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. 

Rachel Bochner’s latest single, “Pick Me Up,” details how toxic love can be when we use its addictive powers to fill a glaring void in our own lives, to distract us from our loneliness. Bochner is NYC-based and you can hear the city’s influence in her sound; the cyclical and mesmerizing electric riff and steady drums frame its view like a yellowing Polaroid frame—the driving bass like the hum of taxis and traffic. Whether it's in NYC or elsewhere, most of us have endured the lyrical story that Bochner is narrating. Imagine yourself wandering the city on an early winter evening; it’s already dark by the time you walk alone to the subway, passing and peering into warm, golden windows where you see friends having dinner and two lovers on a date. You look down at your phone—no messages—and hasten your speed to dissolve once again into the darkness, obscured only by neon “open” signs on bodegas' doors and red traffic lights reflecting in the puddles on the ground. It’s here that loneliness bites even harder than the cold air, as the world seemingly spins magnificently around us for everyone else yet we wander home with no plans, no purpose. The only thing that shatters this sinking melancholy: your phone lights up and it’s the person who’s made a mosaic of your heart, despite you denying with each new crack in the glass that you’ll never let them do it again. The pull of better judgement loses out to having company for the sake of it—for the promise of whatever small adventure awaits with them as opposed to your empty apartment, and you give in (“I know it isn’t good for me / But whеn I’m down / And need a pick me up / Can you pick me up”). “Pick Me Up” is the tonic for this ennui, like a note from a friend telling us that we can do better, and that when you’re in a sparkling, skyscraped city, loneliness is often just a mirage. Bochner’s full EP, 2AM, is out in January.

I Know I Know said, “You know what 2020 needs? A good ol’ 2014-style breakup banger,” and then delivered exactly that with their latest single, “Talk." It’s got an infectious syncopated pulse that tugs your body out to the dance floor. True, that dance floor is your room with a Bluetooth speaker hopping across your desk, but it doesn’t matter. Coiled tight, under stress, it was only a matter of time until you exploded somehow. The intense kick drum shakes apart any thoughts, leaving only feelings in their place—and feelings, you can deal with. Feelings, you can drown. They don’t stand a chance against the electronic effects and noise. Melting into movement for yourself and absolutely no one else feels cathartic, in a rabidly selfish way. The moment is yours, and you refuse to share it. You are wrapped in yourself completely, and it feels good. Once you lose your breath, there’s just enough space cleared in your brain to think about someone else. You consider yourself in context, exploring your actions from multiple perspectives. Yours. Theirs. Not all the angles are pretty, but they’re not all ugly either. It might be too little too late, but you finally got there. That should count for something, you think, even if it doesn’t. "Talk" ends with an unspoken question dangling off the edge of the track. It’s an eternal question, as terrifying as judgement day: “If I call you, will you answer?”

Em Beihold dances on the line between wrong and right in her new dark-pop single, “Painful Truth.” Her vocal dexterity bounces between wispy falsetto and full voice, while the production around her alternates from a booming bass line to minimalistic accompaniment. All at once, listeners can feel the depth of addiction paired with contrasting overtones of lust and desire — the feeling of “need” that transcends all consequences. Em Beihold frequently showcases her talents on TikTok, with breathtaking acoustic cover songs. The thoughtful production quality of “Painful Truth” speaks to Beihold’s artistic integrity. Her voice resonates in this song with the same honesty of a live performance or social media cover video, which is not an easy task for most recording artists. Be sure to follow Em Beihold on TikTok, and remain on the lookout for future releases. She is an artist on the rise and can be compared to a young Halsey. Her songwriting is mature beyond her years.

Canadian-born singer Love Mansuy's “Saturday” ushers you in with a laugh for an easy tune that alleviates some pressure, giving you permission to unwind. This gem from side B of his new EP, (món-swee), features a spacey guitar riff in tandem with a melodic bassline for a sound more indie rock-leaning than his previous R&B releases. While Mansuy is New Jersey-bred, “Saturday" calls to mind a weekend afternoon on the deck at my parents’ old house in Virginia, a sweet whiskey lemonade, fresh-cut watermelon and a few rounds of Durak with childhood friends. There’s something intimate about the nature of Mansuy’s carefree tone that's “bringing back a feeling I can taste,” evoking nostalgia for things that haven’t even happened. While parts of life may be “a ticking time bomb,” he invites you to take a seat with your feet hanging out the back of a truck and exist in the moment, even if that moment is simply enjoying "fries and a shake.” Photo by Sam Balaban.

Indie electro-pop singer-songwriter Laney Lynx is known for her infectious energy both on- and offstage, as well as her gift for writing acutely honest lyrics and addictive melodies. In each of her releases, she is able to hone in on a complex but universal emotion or experience, and put it not only into words but also to music — music that is often cathartic, and always inspiring. In “Venting,” Lynx addresses the feeling that arises when emotions are kept bottled up — when wires are crossed and buttons are pushed — and the explosive need to let it all out. Despite the tension expressed in the lyrics, the song sparkles with kindness and empathy, along with the underlying desire to make peace. 

Produced and mixed by Lucas Hass, and mastered by Torna, “Venting” features Tony Greco on guitar and Kyle Miles on bass, showcasing the unstoppable sound of collaboration between New York-based artists. The glittering instrumental synth is suppressed during the verses, before picking up and building to a colorful burst alongside Lynx’s vocals during the chorus. While the sentiment is that it will get worse before it gets better, and that the only way out is through, the delivery couldn’t be sweeter — and Lynx’s pristine voice is the spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine go down.

After receiving praise for his 2019 EP Since You Asked and his 2020 debut album Podium, Norwegian indie folk artist Kefeider returns with the poetic and poignant single "The Island." Having been written almost two years ago, "The Island" has taken new meaning this year after experiencing a sense of hopelessness during the pandemic. It is a feeling that too many of us now know too well. There is a beautiful simplicity to the melody, as Kefeider's voice delicately dances above. "The island within your eyes / Will soon be out of sight 
/ Don't mind what others say 
/ Help is underway." This melancholic tune touches deep within the wounds of this year, yet it also provides a sweet note and desire for better days ahead. Photo by Eskil Bast.