When an artist sounds like where you come from, it can be an immediate, visceral kind of connection, and such is the connection I’ve found with Ali Holder’s track, “Reborn.” The pillowy organ, slow rhythm guitar, and ever-so-slight drawl on this track had already transported my heart to my hometown of Austin, TX before my mind had time to recognize the nostalgia. Growing up in Austin, I always assumed that no matter where you went in the world, you’d find singer-songwriters on every street and in every restaurant, every day of the week. I thought it was a basic part of shared human experience, like fending off grackles or getting unlimited free refills of unsweet iced tea. And from the ubiquitous, strumming masses of my youth, I have come to recognize there is absolutely an “Austin sound.” To me, it's a sound that I will never be able to shake as long as I live; to many, it’s inextricably linked to the strong, warm breezes of July evenings; and if you want to know what it can mean to you, well—I’d start here with Ali Holder.

Melbourne duo Kllo have created a perfect late-night in-your-feelings vibe with their new track “Back To You.” On paper, the musical formula of the song seems almost untenably simple: the drum machine beat is basic, and the few keyboard licks are short and subtle. But the mysterious addictive power of the song can be traced to a single repetitive vocal sample which fades in and out of the background but remains ever-present, like a restless ghost. In conversation with this apparition, the candle-lit vocals of Chloe Kaul create a paradoxical mood, undeniably drowsy yet also packed with energetic tension. “If we missed the boat,” she asks, “would it come back someday?” Lyrically, Kaul grapples out loud with the disorienting push and pull of an off-and-on relationship, one that at times feels inevitable but whose ultimate direction is still largely shrouded in mist. Overall, on “Back To You,” Kllo show us that a true vibe is way more than the sum of its parts.

"Fool’s Gold" is the latest Lucy Dacus original; it is evocative of an all-encompassing warm, muted light from the very beginning. With soft piano notes, Dacus invites us into the end of her New Year’s Eve party. In a quote shared on her Instagram, the Richmond local expresses how cathartic the releasing of this EP was for her. Dacus recorded a handful of covers relating to different holidays, ending the EP with this last song, which is her own work. Each track gave her something to look forward to during the holidays, a time wherein many people struggle to find themselves in a posture of celebration. Her clear voice over the light and frolicking acoustic guitar carries us through a discourse on cynicism in the most delicate and graceful fashion.

Cayucas blends melody with a meticulously crafted assortment of noise in “Alligator.” It is soft and sweet with precise imagery like “jesus christ glued onto the dashboard/photograph cutout taped to cardboard” weaved among keyboard clacks and wind chimes. Zach and Ben Yudin stick to their light indie-pop sound that somehow always feels pleasantly nostalgic. The track builds gently as they assemble the pieces: vocals, keyboard noises, a gentle wind chime, and a simple strum of a guitar. The simplicity of the beginning allows for the world they are building to fill in the gaps before they add percussion and keys. "Alligator" resembles the memory of a day you are trying to dredge up by recalling specific moments—the way the air smelled, the color of the mattress—or maybe it’s all a dream, “caught between dreams awake and sleeping/eyelids half shut and getting heavy." It is sweet and soft, but a little off-kilter.

Villagers construct the sort of washed-out atmosphere that sounds like falling asleep, drifting into a dream with details that only briefly flicker in the morning. Following 2018’s phenomenal full-length The Art Of Pretending To Swim, the Dublin band returns with a brand new EP only slightly more than a year later. “The tracks that fell through the cracks; it turns out they had their own story to tell,” says singer Conor O’Brien. “The Sunday Walker EP is a collection of lost songs as much as it is an emotional arc. Songs of loss and songs of realization. Songs of empathy and isolation.” On “Note To Self (For Michael),” the EP’s closing track, the production makes O’Brien sound distant, but he sings as if whispering only inches away. The song’s components seem to move at separate speeds, with relentlessly steady drums and swirling melodic elements, as O’Brien posits that the ability to “love your tears” is tantamount to the ability to love anything at all.

Lull yourself into a deep state of relaxation with indie-folk artist Aisha Badru’s new single, “Soil’s Daughter.” Reflective and peaceful, the track’s hypnotic ambiance is the perfect way to unwind for sleep or to ease yourself into a new day. It’s also one of Badru’s most mature and unique tracks to date. The minimal arrangement emphasizes the song’s raw emotional pull; with nothing more than airy backing synths to support Badru’s light, lovely vocals, “Soil’s Daughter” relies heavily on the strength and clarity of her words, and she does not disappoint. Equally wispy and gripping, Badru sings with a quiet sort of power that mimics the wisdom of the ages. Through her lyrics, she lays herself bare in search of truth: “Now down by the water / She told me I am the soil’s daughter / And although I look just like my father / My roots, they extend much farther.” Spiritual and soft, “Soil’s Daughter” is a transcendent piece of songwriting that also acts as a meditation on life.

Ryan Egan's latest single, "I Feel Like Crying," is a deeply evocative and cinematic departure from his typical synth-pop. This track is slow and strong, paired with lyrical musings on the fragility of relationships. Egan ponders love and loss alongside the tinkling of plucked violins and heavy orchestral strings. "I Feel Like Crying" flows along like a dance. At first, it's powerful and deep, but then it gradually becomes more hopeful and timid as it progresses. This song is a surprising move for Egan, as he mostly produces indie-pop music. It's a welcome change of pace: "I Feel Like Crying" is a beautiful track that new listeners and long-time appreciators of Egan's work will enjoy.

With an undeniably groovy and hypnotic flow, NY-based artist Spencer. comes in hot with his latest single “Automatic.” The artist embodies both an addicting indie sound found within his sharp guitar notes and a warmly welcomed depth of soul. A funky bassline and reverb-heavy strings—reminiscent of The Internet’s sound—scoot the track along and lay the perfect ground for Spencer.’s moody vocals. Great frustration with a romantic partner is displayed in the lyrics; there’s an awareness inside the singer, reminding him that he'll just keep coming back again and again, even when this person ignores him for weeks on end. He sings, “Someday / You’ll make me wanna walk away / I promise it won’t be today.” Everybody has that somebody, the person who makes their pride completely evaporate with a single text or phone call. “Automatic” is a smooth groove with lyrics cognizant of one’s own Achilles’ heel, igniting excitement for the future of Spencer.'s work with 4AD. The artist just wrapped up touring with Gus Dapperton this fall, and we can look forward to more tunes coming out on in the new year.

Conchúr White has been playing music in bands for years, but now he has finally burst forth with his debut solo single, “Daisies.” The track begins with White’s high, clear tenor voice skating over a bare arrangement of classical instruments, evoking the nostalgia of an early Lana Del Rey. Next, it shifts into a rhythmic and moody late 2000s alternative rock style reminiscent of Parachutes-era Coldplay, and finally dynamically builds into an Of Monsters and Men-style drum-laden, guitar-pounding catharsis. In combination with this veritable salad of sounds, the addition of shoegaze-y guitar riffs and White’s metaphor-heavy lyrics position the song solidly within its own stylistic realm. With “Daisies,” White introduces himself to the world as a theatrical raconteur with crystalline vocals. And with an understated, pithy chorus line like, “Do I even need to say it? / Love is kinda complicated,” the charms of this track are hard to resist.