As we’re continuing the strife to uncover a new “normal,” we can’t help but settle in the uncertainty that these past few years have left us floating within. So much has happened and so much has changed all from behind the confines of the four walls that we call home. For the moments when the sky feels like it's falling and you need someplace to plant your feet, the San Diego-raised artist Jelani Aryeh offers his latest drop, “From These Heights."

Uniquely its own entity, "From These Heights" both separates itself from modern music and sows new roots for the music of the future in a quick 3-minute go. Aryeh reorients early 2000s indie rock to suit our time of need. Featuring existential lyricism and that good ole’ stripped-down garage band sound, this gem channels the energy of music in the past to invoke worldwide change for the future.

Aryeh began crafting this track during the pandemic, at the height of civil unrest, sharing on his Instagram: “I made this song with Alex Craig of Slaters last May...George Floyd had just been murdered, and the riots were just starting to take place. It felt like there was so much chaos + uncertainty in the air and it seemed like everywhere you’d turn there was something threatening your livelihood. It was like everyone was trapped in a box of mayhem with no exit. I know that's still the case for a lot of you and many others around the globe.  At the least, I hope this song can ease your feelings and give you somewhere to settle yourself. Even if that’s for 3 minutes.” 

The young Black and Filipino artist has been making wide strides in the industry since 2018, with his track "Daunt" catching fire in the hearts and ears of alternative indie lovers. Aryeh is a trailblazing creative, never ceasing to hone his craft or personal growth, both of which evolve with each new release. “From These Heights '' is the third single from his forthcoming debut album I’ve Got Some Living To Do and merely a preview of the young artist’s musical dexterity and effortless ability to transform hearts and minds. See for yourself. Photo by Zamar Velez.

“Terminal Daze” is a gleaming indie rock track made for the beginning of a coming-of-age film, featuring unbridled youth and charisma. It’s the catapult into summer on the last day of school — a feeling ready to chase away inertia. The Copenhagen-based quartet Kindsight says it’s “as unrelenting as a big train — steady as it goes.” And it’s certainly a train you would want to catch: an enticing escape from responsibility, further persuaded by the guitar and commanding drums. The bright, silvery vocals whisk us away in high lilts and phrases, and all care is gone in the world, at least for a small moment. Photo by Line Hvid.

The world isn’t a pool. What we know of ourselves isn’t consistently reflected back at us. For folk artist Raye Zaragoza, an Indigenous woman of color raised in a New York City studio apartment, feeling seen in a white-washed landscape is often insurmountable. “I have felt like my mixed-race, intersectional identity is somehow letting everyone down,” she says of her experience, “I have felt that I can’t belong to any community because I am not enough of any one to belong.” So instead, Zaragoza sets out to be her own mirror. She grounds herself in her roots with strength and ease on her latest record, Woman In Color, and reclaims her sense of self with her own anthem, “Rebel Soul.” The song begins delicately, serene guitars and gentle drums guiding each other. As it builds, the entire song crescendos together and is met with uplifting strings and glints of piano, swirling around like wind brushing against your face. The music complements the message in a gorgeous pairing, all seeming to symbolize Zaragoza’s path to self-triumph. Her embrace of identity is entrenched in the song’s righteous chorus as she sings, “When the only thing you're left with are your torn and tattered clothes / And you find yourself a-wandering down a dark and lonely road / When you’ve got a feeling in your heart that no one seems to know / Feeling like a complete unknown / I’m a rebel soul.” It wasn’t until Zaragoza found herself on this very road that she realized she can leave behind her inhibitions and step fully into her power, as a rare musical talent and unique rebel soul. Photo by Cultivate Consulting.

Virginia Beach songwriter Khi Infinite breaks new ground with his single “LUCY,” a tune as addictive as the push-pull love that has him hooked. Though he knows he and “LUCY" have their problems, Infinite dives headfirst into the sea of red flags with no tether to the truth, naïve, hopeful and “too hard headed.” A faint, rosy guitar riff, breezy ad-libs and laid-back storytelling almost make an otherwise draining back-and-forth seem easy. While my hometown of Virginia Beach has been a longstanding hub for innovators in hip hop and R&B, Infinite’s eccentric approach to bedroom pop plucks the smoothest parts of each genre to craft something more breezy and clean, down to a catchy hook spiked with carefree joy. His upcoming record TAKE WHAT YOU NEED is due out in November, and until then, 50% of proceeds for “LUCY” will be donated to local homeless shelters in the 757 area.

Tomberlin's "Floor" is a song meant for evening walks, hovering on the cusp of light and dark. It reminds me of a street about half a mile from my duplex. The two lanes are divided by a graciously wide median, which is lined by almost naturally spaced oak trees. The only giveaway of artifice is the vintage style street lamps — one between every two trees, exactly. Straight down the middle of the median, sheltered by the oaks, is a brick path. Once upon a time it was meticulously laid with clean red bricks. Now it’s settled in some places along with the dirt, and in others it’s risen up as the tree roots keep growing underneath. The path isn’t even anymore, and you can tell it hasn’t been for a while. You can still see its sophisticated herringbone pattern though, doubtless voted on by some homeowners' association at some point. Around dusk the street lamps start glowing yellow, washing the path in a soft golden glow. It looks like something out of a fairytale, complete with houses that could be castles keeping watch on either side. It’s the street my feet always wander to when it’s late and I can’t sleep because my mind is racing too fast to stand still. It’s not because it’s well lit, or quiet, or close, or safe-feeling. It’s because I like to walk by the houses and make up stories about the people living inside. I like to wonder what it feels like to take up so much space and how they could possibly fill it all up. I like to think about what I want space for, and who I want space for, and how I’ll make sure there’s always enough to hold them. By the time I get home, I’ve finally found my edges again. I know where I begin, and where I end, and I have a dedicated space to hold whatever is worth holding. That’s exactly the feeling Tomberlin captures in "Floor" — something whimsical and as sad as it is optimistic. Like something out of a fairytale. Photo by Felix Walworth.