WHEW I love Flyte. They're a three-piece British band with my heart in their hands. Their debut record The Loved Ones felt like a secret I kept between me and the band, an Easter egg in an 8-bit video game I revisited again and again, continually charmed and surprised. It's a gorgeous, passionate, musically beautiful album, which rounds out with an acapella cover of "Archie, Marry Me" by Alvvays. I think about it all the time. It's desperate and haunting. It's one of those covers that hops in your bones. But enough about their LP (but for real, open your window and listen to it), I'm here to tell you about "Easy Tiger." 

"Easy Tiger" is a break-up track. It's a predator with a thorn in its paw. It's brought low, it's humble, it's sad. It's brilliant for all of that. Will Taylor has a giant vocal register, but he is so subdued on this track, the emotionalism is totally carried by the instrumentation. The music is anxious in "Easy Tiger," while the melody is steady, rhythmic and calm. It's the embodiment of trying to keep your cool while you see an ex at a party: on the surface, you're collected, inside you are an ocean. 

Give Flyte the love they deserve today. I reckon a new record will be dropping soon from them, so listen to The Loved Ones and their 2019 EP White Roses after you give "Easy Tiger" a spin.

Eric D. Johnson, one-time member of The Shins and current member of the supergroup Bonny Light Horseman with Anais Mitchell, has been at it for more than 20 years under his Fruit Bats moniker, and Gold Past Life may be his finest work yet. The new album largely adds his characteristic funky edge to his folk-rock influences, but “Ocean” is the soothing acoustic product of a seasoned songwriter. A love song that could soundtrack the closing scene of even the most heartfelt Scrubs episode, the track opens with a delightful hammer-on riff reminiscent of Vampire Weekend’s “Harmony Hall” as Johnson recognizes his immaturity, that he’s “still waiting around for some mystical shift in the winds.” Johnson was quick to admit that “Ocean” is a sappy song dedicated to a love that helped him grow up but its heart is so big that its authenticity is never called into question. The song is littered with pleasant little nuggets—surprising chord changes and his momentary lapse into falsetto as he sings the title lyric, to name a few—like pearls in the ocean.

Singer-songwriter Noah Gundersen touches on life’s impermanence in his newest single “Robin Williams.” The Seattle artist makes a return to his folk roots with a nod to the alt-rock sound of his last album White Noise—combining sentimentality with tasteful production. The simplicity of the instrumentals allows the focus to land on the message that “nothing lasts forever / and every other trope.” It leads with buzzing electric guitar, creating an atmosphere before paring down to just an acoustic guitar and Gundersen’s signature ardent vocals. “Robin Williams” is about love, life, and the difficulty of making art in a consumerist society ending with the self-aware and almost dismissive line “Who the hell are we fooling / no one buys records anymore.” The track is the first single from his upcoming fourth solo album Lover due out via Cooking Vinyl on August 28.

Grady Wenrich aka Grady is one of indie rock’s most lovable goofballs, and unabashedly so. His onstage dance moves and hair flips do nothing to distract from his clever lyrics and thoughtful composition, but instead, highlight just how much he loves his craft. Known to fans of Nashville-based band The Lonely Biscuits as the charismatic frontman with a penchant for Modest Mouse-inspired guitar lines and a sing-spoken hip-hop cadence, Grady’s recent move to Los Angeles saw him shift his focus to a solo project. His most recent single, “Lemon Sun,” is a windows-down, last-day-of-class summer jam with all of the existential uncertainty fans have come to expect. Recorded to a tape machine once owned by the founder of the legendary punk-rock club CBGB and discovered at a garage sale for pennies, the song has a glimmering retro fidelity and features guest vocals and guitar work from The Wild Reeds’ Mackenzie Howe. Together, in life as in music, the two of them navigate “this confusing, scary, dumb place under the perfect lemon sun.” It just takes support, perspective, and a little sunlight.

Soaked in reverb and nostalgia, “Two Babies in Michigan” is the moving closing track on Fruit Bats’ eighth full-length, Gold Past Life. After nearly 20 years in music, frontman and writer Eric D. Johnson wrote this album as a rumination on the “autumn of his years” by looking back fondly on life’s most intimate moments—the good, the bad, the bittersweet—and capturing those feelings like snapshots in a collection of unique and resoundingly hopeful arrangements. With reminiscent lyrics, the synth-pop ballad “Two Babies in Michigan” basks in Johnson’s childhood in Michigan through a message to his sister. “Oh sister, do you remember that time / When we were lined up waiting for the waterslide / Swollen clouds and airplanes in the sky?” The soothing arrangement, undeniably melancholic in theme, shows its beauty in small moments of reverie: the warm strum of the acoustic guitar, or the soft but persistent strings in the back of the chorus. Johnson’s distinctly high vocals are as strong and emotive as ever, reflecting the wisdom of the ages while basking unabashedly in the wide-eyed innocence and optimism of childhood. Bleak and beautiful, “Two Babies in Michigan” is a gripping portrayal of age and imminence that will stand the test of time.

LA native Nia Andrews introduces her recently released debut album No Place Is Safe with the self-produced second single, "Seems So." After two EPs and lending her vocals to projects by artists like Solange, the soul singer presents a full-length project that shows her story and artistry in a more intense way than any of her previous work. Every aspect of "Seems So" claims the freedom of doing whatever you want with the art you make. The lyrics are a love song to a careless and confident soul. It appears Andrews, the songwriter, yearns to possess that same liberation. Starting with a reminder of how hard it is to leave a track when you’re set on its way, Andrews finishes the chorus with “and I wish I didn’t think so much, it seems so wonderful”. Though the singer says she wishes she could scream a little more, her voice is undoubtedly loud enough to be worth listening to. Andrews’ album No Place Is Safe is out now.

Julien Ehrlich and Max Kakacek, a duo affectionately known as Whitney, open their arms to welcome us back into their familiar upbeat, indie folk musical fortress with their lyrically forlorn new single “Giving Up”. The narrative of this track is one of a woebegone lover, clinging to what is left of the connection between the two. Whitney has a way of living out hurt in a whimsical fashion: through bursts of brass, and Kakacek’s brilliant & bright guitar genius. This track is the first single from their upcoming album, Forever Turned Around, set to be released on August 30th. With their indubitably bona fide spirit, Whitney comes back around with “Giving Up” to woo us like they never left.

The dust has settled from Record Store Day 2019 and the cratediggers everywhere have made off with their scores, b-sides and rarities and reissues galore. Julien Baker’s contribution to the nationwide phenomenon was a pair of unreleased singles, including the haunting “Red Door,” finally released in digital format. The track features many hallmarks of Baker’s sound, like reverb-heavy electric guitar, booming atmospheric percussion, and a steady build, while also addressing the typical Julien Baker themes of fighting expectations, conflicting emotions and dealing with anger. Baker has long been praised for her emotional songwriting and pristine voice. Still, many critics—at least until seeing her play a face-melting solo in “Salt in the Wound” to close out her shows with fellow boygenius members Lucy Dacus and Phoebe Bridgers—have underrated her guitar playing. While her slow, contemplative style doesn’t often leave room to show off lightning-fast technical chops, she employs impressive guitar riffs here both expertly and tastefully. But where Baker truly shines is in finding beautiful imagery hidden in everyday scenes, notably when she describes herself as “pale as a flickering bulb outside of a liquor store.” Her ability to evoke an emotional response from an audience is due in part to that juxtaposition, creating a space where our most extraordinary feelings seem commonplace and acceptable.