Mitski returned earlier this month with a new single and corresponding music video called "Working for the Knife." Engaging, catchy and lyrically fascinating, "Working for the Knife" exhibits what Mitski does best: present thoughtful, probing questions about the nuance of growing old to the beat of a unique, indie-pop sound. This is a recurring theme in her music: maturing, inadequacy, heartbreak, the natural consequences of aging. Though what "working for the knife" actually entails feels open to interpretation. We see that, to her, the knife that enslaves her is her cyclical sense of pestering deficiency—the world's perception of her, her writer's block, her heartbreak songs, all of it: "I used to think I would tell stories / But nobody cared for the stories I had / About no good guys / I always knew the world moves on / I just didn't know it would go without me / I start the day high and it ends so low / 'Cause I'm working for the knife." The music video is a gorgeous reiteration of this very conflict. At the end, we see Mitski finally release into her artistic expression. We see her fully lean into her movement as she dances and beats and flails to nothing but the sound of her own hands and feet hitting the stage floor. Photo by Ebru Yıldız.

Angelo De Augustine’s latest track, “Blue,” is sonic poetry for the collective seasonal depression. In lyrics that read like a letter to a close friend, he sings, “All my life I’ve been so low / I don’t know why / So blue.” The three minutes span like a dreamcatcher, trapping the spinning sense of ennui that haunts each of us at some point; each note a wonderance on how, when we’re down, it feels like we may stay there forever, and when we manage to stand up we question if we’ve ever soared as high as everyone else around us. De Augustine eloquently expresses how, at our darkest, it can feel like there are worlds between us and any sense of normalcy (“Between my eyes / Is an ocean / You can feel it if you try / Not unlike a howling wind / Like a tempest in the open hearts of men”). The song carries the torch of De Augustine’s trademark lo-fi, intimate recordings, but marks one of his first collaborations with his label-owner, indie-folk icon Sufjan Stevens, whose presence dwells softly in twinkling guitars and hushed vocals. “Blue” soaks like a soothing balm into our deepest thoughts, timely shimmering ahead of the most wistful days of the year — and it’s one you’ll find yourself wanting to replay well into winter. Photo by Jess Collins.

"Sing Hallelujah in the morning when I rise," sings Lydia Luce, her deep voice dripping with honey and amber, "occasionally, you cross my mind." A rhythmic guitar keeps steady time and a luscious string arrangement sweeps us off our feet, into waves of getting lost in thoughts of someone we promised ourselves we’d forget. The music is an allegory for the feeling — we’re fine, or so we’ve convinced ourselves until, occasionally, we’re not. Whoever, whatever it is that catches us off guard crosses our mind and, just like Luce, we’re afloat, carried off by a current stronger than we expected, drowning in violins and crying out, "So go away, back to where you came from!" Just as sudden as the wave came, it ebbs and Luce is back on her feet, toes gripping the sand, a warm vocal accepting her fate of being bewitched, but only occasionally. Photo by Alysse Gafkjen.

From nineteen-year-old Miloe (Bobby Kabeya) comes “Change Your Mind,” a summertime anthem for your fall. “You got cold and I’m sold but you might change your mind,” he sings, describing the partial agony of wasting your time on someone who is uninterested — but needing to do it anyways to satisfy the feelings of unrequited love. The song opens with small phrases (“Rollercoaster / Took me on, I didn’t even know her / Took me high, now I just want the closure”) while quaint instrumentation builds, layering his optimistic lyrics over bedroom pop-like sounds. Aiming for attention and validation from an unreceptive source is exhausting, but Miloe’s upbeat track reminds us that a sliver of hope is all we need to find enjoyment in the unknown.

Petey’s “The Same Chords” begins with a captivating ricochet of sound and continues into gorgeously honest lyrics. This track comes off of Petey’s new EP Checkin’ Up On Buds, which features a lineup of four candid, hard-hitting and compelling songs, each with unique feels but carrying consistency in charm. Guided by the soft touch of keys and the ease of guitar, this song addresses the monotony and consternation that comes with being human and the importance of recognizing that there are people who truly care, and being a friend who does truly care. Throughout the chorus, Petey repeats, “There’s nothin' more important than your checkin' up on buds,” which is the lyric that christens the EP with its name.

Erthlings are back with their new single, "Irrational." On this well executed, dreamy pop tune, the indie quartet finds an even fuller and lusher sound while maintaining their strong cohesion as a band, where all parts seem to flourish in their own lane. The music video takes place in a roller rink, patrons circling the band as they perform, and it feels like such a perfect metaphor to describe the song's dynamics. Roller skating offers a sense of ease. We observe as people gracefully glide on by, but it’s the tiny movements and moments that keep them upright. "Irrational" is an easy-swaying song that is covered with these same kinds of tiny details and flourishes, which are what bring it to life and really make it shine. The harsh, fuzzy chords are laid out perfectly to make room for the gentle and intimate vocals, perfectly dialing in the delicate balance between too subtle and too much. Meanwhile, the lead synth breaks through with a tone like lightning, striking and engaging. The drum sounds evolve as the chorus returns back to the second verse. It’s choices like these that hold together a beautiful song and allow it to flow effortlessly around the rink.