Does it seem like you’ve been encountering a certain number sequence over and over again in your day-to-day? These number sequences, which are often referred to as angel numbers, are seen in certain belief systems to carry particular messages to the beholder from their guardian angel. Each number can carry with it a plethora of different messages, making deciphering its meaning an intuitive act rather than a fishing expedition. Kyle Lux enlightens us with the meaning of his own set of angel numbers in "222," the highlight track of his recently released Projectors EP. 

The number sequence 222 is often a reminder to go with the flow of your natural processes in order to obtain self-discovery and growth, and Kyle Lux showcases that and more in this track alone. “222” is a refreshingly new sound for the young genre-blending artist, taking his usual R&B ballads and trading them for a quick-witted hip-hop flow that you can’t help bobbing your head to. Lyrically, Lux seems to be releasing all control and expectations of a certain connection, allowing himself to “go with the flow” as opposed to adhering to “just another complicated label.” The music video accompanying the track sports a blissful Lux dancing freely and dressed in a variety of colorful outfits, further embodying this concept of free forming flow. Overall, “222” is a blooming introduction to Lux’s new-found sense of self discovery, both as an individual and an artist. Lux proves he is more than willing to break self- and society-imposed barriers in order to grow as both an artist and an individual, and we can’t be more excited for all that is to come. Photo by Undine Markus.

Anne Malin is producing some of the freshest Americana music today. Often called “gothic country,” Anne Malin’s dark undertones appeal to indie music fans who enjoy the likes of Angel Olsen and Phoebe Bridgers. The duo recently relocated to Nashville from Indiana. Instead of recording their back-from-hiatus album at The Bomb Shelter, featuring a collection of Nashville musicians, Waiting Song was recorded at home amid lockdown orders. The first batch of tracks from their quarantine album includes “Child,” a song that reimagines mundane activities (drinking tea, talking walks) by evaluating one’s surroundings with a child’s eyes (“The white blossoms turn pink when pressed on by me”). Twangy guitar bits and velvety vocals carry this track through to an outro that’s half-dream, half-drone. Singer/songwriter Anne Malin Ringwalt describes Waiting Song as “an album about what it means for everything to stop.” Produced with bandmate and longtime collaborator William Johnson, Waiting Song is out October 2. Photo by Rachel Winslow.

On "Sugar," Sufjan Stevens continues his pilgrimage into the territory of electro-pop, an area where we’ve perhaps not seen him dwell too often. And yet, like any Sufjan Stevens song, it feels oddly appropriate. No matter how fresh or new a Sufjan song may feel, there’s always something very warmly fitting about it, as if we’ve listened to it a thousand times before. And for an artist with a prolific two-decade-long career which includes countless singles, EPs and compilation albums, as well as seven full-length solo records, staying as relevant as he is is a nearly impossible feat.

"Sugar" is the newest single from Stevens’ upcoming eighth solo album, The Ascension (out on September 25). And much like his previously released singles this summer, "America" and "Video Game," "Sugar" is a sonically rich track full of electronic textures and soundscapes. The song “is ultimately about the desire for goodness and purity (and true sustenance),” Stevens said in a press release. Accompanied by a beautifully choreographed music video, the song has an incredibly familiar feel to it. If it weren’t for Stevens’ unmistakably gentle voice, the song's hook, “Come on, baby, gimme some sugar,” might as well be lifted straight out of any ordinary pop song. “All the shit they try to feed us / Don’t drink the poison or they’ll defeat us” could be perceived as such a banal line in any other song, but that’s not the case here. There’s a sense of urgency in Stevens’ lyrics, an urgency that builds up throughout the song. Starting from a nearly three-minute instrumental intro and ending at seven minutes and change, Stevens leaves us once again with an intricately produced song coated with catchy but charged melodies that can easily warrant many listens.

Anjimile sings of being ostracized in his new track, “In Your Eyes.” His voice swings from clear and soft to deep and brooding over a steady finger-plucked guitar and perfectly sparse percussion. It’s a lament of not being able to be what people want you to be. The Boston-based singer/songwriter does a call and response in the second verse: stating, “I can't run and I can't hide,” he is answered with a question, “Was my body denied?” before they sing “I don’t know” together. It feels like a communal response to a very personal feeling of not belonging to your body and subsequently the world around you. “In Your Eyes” is the third single off of their album Giver Taker, which was released via Father/Daughter Records on September 18.

