Lonnie Holley’s early life in Birmingham, Alabama was chaotic: working from the age of five, “home” was either a whiskey house, a state fairgrounds, or a rotating orbit of foster care. Now a musician and artist with work in major museums and on permanent display in the United Nations, his pieces are imbued with furious improvisational creativity born out of struggle.

Just listen to that spacey Mellotron: "Like Hell Broke Away," out now on Jagjaguwar from the EP National Freedom, suspends old school blues in a fiery galaxy far beyond here. Kind of like the surreal circumstances of our current national woe. The gravity of Holley’s voice though, with its grave-shaking gravel, holds us down from floating away.

I like to imagine him singing to a hot celestial blues club, stars on backup, with space suited expats swinging on his every word. 

Interstellar Blues

Hey Hubble bubble,

space scat and some rubble,

his growl transcended Neptune;

Beltin’ those low notes

Or eyein’ the band,

Three Sisters fly high on his croon.

Will Butler’s “Surrender” begins with the stomp-clap vigor of a Lumineers song. But shortly after you hear Butler’s soaring falsetto, you might recognize something else as the jangling piano and percussion kick in: the heart-and-soul of beloved indie-darling Arcade Fire. It’s no coincidence, as Butler is a core member of the group, and his influence on Arcade Fire’s sound palpably shines through his solo work. “Surrender” is the lead single off of Butler’s upcoming album, Generations, coming September 25 via Merge Records. Disguised as a catchy summer sing-a-long, it finds Butler lyrically lamenting about lost love’s grip on his mind. Still, the anthem can easily be applied to anything we are craving release from—or rather, that from which we acknowledge we may never find release, and learn to be at peace with. It reminds me of a poem I jotted down last year:

color me

dying flowers.

here i sit with all 

my crumpled faith 

in renewal, hands wilting

with withering desire. but 

still i chase the sun and water 

hope down to the root, still

i surrender to it; this

insatiable wild

within me.

"Cheesy Love Song” is the musical equivalent of a lazy river tube ride. The track’s relaxed dulcet current is beautifully calm, yet mystically compelling, guiding the listener through an ambient soundscape and leaving them in still water.

While the members of The Lazy Eyes hail from Sydney, Australia, their sound is clearly reminiscent of 70s psychedelia, and Americana legends like Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, and The Doors. “Cheesy Love Song” also plays heavily on the ‘rock-opera’ influences that were present during the American Counterculture Movement. (With the orchestral harmonious feature on the track, I cannot help but think of Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical.) The song’s intentionally dramatic lyrics “Maybe you’d love me / if I told you how I felt," and mellifluous piano rifts make this track a true work art—with an ironic, yet fitting title.

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.

When times are tough, it’s usually comforting to find the good mixed with the bad. Depending on your beliefs, you might hold faith in the idea that there is seldom a path to joy that does not wind through suffering first. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger," right? Happiness and suffering seem, at times, so irreparably intertwined that sometimes it’s hard to notice when “paying your dues” is the wrong call. Ivy Sole’s “Bittersweet” reminds us that joy comes out of being honest and relentless about what you want. Jazzy chords, smooth bass, and Sole’s even smoother voice paint an image of liberation that is invigorating and intoxicating. “I don’t want it if it’s bittersweet; I don’t want it if it ain’t for me." It’s a not-so-subtle rebellion against settling for prepackaged joy with a fit you constantly have to rationalize. More than anything, Sole leaves us with the message that meaningful change shouldn’t be conditional on giving yourself up as a martyr. Everyone deserves the freedom to say “this is not good enough for me” without being forced into a lopsided compromise that’s really just the bare minimum of concessions to stop you from walking away. Whether it’s a significant other or society as a whole—you deserve better. You deserve “sweet without the bitter (and) sun with no rain."

There is more than one way that “The Willows” feels like a dream. Zoe Polanski’s vocals are feathered and distant, like an invisible angel delivering strange and important news. Her beautiful lyrics are cryptic and lack a followable storyline; instead, curious metaphorical images like horses running “across an endless ocean” weave in and out of magical realist memories (“I was a sparrow; I flew there like an arrow”) and create a feeling, breathing tapestry. Polanski and her team manage to create this immersive world, convincingly real while you’re in it but hard to explain in waking life, without much more than bass, synths, and a simple beat. Overall, the track is a testament to the powerful combination of patience and clear creative vision. Her debut full-length, Violent Flowers, was released on July 17. It's full of dreamy worlds like the one in “The Willows,” and you can listen to it now on Bandcamp and other streaming platforms.

Leaning into a time of disarray, Dubai-based neo-soul artist ekay has crafted a transcendental realm in her latest release, “Vacant." Before quarantine went into full effect, ekay traveled to LA and stayed for several months—during which the track was crafted. Describing “Vacant” as “what I wish I heard someone say during quarantine,” she ruminates in the unfamiliarity, seeking a muse, someone to “show me something true.” Conserving our collective sanity are "temporary highs," which "keep contradicting conditioned minds"—as circumstances have forced us to face the fallacy of present societal structure. The expectation to constantly be creating in this "free time" despite our anxiety is not lost on us, but ekay challenges that notion; "Production on maybe / Delays on save me," she worries, before resolving, "I mean, I should sleep." On the song, she says, "During this time where change is inevitable, I wanted to help find lightness in the new normal." "Vacant" finds peace in the tension between restlessness and inspiration drawn from accepting that you're lost in the here and now.

In many ways, 2020 has beckoned us to take personal responsibility for our actions; to be brutally honest with ourselves and others, as well as understand that we must change our lifestyles to protect our neighbors from sickness, injustice, and ignorance—even when this ignorance resides within ourselves. In this way, one of the latest tracks from Cape Francis (solo project of Kevin Olken Henthorn) is a sign of the times. “Just because I looked in a mirror / Don’t make my life appear any clearer / I’m sick of blaming everything else on everyone / So I can pretend it ain’t my bad.” Filled with poignant lyrics and pensive strumming recognizable from Henthorn’s 2019 album Deep Water, “Just Because” reminds us that we must shine a light on ourselves; not only to more clearly see the effects of our words and actions on those around us, but to banish old habits and complacency, and start anew. It brings to mind a mantra I jotted down at the beginning of quarantine:

& i die

a thousand little deaths

each day, so that

tomorrow, i might

be born again.