In her whimsical single "By Myself," singer-songwriter Maya Hawke crafts a dreamland as a means for self-reflection. Hawke sings of "honey that ran out of me," of playing "caliban in bed" and talking "in rings," nonsensical to the naked ear, meant only for her to understand. These surreal images make up "a secret message to myself, that I hope I'll receive someday soon," says Hawke. "It's about projecting ideas you have about yourself onto other people." Through the song, she suggests that the real answers can be found by simply looking in the mirror. Accompanying the track is an equally as eccentric music video that stars Hawke as a cowboy angel floating through space, dusted with vintage headshot charm. With Grammy winner Jesse Harris putting music to her lyrics, you can expect her record to be brimming with leisurely folk-pop and world music elements. Blush will be released on June 19 via Mom+Pop.

“Life on Fire” is the twangy second single off Mapache’s forthcoming album From Liberty Street, out March 20. Mapache’s sound infuses the various cities across California and Mexico that its members Clay Finch and Sam Blasucci have at different points called home, and the atmospheric quality of “Life on Fire” further cements their knack for using music to create environments. The backdrop for From Liberty Street is east-LA, where the folk duo currently live and create. Prior to releasing “Life on Fire,” Mapache put out their cover of the classic bolero ballad “Me Voy Pa’l Pueblo,” a track originally performed by Los Panchos which the band revived in celebration of their neighborhood’s rich Latinx heritage. Where “Me Voy Pa’l Pueblo” is aching and romantic, “Life on Fire” is lighthearted and airy—with the pairs’ easy harmonies and stripped-down strumming perfectly evoking the sun-soaked southwest. With two strong singles already under their belt, the bilingual From Liberty Street is slated to be a charming and dynamic exploration of place.

Lush and hypnotic, “Deep Sea,” the debut release from Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter Rose Upton, is as enchanting and darkly dreamy as a siren song. The arrangement is full and atmospheric, and losing yourself in it feels like being submerged in mystical waters where music sounds sweeter and mermaids exist. The instrumentation is vivid and wet: Reverberating guitar gives the track a base that feels fluid and consistent, while crisp, satisfying percussion hits like the heavy crash of a wave against rocks. The lyrics take you down a journey of discovery, and Upton’s lovely, light voice is enchanting and beguiling. She sings with a conviction that, were this a fairy tale, would surely lure any sailor to his death. Thankfully this is real life, and for Rose Upton’smusic career, it’s only the beginning: she plans to release her debut EP later this year.

“I didn’t want to give myself time to overthink,” says Eric Cannata about the process of recording his upcoming EP. He decamped to a studio outside of Los Angeles with session musicians he had never met and recorded five songs, mostly live, in just two days. “Lonely Beast” is a product of that simplicity and spontaneity, a quiet weekend morning kind of song. Cannata, in his lullaby voice, is most moving when describing minor details, the types of things we pay such close attention to ourselves but would never dream of letting anyone else know the extent of our awareness.“Windows cracked / I’ll hear you when you come right back,” he sings, and you can imagine him counting the seconds. Everything in the track is gentle, from the steady fingerpicking to the wavering pedal steel, from the chord changes to Cannata words. But it’s so hard to tell, as it always is with loneliness, if that gentleness is a sign of contentment with a quiet weekend morning or resignation that it will be yet another quiet weekend morning.

Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker spent his 2015 album Currents exploring the intricacies of his already-tight relationship with psychedelia, aiming to take us on a spiritual journey through his subconscious. Five trips around the sun later, Tame Impala is still continuing to navigate through life's full range of emotions by exhaling a little with “Breathe Deeper,” off of Parker’s smooth yet vitalizing new album The Slow Rush. “Breathe Deeper” explores one of the more complex human emotions: matters of the heart. Parker discusses themes of self-confidence while persuading the song's subject to unwind a little, over six-and-a-half minutes of soaring dance grooves. Tame Impala still has one foot in the psychedelic door; his beloved roots are flowing under the surface of “Breathe Deeper,” reminding us it's possible to stay true to ourselves while experiencing positive self-growth over jovial sounding grooves.

