When I think of David You, I think of morning coffee rituals and subdued light filtering through linen drapes. I think of soft summer evenings and sharing a bottle of wine with friends in the park as the sun sets over the trees. I could describe his voice as gentle or angelic, but really it’s the feeling of safety that his music invokes that I find remarkable. Much like the park, it allows a person to forget the busy rush of city streets just outside its perimeter. “Moon is in Charge” is You’s first single since his springtime EP, Beautiful, Like Pyramids, and after retreating home from a busy day it feels right to let the tender whisper of his voice fill the four walls of my room.

The simple arrangement of acoustic guitar and airy vocals makes for intimate lo-fi without any of the posturing. You sings about the repetition of the ocean waves, crashing over and over, and how he’d rather be “just like a small stream that joins a river's flow / knowing where I’ll go,” which is especially poignant in a time where we’d all like a little less chaos and a little more clarity when it comes to the future. Sweeping textures give substance, and You’s signature harmonies layered with the subtle hint of percussion and a shaker here and there complete the halcyon tableau of his songs. So pour yourself a cup of tea, put on your comfiest and give David You a listen.

Gabe Goodman’s new single “Immortals” is a fresh take on an age-old feeling. For centuries, music, literature, poetry and film have depicted the pain of admiring someone on a pedestal. Perhaps this track is so titled because the subject matter will be relevant for eternity. When Goodman ponders, “Is your kindness a service to me?” he dredges up something classic and relatable: raw self-doubt born from deep-seated insecurity. He covets something he feels is out of his reach, thus allowing himself to envision an outrageously fantastical outcome were it to come true. It likely won’t, so he’s safe in imagining that a mere touch would render him invincible: “Would I also feel immortal if you touched me?” We’ve all been there at one time or another. Gabe, you get us.

Tastefully and imaginatively produced by Goodman and Will G. Radin, the track is enhanced by a whimsically animated lyric video that is worth at least a few replays.

Montreal-born Love Mansuy looks inward on “I’ll Be There,” an earnest commitment to endlessly support his young son Carter. Mansuy, who did not have a relationship with his own father until recently, chose to feature Carter’s voice on the track. Whether it’s when “there’s ketchup in ya hair” or “ya in a padded cell,” Mansuy promises simply, “I’ll be there.” Vulnerability poses a challenge among men and especially in BIPOC communities. Mansuy depicts it beautifully both in the song and its accompanying video, which he intended to “reflect on not only the need for Black men to show up for their sons, but the need for Black men to be there for Black women.” In the video, protest footage airs as a mother braids her daughter’s hair, and reminds us that the emotional toll of this constant exposure is often forgotten amidst charged protesting and calls for legal reform. As we’re all looking for ways to continue showing up for the Black community, I invite you to consider donating to Black Emotional and Mental Health Collective, which advocates for increased accessibility to emotional and mental healing for the Black community through methods ranging from therapy to the arts.

Revolution comes in all shapes and sizes. Even though it should inspire others to join, it often scares people on the sidelines. What’s scary is to be revolutionary, to speak your truth to power, to give people the opportunity to turn a blind eye to your own experience, and to tell you that you’re wrong. Ayoni released her truth, “Unmoved (A Black Woman Truth),” offering peace, knowledge, and even a reality check for those who are truly listening. For Black women, it is the reiteration of the struggle they’ve always faced, brought to them in a vessel that allows for them to feel at peace. For Non-Black people, it provides a lesson in the Black experience and how the fight for Black lives is not new, as Ayoni sings, “It’s always been bigger than this.” Lastly, it is a call to action for the people who are listening and a wake-up call for the ones who aren’t. 

“Unmoved (A Black Woman Truth)” is the battle cry of the revolution both sonically and lyrically. The song begins softly with the strumming of an acoustic guitar, Ayoni’s vocal then coming into play creating a shift that pulls you in. As the song progresses, the layering and tone of her voice symbolize the frustration and anger that ebbs and flows when trying to reason with ignorance. Ayoni sings, “Are you sitting comfortably while we bleed in vain? / I’ve died by other names,” calling attention to the countless Black women who have died unnecessarily. She continues, “Please make me feel you care my ally / But are you prepared to lose your sleep / To bare your teeth / To break like me?” She is calling on us to not only reflect but to educate ourselves and put in the work. Ayoni spoke her truth to power. Now it is up to us to listen.

Denmark-based duo Moon Panda have clearly done their homework, and the result of their focused vision is “Slow Drive,” a track as peaceful and centering as its namesake. The bright, scattered tones in the song’s first moments are soon enveloped in a chillwave: we see a washed-out scene of a beach house (or other seaside real estate) at sunset. Californian-born Maddy Myers paints the warming ocean as only a Californian can, digging into the sand with her deep and subtle soprano. Meanwhile, her lyrics could not fit the blurry guitar-driven ambiance any better—in fact, they could even double as a poetic review of the track itself: “I close both my eyes now, try to feel the breeze. The calm washes over me. I heal on my own.” My thoughts exactly.

Moon Panda’s new Make Well EP was released on Bandcamp and other streaming platforms on July 13.

snny’s “Postmodern Black," the latest single from the dizzyingly dynamic new artist, is incredibly crafted. It’s a work of art. The production is slick and tight, still managing to attain some dreamy space thanks to snny’s gorgeous vocals—juxtaposed with a grimy, overdriven synth hit irregular heartbeat. Not only is it masterfully made, but it's also gloriously fun to listen to. It’s a modern electronic bop given a stylish, timeless shot to the heart with some Nile Rodgers-esque guitar (think “Get Lucky” or “Le Freak”). snny expresses himself with an easy confidence, with lyrics like “I walk the streets, I run my world, I climb so high because it calms me down”—with every introspective line, he's further establishing himself as a solid voice to watch. “Postmodern Black” may be the perfect soundtrack to these warmer months, but lucky for us, it’s so much more than just another summer jam, which feels appropriate. After all, isn’t this so much more than just another summer?

Jordana’s debut EP, Something To Say, was released on Bandcamp on July 31, and “Forgetter” acts as its sixth and final statement. In this ruminative track, it feels like the laws of relativity have transcended physics and come to govern emotions as well. When your car starts moving forward and you aren’t expecting it, you might think for a moment that the entire world is moving backwards. “Forgetter” captures Jordana processing her feelings after she’s been disoriented by the emotional law of relativity: when someone else is acting distant, but you think you’re the one who is moving farther away. It’s a disorienting experience at first, like there’s something you’re forgetting. But then your mind snaps into focus and you realize you’ve been standing still the whole time. 

The musical elements of the song anchor the overall mood in a space of self-reflection. Jordana’s conversational, almost stream-of-consciousness vocal delivery aptly conveys her attempted calm as it gives way to slight desperation. And while the lyrics are written in first and second person, the moody Death Cab-style bass and guitar seem to signal that there is only one side to this conversation. We are witnessing a person swimming in her own head, rehearsing her side of an important conversation. In the chorus, Jordana sings “I just want to feel better; I want all of these thoughts just to mellow out.” But she knows it’s just a matter of time before she comes down from this anxious moment. Sometimes time is the best antidote when space eludes you.