Brooklyn-based Olivia Reid’s music washes over you like a warm bath. Minimalist tracks are decorated with just the right amount of noise to create a soundscape that’s inviting, even calming. Delicately structured harmonies and carefully placed instrumentals curve around whimsical lyrics—"I’m just a tourist in my own home, surrounded by what should feel familiar." The 21-year-old artist and current NYU student has an EP coming in the summer of 2020. Throw this song on a playlist with R.E.L. and close your eyes.

Nostalgic and lush, “Big King,” the catchy new single from Brooklyn-based duo Fake Dad, is lo-fi midnight magic. The track defies genres, pulling from indie pop, r&b and rap elements, and emphasizes the opulence and fantasy of influence by juxtaposing cool, dreamy beats with images of grandeur. The instrumentation is delightfully strange: a lovely, reverberating piano and groovy, r&b-inspired percussion coast over the satisfying crackle of a retro synth, while rapper Leke’s verse is a surprising and energizing addition to the arrangement. The track’s cozy, crisp production evokes the indulgence of late-night pillow talk and unfiltered intimacy and is the perfect compliment to vocalist Andrea de Varona’s velvety, ethereal voice. Her lyrics conjure up images of a big king ruling precariously over a glass mountain, lending themselves to larger questions of success and its relationship to truth. “Big King” is pensive and dynamic, and adds an entirely new dimension to Fake Dad’s signature comforting sound.

Moon Bounce returns with "Hook," the leading single off his sophomore record Skip Intro, due February 21. With an orthodox vocal melody to contrast Corey Regensburg's signature pervasive dissonance, "Hook" came of his "full-blown infatuation" in the early stages of the relationship with his now-wife, South African rapper Push Push. It's fixation at its finest as he sings, "You're a fabulous lay / But I kinda, sorta, also just can't stop thinking about you," before oppressing glitches close out the song, mirroring one's brain short-circuiting over his object of affection. Skip Intro is born of producer and songwriter Corey Regensburg's three-year hiatus spent battling an anxiety disorder; time off allowed him to craft a record where he "unabashedly confronts himself." The LP is available for pre-order via Bandcamp as a digital download, on vinyl, or a limited edition USB key "in a petri dish surrounded by slime.

Sun June perfectly encapsulate the feelings of helplessness, frightening uncertainty, and the endless, resolute love that exists between a parent and child in their new track, “Terrified”. The release dropped earlier this month and follows up the band’s Younger EP, which featured two B-sides and two demos from their 2018 record Years. The song was the result of the Austin-based outfit participating in the Song Confessional Project, a podcast where people tell personal stories anonymously and then artists are asked to adapt them into an original song. In this specific case, a mother discusses her incredible fear upon learning her child had an accident and she couldn’t get to them right away. Sun June teamed up with Curtis Roush (of The Bright Light Social Hour), who stood at the producing helm, to create this sensitive, poignant ballad. A minimal, soft layer of instrumentation kicks things off and sets the pace as lead singer Laura Colwell’s airy, leveled voice sweeps in. As she sings heartfelt thoughts "I didn’t like that song / Til I heard you sing along to it / Cryin’ cause I can’t hold onto anything," it mimics the yearning to grasp something definite and the notion of certainty. The enchanting melancholy is rivaled only by the persuasive care that exists in this loving dynamic. A sentiment that can be all too familiar and extended to a partner, another family member or a friend. Regardless of the specific individual, Sun June captures that notion of wanting to always be there for the ones you love. “Terrified” is out now.

“Places/Plans” is not a song you would expect from a band named Skullcrusher. The soft and sweet rumination on the fragility of existence and friendship is LA-based songwriter, Helen Ballentine’s debut single. The indie-folk track begins with a narrative of friendly gossip, “You told me your friend’s in love / with a guy she looks up to” before launching into something more introspective as she sings, “Can I make it out there as I am / without my name on a door or a headline band.” Reminiscent of The Weepies, the softly strummed acoustic guitar carries the track through as piano and a looming atmospheric sound perfectly accompanies Ballentine’s vocals that echo through gently. It’s beautiful in its simplicity as it weaves through a message that changes with each turn never relying on repetition, but breaking new ground with each line except the last, “I don’t have any plans for tomorrow.” We couldn't be more excited to premiere this exciting new act's debut! Be on the lookout for Skullcrusher's debut EP—coming out later this winter.

When you have been best friends with someone for the majority of your life, it sometimes feels like you can read their mind—even when it’s different from what they say out loud. This kind of deep connection is the subject of Eliza Shaddad’s “Girls,” a track told in second-person, addressed to her friend during what sounds like a particularly difficult time. As Shaddad reminisces, she paints a sweet portrait of this kind of real friendship: it’s made up of sweet memories like listening to “Tracy Chapman on repeat” in her friend’s “old room,” but also memories of “shit times” and “fistfights.” The airy effect of Shaddad’s instrumentation and echoey vocals play with time so that the link between childhood and the present feels impossibly small. Though on one level the song is fiercely personal, it also provides a useful reminder for all of us. It’s easy to forget, but sincerely shared memories can have a uniquely grounding quality even in the darkest of times. “Girls” is about the importance of taking care of those closest to you when they can’t take care of themselves.

LA-based indie-pop artist Tim Atlas trades his relationship fears for newfound confidence on "Crime of Passion," a single from his self-produced EP, Together Lonely. Atlas' airy timbre breezes over a mechanical drumbeat, which insistently mimics the urgency with which he professes his love. Where trusting a new lover can be driven by blind faith, Atlas likens the act to a "crime of passion," assuring them that  "I don’t do this often / But I know that I can for you." When talking about the song Atlas says, "This confidence I have in this specific relationship isn’t something I’d normally possess," says Atlas. "A crime of passion is the notion that I’d do whatever it took to be in that person’s life.” As he sings of "the gravity I save for you," we're reminded that when one lives with an underlying feeling of social anxiety, sometimes all it takes is one person to be a grounding force.