Oracle Sisters credit the inspiration for their newest track “Asc. Scorpio '' to their guitarist Lewis Lazar, who conceived of the song after being stung by a scorpion in Jamaica. This experience served merely as a jumping-off point for the band’s future releases, all of which will take on the complex associations we have to our memories within an uncertain international moment. “Asc. Scorpio” captures this intention expertly, combining a dreamy and laid back sound with lyrics that are fearful at times, nostalgic at others. “Asc Scorpio” montages youthful and idyllic images of the past—a child in a crib in a rocking chair—with painful images of the global present—an elephant in hunger, a power grid and thunder. “Asc. Scorpio” does not explicitly speculate what the future holds, but perhaps suggests that in any cultural moment, pain is punctuated with joy, and the joy is what we attempt to hang on to. Ultimately, Oracle Sisters prove that many meditations can come from a warm, Jamaican beach day that is interrupted by a sting.

From Dua Lipa’s “Don’t start now” to Selena Gomez’s “Look At Her Now,” female pop stars are announcing new albums with glittering synths, assertive vocals, and hypnotic hooks; the kind of songs that send blood pulsing through your veins. LA-based artist Lorely Rodriguez, who performs under the moniker Empress Of dropped the lead single for her upcoming album I’m Your Empress Of earlier this month. Percussion is the backbone of the track; tribal drums that call upon “Losing You,” Solange’s 2012 hit released via Terrible Records (the BK-based label that also represents Empress Of). “Give Me Another Chance” is a perfect mix of electronic and pop music. Blunt lyrics, a signature part of Empress Of’s sound, do not disappoint. It’s a win-back campaign and our narrator is set against losing her lover to another. The hook, “Give me another chance,” is repeated throughout the song; sheer repetition alone might not change the outcome, but when paired with a trancelike delivery, forgiveness feels within reach.

Immediately from the outset of Paper Thieves’ new track “Oh Man," the funky, foundational bassline sets an irresistible groove that paves the way for the rest of the band to shine. Singer Leah Christensen spends the track soulfully lamenting over her predisposition to look up to and hope for guidance from figureheads in a male-dominated music industry—one that isn’t equipped to empathize with, manage or market a band like Paper Thieves. The weariness and disappointment in Christensen’s voice is evident when she blearily opens with “So tired of always looking up to you." The track that unravels thereafter has all the telltale signs of a band whose chemistry is improving all the time. The vocals, drums and bright guitar riffs all perfectly fall in with the pace and tone set by the bassline, and when the vocal harmonies start layering in the second verse, it feels like the cherry on top of an already immaculately constructed sundae. Coming off of their 2019 Koumpounophobia EP, it was clear that Paper Thieves was a band with potential to make a real impact with their unique brand of smooth, laid-back neo-soul. “Oh Man” seems to be the first fresh sign from the band that they have every intention of delivering on that promise, with or without the mentorship of the leaders of the industry they inhabit.

The Marías have a way of creating a dreamy, lucid headspace in their songs—effectively evoking images of spinning around in an empty ballroom with your lover. The same applies to their newest release “Hold It Together,” a sultry bop about falling hard for someone and wanting to still feel in control. Lead singer María Zardoya croons out in the hook, “I got a feelin’ / That I wanna slow down with you / Nobody else will ever do,” describing the place in her life that can’t be filled by anyone else but the object of her affection. While the lyrics wholly understand being enamored with someone, they also balance a cleverness that comes out in lines like, “You caught me callin’ a shrink / I didn’t think you’re better than me,” alluding to a love that might not be textbook perfect. Still, with addicting pop influenced production and killer bass and guitar lines, “Hold It Together” adds another hit to their discography. In addition to this new single, their past two EPs Superclean, Vol. 1 and Superclean, Vol.2 preview what will be an incredible first album release from The Marías this year.

Ahead of their highly anticipated album, New Me, Same Us, Little Dragon’s latest single, "Are You Feeling Sad?" gives a fresh, upbeat tempo in the same distinctive vein of other defining songs such as "Lover Chanting" and "Ritual Union." With a command of rhythm like no other, Little Dragon kicks the groves into high gear on this song. Bolstered further by the vocal stylings of Kali Uchis, this track's lyrics are just as optimistic as the instrumentation. Introspective lines like, "I'm happy for the sun and air / When it rains I love the smell / Happy for the love we shared / Yeah, nothing could ever compare," urge you to look on the bright side in the face of difficult situations and even loss. On collaborating with Kali, the band said they were so thrilled to work with her, remarking that, “She put her twist on it and gave the track an amazing energy. Did we mention we also love her?!” It's not hard to be optimistic with such a power team on such a creative track, one that surely builds anticipation for their upcoming album.

