I firmly believe that there is a special place in the world for upbeat breakup songs, and that place is a car radio. "Losing My Grip" by Junior Mesa is a high energy reclamation of control by acknowledging that you’re not fine, actually. The song riffs and rolls through two and a half minutes that validate your need to briefly disappear with just a car, sunshine, and your thoughts. “An escapist road trip is a totally reasonable reaction to heartbreak,” the track speaks, with equal parts serious lyrics and lighthearted production touches. Each verse is supported by steadfastly syncopated rhythm guitar, paralleling the feeling of hanging on by a thread—but still hanging in there. A whimsical flute line dances between stanzas, which conjures the aesthetic of Noah and The Whale and The Boy Least Likely To. Mesa’s voice playfully stretches syllables, crafting a vocal line that, somehow, feels a lot like a rainbow slinky. Overall, the track sparkles with wit, humor, and technical finesse. Dripping in optimism yet leaning into vulnerability and heartache, it’s a song that is sure to fit whatever headspace you’re in.

The far-out sounds of indie singer-songwriter Alara are cast in an alluringly rosy glow on “Bringing You Down.” Her second single of the year is a dreamy, 80s-inspired slow jam that feels as glittery and ephemeral as a high school prom. Lovely and emotional, the track is lush with spacey synths, soft, throbbing drums, and Alara’s soothing vocal lulling you through the melody. Evocative of Lana Del Rey, her voice is warm and sensual, and listening to every crooning “ah” feels like you’re falling under a love spell. Because of this, the song feels dreamy even when the lyrics tell a more sobering story: “You were just a child / Life kicked you around / And what you’ve kept inside / Is what’s bringing you down.” Thoughtful and darkly romantic, “Bringing You Down” precedes Alara’s debut EP, Dying is Half the Fun, which will be released early 2020.

Expansive singer-songwriter and producer Tanya Vora perfectly captures the repressed urgency and unpredictability of falling in love on her new single, “Dusty.” Atmospheric and chill, the track has a groovy melody with a catchy, lo-fi beat, and subtly evokes the kind of desperate physical longing that comes from wanting to know every single part of someone else, but not being sure if they feel the same way. The cool, r&b-inspired arrangement is nostalgic and fresh, emphasizing Vora’s unique and surprising instrumental through her clear, intimate style of production. The track’s tempo embodies love’s inevitable volatility; you think you know where things are headed, and then, out of nowhere, it changes. What begins as a quick, pulsing exploration of intimacy slows down to something moodier and more sensual, and every moment is intoxicating. Vora’s honest lyrics emphasize that feeling: “Lie next to me / Let me feel your love / I’ve been sick of you / I’ve been needing you / And my days have turned to dust.” Ultimately, “Dusty” contains all the excitement and emotion of early love while sparing you the pain of potential heartbreak, because you already know it will never leave you.

Elusive and ever-experimenting with sound, singer golda shares a delicate narrative about dissatisfaction with identity and the road to healing on her new single, "Wish I Was Someone Else." The track opens with soft strings that bleed immediately into an exposition about feeling trapped by the past. Lyrics like "hereditary fear" and "side effect of my immigrant family" breathe life and specificity into the song–sharp and personal details that tread heavy on the heart. Confessional feels like a fitting description of what golda is allowing us to experience here. The production balances crisp guitar while also possessing a deeply urgent bassline that carries the track start to finish. Complacency has plagued the singer since she was young–internalizing everything from her surroundings and erasing her ability to make choices for herself. The entire mood of "Wish I Was Someone Else" evokes a feeling of urgency that comes to a crescendo towards the end that lyrically desires for an easy out–to become someone else–but instrumentally feels richly optimistic. The LA-based artist releases her debut EP this November with tracks smooth, introspective, and essential to have on repeat.

Frances Quinlan is such a singular force—in her lyricism, in her guitar playing, and of course in her voice—that Hop Along’s identity and sound are inseparable from hers. The group even started as her solo project until she was eventually joined by her brother, drummer Mark Quinlan, and now a full band. The evolution of the band’s sound from then to now is astonishing, though not totally unforeseeable. Elements of a track like 2012’s “Laments” hint at the beauty of 2018’s “Prior Things” or the infectious groove of the same album’s “Somewhere A Judge.” But Quinlan now returns to her solo roots, releasing “Rare Thing” as the first single from her upcoming true debut solo album, Likewise, due out in January. And it should come as no surprise that the song is, without a doubt, a Frances Quinlan song in every way one might expect. Every member of Hop Along played on the track, and guitarist Joe Reinhart was heavily involved in its production. “Working with Joe on this made me able to better see that the guitar is just one vehicle,” Quinlan said of the alternative sound palette, “There are so many others to explore.” True to form, Quinlan sings about a microscopic moment, a dream about her niece, and follows her train of thought through her unmistakable brand of snarling poetry, managing to “stay small by making giants out of strangers,” before reaching her cathartic conclusion: “I have to stop myself and admit I am happy.”

Chris Rovik’s newest single “Dama” burns slow and steady with the grief of a future that will never come to fruition. The Brooklyn-based artist chronicles the swirl of thoughts that accompany the end of a relationship with lyrics that are devastating in their specificity, “keep me tucked away somewhere deep inside / take the child’s name that I gave to you when you were mine.” The production is heavy, dark and full without becoming burdensome. The persistent drums and driving bassline from collaborators Jonny G and Moah respectively are grounding in their consistency—allowing the rest of the track to flow in and around while still staying cohesive. The use of harmonic vocal layering creates a disorienting effect that feels like walking through a thick fog. “Dama” stays true to the droning alt-rock sound that Rovik cultivated in his debut EP Let Go, which he released earlier this year.