest song of the year found E.SO spiralling into delirium. For his imaginary tryst, every kink is tried and tested—he buys the girl a dress so he can be the one to rip it off, he roleplays as a thug or a nerd for her (but really his) desires. “If there’s cream on the sheets then Pornhub should’ve had this scene,” he sings. E.SO’s picked out all the details, rapping at the centre of its Afrobeats percussion; the background vocals become equally carnal spectators as another point of arousal for him. Eyes popping out of his head with lust as he heads to climax, before it ends abruptly. Heart-pumping excitement to confused apprehension, “Lucid Dream” evades satisfaction because of 7AM construction and all that’s left are the messy remnants of a wet dream and an empty bed.
8. NICKTHEREAL - “我做的是愛不是夢”
Every diversion from pop-punk’s tropes is deliberate on “我做的是愛不是夢” (“What I Make Is Love, Not a Dream”): the gravelly rasp is diminished as a sign of maturity, he pivots from materialism as an assurance that he holds her as the greatest importance, and the chorus’ lack of rowdiness lets its intentions ring more sincere. “This time, I’ll never say goodbye,” NICKTHEREAL sings, staking everything on hard work, “this time, win or lose isn’t the end.” He tempers all extremes outside of its biggest romantic declarations until it sounds honest. Yet his pursuit isn’t without its thrills, leaving it all in one final electric chorus delivered outside your bedroom window like the greatest of romantic gestures.
7. Lala Hsu - “Like a Star”
Deemed as a sort of east-meets-west scenario, “Like a Star” combines two retro genres in high fashion: house music from the west and city-pop in the east. The house beat takes the forefront while the city-pop lends itself as decoration, like the attractive swirl that sets the track in motion. Perhaps there’s a conversation in how the melody can be traced differently for each hemisphere: Lala Hsu appeals to the nostalgia of the east, who know it as part of a popular commercial by Takuya Kimura in the late 2000s, but the sample derives from Philadelphia soul group The Stylistics, on their 1975 “Can’t Give You Anything (But My Love).” But for all its intricacies, Hsu is unconcerned with its history, using warm brass arrangement to launch herself higher on the vibrant chorus. She sets her sights above retro homage. “Follow me, talk about me, love me,” she calls, all eyes on her through the thumping house beat and glitzy instrumental.
6. Yo Lee - “Quitting You (feat. Mandark)”
Yo Lee snakes through the twisting and turning dream pop of “Quitting You” as he navigates the tail of a breakup. Attempting to detach himself from an old flame in his soft-spoken voice, he’s perhaps too gentle over his light guitar work and Mandark’s dreamy synths. “Don’t tell me about your recent life / don’t sell me your loneliness,” he sings, but accidentally gives too much on the pre-chorus: “I love you too much / I’ve gone numb.” It ripples and he braces himself all over again: “I’ll quit you completely,” he sighs, “every day a little bit less and less.” Less and less of anything other than Yo Lee—synths recede as the guitar assumes control and Mandark’s already ghostly presence fades. Before long, “Quitting You” leaves nothing for him to look back on.
5. ΛTLΛNTIX - “OㄡO (feat. Auztin & LCY)”
The sentimental heart of ΛTLΛNTIX was in the match-up of Auztin and LCY, best exemplified in “OㄡO” as they sang about the cutting aftermath of rejection. “Still smiling and living life because I don’t want to be looked down upon by you,” Auztin whimpers in his breathy rasp but nothing was quite as harsh as LCY’s pitiful directness. The chorus felt like a warm embrace. “Maybe I should never let you go,” the pair imagine. Perhaps that’s a dream—rejection rewritten as acceptance and a night spent stargazing—but its proposal sounds more like two friends containing their heartbreak by closing the distance between them. Its starriness is artificial but soft, like two kids shining flashlights at a blank curtain they hung over their treehouse window to create their own fantasy outlook.
4. A-Lin - “Flower”
How do you introduce yourself to an audience who already think they know everything about you? Don’t ignore the bad but act the optimist and mollify the pain, A-Lin seems to suggest. Stabs of new jack swing drums and an introduction that’s impossibly intimate. “Come closer baby,” she sings, the pet name easily rolling off her tongue. Combining ‘90s synthpop with future garage rhythm, A-Lin takes you through her life ten years at a time: an endearing superstar-in-the-making at eight, but a passionate yet failing performer by eighteen. Twenty-eight brings a fake smile in the stress of motherhood and fame, its instrumental hesitating as she gasps for breath, but even as the bridge takes a trap detour, she circles back to peace. Ascending to its transcendent final chorus takes it home, a short and sweet introduction to A-Lin. She pauses for reflection but doesn’t dwell. “Thirty-eight and in full bloom / what comes next must be even more interesting.”
