On "Survive With Me," Michael Flynn finds a perfect balance between mischievous fun and severity. “Tell them that the world they love is never coming back,” he croons, “guess they should have put their faith in scientific fact.” It’s rare for an artist to manage such masterful sarcasm, but Flynn does it with ease. By setting little quips like “The paint is peeling off the moon” and “we’ll build a nest of thoughts and prayers,” over a classic Americana-style rock band, Flynn makes it clear that, while he is fed up with the hypocrisy of our times, he is still an American who intends to make it through. Maybe even to thrive, with some luck. Flynn’s voice is welcoming, almost chuckling at the absurdity he’s describing. The guitar’s distortion is just warm enough to make us feel like we’re at a local show. “Survive with me,” he invites us. Somehow, it might be the most hopeful message we’ve heard lately. 

Flynn's full album, Survive With Me, is out on October 13. Photo by Nathan Baerreis.

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.

A true romantic, Bill Callahan sings from the heart of a wayward troubadour in "Let's Move to the Country," a track off his most recent album, Gold Record. An exhibition of his love and reverence for the old west, Callahan dons a figurative cowboy hat in his discography as he talk-sings his way through loafing country western lullabies and ballads. "Let's Move to the Country" is a sweet, simple love song. It feels like Callahan is pleading, holding his hat against his chest. He paints the vision of what their lives would look like now that he's put his roving days behind him. Callahan previously included this track on his album Knock Knock, under the moniker Smog. Callahan performed as Smog until 2007, when he stylistically shifted from underground rock to more Americana style sounds. Gold Record was released on September 4. Give it a listen wherever you stream.

Bill Callahan continues to set the standard for storytelling with these new songs. My goodness. Just listen to the opening passage. If that doesn't set fire to your soul then I'd wager you and I ain't wading in the same bayou. Tune in. — Alex Cameron

In his latest EP of demos, Alex Cameron rehashes some of his songs from his 2019 album Miami Memory, but this time, we hear them under a slightly different light. Instead of the brass, bright, strobe light of a strip club, his new EP Miami Memories takes us back to the VIP private room. Photo by Hanly Banks.

Mellow, gleaming electronic pop duo Sylvan Esso is committed to their signature elegance and free-forming sound with their new track, “Frequency.” Aligning with its lyrical themes, the song has a magnetic force, melting down within the listener and creating space for a pulling movement inside the body — which can be seen in the video for the song, brought to life by Moses Sumney’s creative direction. The absence of percussion in the track is a clean, soft representation of the girl Amelia Meath is singing about, a woman with alluring energy that cannot be fabricated. This girl is enchantment in human form:  “She's the one, I swear to God / A frequency, she's got a frequency / and I caught it all over me.”

On September 25, Sylvan Esso, a.k.a. Amelia Meath and Nick Sanborn, will release their third album, Free Love, featuring the tenderness of folky sound as well as the rhythmic tug of war that they have become known for.

rincs are the L.A.-based duo of Rebecca Ramirez and Bjorn Winberg. Their music is incisive and eccentric, with the occasional punkiness of Ramirez’s vocals casting a moody shadow over their poetic lyrics. rincs value brevity and melody. As with “Or Is It Just You,” their songs tend to burn fast and bright before fizzling out at just the right moment. They’ve said all they need to and delivered their message with singable indie-pop sentiment. “Or Is It Just You,” their most recent single, conveys the jarring realization that everyone lives within their own distinct reality — what looks upside down to one person may look completely normal to another. Sometimes it’s a realization full of possibility, and sometimes it’s a terrifying one. This song mostly deals with that second feeling, creating a slow buildup of disorientation enhanced by cyclical guitar riffs. There’s also some quirky instrumentation — the thumb-piano solo that drives this track towards the final chorus is one of several reasons it's well worth a listen.