I’m sitting here listening to a ghost rise from my speakers while my body responds physically to the familiar sound of distortion pedals; with every whine of guitar, an old tremor of hormonal angst climbs up the ribcage to my heart while my arms slowly and rigidly begin crossing themselves. Before I know it, 15-year-old me is huffing and puffing at the door, and she’s back with a vengeance. I spent my teens like a lot of isolated kids do, scribbling in my journal, rolling my eyes at anything that moved and crushing on boys and girls who looked straight through me. The only method of keeping the unpalatable world at bay was the pair of headphones secured tightly around my ears blasting the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, BRMC and The Killers on heavy rotation. That is to say, in a time before kids my age had any sense of self beyond malaise and wretchedness, we had early 2000s indie. 

“Impossible Weight,” the title track off of Deep Sea Diver’s forthcoming October album, embodies that era. It’s The White Stripes meets Sleater-Kinney, meets a cool glass of water with a cruel and jagged lip, meets a hole I want to crawl into headfirst, partly because of nostalgia, and partly because I'm so glad you can still find it somewhere. Frontwoman Jessica Dobson’s vocals prick like needles alongside the jaunty four-on-the-floor drumline. They dance through the verses, pushing the sound up and out towards the epic. A meek wail of guitar is layered in and around the chorus right before Our Lady Sharon Van Etten enters, her steady rich voice ringing out and grounding us against the bouncing instrumentals. The two singers move together in harmony before the music strips down once more, this time to only Van Etten’s low murmur—then the layers build back up again into a thunderous bridge. There’s something about the way that she draws out the last vowel in the line, “So I’ll just let you down now,” that creeps me out and electrifies me at the same time. Kind of like looking back at how formative music from a certain timeframe can be to a generation, how it accompanied us during that period and therefore shaped us as well. Yes, it’s true time (and therapy) heals all, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t run to preorder the LP from my local record shop immediately after listening. Photo by Matt Wignall.

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.

i wanted you

in the yolk dripping down my fingers after biting into my toast and

in shades of faded sunburns

fresh-cut orange slices on the 

morning after M train 

home

willing for a sticky summer sunrise

spent combing disheveled ginger locks 

into place.

— 

NYC-based six-piece collective MICHELLE deliver on their glowing new single, “SUNRISE,” which defines how it feels to lose something that was never really yours—sitting in the empty space left behind. “SUNRISE holds some kind of a summer air, but more so a longing for someone who could never really show up,” the group explains. “SUNRISE is as bittersweet as it is groovy.” The single, marking their first release since their 2018 debut HEATWAVE, picks up right where they left off—sticky and sultry, yet still fresh enough to cool things off as we leave summer behind.

Singer-songwriter, producer and multi-instrumentalist Zigi Porter writes dreamy lo-fi pop songs under the moniker Darcie. The Manchester, UK-based artist has carved out a distinctive sound with quirky lyricism and a boldly experimental production style. Aspects of Porter’s self-professed influences (the lush arrangements of Rex Orange County and understated vocals of Billie Eilish) can be heard at times, but Darcie is all her own. “Silence” builds on the soulful sound of Porter’s previous work and carries it to a slightly darker, more pensive place. The result remains warm and enveloping, with her voice floating over heavy, insistent percussion. “The silence we create is a violent mistake,” Porter sings, backed by ominous synths. Later, she seems to break this silence, with reverb-laden vocals urging, “Give another trust.” Through lyrics that articulate an ever-present threat of abandonment (“Teach me you’ll ditch us”), Darcie explores the vulnerability inherent in the act of trusting and weighs the merits of choosing to do so anyway.

Bright funk full of love, “Mariposa” instantly settles into a sunny groove. It’s held together by a simple swinging rhythm section, led by an adventurous bassline. Radiant Children's lead singer, Fabienne Holloway saunters through the chorus with a sense of effortless ease. As she pulls us into the verse with some added energy there’s this moment of spice, as the echoes of the words "kimono" and "photo" dance around and create just a touch of chaos. It’s a cool choice and the kind of move that proves Radiant Children isn’t afraid to do something different. And while the vibe stays true through the second chorus, that creative courage is on full display directly after. Stacked vocals settled into a chant, begging us to give ourselves the care we need, demanding everyone to “Keep that heart open, don’t forget what you deserve." It’s a powerful moment, the vocals presented in a way that feels holy yet human—simultaneously your wise guardian angel and the voice inside your head. Some bouncy chords deliver us back to the chorus, this time giving the bass even more space to shine. The outro reinforces that positive, believe-in-yourself message, and rides this sunlit track to its mellow conclusion. This is the London group’s second single of 2020, maintaining their warm jazzy energy with a kind message.