Del Water Gap's brand new single is due to have you make that call you can't stop thinking about making. After all, what better time to make uncomfortable calls than when you know you and the person you're calling won't have to be in the same room the next day? Singing of a relationship that came like a hurricane and left leaving nothing but wreckage on its way out, Brooklyn-based songwriter Holden Jaffe's description of human contact will leave you yearning for everything other people have ever made you feel. "Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat" is exactly what the title say it is: an ode to words left unsaid and people you can't let go of. Even though the beat is great for a bedroom dance party, a song this poignant should be not be streamed lightly during these trying times of social distancing.

Two packs of cigarettes down, half-Catalan and half-Irish singer Núria Graham peaks into the past on the title track of her latest album. A slow-burning folk ballad warped by airy, chiming guitars and soaring synthesizers, "Marjorie" is built perfectly for dramatic moments of introspection. Keeping watch for a lover as the night draws in around her, Graham lovingly connects the dots between her and the grandmother she never met. Despite being permanently separated by a gulf of time, she pulls herself closer to Marjorie as she chews through painful, intergenerational deja vu; "we seem to be making the same mistakes," she sings out, in the chorus of one of her most direct and powerful vocal performances to date. A window-gazers dream, "Marjorie" pushes a revitalized Núria Graham to new heights.

In a breath as fresh as spring, Waxahatchee shares “Lilacs,” a windows-down dealing in a tangle of intrusive thoughts and a glass half empty, half full look at self-sufficiency and love. The track begins with a jangly, quiet groove, blooming into a chorus that contends that the process of coming to love yourself doesn’t have to be lonely, “if I'm a broken record / write it in the dust, babe / I'll fill myself back up like I used to do” and sweeping into the admission of being better with another with anthemic resolve, “I won't end up anywhere good without you / I need your love, too.” “Lilacs” is the second single released in anticipation of Saint Cloud Katie Crutchfield’s fifth record as Waxahatchee, out March 27 via Merge Records.

Led by Carli Naff, a Brooklyn-based, singer-songwriter from Phoenix, Arizona, Carli & The Dark bring us their debut single “Mimi” via Paper Moon Records. The song announces itself with a combination of subtle layering and poignant lyrics, a swell and exhalation of intimacy. Not unlike Lucy Dacus or Haley Heynderickx, with a lilt reminiscent of Mitski, Carli’s clear but tender voice cuts through the first few seconds like a call to attention. The opening electric guitar is soon joined by an acoustic as the song continues to build, adding layer over layer in a tasteful arrangement of dreamy vocals, shoegazey riffs, and even the subtle accent of horns. It takes looking back to realize how many elements are at play on this track, how the textures culminate in a lush harmony without sounding overworked. This unconventional breakup song also replaces drama with compassion, speaking of the shift in the relationship between two women when one cannot provide what the other needs anymore. Rather than falling apart, they find a balance through love and empathy. Carli sings about the strength of their bond continuing on past their romance as her voice echoes through to the end, “We walk in stride / I love you always.” With thoughtful lyrics paired alongside gorgeous vocals and intricate instrumentation, “Mimi” is an impressively mature and promising debut, making Carli & The Dark an artist to keep an ear out for.

Yoke Lore and Jax Anderson don’t waste a beat in this joyful collaboration. There’s no small talk here, no introduction. “I got a sensitive heart / Full up with fits and starts,” Adrian Galvin of Yoke Lore declares, with a youthful, lilting voice that matches the phrase. Romantic string pads set a soft foundation like a picnic blanket splayed onto freshly-cut grass. “It’s ok if you break it / I won’t cry, I won't fake it,” adds Anderson, her vocals complementing Galvin’s timbre perfectly. An infectious bassline and danceable synth beat accompany her entrance, eagerly getting the fun started. Galvin and Anderson’s effortless duet delivers like a gracefully choreographed relay race, each sharing equal responsibility of the lyrics, passing the flag back and forth without once stepping on each others’ toes. The words feel genuine, portraying vulnerability and wisdom against a soaring background vocal hook. “Sensitive Heart” is an anthem for hopeful young hearts, who know that life’s inevitable toll helps to develop a more resilient character.

The opening notes of Waxahatchee’s “Fire” are purposefully gentle, evoking the disquieting silence after hanging up a telephone. Waxahatchee’s upcoming album Saint Cloud, due out March 27, was written in the wake of singer Katie Crutchfield’s commitment to sobriety, and what comes after the dial tone are the wobbly first steps of someone with a newfound resolve. “It’s about the internal dialogue of shame surrounding mistakes you’ve made in the past and how we spiral and beat ourselves up when we slip,” says Crutchfield. The repetitive chord structure—the same three chords over and over—is a reminder that, for better or for worse, life goes on. Falling into familiar patterns can feel like an unstoppable downward spiral, but Crutchfield instead chooses to use the spiral as a foundation for new patterns, using repeating guitar parts interleaving with one another as building blocks. “If I could love you unconditionally / I could iron out the edges of the darkest sky,” she sings to herself. And while her voice betrays that she may not be there yet, she’s laying the groundwork.