In “Who Do I Turn To?,” Joy Oladokun takes deep-rooted pain and pushes it to the surface, creating a poignant tune with only her voice alongside a piano. However, it’s not a simple song at all—hearing her meditate on repeated, unanswered questions is like hearing an echo in an empty home, only finding security in the fact that you are present, yet completely alone. 

“I’m tired of turning on the news / And wondering why it happened again,” she sings, expressing her exhaustion. In a society where systemic racism is only now becoming prevalent for the comfortable majority, Oladokun asks her listeners: “Tell me who’s gonna make it right / When the good ones are to blame.” Her words are not masked by any intense instrumentation, but rather come fully exposed: “If I can’t turn to God / And I can’t turn to you / Who do I turn to?” A portion of her publishing royalties will be going to Launchpad Nashville, a shelter that LGBTQ youth can turn to in times of need.

Coming off the heels of her single "Black Dog," Arlo Parks' cover of Radiohead’s “Creep” hits differently than the original. In fact, it feels like a B-side to "Black Dog"- a view from inside out rather than outside in. The song sounds a lot like self-dialogue. Solo piano and vocals fill a cavernous, empty sounding acoustic space. No additional harmonies, vocals, or instruments. No call and response. It’s just Parks’ beautifully expressive voice accompanied by carefully controlled piano arpeggiations. Simultaneously delicate and resolute, she effortlessly transplants the lyrics into a new context. It no longer sounds like a song about yearning for another person and feeling disgusted with yourself. It is wrestling with the fantasy of who you would like to be, superimposed on your own actual body. It’s the song you hum to yourself while staring in the mirror at 3 am, brushing your teeth, and trying to decide if you’re glad you went out. You had fun, you think, but it’s also a relief to come home to your own bed, alone.

I find that, ultimately, I am happiest when I yank myself out of my thoughts long enough to peer out of my apartment's living room window. This time, it's like playing the childhood guessing game I spy as Asi Kemera's "Oh, Honey" crackles and pops over the sound of the embers burning the logs inside of the rustic fireplace. I spy happy people holding hands. She spies the sunset. I spy a snowstorm. Mid-sway, my green tea starts to sing to me. Suddenly, I am no longer in my apartment. I shuffle off my mortal coil. I'm in the song's stems. It feels better here. Asi's song is a truth that waits for me like a patient angel. It tans under the light of my youth, fans off with the chill of my days. When I open my eyes again, I reclaim my person. I don't remember living in the stems. I sway to the song until I grow tired. I sit. The fire dwindles. The snowstorm's eye winks down at me from the atmosphere. I don't touch the dial, so why the song sounds louder now escapes me.

Genre-defying indie quintet Post-Modern Connection truly has their own thing going. On “Drowning,” the Kelowna, BC-based band covers as much ground as their diverse international origins, which include Nigeria, Lebanon, Taiwan, and Canada. One thing that jumps out is that the band works exquisitely well together; like any effective coalition, everyone brings their own superpowers to the table, but crucially, no one member is the star. Lead singer Tega Ovie and bassist Steven Lin provide the doo-wop core of the track; meanwhile, Georges Nasrallah bounces between dream-pop and psychedelia in his guitar parts, Cam Wilks has a jazzy lilt to his drumming, and violinist Mitch Howanyk adds a hint of folk-rock. Perhaps the real accomplishment is that you don’t notice on first listen how many genres the group is pulling from. “Drowning” comes across as a strikingly cohesive, easy, and relaxing listen from a band with a clear, unique vision.

Usher in summer with Tipling Rock’s newest single “Karma.” The Boston trio makes music meant for beach trips and carefree summer days. It’s upbeat and hazily optimistic with a sound that exists somewhere between the grit of The Growlers and the softness of No Vacation. They mourn the loss of love while celebrating the possibilities that come with it—singing, “yeah I’m stepping out / but I wish I had your shoulder / yeah I’m lonely now / but I’m wiser and I’m older.” They comment on the cyclical nature of karma and loss over breezy melodies and subtle rhythms. It’s the perfect addition to any summer playlist meant for dreaming of a time when we can romp around in the sun with our friends. The self-proclaimed beach pop band knows where their strengths lie and continue to put out songs that perfectly match their moniker. “Karma” is bittersweet in its undertone of sadness masked by hazy guitars and bright vocals.

Cabin Fever, the aptly titled 2020 EP from SOPHIETHEHOMIE, condenses a narrative arc into just three songs: “fall,” “rise,” and “end.” “fall” is the first of these glimmering R&B gems, featuring vocals that float on a sparse arrangement, buoyed by a funky and addictive bassline. Butter-smooth keys hold down the easygoing track and seem to melt in the heat, marking it as the perfect addition to any summer playlist. In the chorus, SOPHIETHEHOMIE explores feelings of uncertainty in a relationship, singing, “Why you always have to put a weight on me? Always feel like you just put the blame on me.” Her voice contains an undeniable sweetness, but it has a biting clarity as well; she speaks her mind with the unabashed self-assuredness of someone who knows that she deserves better. She also knows that your own advice is sometimes the hardest to follow, so in a brilliant move, she calls in a friend (or possibly her pitch-shifted subconscious?) to offer some words of encouragement and remind her that “You don’t need nobody.” It doesn’t matter who she’s trying to convince—you can’t help but believe her. On her debut EP, SOPHIETHEHOMIE arrives with a clear and impressive vision, and I can’t wait to see what’s still to come.