Brooklyn musician and producer, Michelle Birsky aka Birch, continues with her self described “feminist synth-pop” in her newest single, “Spelling Lessons.” Birch brings the listener back to the first time she experienced sexism when she was a child. As she sings, “So, look me in the eye / Listen while I speak / I was a little girl / I still deserved a seat,” she details how it feels to be a woman in this world. It’s a constant uphill battle to be heard, respected, and understood. Though the message is charged with a level headed anger, her voice is calm as it floats over her rhythmic synths. She seems to be mourning a time before she realized there was such a thing as patriarchy, a time when she thought she was seen as an equal to her male peers. The single, co-produced with Ariel Loh, has a simple melody, but the amalgamation of synths and drum machines gives the track a full almost anthemic quality. A song about systematic sexism could lean more towards the morose, but Birch avoids this through an upbeat tempo and a dreamy atmosphere. Her lyrics do not fall into the realm of self-pity either, but rather exhibit strength in the face of adversity. Birch will be releasing her debut album “femme.one.” on April 5th. (Photo credit: Off Season Creative)

“Death (or S.F.?),” is a timeless and beautiful low-fi jam from indie folk-rocker Twain’s new record, New Miami Sound. Twain is Mat Davidson, a singer-songwriter who has long favored a raw, analog-like style of production. Complete with a teeming background hiss that hovers just within earshot, “Death (or S.F.?)” is just the same, sounding old in all the right ways. The piano, for instance, reverberates heavily, giving it an echo effect that makes it sound like a baby grand being played in a vintage parlor. The soft, muted drums and nostalgic strings flow easily through the song like they’re leading you down a dreamy Pacific landscape. Davidson’s candid lyrics and smooth vocals deftly match that mood: “I was walking in the park getting stoned with local losers / dreaming of my girl but knowing that I’d lose her.” Carefully arranged and masterfully mixed, “Death (or S.F.?)” is a quietly powerful opening track. Listening to it for the first time feels like dusting off a box of your parents’ old vinyl records and discovering they’re in near-mint condition--pleasing and surprising.

What was the last concert you were at where you knew all the words to all the songs? The one where you were seeing the band or artist whose songs got you through the highs and the lows of life. Do you remember? This is the kind of concert, Close Talker depicts in their newest single "Half Past Nine." For this exclusive premiere with The Wild Honey Pie, the band tells us, "A concert is a place where you can find people from every walk of life come together for the same reason. It’s a place where you share something in common with complete strangers and a place where you can experience something transcendent with people you will never even know. "Half Past Nine" is about a concert the three of us attended, at our favorite summer festival. It’s about looking around at friends, at strangers, and seeing each person sing along to words that mean so much to them — words that have carried them through times only they know about. It's about holding on to the moments that you never want to end, and then desperately trying to remember them after they are gone. It takes hindsight to recognize when something profound has happened, but every now and then, you're able to sense it right in the moment. This song is about those moments and the attempts to cling to them."

Close Talker is an emerging Canadian indie-rock band that consists of three childhood friends — Will Quiring, Matthew Kopperud, and Christopher Morien. Together the three of them have put out two records and have made a name for themselves both in the States and in Canada, garnering the attention of publications like NPR and Billboard Magazine. They will also be playing in Austin’s SXSW this year. A song like "Half Past Nine" shows why the band has found success, it's full of heart and nostalgia for moments that have passed but have made a lasting effect for the better.

Melanie Faye is an R&B angel and internet star child. The 20-year-old songwriter and guitarist from Nashville plays by her own rules, dropping singles and posting YouTube covers whenever she feels like it. Her track "Eternally 12," a collaboration with your boy Mac DeMarco, emits the laid-back energy her and DeMarco are both known and loved for. With sprightly, funk-inspired guitar fills throughout, "Eternally 12" nods at Faye's influences like Blood Orange and John Mayer. The vocal has an edgy Princess Nokia-like tone to it, which moves the song into the realm of angsty, but still chill. Faye is currently finishing up her first EP, so stay tuned to her social accounts as we all wait for her next big thing. 

Singer-songwriter Buck Meek’s "Halo Light" comes in soft with minimal guitar plucking, steadily adding percussion and vocals to build to a fuller sound. Meek’s voice is clear, gentle and holds a subtle country twang. The Big Thief guitarist put out his self-titled album last year on the Austin-based record label, Keeled Scales. “Halo Light” follows the same folk sound as the previous record, but falls on Meek’s sweeter side. The pastoral quality of his music has led to comparisons to Neil Young’s Harvest era. Still, Meek stands on his own as a modern power. In “Halo Light,” he addresses the hardship of loss and the ephemeral nature of life with a tender touch. His pain leaks through the lyrics, but his sweet and light melodies prevent the track from dipping too far into melodrama. He sings, “I found the hole you climbed through/ but it’s too small/ to follow with the flowers.” Meek will be touring this Spring both as a joint headliner with Twain and as support for Jeff Tweedy. He will also make an appearance at SXSW.

