PDLIF- "Please Don't Live in Fear" feels like a convoluted request right now. Much like Bon Iver's music, there is something quietly anxious and hopeful about the time we're living in. Each day seems like a Russian roulette of outcomes and emotions. But really good music is a highlight and a reminder of our humanity. Bon Iver's "PDLIF," released on April 17, has that ruminating quality that makes his artistry so excellent. After the first listen, the track feels somber and unassuming, but it's still loaded with immense depth and feeling. "PDLIF" is an internal wrestling of despair and optimism. It's a scale weighing options and opinions. A verse cries "I'd be good to fall back / I think we're on the wrong track somehow," all while balancing the delicate decry of the chorus: please don't live in fear. This song is far from a looming contradiction. It's a descriptor of an uncertain time, a moment in our hearts where hope's fleeting cries win over the primordial temptation to give up. This track was specifically made in support of the medical workers on the front lines of the coronavirus pandemic. Bon Iver has vowed to donate 100% of the song's proceeds to benefit those protecting the lives of the public from this disease (through the organization Direct Relief). This is Bon Iver's first studio release since Grammy-nominated i,i (outside of Blood Bank's 10th-anniversary edition release). Listen to "PDLIF" wherever you stream your tunes.

Yoke Lore and Jax Anderson don’t waste a beat in this joyful collaboration. There’s no small talk here, no introduction. “I got a sensitive heart / Full up with fits and starts,” Adrian Galvin of Yoke Lore declares, with a youthful, lilting voice that matches the phrase. Romantic string pads set a soft foundation like a picnic blanket splayed onto freshly-cut grass. “It’s ok if you break it / I won’t cry, I won't fake it,” adds Anderson, her vocals complementing Galvin’s timbre perfectly. An infectious bassline and danceable synth beat accompany her entrance, eagerly getting the fun started. Galvin and Anderson’s effortless duet delivers like a gracefully choreographed relay race, each sharing equal responsibility of the lyrics, passing the flag back and forth without once stepping on each others’ toes. The words feel genuine, portraying vulnerability and wisdom against a soaring background vocal hook. “Sensitive Heart” is an anthem for hopeful young hearts, who know that life’s inevitable toll helps to develop a more resilient character.

The opening notes of Waxahatchee’s “Fire” are purposefully gentle, evoking the disquieting silence after hanging up a telephone. Waxahatchee’s upcoming album Saint Cloud, due out March 27, was written in the wake of singer Katie Crutchfield’s commitment to sobriety, and what comes after the dial tone are the wobbly first steps of someone with a newfound resolve. “It’s about the internal dialogue of shame surrounding mistakes you’ve made in the past and how we spiral and beat ourselves up when we slip,” says Crutchfield. The repetitive chord structure—the same three chords over and over—is a reminder that, for better or for worse, life goes on. Falling into familiar patterns can feel like an unstoppable downward spiral, but Crutchfield instead chooses to use the spiral as a foundation for new patterns, using repeating guitar parts interleaving with one another as building blocks. “If I could love you unconditionally / I could iron out the edges of the darkest sky,” she sings to herself. And while her voice betrays that she may not be there yet, she’s laying the groundwork.

Last week, Phoebe Bridgers returned with “Garden Song,” though it feels like she never really left. Since Stranger in the Alps, there’s been no lack of output from her, joining forces with Julien Baker and Lucy Dacus as boygenius, and Connor Oberst as Better Oblivion Community Center. That said, there’s a special kind of sublime sentimentality in Bridgers’ solo work that has made her sophomore album all the more anticipated. On “Garden Song,” Bridgers conjures the surrealist daydream that is young adulthood in a wash of aching lyricism and the kind of drowsy production that made Stranger a swift knife to the heart. Now a beloved patron saint of sadness, Bridgers, ever conscious of the pains of existence, seems that...she just might be happy? May we all aspire to be able to say “I have everything I wanted.“ Be sure to watch the video, it is quite literally a trip.

Soft, melodic and gentle, Tyson Motsenbocker's "Come to California" is a singer-songwriter emoting his most earnest plea. The songwriting itself seems to be as gritty as its production: an honest reflection of an honest feeling. Though the music and writing style is simple and stripped-down, Motsenbocker's talent is undeniable. The bare-bones nature of the music paired with his unusual and transfixing vocal has a really pleasant and iconic effect. The lyrics move from punchy and curt, "Is it such a bad idea being brave, wearing our skin down to the fray?" to softer and more metaphorical, "when the pine trees turn to palms.... you're the one change I wanted all along." This is certainly a good track to keep in your back pocket for when the weather gets a little warmer. Listen to Tyson Motsenbocker's "Come to California" and his recently released LP, Someday I'll Make It All up to to You anywhere you stream.

Brooklyn-based songwriters Claud and Del Water Gap (Holden Jaffe) do autotune with a DIY twist in their single “My Body.” Swinging between achingly poignant and tongue and cheek, their auto-tuned croons layer perfectly as they sing, “I already know / I figured it out / I think I figured you out / you only want me for my body,” which feels like both a joke and a statement at the same time. They mix sounds in a playful way with spurts of electric guitar breaking through the droning synths. It never stays in one mood for long—jumping from one sound to the next with ease. In the bridge, Claud sings, “Tell me to wait for this / already late so I leave my door open / for when you get lonesome” without autotune—winking at the possibility of a deeper meaning. The track marks the second collaboration from the two following their cowrite of Claud's "Never Meant to Call."

Genevieve Stokes sounds wise beyond her 18 years in her newest single “Surface Tension.” The Portland, Maine-based singer/songwriter sheds light on the cyclical torture that permeates adolescence, “I’m treading muddy waters / I’m not what you wanted / I’ve been through this before.” Stokes doesn't wallow in self-pity though. She states it more as a fact than something to mourn, breaking from the cycle with poignant lyricism—refusing to fall victim to teenage melodramatics. Her vocals are clear and smooth with a slight warble when she slips in and out of her upper register. The real sweet spot is when she settles into an almost gravely tenor before sweeping back up gently. “Surface Tension” is the newest single from Stokes’s debut EP out in summer 2020.