LA-based singer-songwriter Andy Leon soothes the soul in her latest single "Breadcrumbs." The track begins with a delicate guitar line that is soon joined by Leon's sweet and soothing vocals. Although the song sounds calm, cool, and collected, it dives into feelings of sadness and explores the moment you realize you're tethered to another person. She goes on to sing heart-wrenchingly, "float on, nothing's wrong / the breadcrumbs gone, gone, they're gone / and we're so far from home, so far and so alone." The song builds into an impressively emotional guitar and vocal line, backed with the support of a group of violins and a piano. As soon as the sonic setting reaches its dreamy interlude peak, it soon descends and takes us back to where we started. Leon closes the song describing how she made a wish with an eyelash and felt the fingers of the person she felt tethered to on her face all day.

I was hooked by Clarence James’s track “But Naw” from its jazz-infused opening chords. The Austin-based guitarist, songwriter and producer melds hip-hop, jazz and indie rock influences into a laid-back style animated by excellent guitar work. This track exemplifies his ability to repurpose established chord progressions in a fresh context—a process he calls “stealing chords from dead jazz musicians”—which makes it feel simultaneously classic and innovative. The arrangement is fairly stripped-back, and the seamless interlocking of the guitar and drums serves to highlight James’s musicianship and lyrics. “But Naw” describes shifting allegiances and mistrust with humor: “Should’ve known when she got them bangs she was changin’.” The frustration here is evident, but the chorus is punctuated by defiance when James sings, “I don’t give a shit ‘bout what you say,” and the song cracks wide open. “But Naw” is included on Clarence James’s debut LP, Fucked Me Up, out today on Bandcamp. In recognition of Juneteenth and the movement for Black lives, all proceeds from the LP during its first week on the platform will be donated to Black Lives Matterand Austin Justice Coalition.

"Bloom" by Jessy Rose is a satisfying and cinematic track full of saucy chromaticism. Rose’s voice rests tantalizingly on leading tones, building tension and release that keeps you on the edge of your seat. The verses show off the song's jazzy piano ballad base which delivers goosebumps and sounds reminiscent of John Legend. The chorus is augmented by a blend of synthetic effects and syncopated percussion that gets increasingly dense as the song progresses. Meanwhile, Rose’s voice slides effortlessly in falsetto and swoops back down to cradle in the middle of the piano line. By the time you reach the end of the 2:50 minute track, you feel like you’ve sat through an entire feature film. Suddenly, you notice that you haven’t had a single thought about anything else for almost 3 minutes. Bloom’s dense chromatic universe—simultaneously subverting expectation and resolving with a sense of inevitability—absorbed you completely. Now released, you feel ready to emerge from the dark theater—blinking into the sunlight and feeling slightly changed.

A delicate elegy, "Gaslight" is a stunning new offering from Ntu. It opens with a stutter, making us check that our headphones are working, but yes, they are, it’s just Ntu ushering us into his world of uncertainty. Each layer of ambient sounds—metallic whooshes and creaking floors—is laid down with the precision of a painter adding soft strokes to an intricate canvas. We are in the haunted house of Ntu and his lover, each daring the other to “gaslight me, then leave." It’s a world of pleasure and pain. The electronic kick drum is the slow beating heart of the lovers who want to make something work even while enjoying the dysfunction: “my love can hold you down / it’s like a million birds / around your neck, dead / weight, don’t leave me.” Ntu’s voice melts into the soundscape, a hushed whisper-song coming at us in all directions, then singing in tandem with the other vocalist with simple but luscious harmonies. We are subsumed, and we love it.

London-based artist Zilo’s latest track sings as a diary page that has been left open on purpose. “Tell Her” is an open-letter plea to a lover to let go of an ex, while also offering the reflection that she should just trust her partner and let it go. Jealousy is a tricky emotion and Zilo’s exploration of this conflicting feeling is heightened by the sultry R&B bass grooves and staggered percussion leading us through her thoughts. Produced by Bowtye, the smallest detail of delicate chimes in the background sound eerily similar to a text tone and give the listener a tinge of anxiety similar to what you might feel if you were worried about a partner and someone they’re talking to. A slowed edit of the song was released alongside the original, which gives Zilo a more androgynous tone that seems exhausted by the stress of the unknown. “Tell Her” is the third single in a string of soulful releases from Zilo this year.

Portland-based band M A N E's first single “|| Catamaran ||" is a dazzling, easy-listen. Its bedroom pop and soft sound is soothing to the ears, making you instantly feel at ease—mentally transporting you to the sea where you sail calming waters on a catamaran. The lyrics create a lovely juxtaposition, where expression of anxiety and inner battle exists. At a time when many are experiencing pain and unease, this track is there to make us feel a little less alone with our feelings. “When there’s a war in your chest, anxious and vexed, it’s all such a mess.” M A N E, who perfectly embodies HOMESHAKE and King Krule, successfully builds a sound of honesty when the world needs it most.

HAWA’s dreamy track “IPHONE” opens with a nuanced piano line and simple guitar accompaniment—it sounds soothing, smooth, and calm. But when you pay attention to the lyrics, they tell another story.  “I just wanna love someone / I don’t wanna fight no more / You say you sick of all the lies / I don’t know why I keep lying,” she sings earnestly. At its most emotional points, “IPHONE” is a song about the push and pull of relationships, and both craving and fearing intimacy. The person she longs to be intimate with, however, does not seem to fully reciprocate her feelings. 

“I just wanna know if you’ll be all mine / I can take it slow, I don’t really mind” HAWA pleads to her lover, which sends the message that she would do anything for their approval. As she receives a phone call at the end of the song, it’s not hard to imagine that it is her lover on the other line, ready to fight. “Fuck,” HAWA mutters as her phone starts to ring. Instead of the actual phone call, we hear these lines repeated like a chant: “Leave me alone / Leave me alone, babe / Leave me alone” and “Is it alright? Is it alright? / You know I want peace and safety in my home.” It seems that no matter what she says or does, the person she’s in love with will never be satisfied. Listen to “IPHONE” wherever you stream.