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.

Montreal-born and New Jersey-raised R&B artist Love Mansuy’s newest single “Calm Me Down” explores the vulnerability necessary in a romantic relationship. In his sweet and smooth voice, Mansuy sings, “What good is being honest if it doesn't cut deep? / What good is what you wanted if it's not what you need?” over minimalistic beats—allowing Mansuy’s voice and lyrics to be the main focus. The song circles around trust as an integral part of a healthy relationship. He continues with a sweet declaration: “You know how to calm me down / 'cause you mean that much to me.” A sweet and melodic love song that understands what love actually needs to thrive in the long term, “Calm Me Down” is the newest single off of his upcoming EP (món-swee) Side A, which is due out September 18.

On the tongue-in-cheek “Sad4Good,” Llusion breaks up the monotony of quarantine with help from Cautious Clay and HXNS. Glitchy and eccentric production bring elegance to the bedroom pop tune, crafting the perfect foundation for distorted vocals to state simply, "We're all alone, all alone anyway" and "I wanna be sad for good." I, like many of you, first found joy in not having to put pants on every day; however, as we enter week "who knows?" of our new normal, I'm facing some underlying anxieties as I find myself waking up anywhere from 8 am to 2 pm, never knowing what day of the week it is, questioning how many of the societal structures in life are real. In Llusion's world, if life has become nothing but refried beans and feeling trapped within four walls, it begs the question, what's left to lose? Llusion's irreverent approach to existential ennui over a bouncy beat offers a much-needed two minutes of relief from what feels like a dark age, and there's some ironic peace to accepting that "if everything hurts, then it couldn't get worse.”

Ruth B. rehashes old heartache on “Dirty Nikes,” a melancholy R&B single that longs for what once was. It’s a special sort of longing to be homesick for a person, and Ruth B. captures it beautifully, reminiscing on late night talks, aimless drives and promises made in the quiet spaces in between. Minimalist in its production, the track focuses on highlighting her haunting vocals, for which she initially went viral on Vine. “It makes me sick that I'm still singing 'bout you,” she whines; no matter how long it’s been, sometimes all it takes is one pair of dirty Nikes to know that you’ll never fully forget.

—

taco bell is taking shredded chicken
off the menu and it’s got me thinking

about the backseat of your car
at 4 am, first kisses and ghost stories;

about white orchids dipped in gold, 
stepped-on toes slow dancing;

about allen stone and chamomile tea,
about strep bacteria festering in a twin-sized bed.

i wonder if a new girl, some pretty blonde 
sits across the table, eating the tomatoes from your salad.

Divino Niño sure can whip up a tune. The Chicago, Illinois indie rockers' latest, “Made Up My Mind,” is John Cusack with a boombox outside your window. A heartbroken ballad pleading for a second chance at love and life. Though the track stays stylistically close to home for the band, the addition of a small brass section featuring Sen Morimoto and Whitney’s Will Miller brings a new depth instrumentally that has you hearing something new with each listen. Lyrically, the song takes on a lovesick feel as the singer serenades, “I made up my mind (forever wanna be by your side) / I just had to give life a chance / To come and show me what it could be / If I messed up fucked up everything we got.” Is this a topic we have heard before? Yes. But will we get sick of Divino Niño songs about this? Probably not. Their bilingual approach, swirling synths and infectious harmonies create an instant feeling of warmth and nostalgia that lets the listener place themselves within every track, and “Made Up My Mind” is no different. Photo by Alexa Viscius.

There is a certain wildness and movement in “Material Life” that could awaken dusty bones. The eclectic release by indie-rock duo Lightning Dust, comprised of Amber Webber and Josh Wells, is a commentary on the need for more. There is always this desire in us for something deeper, something more valuable to dig into, giving us the feeling that we cannot and will not belong, that perhaps there is more for us that we have not yet been greeted by. The track begins with a steadiness, and at its midpoint slows down to say, “I’m in a world I don’t belong,” creating relevance within itself to the nature of being.

Angel Olsen’s “(New Love) Cassette” is a gorgeous rumination on the feelings one experiences when starting a new relationship. Her haunting, emotive vocals, drenched in reverb, convey longing in the midst of limerence. “I’m gonna show you love all of the time / Gonna be your breath when you’re out of life / Love / Free / Take / Me,” she sings earnestly. The simple arrangement—the version on the album Whole New Mess is stripped back guitar/voice vs. the lush, full version featured on 2019’s All Mirrors—is striking and heartbreakingly honest. This song is the perfect balance of bittersweet and nostalgic—a tune for anyone missing the dreamy and unraveling emotions that come with falling in love with someone new. Listen wherever you stream. Photo by Kylie Coutts.

Boston-based singer-songwriter Anjimile reckons with ways their demons have caused hurt to a lover on “Baby No More," a modernized bossa nova tune more harmoniously balanced than the relationship itself. "Scary / What I done and might do," they open, a fragile moment of self-awareness, yet inability to stop themselves from doing more damage. Referring to themselves as "King Heartbreaker," their lightly rasped vocals send a simple message, the only fitting end for a doomed relationship: "I can’t be your baby no more."

For the greater part of 2019, I found myself in the thick of it. Drinking heavily more nights than not and equally as addicted to an emotionally abusive relationship, my sense of self was all but torn to shreds. Much like Anjimile, "I quite literally felt like I was losing my mind, vis-à-vis alcoholism," though it was my close friends whom I hurt the most. While the fresh, upbeat nature of "Baby No More" contrasts some of the darker lyrics, for me, the levity mimics the relief that comes with detaching yourself where you need to; it's that second of clarity, seeking help and coming out better for it. Anjimile's debut record Giver Taker, which will delve further into mental health struggles and coming out as transgender, is due out September 18 via Father/Daughter Records.

Arcade Fire’s Will Butler has released the second single off his upcoming solo record, Generations. “Close My Eyes” grapples with the pain and hopelessness that fuel desire for a revolution. This soul-inspired, synth-y cruiser may sound lively, but Butler is shedding some warm lamplight on the reality of racism and collective trauma, and insinuates his need to stay in the backseat as a white male. The line “I’ve got to dance to keep from crying,” nails this sentiment. The chorus is a much needed release, with stacked harmonies to match the upswing. 

Butler’s jangly ballad digs into some Motown and also nods at early 2000’s indie-pop. These inspirations, as we know, generate a heart-swell that Butler knew was important to lend—leaving the listener feeling heavy with the reminder of today’s realities, but also appreciative of what we have to get us through. The rest of Generations drops on September 25, where more of these themes are sure to emerge. Photo by Will Butler.