Singer-songwriter, producer and multi-instrumentalist Zigi Porter writes dreamy lo-fi pop songs under the moniker Darcie. The Manchester, UK-based artist has carved out a distinctive sound with quirky lyricism and a boldly experimental production style. Aspects of Porter’s self-professed influences (the lush arrangements of Rex Orange County and understated vocals of Billie Eilish) can be heard at times, but Darcie is all her own. “Silence” builds on the soulful sound of Porter’s previous work and carries it to a slightly darker, more pensive place. The result remains warm and enveloping, with her voice floating over heavy, insistent percussion. “The silence we create is a violent mistake,” Porter sings, backed by ominous synths. Later, she seems to break this silence, with reverb-laden vocals urging, “Give another trust.” Through lyrics that articulate an ever-present threat of abandonment (“Teach me you’ll ditch us”), Darcie explores the vulnerability inherent in the act of trusting and weighs the merits of choosing to do so anyway.

Bright funk full of love, “Mariposa” instantly settles into a sunny groove. It’s held together by a simple swinging rhythm section, led by an adventurous bassline. Radiant Children's lead singer, Fabienne Holloway saunters through the chorus with a sense of effortless ease. As she pulls us into the verse with some added energy there’s this moment of spice, as the echoes of the words "kimono" and "photo" dance around and create just a touch of chaos. It’s a cool choice and the kind of move that proves Radiant Children isn’t afraid to do something different. And while the vibe stays true through the second chorus, that creative courage is on full display directly after. Stacked vocals settled into a chant, begging us to give ourselves the care we need, demanding everyone to “Keep that heart open, don’t forget what you deserve." It’s a powerful moment, the vocals presented in a way that feels holy yet human—simultaneously your wise guardian angel and the voice inside your head. Some bouncy chords deliver us back to the chorus, this time giving the bass even more space to shine. The outro reinforces that positive, believe-in-yourself message, and rides this sunlit track to its mellow conclusion. This is the London group’s second single of 2020, maintaining their warm jazzy energy with a kind message.

Sometimes songs are special because they are good. Sometimes songs are special because the context surrounding your first listen is significant in some way. Sometimes, but rarely, a song is special because the first listen superimposes it with such a strong feeling that the song is forever etched in your brain. For me, "Runner" by Hovvdy wholeheartedly claims brain space in that way exactly. My first listen was about 20 minutes after it came out, as one of innumerable music recs bounced back and forth between me and one of my close friends. On its own, it’s a pleasant 3 minutes and 44 seconds that suits both of our tastes. Gentle syncopated bass and sentimental almost-love lyrics catch my ears and heart first. For him, it’s probably the percussion, gentle guitar (heavy on beat two), all overlaid with vocals that melt over everything else. Subtle effects tempt you in for repeat listens, your ears determined to mine every sonic easter egg you can find. I can’t count the number of elements to admire, but ironically the most poignant piece is something that was never written in at all. It’s memories of every piece of friendship with the person who shared it with me, montaged like videos on fuzzy aged film, in a way that makes me as happy as it does sad. The past is as gone as it is good, and only the future remains. That’s the core feeling of this new Hovvdy single, and I adore it. "Runner" is nostalgia, bottled and fizzy.

Berlin-based songwriter and soul singer Donna Arendse is The Septembers. On “Night Games,” her voice floats confidently atop the slowly expanding production of Melbourne-based producer Wayfarer//. The result is a deeply affecting electro-soul track that eventually grows to a sudden and surprising catharsis. At first, there is only a lonesome piano sample, and Arendse’s layered vocals lifting from the ground around it like swirling mist. When the bass finally kicks in, it seems to circle the piano like prey, and the poetry of the first lyrics shrouds the scene with even more mysterious tension. Halfway through the song, as Arendse sings the track’s mantra over and over in her honeyed alto, the words seem hesitant to leave their home in her heart. But the feeling is too powerful to stay in there. Soon it swells into a thunderous wave of sound, booming in and out of focus. And when the wave recedes, the five words written in the sand need no further explanation. “No one wants to hurt.”

Less is more on Linden Jay’s latest track "Got Me All Wrong." Half of FARR, the talented and accomplished producer creatively turns on the charm on this track. Beautiful vocals echo words that evoke the realization of incompatibility, “I think you've got me all wrong / you don't know me at all / you like the way I make you feel / you like the way I see right through you,” still, the exclamation, “I think your soul is so beautiful” dramatically stands out for more reasons than one—as isolated vocals highlight a sentiment seemingly juxtaposed from the rest. 

Playful electronic elements accent bassy undertones and unique vocal distortions. The stylization of repeated lyrics plays nicely with the beat, adding an air of novelty akin to getting to know someone familiar all over again. It's hard to deny the way "Got Me All Wrong" pulls you in lyrically and sonically with such stunning simplicity—a true testament to Jay's production prowess.

Cherished hometown heroes of West Palm Beach, Mona Lisa Tribe is a locally loved delicacy moving in a new direction, in terms of location, to Nashville. Their new song “Fly” was written on an airplane—a breeding place for boundless creativity and rumination amidst the company of strangers and the clouds. This track was originally written by band member Tabitha Meeks about a moment in her life where she felt that multiple people she loved had approached a time in which they could move forward and “reach their full potential." In a manner true to their form, they share charming harmonies, exemplifying (with their voices) exactly how they made the city of West Palm Beach fall in love with them. While the song was originally about friends of the band, it has taken on a new meaning as they’ve migrated to a new city to pursue their own full potential with all of the support of the loving community in front of whom they came to life.

Songwriter cham ii’s third single as The Sleepovers, “Come Back,” was created at home alone. Its location in the world of music is that uncontrollable molten center of true DIY bedroom pop: a person giving time to a feeling, alone, perhaps literally in his bedroom, and seeing what music comes out of it. In this case, the feeling being explored is FOMO: the fear of missing out. “Where are you guys going? Can I come along?” starts the track, and the question is never answered. But as time passes, it feels like cham is escaping deeper into his own mind, and that is an answer in itself. “Feel like a square, feel bad / that I can’t find my path,” he sings, and you start to realize the whole song is built on that feeling of meandering in the dark. But another word for “meandering” is “improvising,” and the sense of unedited spontaneity is one of the track’s strong suits. As soon as you compare The Sleepovers to another artist, the vibe shifts drastically and the comparison is gone. When the warm humming of synths is joined by the blooping funk of electronic water droplets in the track’s first moments, it might remind you of early chillwave artists like Toro y Moi. But then when cham delivers a stream-of-consciousness flow over an echoey breakbeat later on, it feels like hip-hop alchemists BROCKHAMPTON are more nearby on the musical family tree. Sometimes you just start walking and the path finds you, again and again.