3. drogas - “silence (feat. Losty)”
Time proves not to be the healer on another drogas and Losty collaboration, the pair somehow sinking deeper into despair in the aftermath of another breakup. It’s difficult not to view “silence” as an extension of last year’s “How Can I?”: both use Losty’s autotuned chirps as a foil to drogas’ low warble and both layer electronic coatings on top of acoustic arrangements. But the differences make “silence” more agonizing. Taking the guitar up in pitch sets a level of expectation that drogas could never meet, a cynical tragedy that makes his distressful fall even harsher. “Kill me now, let me die in the ocean / die in the morning, die in the tranquility,” he cries, afraid to take action but in desperate need of relief. Even more ruthless? “silence” cruelly kills the pair after they ask enough times: Losty’s voice is run through a digital shredder and drogas chokes in excruciating screams. The scars never fade, the wounds never scab, and drogas and Losty’s broken hearts are swept away in the rising water.
2. Akini Jing & Chace - “Blessing”
“Blessing,” built on thrumming drum ‘n’ bass production is transportive. As Akini Jing races from one combative universe to another, drums pelt down like acid rain, her voice cycling through shouts of alarm and softer coos. Technology is the enemy, the maker of a mind-numbing society, but on the chorus, she rejects its captivity and turns her attention to the spiritual: “hope you understand that life itself is just God,” she sings. It sounds equally as tormenting as it is gracious, the final word pulled chillingly upward and stretched as if she were possessed by that higher power.
Producer Chace made the single edit of “Blessing” to be a tight onslaught of drums and synths, but gives Akini Jing more space to breathe on the album version, wedging breakbeats between her vocal sections, despite upping its sense of danger through warning sirens spread through its back half. He collapses the universe on the extended outro as she moves on to another world, the dimensions crumbling as off-rhythm drums and wonky synthline converge to nothingness. Not the first to reimagine technology as the enemy and spirituality as the saviour, but here in this dimension, Akini Jing and Chace make the idea as thrilling conquest.
1. Faye - “焚風”
There’s this weather phenomenon, known a Foehn wind: a warm, dry wind that slides off a slope and heats the area where it lands. The effects can be disastrous and at it’s worst the climate is completely changed, rendered inhospitable to whatever used to reside. The coldest parts melt, leaving nothing but the destruction of constantly raging wildfires.
These are the conditions Faye finds herself on “焚風” (“Foehn Wind”). And here, she’s the storm, her voice an echo in the wind, placed between synths that rage with heat, watching everything go up in a rapturous inferno. Yet throughout, she’s also the one shouldering all the damage—she dazedly walks alone this bumpy road, even when the instrumental turns apathetic to her struggles. But here is also where Faye finds relief; walking on the path a second time, she recovers after stumbling: “the road was so lonely,” she recalls, “but unexpectedly, the days without you aren’t so hard.” There’s a hint of a bite, but mostly, it’s her voice filled with relief.
“焚風” leaves no home for life, but the aftermath sees it reappear. Synths and drums weigh heavy, but a lone bird call arrives to the glow and shimmer of the pre-chorus, a signal of the revival of its desolate land. Here, she breaks into a run, gasping through the smoke and there’s a sense of panic as she stumbles into a free fall before the final chorus. But during the drop, Faye finally seems to understand the wind as her saviour—it’s left her with nothing, but maybe starting over is worth it if means incinerating connections that no longer serve any purpose. Surrounded by nothing but a warm wind, she discovers a feeling that’s been on the tip of my tongue for the entirety of this year: “how freeing it is to exist for no one else.”
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To preserve order, the Spotify playlist only includes GALI’s “Color:Teriyaki” (#30). JinxZhou’s “Oolong Boba” (#14), Lala Hsu’s “Like a Star” (#7), and ΛTLΛNTIX’s “OㄡO (feat. Auztin & LCY)” (#5) aren’t on Spotify so I replaced them with AR’s “020 Garage,” Lala Hsu’s “Break Off (Feat. Abao & Brandy)”, and 你的大表哥曲甲 - “難過的可怕 (feat. 艾兜),” respectively.