"ALL THESE CHANGES" is the spectacular opening statement for Nick Hakim’s exquisite, sensitive new album. At first we hear tentative sounds—a cry, a few notes plucked on a guitar, an electronic snare, a flute tuning in and out—coming together into a single undulating unit with the deep boom of a synthesized timpani-esque drum. Delicate, stacked vocals envelop us from within the groovy synth-drenched ambiance as Hakim sings an ode to Mother Earth, calling on humanity to change our ways before it’s too late. “Cities burning, tides that rise / She's in pain, she's been hurting / Can you feel our mother raging? / She'll flood us out, her heart is flaming / Pretty soon we'll be underwater.” The song grows in complexity and power before glitching to a stop; Hakim introduces a de-tuned piano and a wide vocal that sounds like a phantom prophet warning us of the danger of our ways, whispering “She will drown us” and “Hope is fading.” We’d do well to heed Hakim’s words even as we lose ourselves in his sublime soundscape.

Sleek, polished, poised to be bumped in your headphones while you strut down the street on the first day of summer, Satellite Mode’s latest single “Kill the Choreography” goes down like a Pacifico and a lime. Jessica Carvo’s devil-may-care lead vocals croon singalong, standout lyrics like “Tear me off this leash, I wanna kill the choreography to feel the beat” and “Four, five, six, and seven, countin’ social proof, we are shameless”—one can almost see a vibrant retro talking head video before their eyes. Fleshed out with production tweaks like the oh-so-crisp layering of her expressive voice, swinging compressed drums, and the track’s shimmery synths and delays, the result is a festival-ready romp in the grass. By the time she’s yelling, “Dance the pressure OFF!” towards the end of the song, you’re ready to kill that choreo, too, and make up your own dance to this single’s slick beat. At the very least, it’ll definitely shake off the sheltering blues.

WHEW I love Flyte. They're a three-piece British band with my heart in their hands. Their debut record The Loved Ones felt like a secret I kept between me and the band, an Easter egg in an 8-bit video game I revisited again and again, continually charmed and surprised. It's a gorgeous, passionate, musically beautiful album, which rounds out with an acapella cover of "Archie, Marry Me" by Alvvays. I think about it all the time. It's desperate and haunting. It's one of those covers that hops in your bones. But enough about their LP (but for real, open your window and listen to it), I'm here to tell you about "Easy Tiger." 

"Easy Tiger" is a break-up track. It's a predator with a thorn in its paw. It's brought low, it's humble, it's sad. It's brilliant for all of that. Will Taylor has a giant vocal register, but he is so subdued on this track, the emotionalism is totally carried by the instrumentation. The music is anxious in "Easy Tiger," while the melody is steady, rhythmic and calm. It's the embodiment of trying to keep your cool while you see an ex at a party: on the surface, you're collected, inside you are an ocean. 

Give Flyte the love they deserve today. I reckon a new record will be dropping soon from them, so listen to The Loved Ones and their 2019 EP White Roses after you give "Easy Tiger" a spin.

Kllo’s "Insomnia" is a deep dive into a stream of consciousness, the meandering thoughts that arise in those late night moments right before falling asleep. We’ve all been there—unable to stop thinking of someone even as the clock ticks its way into tomorrow—and lead vocalist Chloe Kaul’s voice draws the picture with crystal clarity. The sound palette is spacey, leaving room for our thoughts to meander as well. A trip-hop beat and expansive bass contrast perfectly with Kaul’s breathy vocals, leading us into a chorus we can’t sit still to. This is the ideal song to lose yourself to in the dark hours.

Some songs are impossible to listen to without dancing and singing along, and Girlhood’s latest single release, “The Love I Need,” is at once one of them. If you don’t know the words, you soon will—just press play. The London-based duo exemplifies their synergy in this remarkably upbeat and genre-bending single, as Christian Pinchbeck and Tessa Cavanna join forces to create the perfect balance of rhythmic energy and inspiring melody. The track is a blissful mix of nostalgic and contemporary, relaxing and invigorating. There is an undeniable nod to gospel music in the choir of voices heard in the chorus, and the percussion builds before dropping off as Cavanna’s bright soulful voice drips like honey over the track. It should come as no surprise that Girlhood has cited Fugees, The Avalanches, and late-80s hip-hop as influences. Legend has it they write, record and produce their music from a narrowboat docked on a London canal. Beyond the music, embedded in the single’s cover art, done by intersex artist Rae Smith, is the message that the term “girlhood” encompasses all who identify with it, including, in the words of the artist, “the messy, complicated beauty of non-binary non-standardized human bodies in all their hairy complex shapes, sizes, forms and beings.” The colorful cover art and the buoyant sound together evoke an overwhelming sense of joy and solidarity, making this single from Girlhood a timely release.

