With sharp, striking honesty, Annie DiRusso crafts the kind of letter we all write to our exes but never have the guts to send in her latest single “Nine Months.” The instrumentation is textured, vigorous and emotionally charged, mirroring the build-up of anger represented in the lyrics. Through words, the song chronicles everything from the couple’s first meeting (“The first thing you said the night we met is I was beautiful”) to the fiery, impassioned fallout that results from a bad breakup (“I took my time now I know what it was / So don’t you ever say we were in love / You ruined my life for nine fucking months”). Arguably, the most important—and impactful—lyric of the song arrives in the chorus, as DiRusso devastatingly sings, “And every time I think of you / I hate I didn’t run away / Cause I never thought / I’d be the girl who stayed.” As everyone who has been in a toxic relationship knows, no one ever thinks they’d stay in a miserable relationship until they find themselves in that very situation. By offering up this relatable story, though, DiRusso will certainly make a lot of people feel that they aren’t alone. Listen to “Nine Months” wherever you stream. Photo by Lily Lee. 

Psych-folk band Hidden Meadows has debuted in 2021 with their first single, “Drier Land." Singer-songwriter Laura Brisbane’s voice soars over a balanced guitar melody;  multi-instrumentalist Jake Burns’ production takes this song to new heights. The California residents first crossed paths as kids only to reunite years later to make music. While Burns is heavily influenced by Americana and jam music, Brisbane was shaped by folk and the singer-songwriter tradition, recalling “melodies of 90s era radio buried deep from childhood backseat listening.” The blend culminates in a dream pop, jam folk, psychedelic Americana sandwich. According to Brisbane, the song expresses an imagined moment, bringing a person along for a drive to the shore; it touches on the cycles of life and death, of caretaking and dependency, of attachment and release. Listen if you like Laura Marling, surf rock, Slouching Towards Bethlehem or slowing down to appreciate the stillness. Look out for their self-titled album, coming out April 2. Photo by Hidden Meadows.

“Tides,” a new release from Ethansroom (solo project of William Ethan Fortenberry) is a sonic letter to everything we know we shouldn’t think about yet find ourselves ruminating upon regardless (“Shouldn’t think about it / But I’ll do it anyway / I’ll just start from / Further back / So I don’t get carried away”). The cyclical track mimics its title, with layers of banjo, guitar, mellotron, soft synths and steady drums churning over Fortenberry’s gritty-yet-smooth vocals. The atmosphere of the track—similar in feel to acts like Novo Amor and Adam Melchor—recalls days much like those now in early spring, that stretch further their hours of light over the horizon, making amber shadows on our walls. As the world warms, we feel nostalgic for summer suns past, and we push these thoughts away during daily monotony until we are alone under the moon and free to dream (“I’ll come back at the crescent / Give it another try”). In all its soft-glowing edges, “Tides” reminds us that sometimes there’s a reason we can’t stop thinking about something, a lesson there to learn—we just may not grasp it until the tide turns over and we start anew. Photo by Landon Edwards.

The first single off of Japanese Breakfast’s forthcoming third studio album Jubilee, set for release on June 4, “Be Sweet” sets the tone of upbeat optimism, finding joy and freedom in forgiveness. In “Be Sweet,” singer/songwriter Michelle Zauner explores the courage it takes to be honest with oneself, to swallow one’s pride, to own our desires, and to have faith in their manifestation and, ultimately, to forgive. The Seoul-born, Oregon-raised, Philadelphia-based artist masterfully fuses her own contemporary musical style with sparkling synth sounds reminiscent of the universal favorites of the 80s: think Thompson Twins, Tears for Fears, The Cure. In her ever-distinct vocal style, sweet in its own right, Zauner takes us on a journey of forgiveness—from being caught up in our feelings and overthinking the truth, to letting someone back in after they’ve recognized their mistakes, ultimately acknowledging that it’s not too late, that the love there remains.

The song’s title, “Be Sweet,” appears as a command throughout the chorus, as Zauner declares over and over, “I wanna believe in you / I wanna believe in something,” and the urgency of this mantra is profoundly felt. We all need something to believe in, and sometimes (or often) that comes with the risk of being hurt or let down. Despite all of that, “Be Sweet” is an ode to forgiveness and hope, and with both a memoir (Crying in H Mart) and a full-length album set for release in the coming months—and a light at the end of the pandemic tunnel for all of us—Zauner’s optimistic sound on this track is extremely well-founded. Photo by Peter Ash Lee. 

These are our Glass Years, and Juliet Quick courageously shares the story of our grieving generation through her latest EP of the same title. Minimalist stems ebb to build the surf-rock eulogy that is “No Future.” Will love be enough “when the sea swallows us?” How defeating it is to be one person—one woman—with all of the love for our Earth mother and only some of the power it might take to save her. The feeling is immortalized here in crystalline synths, guitars that embrace and a voice reaching to be heard through the mix’s gentle bellows. This is a stewardship serenade that grants permission for moments of silence while simultaneously inspiring action. Photo by Hannah Solomon.