Indie-pop duo Tennis released their fifth album, Swimmer, on Friday, and it’s a glitzy, atmospheric fever dream you’ll never want to wake from. Full of vibrant, emotional tracks that emphasize the deep musical synergy between husband and wife Patrick and Alaina Moore, all nine songs are rich with explorative arrangements, groovy hooks and inquisitive lyrics. The most impressive song on the album though, and perhaps of Tennis's entire career to date, is “Matrimony II,” a grand, sweeping ode to love and the ten-year musical journey that Patrick and Alaina have shared together. “Matrimony II” highlights all of Tennis’s strengths while weaving in sonic elements the two haven’t previously experimented with: Patrick’s cool guitar riffs over Alaina’s classical piano meet lush strings and a harpsichord; tight, full drums and groovy bass make you feel like you’re swaying on a beach in 1972; and Alaina’s voice, gorgeous and ephemeral at the top of her register, sounds like a hypnotic and cozy lullaby. The arrangement makes for a unique ballad with production that’s crisp and shimmering, like the evening sun hitting the ocean, and the lyrics are just as warm and wondrous: “I could never find something better / I even changed my name / By my side in every kind of weather / I'll never be the same.” Honest and vast, “Matrimony II” is bewitching, and it will make you believe in the power of love.

The Big Moon recently dropped their bright, infectious sophomore album Walking Like We Do, where they dive into self-worth, disenchantment with the world today and not being afraid of going after what you really want. While this second effort holds the same vivid lyricism, inspiring arrangements and reflective tone as their debut Love in the 4th Dimension, the indie quartet diverted in a more spacious, pop direction that was realized in a thoughtful, joyous manner. One of the most poignant tracks is "Dog Eat Dog," which is a sweeping piano ballad that emphasizes how we are all too focused on our own self-interest and seem to only notice societal problems when it immediately impacts us. Lead singer and songwriter Juliette Jackson exceptionally illustrates the isolating mindset that we all reside in as she sings, “You only build bridges when the river wets your feet / You only felt the fire when you felt the heat / So here we are.” The echoing choruses and bouncing production of the track add an approachable energy that backs her earnest, sharp vocals. There are no punches being pulled, but instead, a necessary, straightforward message that we all need to get our heads out of the sand and offer some real empathy to those around us. It’s an understanding that is never more important than now, and one that should be addressed sooner rather than later. Walking Like We Do is out now via Fiction Records.

Alexandra Savior will pierce your heart with “The Archer,” the title track off the dream-pop artist’s second album, in which she delivers an emotional wallop with just a few verses and a simple, lilting melody. The potent torch song opens with propulsive percussion and lyrics that immediately disrupt this rhythmic regularity: “The earth went ahead and shook itself apart / the very moment I laid eyes on you.” With this captivating image, she proceeds to describe a lover who devours and rejects her, while she eats it all up (quite literally). The visceral but ambiguous lyrics don’t reveal whether the partner is so intently fixated in their love for her that they can’t help but target her, or if they are maliciously preying on her. The smooth-voiced Savior with her retro-sounding, desert rock has received comparisons to women as varied as Dusty Springfield, Fiona Apple and Lana Del Rey. However, with "The Archer," her latest deeply personal, haunting piece, Savoir has created a scorching ode to devastating love that is all her own.

If the mission of Christine and the Queens is to prove that the complexity and depths of human emotion are limitless, then “People, I’ve been sad” is her masterclass. Héloïse Letissier dramatically increased her American fanbase last year with her second full-length album—the sexy, theatrical, genderbending Chris. Her newest track, which came out at the beginning of February, is more than an excellent portrait of the pain and rewards that come with real love (though it is decidedly that)—it’s also more evidence of her uniquely intricate understanding of the magical power of tension in music. Letissier’s bilingual lyrics provide the track’s emotional anchor, and with the satisfying way the synths and bass gradually build and release throughout, you can almost hear Phil Collins and Robyn smiling in admiration of their legacy. But the real accomplishment is that somehow, out of the rolling mountains of bass, the crackling snares, and Letissier’s signature sultry, hyper-focused vocal stylings, she creates an emotional energy that transcends any human language or worldly musical instrument. That’s why, by the end of the track, the word “sad” has never felt so understated. The emotions that matter—the ones that make us feel the most alive, most connected to other people—are too complex for a three-letter word. I guess that's why we need artists like Christine and the Queens.

NOVA ONE, the brainchild of Providence singer-songwriter Roz Raskin, is back with their new single “violet dreams.” The track is the first offering since 2018’s secret princess EP and the first taste of their upcoming, debut record entitled lovable. While the previous release focused on heartfelt, romantic declarations and desires, this new endeavor dives into analyzing femininity, gender presentation, and the process of figuring out your identity. Raskin describes the traditional aspects of what it means to be considered female and how that isn’t always aligning with a true vision of themselves. As they declare “Let me put on my make-up / Make me a drink / Make me perfection / Forget all my needs," you can hear the melancholy in their sweet, wistful vocals and the notion that what you actually want can be oppressed by others’ expectations and standards—that it’s better to sweep certain things aside in favor of putting on a front for others. The tender, swinging arrangement is the hazy backdrop that guides us deeper into the narrators’ mindset. Raskin’s offer of a sonic shoulder to lean on is not something to overlook. lovable drops April 24 via Community Records.