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 summer after I graduated high school, I sat with bulky headphones on a hard metal stool at Waterloo Records in Austin, TX, completely spellbound, as I learned that music can literally make you feel like you’re on another planet. At the time, the newly released album Me∂ su∂ i eyrum vi∂ spilum endalaust was the first music I’d ever heard by Jónsi Birgisson, and his band Sigur Rós quickly became my favorite. To me, Birgisson’s music has always been about the sacred, inextricable relationship between filling and releasing. So when I saw that his first true solo release in a decade would be called “Exhale,” I smiled. The track begins with what is essentially a guided meditation: cavernous piano chords lead slowly to eight simple words: “Breathe in / breathe out / learn to / let go.” But the beautiful message of “Exhale” is that in moments of instability, you have to be able to forgive—at the very least, yourself; and perhaps, the universe. As the soundscape begins to shimmer and awaken post-meditation, Jónsi sings, “This is the way it is / It isn’t your fault / It isn’t your fault,” and maybe it’s just me, but right now that’s exactly what my anxious brain needs to hear. Around the halfway point, we begin to hear distant electronic chirps: the first signs of the track's brilliant co-producer, A. G. Cook, and a subtle amuse-bouche for the pounding, cathartic pop he provides for the song’s magnificent coda. The space created by the contemplative second verse (“Hold on / Inhale / Exhale / Exhale it from today”) is then filled with an ecstatic sun-shower of sound: anchored by A.G. Cook’s buoyant bass, Jónsi’s vocals swirl around themselves like a hive of butterflies, and eventually disappear. Then, filled with a fresh hope, you exhale.

Max Garcia Conover’s new single “Handsome Suit” is a stunning acoustic ballad that weaves sentiments of past and present into one harmonious and well-crafted track. Conover’s gravelly voice radiates feelings of warm nostalgia in a way that is as beautiful as it is bittersweet. “Handsome Suit” combines the sonic qualities of a tactile bedroom demo combined with the refinement and lyrical sophistication of an artist who has mastered his craft. Conover’s first lines, “Half-Puerto-Rican in a handsome suit / skinny little nothing in the buffalo news” sets the tone of the entire song, and prompts the singer’s authentic reminiscence on the childhood and family events that have led to his current multifaceted identity. Conover’s gruff vocals and sincere vibrato are sure to please anyone who enjoys the work of Donovan Woods, Father John Misty and Jackie Green, and nearly anyone else who is looking for a thoughtful Americana tune.

"Maria,” the new single from indie-pop band Similar Kind, successfully captures the enchanting yet endlessly frustrating emotional cocktail associated with deep infatuation. The band, originally formed in Norwalk, CT, released their debut EP Faces & Places last year. “Maria” is the first single to be released from their follow-up project. The song introduces itself with a few sustained synth chords and draws you in with an inviting palm-muted guitar lick. Singer Julia Breen’s hypnotic vocal first appears about 40 seconds in with the rhetorical question, “Maria, why can’t I breathe without ya?” and from that moment on the listener is fully enveloped into the track’s swirling world of desire. Billowing around the vocal is a dreamy instrumental haze that continues to build and morph throughout the song with flourishes from the keyboard, guitar and bass. "Maria" is grounded by a funky drum line that seems to effortlessly drive the music forward while leaving plenty of space for the other instruments to breathe. As the track progresses, the groove seeps into your body, and if you’re not careful you’ll find yourself dancing unabashedly around your bedroom before it ends.

Dan Croll’s latest drop Grand Plan is a quick six-track project, including the captivating song “Work." Subdued electronics and keys lead us into the British musician’s dreamy voice, which sings “Been a long day, been a long week / I can tell you’re tired from the way that you speak." The hi-fi collection of sounds accompanying his vocals is cool and calm, a perfect relaxer for the subject this track is addressing. Carefully crafted combinations of keys, strings and percussion seamlessly weave their way in and out of the soundscape as he sings, “Come and rest your head on the fine silk sheet." "Work" feels as silky as the sheet that he’s singing about, and the subtle complexities and changes throughout build a sense of calm optimism that will have us all asking, “Hey, do you have to go to work today?”

Ester’s “Not the Kind” is an unflinchingly honest song about seeing what’s right in front of you. “I’m not the kind that you’re thinking of…I’m not the kind that you’re dreaming of;” a series of clauses set the scene. Chicago band Ester’s lyrics are clear and concise. There are no double meanings to untangle or complex production to hide behind. They lay it all on the line. Heartbreak, rejection, conflicting notions of how and what to be in this world; Ester channels that emotion on Turn Around, their refreshingly introspective sophomore album. “You’re not the way to the mountaintop / Hate to say I’ve climbed enough...I’m not the kind that survives that stuff.” Insecurity can be empowering if it lets you move on. If you love Lucius and The Wild Reeds, you’ll probably like Ester too.