This recent single from Australian artist FELIVAND feels vintage yet brand new, giving timeless themes new life. The synths develop such rich character and attitude, while her vocals feel like a fresh wrinkle in today’s incredible alt-R&B scene. The second verse opens with a line that I’ve kept returning to — “Every time I see you, feel like I gotta re-meet you” — and ends by asking, “What happened to the person I knew?” It’s a moving distillation of the song’s theme. FELIVAND reaching out for someone that’s just not there to reach back any more. A gut-wrenching line that suggests this has been a repeated effort. Trying, hoping, believing that what once was good can be good again. But the ship has sailed, or rather we find that it’s not even the same ship anymore — a devastating result. And as we feel for FELIVAND, we see there’s more damage being done. This propels us into the bridge, an incredibly powerful highlight moment of the song. FELIVAND shines beneath this spotlight, a moment full of so much emotion and soul, with palpable pain. There’s no beating around the bush anymore: “You don't think of consequence, the wrong type of confidence. You're hurting your friends.” Can’t get enough? Us either. Good news: her newest single “Ebb & Flow” just came out today as well.

“Who Do We Look To Now” is excellently composed and lyrically profound. Within this track, Amsterdam-based singer-songwriter Nana Adjoa contemplates self-identity while living in world where hope and inspiration are in scarce supply. This track teems with gorgeous symphonics, infusing non-traditional instruments like xylophones, pipe organs and violins into a jazz-infused pop medium. Adjoa sings with gentle conviction, guiding her listeners though poetic musings and heartaches. “Who Do We Look To Now” is just one of the many contemplative tracks featured on her newly released debut album, Big Dreaming Ants. Photo by Latoya Van Der Meeren.

I have a tendency to live in my memories. When I miss someone who’s no longer in my life or I want to relive a really good day, I’ll put myself back in a specific scenario, letting the emotions that I felt then wash over me, taking me out of my current reality. There are certain songs that provoke that same process, even if it doesn’t generate a specific scene, but only the lingering embers of an emotion. “Tara Street” by Eric Gabriel reignites those embers, making you feel less alone in the journey of finding yourself. Sonically, “Tara Street” sounds like a combination of the erratic yet cohesive production choices of The 1975, mixed with the poetic vulnerability of Sufjan Stevens. 

The track starts with a very light and airy synth with the hum of background vocals, before Gabriel’s voice comes into play. As the song continues the instrumentation becomes more complex, as saxophone, piano and bass are introduced. His arrangement of synthetic and natural instruments will leave you grasping onto old parts of yourself, as you slowly start to morph into someone new. The chorus lets us in on Gabriel’s inner turmoil surrounding that process, as he sings, “I’m losing my way / With each step that I take / 'Cause I’m following bells and whistles / That fade in the wind, and turn into nothing / Again and again.” As the song progresses the instrumentation heightens, with the addition of new synths, percussion and both electric and acoustic guitar, just as an inner monologue might when you feel off-balance within yourself. Though lyrically he seems to be spinning out, his meticulous choices in both the instrumental arrangement, as well as in his vocal control, create a beautiful contrast. While music allows us to live in our memories, it also provides space for us to simultaneously create new ones. With “Tara Street,” Gabriel succeeds in fostering an environment for that growth to occur.

Young Summer’s “If the World Falls to Pieces” starts off slow and methodical with singer-songwriter Bobbie Allen’s honeyed voice melting over a gentle piano. It’s atmospheric and sparse without feeling like it is lacking anything. “Now we have nothing left to lose / things look beautiful if you forget what they can do,” the Nashville-by-way-of-DC artist croons genuinely. The song feels like it belongs in an old music box with a worn porcelain ballerina twirling along to the twinkling of keys and the gentle swell of strings. Allen’s voice is heartfelt without being dramatic as she sings, “If the world falls to pieces / at least I’ll be with you.” There is a definite balance between technicality and artistry. It is a sweet and gentle love song with an undertone of understanding that love cannot fix everything, but it can make the hard parts more bearable. Photo by Stephen Fanok.

Daniela Andrade is probably best known for her covers. From her tender, lingering acoustic version of "La Vie En Rose" to her punchy and affecting take on "Crazy in Love," Andrade has garnered a following of faithful fans who adore her unmistakable vocals and her overtly romantic songwriting style. But recently, the initially more reserved Honduran-Canadian artist has been sharpening her pop-synth skills, introducing more lo-fi, Latin and jazz influences into her discography. 

"Nothing Much Has Changed, I Don't Feel The Same" is the intro track on her newest EP of the same name. This track introduces a fresh layer of textures and sounds for Andrade, diversifying her as a musician and making her an instantly more interesting player in the indie singer-songwriter game. This most recent release follows her 2019 LP Tamale, where we see Andrade addressing a level of sensuality and introspection we hadn't seen as clearly in her previous work. Regardless of the tonal change, Andrade is securing herself as a mature and sincere songwriter and performer. "Nothing Much Has Changed, I Don't Feel The Same" is a great intro to a short and enjoyable pop/ambient EP that runs just over 11 minutes long. Give the record a listen wherever you stream.

Brighton-based Philip Brooks' latest track, “i’m so in love with all of my friends,” is a sleepless midnight reverie, a scribbled but still-unsent letter written on a napkin, an aching contradiction. It’s coming home to yourself and your true feelings; a knowing that sometimes, even when we want to stay in the same place, our hearts say that it’s time for us to go. Over light keys and syncopated drums, Brooks alternates between a conversation with themself and a conversation with someone they want to bring with them to their next destination. The chorus hits like a gut-punch as shimmering synths kick in and drive Brooks’ words; they touch on a feeling that has been familiar to many of us during this year of unusual isolation, singing “I’m so in love with all of my friends / But I feel like there’s nobody left.” The loneliness is suspended in a dreamlike mix of analog and electronic sounds, recalling the flair of alt-pop groups like Valley, girl in red and Nightly. It is from this medium that Brooks urges us to recognize that there’s two sides to every coin. Are you receiving the same kind of love you give to others, and would you even want your kind of love in return? You feel alone, but are you, really—or is that person you're dreaming of a phone call away? Brooks' track reminds us there’s always a new adventure waiting, in the people and places around us, should we choose to pick up the phone.