In ecology, a habitat is the environment that’s the most compatible with an organism’s specific traits. In other words, it’s the exact place where the same things that make you unique allow you to thrive—just by existing as you are. This sense of finding a home you’re perfectly adapted for is hard to find as a person, and that universal yearning is exactly what "Habitat" by Momma captures. Sonically, "Habitat" could easily find a home nestled in a playlist next to works from an assortment of other artists. The tight vocal harmonies would sit comfortably next to tracks by Girlpool or Hand Habits. The harmonically patient guitar lines, floating between reverb and grunge, would pair well with Chastity Belt. The lyrics are masterfully balanced between whimsical and serious, similar to their label-mates, Current Joys. However, Momma’s talent is their strong skill to weave a multi-faceted narrative. The verses are poetic and confrontational; the chorus is tender and longing. Overall, the song paints a picture that will resonate with anyone feeling small, filled with fire, and slightly out of place everywhere they go. So go ahead, sink your teeth into it while you wait for Momma’s sophomore album, Two of Me, due June 5 via Danger Collective Records.

Parcels, the Aussie fivesome known for their disco-pop bangers, recently released Live Vol.1 as a follow up to their 2018 self-titled debut album. Among the classic studio recordings made in Hansa, Berlin is “Overnight," famously cowritten with Daft Punk and carrying the same funky vibes off of the iconic French duo’s Random Access Memories. If you’re familiar with Parcels, you know they have a knack for transporting their listeners back to the groovier days of the ’70s. I wasn’t alive yet, but tracks like “Overnight” feel like the rainbow that bridges the generational gap between us all. 

The recent turn of weather is a reminder of the New York City summer looming over our heads, and with quarantine, the uncertainty of what that summer looks like. Before self-isolation, we could rely on the routine of heavy heat like clockwork. Everyone knows some iteration of what I’m talking about; when Friday finally rolls around and the murderous sun has set, you hit play on a track like ”Overnight” and start to get ready. It’s a reminder of late nights spent out with friends, in your best outfits, dancing at halogen lit bars like Mood Ring or Friends and Lovers, skin sticky with the humidity, and the pulse of too many people packed into too small of a room. The bathroom line might be long but the possibility in the air is electric. Under the flashing lights, the silhouettes of your friends are bobbing up and down to the beat. One catches your eye and smiles, teeth glowing blue-white. Another is across the room, leaning over the bar with cash in hand. "Do you want anything?" they mouth over the heads of strangers. There is the laughter of shared inconvenience, of worries saved for another day. It may be hot and loud, but with the right music and the right people, there is a feeling of fullness; a promise of life, playing on repeat.

The third studio album from RAC titled BOY is a collection of songs that reflect the innocence of youth while exposing the angst and pain that comes with growing up. André Allen Anjos is the musician and producer behind RAC, which leaves room for a variety of vocalists to feature on his projects. The instant I saw Luna Shadows on the tracklist I knew the song “Boomerang” would become an instant favorite from the album. California alt-pop artist Luna Shadows is known for her ability to pair contrasting subjects and for finding a way to blend light and dark. “Boomerang” does exactly that by referencing all the ways in which we try to stay connected via social media— revealing how they ultimately leave us lonely. The playful way in which she sings, “Everyone who loves you is leaving,” almost has me believing this song is a happy one. The swinging melody and reverberated guitar insist that Juul pods, Instagram DMS and Boomerangs are cool, but the lyrics unveil the bigger picture that they lack any lasting substance. As the song comes to a close I find myself wanting to post a selfie and delete Instagram all at once.

If it wasn’t blatantly obvious from his previous work, the guitar mastermind and accomplished producer Blake Mills has a way with words, too. Mutable Set, Mills’ newest LP, is an intricately intimate album that sounds gentle but packs a lyrically gut-wrenching punch.

In “Window Facing A Window,” we are moved through an empty house, to a bare garden, then to a lacking bedroom, where Mills traces just where the vivid memories and past meanings from a relationship go. A slight line change in the chorus from “Are you upset?” to the latter “Are you all set?" shows the development—or rather, the deterioration—of a relationship, set to a sparingly played guitar and gentle piano sounds.

Mills’ humble voice makes his lyrics more raw and relatable, allowing him to capture a sound of longing that feels like waking up next to a warm body and knowing that it will be for the last time. All that is left is Mills, crafting poignant sounds in combination with desolate imagery that makes the song sorrowful, yet entirely comfortable. Almost like it was made in a bedroom, “with a bed that isn’t there anymore.”