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.

There’s no right place to start with "Seven Miles." The vocals, the lyricism, the production, the arrangement—each folding so perfectly into one another. An avalanche of a verse barrels forward amassing energy and urgency. Yet rather than climax, the chorus chooses to stop time completely. A masterful touch, Kathleen taking the chance to offer plainly from the heart. She sings with stunning ease and a convincing assuredness, the moment both intimate and heavenly. The chorus explodes beyond itself, its two characters soaring together above the world’s chaos. Returning with added passion, Kathleen shines again, a warm richness developing in the second verse. The perfect bass run sneaks in, teasing more to come, and as the chorus ends more arrives. Kathleen unleashes a breathtaking moment, the band in full force, hoisting her up above the clouds to belt the refrain one last time. With a standout track within a standout EP, Kathleen has found a new sound in a familiar world. Instantly recognizable yet utterly unique, it’s something to behold.

On a charity livestream, Mt. Joy frontman Matt Quinn explained that “Death” is a misnomer—it is a life-affirming song, he assured, about lending a hand to help others work through problems rather than run away from them. “I know why you like death,” he sings, “‘Cause when you get in trouble, pulled under rubble / You want something else,” but he is there to pull you out of the rubble. Quinn says of the song, “I was hoping this song would remind people and myself that there are so many family members / friends here on earth that want to help us find our peace, and there really is so much beauty here, especially when you let people help you.” The song’s meandering verse gives way to a raucous chorus best sung en masse, shoulder to shoulder, shouting with little to no regard for tonality, joining on the “Ooh la la” even if you don’t know the words. “Death” is a reminder of all of the beautiful moments in life and succeeds in creating one all by itself.

Leave it to bedroom pop artist Jordana to write a relatable song about social anxiety while we're all social distancing. The 19-year-old dives into why sometimes simplicity may be the best thing on her latest single, "I'll Take It Boring." The lo-fi song shares the story of an experience Jordana had at a Halloween party in 2017. She sets the scene and immediately expresses that she regrets her decision to go out, describing the party as a "fever dream." The bittersweet track induces both joy and social anxiety with its breathy vocals, snappy basslines and brooding synths. Her inner introvert truly shines through in lyrics like, "Should've stayed at home I would rather be asleep / I could write a poem, maybe read a magazine / Maybe all of this is exactly what it seems / I am in a movie and the scene is a catastrophe."       

On his new single “Birds," from the upcoming album of the same name, Norwegian singer-songwriter Simen Mitlid expertly guides you through a maze of self-reflection. Memories of friendship, family, doubt and loss are bound together by the consistent sense of longing, both for connection and meaning. The acoustic riff that repeats throughout most of the track, grounds the song as it seamlessly shifts from scene to scene, bringing a sense of cohesion to the vignettes flashing through the narrator’s mind. The additional guitar, flutes, harmonized vocals and eventual drums flow around the repeated guitar line to shape the atmosphere of the song. Mitlid's soft and haunting vocal, reminiscent of Sufjan Stevens, ensnares and transports you. The song closes with the repeated line “it’s something for the future," adeptly summing up the four-minute journey you have just undergone, down into deep introspection and back out again into cautious hope.

The all-women, Filipinx band Pantayo is coming at us strong with the third single off of their self-titled album, "V V V (They Lie)." This track is a power mantra; an iron hymn that begins muttered under the breath and finishes in a scream of fury. This is the song you blast on repeat when you need to pump yourself up. If I had to fight someone, this is the track I would play as I take the gloves off.

While most people seem to fear confrontation more than death itself nowadays, this song stares it straight in the face without blinking. “They lie they will never tell the truth” is repeated over and over as a reminder that you can’t change other people’s bad behavior, but you sure as hell can rise above it. In lieu of a marked evolution, "V V V (They Lie)" stays the course with a steady beat that shoulders the bullshit aside and plows on, unwavering. What do you do when someone insists on lying because they know when it comes to the truth, “it ain’t cute?" You roll your eyes and keep on walking, folks. Karma will take care of the rest.

Pantayo marries kulintang and other traditional instruments from Southeast Asia with modern synth and lo-fi beats to create a genre of their very own. Each of the 3 singles off the album have been very different from each other, and the full album as a whole is only more versatile and exciting. Check out the full record, via Telephone Explosion Records, today wherever you stream.