“Arroyo Tunnels” is the captivating opening to Cartalk’s highly anticipated debut full-length album, Pass Like Pollen. Cartalk is the solo project and vision of Los Angeles-based artist Chuck Moore, whose vocals are distinct in the way of Brandi Carlile or early Tegan and Sara (it’s not surprising the twins have taken a liking to the album). On “Arroyo Tunnels,” Moore sings in vignettes over gentle guitar — of growing their hair out, taking the long way home, routine heartbreak and screaming through tunnels — before the drums come in, along with an addictive guitar riff that continues through the remainder of the song. The second half is entirely instrumental, swelling gradually into something like a symphony before fading out as quickly and as gracefully as it began. The shortest song on the album at just under two and a half minutes, “Arroyo Tunnels” is a modest taste of what’s to come, but all nine tracks pack a punch of their own. While there is plenty of shredding not to be missed later on the album, “Arroyo Tunnels” is a gentle entrée — a “sobering serenity,” if you will. Photo by Katie Neuhof.

Max Bloom has released his first solo album, Perfume after eight years as part of the band Yuck. On the track “Cold Hard Light” his guitar serves as a centerpiece and guide, leading you through a journey of post-break-up sentiment and internal crisis. Though upbeat and tonally bright, Bloom’s guitar line is able to communicate a sense of regret, most notably in the cascading riff which precedes both the first and second verses. It feels like a false smile and juxtaposes beautifully with the lyrics that are draped around it. The ending guitar solo expertly does what a solo is meant to do, and carries the emotional message further on past where lyrics leave off. The last lyric before the solo is “..that’s all we’ll ever be,” and the guitar picks up right there, capturing both the melancholic idea that the best times have already come and gone, as well as a sense of resiliency to move forward anyway.

Kue Varo’s debut single “Just Don’t Lie” is a dream-pop offering that would fit right into an episode of Twin Peaks. The Montreal-based artist begs for the truth before crooning about her shortcomings as a partner, “and forgive / how intense I get / when I want / to be right.” The track is dripping with reverb as it moves forward slow and steady to the laid back drum beat. The lead guitar weaves in and around adding a brightness as the bass drives on heavy and strong. Varo pleads for honesty with a raw despair of someone afraid of losing something they’ve worked tirelessly to get as she sings, “just don’t lie / please don’t lie.” The single was released early on Bandcamp as an effort to raise money for artists who have lost work due to COVID-19. It is the first track off of Varo’s upcoming album Daffodil-11.

For many months, HAIM has been gracing our ears with gem after gem from their upcoming album, Women in Music, Pt. III. The upbeat and timely “I Know Alone” is no exception. Though the song was written well before most of us knew what a COVID was, its compatibility with the current moment is downright eerie. The first line of the song, “Been a couple days since I’ve been out,” sounds more like the first line of a Zoom call with one of my New York friends. And when Danielle sings about driving around while “screaming every word” of Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides, Now,” it sounds like I have new plans for this weekend. Even removed from time, “I Know Alone” is an apt ode to malaise, a candid series of vignettes that honor the timeless feeling of being the only one with access to your own mind. Often the first step towards defeating inertia is simply recognizing it. Now if I can only remember the second step: biking around my neighborhood screaming along to HAIM.

The summer after I graduated high school, I sat with bulky headphones on a hard metal stool at Waterloo Records in Austin, TX, completely spellbound, as I learned that music can literally make you feel like you’re on another planet. At the time, the newly released album Me∂ su∂ i eyrum vi∂ spilum endalaust was the first music I’d ever heard by Jónsi Birgisson, and his band Sigur Rós quickly became my favorite. To me, Birgisson’s music has always been about the sacred, inextricable relationship between filling and releasing. So when I saw that his first true solo release in a decade would be called “Exhale,” I smiled. The track begins with what is essentially a guided meditation: cavernous piano chords lead slowly to eight simple words: “Breathe in / breathe out / learn to / let go.” But the beautiful message of “Exhale” is that in moments of instability, you have to be able to forgive—at the very least, yourself; and perhaps, the universe. As the soundscape begins to shimmer and awaken post-meditation, Jónsi sings, “This is the way it is / It isn’t your fault / It isn’t your fault,” and maybe it’s just me, but right now that’s exactly what my anxious brain needs to hear. Around the halfway point, we begin to hear distant electronic chirps: the first signs of the track's brilliant co-producer, A. G. Cook, and a subtle amuse-bouche for the pounding, cathartic pop he provides for the song’s magnificent coda. The space created by the contemplative second verse (“Hold on / Inhale / Exhale / Exhale it from today”) is then filled with an ecstatic sun-shower of sound: anchored by A.G. Cook’s buoyant bass, Jónsi’s vocals swirl around themselves like a hive of butterflies, and eventually disappear. Then, filled with a fresh hope, you exhale.

Max Garcia Conover’s new single “Handsome Suit” is a stunning acoustic ballad that weaves sentiments of past and present into one harmonious and well-crafted track. Conover’s gravelly voice radiates feelings of warm nostalgia in a way that is as beautiful as it is bittersweet. “Handsome Suit” combines the sonic qualities of a tactile bedroom demo combined with the refinement and lyrical sophistication of an artist who has mastered his craft. Conover’s first lines, “Half-Puerto-Rican in a handsome suit / skinny little nothing in the buffalo news” sets the tone of the entire song, and prompts the singer’s authentic reminiscence on the childhood and family events that have led to his current multifaceted identity. Conover’s gruff vocals and sincere vibrato are sure to please anyone who enjoys the work of Donovan Woods, Father John Misty and Jackie Green, and nearly anyone else who is looking for a thoughtful Americana tune.

"Maria,” the new single from indie-pop band Similar Kind, successfully captures the enchanting yet endlessly frustrating emotional cocktail associated with deep infatuation. The band, originally formed in Norwalk, CT, released their debut EP Faces & Places last year. “Maria” is the first single to be released from their follow-up project. The song introduces itself with a few sustained synth chords and draws you in with an inviting palm-muted guitar lick. Singer Julia Breen’s hypnotic vocal first appears about 40 seconds in with the rhetorical question, “Maria, why can’t I breathe without ya?” and from that moment on the listener is fully enveloped into the track’s swirling world of desire. Billowing around the vocal is a dreamy instrumental haze that continues to build and morph throughout the song with flourishes from the keyboard, guitar and bass. "Maria" is grounded by a funky drum line that seems to effortlessly drive the music forward while leaving plenty of space for the other instruments to breathe. As the track progresses, the groove seeps into your body, and if you’re not careful you’ll find yourself dancing unabashedly around your bedroom before it ends.

Dan Croll’s latest drop Grand Plan is a quick six-track project, including the captivating song “Work." Subdued electronics and keys lead us into the British musician’s dreamy voice, which sings “Been a long day, been a long week / I can tell you’re tired from the way that you speak." The hi-fi collection of sounds accompanying his vocals is cool and calm, a perfect relaxer for the subject this track is addressing. Carefully crafted combinations of keys, strings and percussion seamlessly weave their way in and out of the soundscape as he sings, “Come and rest your head on the fine silk sheet." "Work" feels as silky as the sheet that he’s singing about, and the subtle complexities and changes throughout build a sense of calm optimism that will have us all asking, “Hey, do you have to go to work today?”