On his new single "Bear The Cold," Montreal-based musician Mitch Davis evokes funky vibes with a no-frills throwback track. Davis does impressive work as the sole instrumentalist on the song, marrying a bumping bass line with a propulsive four-on-the-floor drum beat throughout the crisp three-minute run time. Come time for the bridge, he even shows off his saxophone chops, complementing his other work without completely overshadowing the rest of the song. One could easily slip “Bear The Cold” into a mix of Rod Stewart, Sly Stone or Stevie Wonder without missing a beat, with the track easily carrying its own very-danceable groove. Over it all, Davis mourns a fracturing relationship and tries to look forward, giving new dimension to an otherwise uptempo track. It’s a solid addition to your next quarantine dance party or future gathering, whether it’s the groove you’re after or perhaps Davis’ melancholic musings. Photo by Kensey Crane.

Genevieve Stokes is the musical hero we’ve been waiting for. Honest ballads, peppy stories of heartbreak and new perspectives and narrating vivid memories through song are characteristics of the young musician’s sound that we so love. The Portland, Maine native takes inspiration from artists like Maggie Rogers, Phoebe Bridgers, Bon Iver and Lorde,  but it's her intimate recounting of memories that sets her sound apart from others. Highlighting “Parking Lot,” a song of fantasy and longing from her debut album Swimming Lessons, released on March 5, Stokes sings of a relationship in the way that it existed and the way that she wished it existed. Internalizing feelings, Stokes discusses preserving a relationship by crafting protected memories in her own mind, becoming obsessive with another and creating visions of how she wished the relationship was: “But I'm making up stories, I'm making up you / All of the things that I wish we could do / And all of this time I wish that you knew / I've been thinking of you.” Stokes’ lyrical honesty and organic sound mixed with lo-fi piano, heavenly harmonies and smooth vocals emphasize empathy for her listeners. Photo by Abbie Pitre.

The opening guitar on Los Angeles-based duo Junaco’s latest single “Blue Room” is enough to instantly transport you to the seaside in your mind, even before the undulating and exquisite vocals of singer-songwriter Shahana Jaffer take hold. Accompanied by bandmate Joey LaRosa as well as Omar Velasco on lead guitar, Jaffer sings of the clouds of dawn and orange afternoons, coaxing us into a dreamworld while simultaneously instructing us not to “forget the ground below [our] feet.” This is a tall order in the context of a song like “Blue Room,” with its lush and lullaby-like oceanic instrumentals relaxing us out of our bodies and into our dreams. It seems almost a tease, telling us to stay grounded until we remember that to merge these two ways of being is the goal—to envision a “great escape” while embracing the awe and wonder of the beauty of our world. In meditation, we are asked to take note of our bodies while exploring our minds, freeing both from judgment in the present moment. “Blue Room” is a meditation on the merging of our dreams and our reality, encouraging us to stay present and appreciate all that we encounter in our earthly lives, while also allowing ourselves to dream. “Blue Room” is a lullaby and a wake-up call rolled into one.

“Blue Room” was produced by James McAlister (who has collaborated extensively with Sufjan Stevens and more recently, Taylor Swift), and was released on Side Hustle Records. As stunning and soothing as the auditory experience of “Blue Room” is the plant-filled sunlit slice of paradise depicted in the artwork accompanying the single. The image is a still from a virtual reality created by 3D artist Hyoyon Paik, who has said the song inspired “a virtual paradise where the plants dance, the sunlight reaches every corner, and lights glitter on the water.” At a time when so many of us are longing to escape to another dimension and would love to bask in a peaceful paradise, Paik’s virtual visuals and Junaco's soothing sounds invite us to do just that. Photo by Nicole Mason. 

Your early 20s are a balancing act of expectations, with a dash of suppressed teen angst. You navigate through it all, only to discover that officially feeling like an adult never really happens. On Wallice’s new song “23,” she walks us through her own journey of becoming a grown-up, hoping that when she turns 23, things will all fall into place. The first verse exemplifies what so many early 20-somethings deal with—feeling stuck in your past, within a mundane routine, after moving home after college. She sings, “I’m terrified of the future / Scared that I’ll still be a loser,” expressing the anxiety that occurs during life's transitional periods. When we reach the chorus we hear Wallice singing about missing her late teen years and her fake ID, while debating if she should trade her dreams for a traditional future. The short instrumental break of electric guitar and drums once again highlights the inner turmoil created by wanting to move forward, but feeling cemented in place. It’s in the second verse that she realizes that all of the stress she’s currently feeling is for naught, as her best years are only ahead of her: “Not sure why I feel so dumb / Thе best of my years are yet to come.” While turning 23 might not make you feel any wiser, Wallice’s “23” will make you feel understood in feeling anxious about your own future. Photo by Taryn Segal.