Angelica Garcia’s new album Cha Cha Palace operates across time and place in its explorations of tradition, identity and family lineage. Garcia, who is of Mexican and Salvadoran heritage, recently moved to Richmond, Virginia, but her upbringing in LA is central to her music—containing nods to the Mexican ranchera music that played throughout her home as well as the influence of her mother who performed as a mariachi singer. In "Valentina in the Moonlight,” Garcia assumes the perspective of a young boy transfixed by a girl, Valentina, whose parents don’t approve of their relationship. “Valentina in the Moonlight '' is based on an actual tale of forbidden love passed down through Garcia’s family, and her powerful retelling chronicles all the desperation, pain, and hope that its narrator feels in his pursuit. The song is anchored in a moment wherein Garcia’s subject gazes upon Valentina on a rooftop and fantasizes about the family he wants desperately to build with her: "I saw visions of your blood mixed with my blood / generations beginning with us." Garcia’s soulful vocals tell of a couple that never was, but whose influence nonetheless persisted. The sentiment behind “Valentina in the Moonlight '' is present throughout the whole of Cha Cha Palace—that we keep things alive through the stories we tell.

LA-based Surrija has made a name for herself by dropping dope electro-pop odysseys which are as literate as they are visceral. 2020 is officially a new chapter for the singer-songwriter whose previous incarnation, under her given name, released three LP's and built a powerful YouTube brand, with 30,000+ subscribers. But by 2015, striving for Top 40 success had become a serious drain on her creativity. She decided to peace out and packed her bags for Barcelona, locking herself in a little studio apartment with a keyboard for five weeks. Not long after, Surrija was born. "Sylvette" is one of the deeper cuts from her forthcoming self-titled album set to drop this April—a must-listen for fans of James Blake, Burial and early Fiona Apple.

LA-based art-pop band Sure Sure is back with a much anticipated single. “Funky Galileo” is undeniably funky. After an album release in 2019, the band is back and groovier than ever. The song seems to echo the feeling of letting go and not being afraid of what others may think of your happiness. The bridge floats as it repeats, “and I been feeling so pent up /  like an ocean in a bathtub / nobody seems to understand / they're calling me an evil man / when all I wanna do is dance.” It is easy to hear influences of Talking Heads and Steely Dan in the basslines, distinct drum patterns and quirky lyrics. Every time I listen to this song I can’t help but tap my foot and belt the chorus in the highest pitch my voice will go. The single stands at four minutes long and I still find myself wishing it wouldn’t end, which inevitably leads to hitting repeat. The guys are releasing a third studio album later this year.

"Who the fuck is Lauren Ruth Ward?” reads the descriptive text teasing the 31-year-old American singer and guitarist’s website. Ward is a firecracker, a Scorpio, a water sign. What do Maggie Rogers, Father John Misty, and Lauren Ruth Ward have in common? Their voices read like anachronisms, under-processed, floral, not limited to modernity or copying what came before. They make music that’s difficult to place but electric to absorb. What’s more, all three artists hail from Maryland, a state that isn’t classically associated with rock music, and one that also happens to be where I grew up. On the Mason-Dixon line, this is a place where country music is charred with a rock sensibility, or in the case of Ward, rock is infused with a smokey folk flavor. Prior to moving to Los Angeles, Ward, who rocks Angel Olsen bangs and tie-dye hair, worked as a hairdresser in her native town of Baltimore. “Water Sign” is a song that you feel throughout your whole body. “I'm living in my personal hell / I don't need your ammunition / Everybody say ‘Oh, I can tell’ / Can only see my own vision,” drawing out the last syllables into a growl. Ward sings of emotional volatility: being vulnerable to the moods and actions of people trying to swerve into her left lane. Single lines speak volumes, with punctuated pauses and Ward’s sharp tongue (“I did it my sentence it was cruel but I finished it”). If you’re in New York, don’t miss Ward’s upcoming show at Rough Trade in April.

“Magpie” comes towards the end of Dan Snaith’s first album as Caribou in over six years—a vibrant, well-rounded collection called Suddenly—and the fact that such a subtle, dreamy track stands out says a lot about it. Like all respected electronic artists, Snaith has a unique and intimate relationship with sound. You can hear that every audio track he loops and stacks is chosen and crafted carefully, but it’s the way they interact—and the feelings they elicit—that still makes Caribou a special project fifteen full years after it first started. “Magpie” starts out sounding like a calm, muffled robotic dream, so when Snaith comes in on vocals it feels like you’re starting to wake up, well-rested, in preparation for an important day. Snaith’s vocals sound humble and comfortable among the blips and twinkles he pillows them with, but soon—about a minute and a half in—the earplugs are out, the bass is up, and you are eventually led into the day with a heavenly keyboard solo that closes the track. “Magpie” feels short and sweet, but I guess that’s not surprising. After all, doesn’t each day’s moment of waking feel fleeting?