Claud’s Super Monster is their debut album and the first release on Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records. And while must both of those statements must come with immense pressure and vulnerability, it certainly isn’t felt on "Pepsi." A deeply personal and delightfully bold opening lyric, somber as the line might be, wipes away any notion that Claud can’t handle this moment. Instead, Claud brings us along as they come to terms with what a specific relationship is, and painfully, what it isn’t. A crack of the can sends us dancing into the chorus, playful pop sounds rounded out with a fun bass line. Layered with subtle harmonies, Claud considers all the ways they could’ve changed themselves to fit this relationship better. A dangerous line of thinking, one so easy to slip into—just like this song, light and fun with heartbreak underneath it all. The bridge feels intimate and personal, even with added vocal layers begging you to sing along. Claud manages to pack a lot of power into this song, finding distinct and loving ways to share through the tough times. By the end, after dancing our way through it, we can all sit back, crack another "Pepsi," and feel a little more at ease. Chock full of beautiful moments, Super Monster is a cohesive debut worth your time. Photo by Daria Kobayashi Ritch.

German singer-songwriter Felix Räuber exposes love’s intrusive side in his latest single, “Colors.” Minimalist, droning and orchestral, the track builds an echo chamber for pining verses and a chorus that gives full authority to the speaker’s love interest. “You even control the colors in my head,” he sighs in disdain, “You even control the choirs in my head.” Räuber surrenders his own sense of presence for a distant light projection. The genius here lies in the song’s tonality — ironically gray and chromatically chilled. Overall, it is a moment of silence for romance turned sour, interrupted by noise in the spirit of unrequited love’s persistent voice. Photo by Madlen Krippendorf. 

Today we are announcing In The Mix, our new collaboration with Desert Door Texas Sotol, supporting the music and food industries that have been devastated by the pandemic. In The Mix pairs artist-curated playlists, free merchandise and a discounted Desert Door cocktail with the purchase of a special restaurant creation from select partnering restaurants in Atlanta, Boulder and Nashville on December 7-14.

In Georgia our In The Mix artist is Athens-based singer-songwriter Kishi Bashi. He helped inspire the special dish from Atlanta's Talat Market — Thai-style sautéed bay scallop and persimmon warm salad, complemented by a Desert Door cocktail with Ancho Reyes Verde Chile, fresh pineapple and lime juice and agave.

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Listening to Kishi Bashi is comparable to floating through the most golden day that ever existed in the landscape of your favorite childhood storybook. “Penny Rabbit and Summer Bear” is a light and gleeful representation of the whimsical sound that Kishi Bashi is known for. With the delicate plucking of acoustic guitar accompanied by a soft stream of glimmering chimes, this track infiltrates the monotony of the day and creates within it a glimpse into a more pure, more courageous existence. This sentiment reigns true over all of Kaoru Ishibashi's musical inventions; there is a certain pureness and clandestine invitation into goodness surrounding his growing body of work. Photo by Rachael Renee Levasseur.

Today we are announcing In The Mix, our new collaboration with Desert Door Texas Sotol, supporting the music and food industries that have been devastated by the pandemic. In The Mix pairs artist-curated playlists, free merchandise and a discounted Desert Door cocktail with the purchase of a special restaurant creation from select partnering restaurants in Atlanta, Boulder and Nashville on December 7-14.

Nashville's In The Mix artist is indie singer-songwriter Becca Mancari. Nashville staple Butcher & Bee has put together a special dish inspired by Mancari's complex songwriting and Americana influence — charred octopus with fermented pepper sauce, broccoli rabe, charred citrus and a delicate blanket of country ham. Paired with the meal is a special Desert Door cocktail, the Mexican Queen, with blood orange juice, orange zest, ginger beer and lime.

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On "Bad Feeling," Becca Mancari's voice rings like a church bell, pure and clear and hanging in the air. “With your hands around my throat and I say baby, please, don’t” — she places each word carefully, as if it may break, but the music isn’t dramatic or intimidating. She has a bad feeling, but she doesn’t sound surprised. If anything, the music sounds laid-back, like a breeze streaming in the windows on a warm spring day. It’s soft-rock but in an intentionally sweet way. The nonchalant flavor is a stark contrast to the harsh lyrics: “Isn’t it hard when you see me for the first time and it breaks your heart?” After the second verse we enter what seems to be a bridge, but it’s really just the song deteriorating into voices, phrases, pieces of guitar and drums and bass harmonics echoing into the ether. Photo by Zac Farro.

