It was the first time you would see my apartment, but it was my last. All set to move out tomorrow. Already moved most of my things out but kept my bed and my pots and pans to make eggplant parmesan for you and me. How could I be so unsure about our future when we were as emotionally close as we we were physically? I thought of the As Tall As Lions song "I’m Kicking Myself." You were quiet as a writer or a painter at work, but your puppy eyes were thunderous as gunfire or rockets. You would stay the night, and we would wake up here together for the one and only time, and we would either lay our heads together once more somewhere else or part ways. My future with you hung in the balance, and yet my past with you sung in Dallas, and my present with you stung in challenge.

Nathaniel Paul’s “Silence” is the type of song born out of an unexplainable uncertainty; a bizarre and hard-to-shake emotion. The song calls back to the chillwave sounds pioneered by Toro y Moi, but has its own modern influx of drum and synth work. Play this one at the beach and drink coffee to it. 

Whimsical and sprinkled with cosmic dust, Su Lee's "Wide Awake" is what dreams are made of. Soft keys and even smoother vocals guide you through the verses about longing and trying to reach out for someone who feels the same. It's maybe the universal feeling of being alone together, of "smiling but crying" or the thought that we're all under the same stars, wishing to touch them at the same time. South Korean singer-songwriter Su Lee might be new to our radars but she isn't new to writing about overpowering feelings that connect to people beyond physical distance. Her music is meant to make you feel or to give a voice to all the things you already feel. The artist's first project to hit the outside world like a storm was the music video for the single "I'll Just Dance," which perfectly encapsulated the feelings of millions of people stuck at home, slowly losing their minds. In a way, her new single "Wide Awake" approaches the isolation again but rather than being inside of her own head for too long, the music decides to reach out and reconnect with every other insomniac human out there. Photo by Su Lee.

The latest track from Brooklyn-based musician Soft Glas (Joao Gonzalez) sets you adrift in a sonic sea of spaced-out guitars, skittering drums and layered production. From the start, “Cyclones” commits to a buoyant dream pop vibe—the extensive reverb washes and waves throughout while stacks of vocals constantly interweave with one another. The result: a track with a light, floating atmosphere propelled forward by Gonzalez’s crisp drum work. Throughout the haze of the song, Gonzalez grasps for something solid. The chorus, “Holding on feels right / I don’t want to waste more time,” suggests a desire to stop delaying and to latch on to what is important. It’s a resonant sentiment at a moment when days seem to slip into one another. Photo by Jillian Gomez.

Misty Mtn goes deeper and darker as they pull away from the city in their newest single, “These Lights.” After spending the last few years going from Brooklyn to LA, the indie pop duo has returned to the Pacific Northwest. They dive into the melancholy and brooding of the holiday season with change and turmoil seeping into every moment. The song was inspired by the feeling of seeing your home once it’s no longer yours, “these lights, these lights / got me so depressed / cause this ain’t my house / and I had to trespass.” Misty Mtn stays true to their ability to make sad songs that still have an uplifting quality to them. Sometimes they achieve this through the message, but with “These Lights,” the production brings a warmth to the cold subject as it twinkles in the verses and soars when it hits the chorus. It’s not self-indulgent in its melancholy, counteracting the sad visual of the loss of a childhood home with the inferred joy of the holiday as they repeat “Merry Christmas” over soft angelic vocals at the close. Photo by Kelsey Talton.

Losses of any sort can make happy homes seemingly crumble into empty sanctuaries. The homes, although boisterous with life and new beginnings, become a catalyst for the occupants’ aching nostalgia over the person or thing they’re now devoid of. With every sorrow-driven piano key and powerfully executed vibrato, Jovan Perez explores the boundless aches of lamentation in his latest release “feel again.” Guided by a melancholic piano that sends shivers down the spine, the track takes listeners through the painful ups and downs of reminiscing on a past connection. There’s a story-like structure to the song that aids in the evocation of fervent emotion portrayed by Perez both lyrically and vocally that is unique to the young artist’s sound. The 20-year-old carries with him a revivifying soulfulness that is youthful in delivery, yet timeless in essence. Despite the track portraying the heart-wrenching perspective of an individual trapped within their own nostalgia, Perez has share that he wants listeners to “let this song serve as a reminder that these feelings are normal, and to try to find happiness and purpose in the present you’ve been gifted with.”

“Feel again” is Perez's third officially released track, and his second this year. The New York-based singer, songwriter and producer has already garnished the attention of fans via his covers on YouTube and is continuing to build his own empire within the music industry.

On the edge of uncertainty, propped by a slew of disappointment, Chastity Belt’s Annie Truscott and Jay Som’s Melina Duterte cling to one another in their latest musical collaboration as Routine. After the wracking letdown of cancelling tour during the rise of the COVID-19 pandemic, the duo spent a month of writing and recording in Joshua Tree—leading to their debut EP, And Other Things. Infused with this desert essence and leeway into catharsis, “Numb Enough” is one of five sonic vignettes offered on the EP. The misty vocals traipse along shaded strings of guitar, in a crestfallen deliverance of one’s frustration toward a cold and detached partner. Despite the despondency, there is an element of self-assurance in the lyrics: “I’m not here to entertain you / I’m not your play doll.” The track further rises out into a sturdy fizz of guitar, clearing away into daybreak. It is a signal of renewal, culled from disappointment, that can inspire all to find release in turbulent times. Photo by Eleanor Petry.

Leading in with immediately captivating vocals and an energetic drop-in of electric guitar, girlhouse documents the realization of a relationship conflict during what many call the most wonderful time of the year. This track explores the concept of dressing things up and becoming convinced that they can work when in reality we are so capable of creating mirages of beautiful love. Lauren Luiz conveys this sentiment through lyrics like “All of our lies are covered in tinsel now.” “Ugly xmas sweater party” is the type of song that delivers warmth and goodness through its sound, even when the message is acute and empathetic to reconciling with the recognition that being with someone was not, in full, what they seemed. Photo by Anna Lee.