Em Beihold dances on the line between wrong and right in her new dark-pop single, “Painful Truth.” Her vocal dexterity bounces between wispy falsetto and full voice, while the production around her alternates from a booming bass line to minimalistic accompaniment. All at once, listeners can feel the depth of addiction paired with contrasting overtones of lust and desire — the feeling of “need” that transcends all consequences. Em Beihold frequently showcases her talents on TikTok, with breathtaking acoustic cover songs. The thoughtful production quality of “Painful Truth” speaks to Beihold’s artistic integrity. Her voice resonates in this song with the same honesty of a live performance or social media cover video, which is not an easy task for most recording artists. Be sure to follow Em Beihold on TikTok, and remain on the lookout for future releases. She is an artist on the rise and can be compared to a young Halsey. Her songwriting is mature beyond her years.

“Postcard from Spain” is the stunning lead single from Canadian producer Ryan Hemsworth’s new project, Quarter-Life Crisis. This track blazes with post-modern complexity and profound artistry — but considering it features lyrics and vocals from the insanely talented Frances Quinlan of Hop Along, we would expect nothing less. Known for her quizzically insightful lyrics and searing vocals, Quinlan was tasked with writing the lyrics and vocal melody for an instrumental track Hemsworth had previously recorded. The finished product is a beautiful sonic tale that recounts one character’s muse-inducing trip to Spain. The track features overlapping layers of both electronica and modern rock, which, like Quinlan’s lyrics, contribute to complementary sonic tones that are fragmented but undeniably intertwined. 

Quinlan is one of several artists that Hemsworth will be collaborating with in his upcoming project. The full Quarter-Life Crisis EP is set to be released on December 4 by Saddle Creek.

As summer has faded to fall, and we all long for warmer days, Jordan Hawkins is here with a lifeline. Reminiscing on a sunny love, the song is full of so much heart. Instantly the production welcomes you into its arms, seemingly sitting in the sand as the sun sets. Hawkins arrives with the vocals and lyricism to match the mood. Visions of perfect moments at the beach embody Hawkins’ writing, revealing a desire to rekindle romance with a past flame, bringing those moments to life. The song’s chorus feels entirely relatable and chock-full of earnest desire. Hawkins’ undeniable smooth tone sets you at ease as you feel yourself dissolve into this daydream. And that’s what holds your ear — the incredible performance from Hawkins himself. There’s strength in his earnestness, giving more power to the grit, more assurance to the smooth, and such a visceral longing love when he steps into a higher register. There is such variety in his delivery, yet Hawkins navigates the shifts effortlessly. As a listener you can just float right alongside, enjoying every moment. It seems like every choice on this song was after that same mission, an effort to make this song feel like easy love: vibey percussion, beautiful waves of trumpets, dreamy chords, a warm bass to hold it together, subtle harmonies, the trumpet and guitar solo. It’s all there. Photo by Kiyo Vigliotti.

knees hiked to my chest in the corner booth
of some midtown sports bar, I watch it end
with an Old Fashioned clutched close to my body.

I never did get used to the fact that sometimes
you kissed me just because you felt like it
shameless as always.

—

Chicago-based quartet Slow Pulp's “Trade It” sits between slowcore and shoegaze, guitar-driven and melancholic, emo at heart. Hurt is palpable in lead singer Emily Massey’s plaintive “Am I all that you wanted?” A cathartic shift highlights a synth lilt that yearns to trade everything in to start over. “It’s all that I’m asking,” she sings, and it shouldn’t be so much to ask, but is somehow everything. A twisted sense of nostalgia sits deep in my stomach, searching for certain sadness, someone who has long escaped me. I don’t miss them, but this song almost makes me wish I did. The track comes from the band's self-produced debut record, Moveys. In a statement, Slow Pulp describe Moveys as the manifestation of their dealings with “health challenges, personal upheaval and a pandemic, all while learning how to be better songwriters and friends.” Photo by Alec Basse.

I kept thinking I’d buy a weighted blanket,
kept using you for body heat instead, before 
and after the Everlane coat that lives on the floor
and the draft-stopping plastic on my windows

though if ever I asked, I always had you

for the cost of three happy hour drinks,
the cab home and quarters for the dryer 
to wash my sheets after you left.

—

TALIA’s vivid track “colder” lives in perpetual homesickness for a person who might’ve never been real with you to begin. Her first release on Quadio Records strays from her folk, strings-driven single “Shiver,” trading in her acoustic guitar for atmospheric synths and echoes. She crafts a cinematic quality to the otherwise minimalist bedroom pop soundscape we know, the song swelling as though these sounds can take her away, drown out the loneliness. “I get stronger everyday, but I’m still hurting,” she wallows over a weeping piano. Though lofty in its production, “colder” stays grounded in TALIA’s visceral pain; her voice swirls and soars, yearning to be distant but ultimately tied to those memories, wondering but never knowing if one change could have made all the difference. Photo by 70mm_.

Duncan Fellows’ “Swallowing Grains” is just one of many personal musings on their latest album, The Sadlands. In their words, the Austin band documents The Sadlands as “a map of experiences culled from the past few years of our lives where we began to really try to demarcate the moments that had shaped and continue to shape us as people.” Melding sun rays and sweeping vocals, “Swallowing Grains” is a beachside jam conveying the perils of misunderstanding. Lyrical references to choking on air and swallowing sand denote, and fuel, the residual impact of lacking articulation. As frustration and fear accumulate, the guitar rolls in like the tide, stretching wide across shore before slinking back. It eventually eclipses into a breaking wave at the final chorus, plunging forth and encapsulating all within its warm deliverance. This is a tune that you’ll find yourself burying into, just as a clam would.

Duncan Fellows’ album is out everywhere now, along with an accompanying video game available at thesadlands.com.

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.