K-pop sensations BTS revive our spirits on "Dynamite," a glimmering disco-inspired pop gem made to uplift us amidst a desolate 2020. The pandemic forced the group to postpone their world stadium tour for which I've chosen to hold my ticket, whenever the rescheduled date may be. It left the seven of them feeling, according to Jimin, as though "we lost everything that we were doing and what we could be doing." Optimism and empathy are common threads throughout their music, making it no surprise to hear that while people have been discouraged and scared, said SUGA, "We thought, 'What if we release a track with a bright, positive message?'" The result is "Dynamite," which RM calls a "positive explosion"; it inspires effortlessly, not only in its infectious beat but also from the way Jungkook starts his day with an easy task: "Cup of milk / Let's rock and roll." It's a simple objective as put by Jungkook: "We receive a lot of energy from other people, and we believe we exist to give it back."

“'Dynamite' is for everybody," said V. "It’s about confidence and having fun.” The note on confidence takes on added meaning when considering their decision to do a song entirely in English, despite not being fluent in the language. Jin stated, “It was a challenge but it was also really fun... The English lyrics on the demo seemed just right so we decided to give it a go, and we are glad we did.” There lies a message of empowerment for Asian folks like myself who have not only experienced pandemic-induced racism, but seen our family and friends be criticized for their accents—the song may be in English, but was recorded with confidence and pride. 

Amassing over 205 million views at the time of writing, the accompanying record-breaking music video transports us to a retro dreamland spanning from the flare-jeaned '70s to '90s hip hop moods. SUGA's TuneSquad jersey prompted me to text my little brother to check if we still have our Space Jam VHS in the shed.  As j-hope referred to music as "one of our ways of healing" in this time, they've been at work on a new record that we can expect to hear before the year's end. As BTS have undoubtedly been a light for me in quarantine, the album is sure to aid in bringing my own 2020 to a gratifying close.

Runnner, the sometimes-solo-sometimes-collaborative project of Noah Weinman, is back with his third release of 2020. “New Sublet” has the band’s characteristic lo-fi slacker-folk vibe, but this time it’s met with strumming reminiscent of early 2000s Coldplay, meets the folk sensibilities of Caamp, with the croon of solemn horns. Melancholy and candid, the song describes an experience all too familiar to many 20-somethings: something in your life ends, whether it’s a relationship or a job, and it sparks a desire to browse new apartments in faraway cities—aching for the chance to begin again. But what happens when running away starts to become a habit? Does a fresh start ever truly fix what is in need of repair? Throughout the track, Weinman tries to talk himself out of craving a dive into the unfamiliar. Over a soft banjo melody, Weinman sings, “you’re just getting addicted to starting all over again.” After all, “New Sublet” reminds us that no matter where you go, you take yourself with you.

“Bunkbed," the recent track by self-described, “sad boy indie rock band from Memphis, Tennessee,” Blvck Hippie showcases the powerful combination of bold lead guitar and impassioned vocals. Front person Josh Shaw opens the song by ripping a guitar lick, which weaves together seamlessly with the bass. Shaw’s lead line is an ever-present force throughout the song, matching the emotive energy of the vocal and adding depth. Shaw’s mastery of expression through his instrument is on full display at the end of the bridge, where he repeats the phrase, “god I hate being alone.” The solo that he plays underneath those lines perfectly matches the sentiment and magnifies the emotional potency for that cathartic section of the song.

In addition to his guitar chops, Shaw shows off his impressive lyrically skill, machinating on dualities and dichotomies for much of the song. In the second verse, Shaw poignantly juxtaposes vodka and perfume—indicators of adulthood—with a twin-sized bed and a teddy bear—representations of the innocence of childhood. During the coda he shines a spotlight on the two-sided nature of any relationship or breakup, asking, “are you better off than I was?” Even the title refers to an object with an inherent paradox; a bunkbed provides connection and isolation simultaneously.    

“Bunkbed” is the first release of several singles recorded in one 10 hour session at Sun Studio in Memphis.

Babeheaven’s single “Cassette Beat” will be featured on their debut album Home for Now, out November 6. It’s a blissed-out ramble through a field of trip-hop on a cloudy winter’s day. Nancy Andersen’s voice is an icy river, cool and steady, and I can’t help but imagine that somewhere Imogen Heap and Dido both look up and smile every time I press play on Babeheaven’s music. Even within Babeheaven’s sonic world, “Cassette Beat” has a particularly cinematic sensibility about it. Is the track setting the scene for a post-break-up montage with shots of West London? Or does it accompany a victorious breakthrough panoramic of the English countryside? The slow, bittersweet hit of each snare allows for either in equal measure. In the chorus, Andersen sings, “Behind the cloud there’s a blue sky.” But as for how long the clouds will stick around today—that depends what chapter of your story you’re on.

Slow Dress is the Boston-based duo of Katie Solomon and Bredon Jones. Together they craft contemplative indie-folk songs. Their latest single, “Butterfly,” promises a life saturated with feeling. It is a commitment to experience everything fully, no matter how uncomfortable. “I don’t want to follow their feet. I want bare toes even in the snow and the sleet,” Solomon sings, dedicating herself to the necessary discomfort that comes with open awareness. Better frostbitten than oblivious, she insists. In a statement accompanying the release of “Butterfly,” the band wrote, “...it’s about watching people, especially those with money and privilege, close their hearts and minds to what is happening in the world.” The song illuminates the possibilities that emerge when we turn our focus outward. The butterfly in question isn’t taking flight; its body is fixed to the kitchen wall, like a pressed flower in a frame. “Admire,” Solomon urges, and for a moment, you pause to do just that. “Butterfly” is available for purchase and streaming, with half of all proceeds going to National Bail Out, Black & Pink, and mutual aid funds.