Things are falling apart. You don’t have to look at the persistent onslaught of news updates to know it anymore. With the upcoming election, winter around the corner and no vaccine for COVID-19 in sight, “Little Bit Longer” is a short but sweet encouragement to hang in there. Future Generations’ third single this year keeps in line with their usual upbeat, shimmery ear candy, but has brought tighter cuts and a grittier but more controlled production quality. 

Like waking up these days, our thoughts already frantic, the drumline hits the ground running with a staccato of arpeggiated synth. Frontman Eddie Gore’s daydream-haze of a voice, reminiscent of Julian Casablancas, sweeps over the panic with immediate effect, bringing the sound together into that carefree and vibrant end-of-summer feeling the band is so known for. There are the small details that delight: the punk rock lite bassline prefacing the first verse, the twinkly guitar waiting to be sewn into the chorus, the structurally impressive manner in which the instruments take turns entering and exiting around each other. 

The lyrics “shake the bonds that turned our hearts to one / only to find them stronger” stand out as well, a powerful mantra against the day’s familiar discouragement. Instead of measuring our losses after the storm, we should take stock of everything that keeps us afloat during. While those might be less than we imagined, with so much feeling out of our control it is a reminder to be grateful for what we do still have and to keep our eyes on the horizon for first light. “Little Bit Longer” is a song worth keeping on repeat, especially as the nights grow only longer. Photo by Britnee Meiser.

On “Escondida," Michi lets us in on her deepest secret. With a haunting rhythmic melody and chilling use of harmony, "Escondida" is a dreamy indie pop track on finding comfort in loneliness. The Spanish word "escondida" translates to “hidden,” and in the lyrics Michi uncovers that she longs to stay hidden in her own oasis. The track's narrative is highly relatable; wanting to escape from the world in one’s bedroom is a justifiable truth. Solitude is arguably where we can be ourselves, and Michi admits this. For her, being “escondida" signifies untangling the vulnerabilities that no one knows. The transition from English to Spanish going into the chorus is a highlight of the track: “Escondida aquí / mi soledad junto a ti / mi secreto aquí / sin ti no puedo vivir.” In a world where Latinx indie artists are far too often overlooked, Michi is giving the world yet another reason to listen.

Cape Francis is the solo project of Kevin Olken Henthorn, former singer/songwriter of Brooklyn indie rock band Stone Cold Fox. Embracing cooler, softer textures under his new folk moniker Cape Francis, Henthorn exhibits his chameleon ability to transform his sound into something more similar to Cigarettes After Sex or Yoke Lore than the grittier rock mentalities of his former band. "Haunted" is a single off of the new album Plateaus, which was released on September 18. This track seems to be about the neurosis of coping with social stress. Musically even-keeled, it nicely juxtaposes the rising tension in the lyrics. Henthorn's gentle vocals remind me of Winston Yellen's (of Night Beds) voice on his earlier work (like "Cherry Blossoms" on Country Sleep). 

Listen to "Haunted," and all of Plateaus, wherever you stream.

Lani Renaldo's “Trainwreck” is a dreamy garage rock anthem for every 20-something dwelling over how late is too late to reach your full potential. As one of six songwriters selected for GRAMMY Camp as a high schooler, the LA-based songwriter and multi-instrumentalist is no stranger to a gifted child syndrome of sorts. In her case, it manifested as a panic disorder that had her believing "I could never live out my dreams."

Rather than fostering my creativity, a life of gifted schooling impaired me with a thrumming pressure to prove myself to no one in particular. I'd never felt more lost than the moment I realized, as Renaldo sings, that "I was the golden child, but now she's gone." Writing was the only skill I ever felt I had, but in a society that measures success by financial gain rather than fulfillment, it seemed so useless. Much like Renaldo, I was resigned to an endless cycle of "passing go to cash another paycheck" because I lost the ability to believe in myself as a writer. 

While the pandemic has shifted the way we live, I've been working on nurturing my talent, both for stability and as an act of self-care. There's no doubt that Renaldo has honed in on her craft as well, with her self-produced NOHEARTBREAK2020 EP due out sometime this year. So how late is too late to make those dreams come true? The answer, according to Renaldo, is never.