Today we are announcing In The Mix, our new collaboration with Desert Door Texas Sotol, supporting the music and food industries that have been devastated by the pandemic. In The Mix pairs artist-curated playlists, free merchandise and a discounted Desert Door cocktail with the purchase of a special restaurant creation from select partnering restaurants in Atlanta, Boulder and Nashville on December 7-14.

Our Boulder artist for In The Mix is the beloved local rock band Big Head Todd and The Monsters. Blackbelly has crafted a special dish in homage to the band — koji-cured pork with sugarloaf chicory, pomegranate, charred leeks, pistachio crumble and pancetta. Patrons can complete the meal with the discounted Bitter Heart cocktail made with Desert Door sotol, cynar, lime, simple syrup and bitters. 

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To celebrate our collaboration, we are journeying back to 1993 with Big Head Todd and The Monsters’ “It’s Alright.” Off of these Colorado boys’ album, Sister Sweetly, this track is the epitome of every slow, swaggering jam this 90’s child grew up on; it’s riding in the back of my dad’s car on the way to school, sharing the same home-burned CD real estate with “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and “Mother and Child Reunion.” The vamping guitar, relaxed, methodical groove and ever-charismatic vocals of “It’s Alright” come together to create a track that’s as perfectly at home as I write this from a rainy San Francisco as it always is onstage at their native Red Rocks. Big Head Todd and The Monsters have carved a truly timeless place for themselves in the rock genre over their impressive 30-year career together, and as evidenced by their 2020 release, We’re Gonna Play It Anyway - Red Rocks 2020 (Live), they’re, thankfully for all of us, as tight as ever.

I always listen to this song while driving to the beach with all my windows down. It has the best carefree vibe to it :) — Claire Rosinkranz

Claire Rosinkranz has referred to her sound on the BeVerly Hills BoYfRiEnd EP as "alternative-blues-pop." Throughout the EP, she sonically depicts the see-saw of emotions associated with being a teen in 2020, especially on tracks like "Tough Guy" and "Seriouslaaay.”

Identity is complicated. There are so many facets to it. Some aspects are shaped by fate, others are shaped by yourself. Still others are domino effects of shaping fate that shapes you back. Sometimes these facets help you lock into a community or build kinship with others; however, it’s just as true that no one has ever walked the exact same path you have. Beharie’s "Me and My Lonely" holds that idea in its palm and inspects it from every angle. The first verse explores the isolation of being aware that there are aspects of yourself that might not make sense to anyone else. Narrating your internal existence can be tedious and uncomfortable — especially when you’re used to just existing without having to justify it to anyone else. The second verse questions what the threshold is to be known by someone else, how genuine it is and if it’s worth the effort. After all, no matter how much time you spend with someone, they’ll never spend as much time with you as you do with yourself. Any depth of knowledge compared to that seems shallow, but does that really mean it is? "Me and My Lonely" doesn’t settle on an answer, but it continues to ponder on it against a pensive acoustic guitar backdrop. Each chorus picks up new textures and tries them on for size. They simultaneously fit and don’t. They all sound pleasant together but also each tugs on your sleeve for your attention. There is too much going on to notice and appreciate every facet, but you can fall in love with it for how they fit together. I guess people are like that too.

Austin-based duo dean keeton and singer-songwriter Cole Bauer join forces for “That Sound,” a bedroom R&B tune with a classic touch. Having collaborated twice before on 2018’s “Different Eyes” and this summer’s “Unread,” the trio tap even further into a synced-up late night sensibility and affinity for retro sounds. “Gimme a reason we should keep this on the ground,” they seek, vocals floating higher and higher over an electric jazz piano à la Herbie Hancock. Andi Rella’s sublime guest vocals preserve a sense of soothing warmth over the crisp drums and crooning that characterize their sound, modern R&B production putting a contemporary twist on easy listening. “That Sound” features alongside four other tracks on their upcoming EP of the same name, due out November 20.

Relentless guitar arpeggios fill the room as soon as you hit play on Juni Habel’s new track, "Demons," from her debut album, All Ears — it’s like heart palpitations, excited and nervous all at once. The intro has the spirit of Joni Mitchell’s more traditionally folky moments, but Habel’s melody is more static. It’s almost an ostinato over the undulating guitar. Finally at the end of the first chorus (“When I go to those places, how I stumble,” she wails, her voice cracking), the rest of the ensemble kicks in — a drum kit that resembles a bodhrán, a fiddle, a back up vocal. All come together to haunt us (“that’s when I send the demons out in the night / I forgive myself, I try,” she almost whispers), as much as Habel is clearly haunted by the demons in her mind. She conjures them masterfully for us with a few deliciously dissonant notes that, sort of, resolve. But not quite. Relatable. Photo by E Petersen.