There are moments in Sling, Clairo's newly released sophomore LP, that feel so eloquent and personal, I have to remind myself that I haven't accidentally accessed someone's private voice memos. "Reaper" is one of these transcendent, mature and especially affecting moments on the record. A love letter to her mother (and the prospect of motherhood in and of itself), "Reaper" was the first track Claire Cottrill penned for the album. I'll refrain from over-explaining that this album is musically distinct from its predecessor Immunity—I'll let you have the pleasure of delving into it yourself. But it's worth mentioning, for this song in particular, that Clairo is emerging as an excellent folk writer. She's clearly drawing inspiration from some of the best Americana acts of the last century, emulating everyone from Joni Mitchell or Crosby, Stills and Nash to Fleet Foxes. But don't misunderstand: Cottrill is hardly a copycat. She's carving out a sound and a voice that is entirely her own.

I, like a lot of young people during the pandemic, had the opportunity to be home with my parents for a while. Reacquainting myself with them as an adult was inspiring and hard, and most frequently filled me with a sense of hope. It is this broken hope, a hope that comes from deep, empathetic understanding, that Cottrill communicates so effectively in "Reaper." This is why it resonates so deeply with listeners. This shattered but aspirational reaching toward life reverberates through the entire record and is punctuated in the frail, little pockets of her expertly sewn lyricism. "I'm born to be somebody, then somebody comes from me / I'll tell you about the Rabbit Moon and when to keep walking" are some of my favorite lines from this track, and are all the more permeating through Cottrill's signature soft vocals.

Clairo's ability to empathize so specifically with the speakers of her songs makes her one of the wisest and most interesting young performers right now. Sling was well worth the wait. It's a clear reflection of the hard work and thoughtfulness of an expert writer honing her craft. Photo by Adrian Nieto.

Psych-folk band Hidden Meadows has debuted in 2021 with their first single, “Drier Land." Singer-songwriter Laura Brisbane’s voice soars over a balanced guitar melody;  multi-instrumentalist Jake Burns’ production takes this song to new heights. The California residents first crossed paths as kids only to reunite years later to make music. While Burns is heavily influenced by Americana and jam music, Brisbane was shaped by folk and the singer-songwriter tradition, recalling “melodies of 90s era radio buried deep from childhood backseat listening.” The blend culminates in a dream pop, jam folk, psychedelic Americana sandwich. According to Brisbane, the song expresses an imagined moment, bringing a person along for a drive to the shore; it touches on the cycles of life and death, of caretaking and dependency, of attachment and release. Listen if you like Laura Marling, surf rock, Slouching Towards Bethlehem or slowing down to appreciate the stillness. Look out for their self-titled album, coming out April 2. Photo by Hidden Meadows.

“Tides,” a new release from Ethansroom (solo project of William Ethan Fortenberry) is a sonic letter to everything we know we shouldn’t think about yet find ourselves ruminating upon regardless (“Shouldn’t think about it / But I’ll do it anyway / I’ll just start from / Further back / So I don’t get carried away”). The cyclical track mimics its title, with layers of banjo, guitar, mellotron, soft synths and steady drums churning over Fortenberry’s gritty-yet-smooth vocals. The atmosphere of the track—similar in feel to acts like Novo Amor and Adam Melchor—recalls days much like those now in early spring, that stretch further their hours of light over the horizon, making amber shadows on our walls. As the world warms, we feel nostalgic for summer suns past, and we push these thoughts away during daily monotony until we are alone under the moon and free to dream (“I’ll come back at the crescent / Give it another try”). In all its soft-glowing edges, “Tides” reminds us that sometimes there’s a reason we can’t stop thinking about something, a lesson there to learn—we just may not grasp it until the tide turns over and we start anew. Photo by Landon Edwards.

The first single off of Japanese Breakfast’s forthcoming third studio album Jubilee, set for release on June 4, “Be Sweet” sets the tone of upbeat optimism, finding joy and freedom in forgiveness. In “Be Sweet,” singer/songwriter Michelle Zauner explores the courage it takes to be honest with oneself, to swallow one’s pride, to own our desires, and to have faith in their manifestation and, ultimately, to forgive. The Seoul-born, Oregon-raised, Philadelphia-based artist masterfully fuses her own contemporary musical style with sparkling synth sounds reminiscent of the universal favorites of the 80s: think Thompson Twins, Tears for Fears, The Cure. In her ever-distinct vocal style, sweet in its own right, Zauner takes us on a journey of forgiveness—from being caught up in our feelings and overthinking the truth, to letting someone back in after they’ve recognized their mistakes, ultimately acknowledging that it’s not too late, that the love there remains.

The song’s title, “Be Sweet,” appears as a command throughout the chorus, as Zauner declares over and over, “I wanna believe in you / I wanna believe in something,” and the urgency of this mantra is profoundly felt. We all need something to believe in, and sometimes (or often) that comes with the risk of being hurt or let down. Despite all of that, “Be Sweet” is an ode to forgiveness and hope, and with both a memoir (Crying in H Mart) and a full-length album set for release in the coming months—and a light at the end of the pandemic tunnel for all of us—Zauner’s optimistic sound on this track is extremely well-founded. Photo by Peter Ash Lee. 

These are our Glass Years, and Juliet Quick courageously shares the story of our grieving generation through her latest EP of the same title. Minimalist stems ebb to build the surf-rock eulogy that is “No Future.” Will love be enough “when the sea swallows us?” How defeating it is to be one person—one woman—with all of the love for our Earth mother and only some of the power it might take to save her. The feeling is immortalized here in crystalline synths, guitars that embrace and a voice reaching to be heard through the mix’s gentle bellows. This is a stewardship serenade that grants permission for moments of silence while simultaneously inspiring action. Photo by Hannah Solomon.

On his new single "Bear The Cold," Montreal-based musician Mitch Davis evokes funky vibes with a no-frills throwback track. Davis does impressive work as the sole instrumentalist on the song, marrying a bumping bass line with a propulsive four-on-the-floor drum beat throughout the crisp three-minute run time. Come time for the bridge, he even shows off his saxophone chops, complementing his other work without completely overshadowing the rest of the song. One could easily slip “Bear The Cold” into a mix of Rod Stewart, Sly Stone or Stevie Wonder without missing a beat, with the track easily carrying its own very-danceable groove. Over it all, Davis mourns a fracturing relationship and tries to look forward, giving new dimension to an otherwise uptempo track. It’s a solid addition to your next quarantine dance party or future gathering, whether it’s the groove you’re after or perhaps Davis’ melancholic musings. Photo by Kensey Crane.