Jazz-charmed Laufey Lin and indie-pop dazzled Adam Melchor got together on exhilarating new track "Love Flew Away." Sometimes falling out of love feels like falling into a dream you can tell you're not awake for. As we move around, the world around us feels real, but not quite real enough to hurt us if we let go too soon. This song feels exactly like the motion of letting go. Laufey's classic vocals fit perfectly with Melchor's dreamy tones, creating a dazy lullaby for the ages. Both artists are touring right now, and we've got our fingers crossed that means they'll surprise fans with performances together. Photo by Caity Krone.

With sharp, striking honesty, Annie DiRusso crafts the kind of letter we all write to our exes but never have the guts to send in her latest single “Nine Months.” The instrumentation is textured, vigorous and emotionally charged, mirroring the build-up of anger represented in the lyrics. Through words, the song chronicles everything from the couple’s first meeting (“The first thing you said the night we met is I was beautiful”) to the fiery, impassioned fallout that results from a bad breakup (“I took my time now I know what it was / So don’t you ever say we were in love / You ruined my life for nine fucking months”). Arguably, the most important—and impactful—lyric of the song arrives in the chorus, as DiRusso devastatingly sings, “And every time I think of you / I hate I didn’t run away / Cause I never thought / I’d be the girl who stayed.” As everyone who has been in a toxic relationship knows, no one ever thinks they’d stay in a miserable relationship until they find themselves in that very situation. By offering up this relatable story, though, DiRusso will certainly make a lot of people feel that they aren’t alone. Listen to “Nine Months” wherever you stream. Photo by Lily Lee. 

Psych-folk band Hidden Meadows has debuted in 2021 with their first single, “Drier Land." Singer-songwriter Laura Brisbane’s voice soars over a balanced guitar melody;  multi-instrumentalist Jake Burns’ production takes this song to new heights. The California residents first crossed paths as kids only to reunite years later to make music. While Burns is heavily influenced by Americana and jam music, Brisbane was shaped by folk and the singer-songwriter tradition, recalling “melodies of 90s era radio buried deep from childhood backseat listening.” The blend culminates in a dream pop, jam folk, psychedelic Americana sandwich. According to Brisbane, the song expresses an imagined moment, bringing a person along for a drive to the shore; it touches on the cycles of life and death, of caretaking and dependency, of attachment and release. Listen if you like Laura Marling, surf rock, Slouching Towards Bethlehem or slowing down to appreciate the stillness. Look out for their self-titled album, coming out April 2. Photo by Hidden Meadows.

“Tides,” a new release from Ethansroom (solo project of William Ethan Fortenberry) is a sonic letter to everything we know we shouldn’t think about yet find ourselves ruminating upon regardless (“Shouldn’t think about it / But I’ll do it anyway / I’ll just start from / Further back / So I don’t get carried away”). The cyclical track mimics its title, with layers of banjo, guitar, mellotron, soft synths and steady drums churning over Fortenberry’s gritty-yet-smooth vocals. The atmosphere of the track—similar in feel to acts like Novo Amor and Adam Melchor—recalls days much like those now in early spring, that stretch further their hours of light over the horizon, making amber shadows on our walls. As the world warms, we feel nostalgic for summer suns past, and we push these thoughts away during daily monotony until we are alone under the moon and free to dream (“I’ll come back at the crescent / Give it another try”). In all its soft-glowing edges, “Tides” reminds us that sometimes there’s a reason we can’t stop thinking about something, a lesson there to learn—we just may not grasp it until the tide turns over and we start anew. Photo by Landon Edwards.

The first single off of Japanese Breakfast’s forthcoming third studio album Jubilee, set for release on June 4, “Be Sweet” sets the tone of upbeat optimism, finding joy and freedom in forgiveness. In “Be Sweet,” singer/songwriter Michelle Zauner explores the courage it takes to be honest with oneself, to swallow one’s pride, to own our desires, and to have faith in their manifestation and, ultimately, to forgive. The Seoul-born, Oregon-raised, Philadelphia-based artist masterfully fuses her own contemporary musical style with sparkling synth sounds reminiscent of the universal favorites of the 80s: think Thompson Twins, Tears for Fears, The Cure. In her ever-distinct vocal style, sweet in its own right, Zauner takes us on a journey of forgiveness—from being caught up in our feelings and overthinking the truth, to letting someone back in after they’ve recognized their mistakes, ultimately acknowledging that it’s not too late, that the love there remains.

The song’s title, “Be Sweet,” appears as a command throughout the chorus, as Zauner declares over and over, “I wanna believe in you / I wanna believe in something,” and the urgency of this mantra is profoundly felt. We all need something to believe in, and sometimes (or often) that comes with the risk of being hurt or let down. Despite all of that, “Be Sweet” is an ode to forgiveness and hope, and with both a memoir (Crying in H Mart) and a full-length album set for release in the coming months—and a light at the end of the pandemic tunnel for all of us—Zauner’s optimistic sound on this track is extremely well-founded. Photo by Peter Ash Lee. 

These are our Glass Years, and Juliet Quick courageously shares the story of our grieving generation through her latest EP of the same title. Minimalist stems ebb to build the surf-rock eulogy that is “No Future.” Will love be enough “when the sea swallows us?” How defeating it is to be one person—one woman—with all of the love for our Earth mother and only some of the power it might take to save her. The feeling is immortalized here in crystalline synths, guitars that embrace and a voice reaching to be heard through the mix’s gentle bellows. This is a stewardship serenade that grants permission for moments of silence while simultaneously inspiring action. Photo by Hannah Solomon.