“Teeth” by Small Talks is a heartbreaking recollection of a love that’s passed by. Anyone who has lost a love can find solace in the powerful repetition of nostalgic experiences the narrator has had: “You taught me how to love, you taught me how to love no one but you/ You taught me how to look, you taught me how to look/ You taught me how to look for the thorns on all of the roses.” Advice often passed on by wise counselors says not to value relationships for their permanence, but for those not yet ready to embrace this, “Teeth” offers an understanding embrace. Small Talks’ album A Conversation Between Usis out now.

Folksy by nature, “Another Louisiana” by Jennah Bell carries with it a somber emotional feeling with a hint of southern charm. The Oakland native’s single off of her newly minted full-length debut, Anchors and Elephants features her earthy vocals surrounded by haunting acoustic blues that outline her strong lyrical writing ability. Like much of the album, “Another Louisiana” is a journey about heartbreak, love, growth, and identity— masterfully wrapped with influences of indie, folk, R&B and soul. Bell remarks, “It’s a song about drinking, and love too...and is probably the most vulnerable point on the record.” The lines, “It's the middle of the afternoon / and my glass is empty / and my life is too,” evoke a profound sadness and reflection on a particularly difficult time. “Another Louisiana” beautifully recalls Bell's internal battles and her struggles in relationships past in a way that you can't help but empathize with.

Wet’s recent release, “Old Bone” is a cozy tune perfect for cuddling around a campfire. The song is one of two acoustic-heavy tracks released by the Brooklyn-based duo this month. In their first album since going from trio to duo, the band’s sound has evolved from aesthetically ethereal to a more fun, Michelle Branch-like spin on indie folk. “Old Bone” follows suit. It’s the musical equivalent of a wool blanket warmed up in the dryer. Singer, Kelly Zutrau’s vocals are consistently soft at the edges, soothing to the ear even as she hits the highest notes— creating a vocal melody that is beautiful and serene. They’re lazy without losing any of their clarity, which is a nod to the song’s great production. The quiet but close arrangement of the acoustic guitar, upright bass, and muted kick drum evoke such strong classic folk vibes that the careful addition of a synth in the chorus feels natural. Instead of taking away from the song’s acoustic heart, it compliments and energizes it. “Old Bone” is a captivating and emotional song scattered with intimate hooks and dreamy surprises.

“Chains” begins the way everyone wants an 80s-inspired pop song to begin: a bright sustained chord, an unassuming emotional bass line, and a clear vocal sent from the heavens above. Picking up into a pulsing, Springsteen-inspired verse II, the track lifts off into an anticipatory sparkling blue. Nostalgia-dripping imagery like “smoke halo angel smile” and “country songs in a bar full of neon lights” further feed the serious Born to Run vibes on “Chains.” The track is also informed by the loose, ambient sounds of Tangerine’s contemporaries, such as Wet and Japanese Breakfast. The Los Angeles-trio said they recorded “Chains” on GarageBand. I don’t know about you, but my own GarageBand demos don’t sound an eighth as polished or pristine as this undeniable banger in the making. Check out Tangerine’s 2018 White Dove EP for more spirited, contemplative pop.

Glassio has been a long love for The Wild Honey Pie. Recently, we released a Buzzsession of the band performing, “Weight Of The World II,” a dazzling song about coming to terms with one’s place in the world after a loss. Glassio can take a concept that we have seen elsewhere, and add musical technicality that elevates the idea of the song to a different and engaging new reality. This is what Glassio has done with their song, “Age of Experience.” The hook, “I wanted to be apart/ be apart of it/ in the New York/ New York,” is a concept we have heard before. Moving to the big apple and making something of yourself is something that we can all deeply relate to. Glassio has created a sonic landscape in this song which encapsulates the feeling you have when finally learning a subway route, or learning the name of the cashier at your bodega, or going to a concert and recognizing the venue. By manipulating his voice to sound more like a chorus than a single person, he is recognizing the multiplicity of living in NYC, of engaging with yourself and those around you constantly, sometimes curtly and sometimes kindly. I would recommend this song to anyone who has a even a whisper of this experience, and allow the music to take you out of your head and into the streets.