On her new single “The Temporary," Kate Teague deals with impactful changes, self-doubt, and uncertainty. The first offering since her 2019 debut EP has the singer-songwriter somewhat diverting from her folksy foundation to an experimental, dreamy lane with the new addition of synths and drum loops. A task that she began after exploring some new influences, “I wrote this song when I first started to listen to a lot of experimental artists like Colleen and Jenny Hval.” Lyrically though, Teague doesn’t abandon her heartfelt and honest sensibility. She takes aim at the questions: where is truly the best place for me and what is next? Her clear-cut, rich vocals coast along as she proclaims, “Sink into my couch and think about a place I'd rather be / But would it mother me / And will I ever feel exactly where I ought to be.” The instrumentation circles around her and acts as a reliable companion as she ponders what’s to follow.

Her concerns for what else might be out there and if she is sitting at the end of the line speak to this exact, poignant moment—where she isn’t alone in the slightest. Maybe now is the time to take stock of what might actually be the correct direction for each of us. Maybe then we'll feel more alive and able when life actively resumes. The single is out now via Muscle Beach Records.

Our third Quadio pick of the week is Dad Bod. The group got their start just last year at the University of Minnesota and has quickly become one of the most promising indie rock bands out of the Twin Cities. Fronted by singer-songwriter and guitarist Callie Marino, the band also includes Alex Gray on drums, Noah Topliff and Wilson Zellar on guitar and Michael McGough on bass. Written from the perspective of a “ghost looking for a flesh experience,” their latest single “Spirits” is one that will bring you to your knees. As good things often do, it all starts with a snare and kick-drum, before the first electric guitar is counted in, dreamy and echoing, and then the second, crisp and sunny. Marino’s voice soon sails sweetly over the taut instrumental track that has been laid out. Marino’s songwriting is stellar, and in “Spirits” she plays to the deep-seated loneliness we feel when we find ourselves emotionally isolated while longing for intimacy. With notes of Lucy Dacus, Soccer Mommy and Great Grandpa, and recurring riffs reminiscent of Mazzy Star, it would be unfair to compare Dad Bod to just one of these artists. Dad Bod is a band with their own sound and one to watch. We are stoked to be partnering with Quadio to bring you a taste of their music. Keep an eye out for Dad Bod’s forthcoming first EP set for release this summer, and until then, catch them doing livestream shows on the ‘gram.

PDLIF- "Please Don't Live in Fear" feels like a convoluted request right now. Much like Bon Iver's music, there is something quietly anxious and hopeful about the time we're living in. Each day seems like a Russian roulette of outcomes and emotions. But really good music is a highlight and a reminder of our humanity. Bon Iver's "PDLIF," released on April 17, has that ruminating quality that makes his artistry so excellent. After the first listen, the track feels somber and unassuming, but it's still loaded with immense depth and feeling. "PDLIF" is an internal wrestling of despair and optimism. It's a scale weighing options and opinions. A verse cries "I'd be good to fall back / I think we're on the wrong track somehow," all while balancing the delicate decry of the chorus: please don't live in fear. This song is far from a looming contradiction. It's a descriptor of an uncertain time, a moment in our hearts where hope's fleeting cries win over the primordial temptation to give up. This track was specifically made in support of the medical workers on the front lines of the coronavirus pandemic. Bon Iver has vowed to donate 100% of the song's proceeds to benefit those protecting the lives of the public from this disease (through the organization Direct Relief). This is Bon Iver's first studio release since Grammy-nominated i,i (outside of Blood Bank's 10th-anniversary edition release). Listen to "PDLIF" wherever you stream your tunes.

When an artist sounds like where you come from, it can be an immediate, visceral kind of connection, and such is the connection I’ve found with Ali Holder’s track, “Reborn.” The pillowy organ, slow rhythm guitar, and ever-so-slight drawl on this track had already transported my heart to my hometown of Austin, TX before my mind had time to recognize the nostalgia. Growing up in Austin, I always assumed that no matter where you went in the world, you’d find singer-songwriters on every street and in every restaurant, every day of the week. I thought it was a basic part of shared human experience, like fending off grackles or getting unlimited free refills of unsweet iced tea. And from the ubiquitous, strumming masses of my youth, I have come to recognize there is absolutely an “Austin sound.” To me, it's a sound that I will never be able to shake as long as I live; to many, it’s inextricably linked to the strong, warm breezes of July evenings; and if you want to know what it can mean to you, well—I’d start here with Ali Holder.

Before even listening to “When Will I Belong," the newest release under Mike Deni’s moniker of Geographer, it’s worth noting that this track was never supposed to be a single. The plan was to make it a bonus track to the forthcoming album—the song was initially created for placement on NBC’s New Amsterdam, and Deni presumably thought the episode would come and go without many noticing his work. Thankfully, the artist couldn’t have been more wrong. The praise for the track was so effusive that Deni decided that the once-bonus track would serve as the first single despite its lengthy runtime, and we are all better for it. On a casual first listen, you would be forgiven for thinking the start of the nearly-seven-minute “When Will I Belong” was from a hymnal; Deni’s plaintive ruminations in his beautiful, almost ethereal soprano take on an air of reverence in the track’s opening minutes, as he backs his singing with only a plucky synth loop and occasional brief interjections of strings. As the track crescendos and instrumentation build, the urgency in Deni’s questioning refrain from which the song gets its title becomes palpable, but there’s no answer to be found at its conclusion. Instead, “When Will I Belong” does a remarkable job creating a soundtrack to the ennui that can sometimes overcome us at our darker moments—a sentimental testament to human’s capability to face the uncertainty of the unknown and press on regardless.