Ghosts of the past mist through the walls of your bedroom and you find yourself lost in the memory of a lingering presence. Sometimes it feels like you can’t help it — when the memory calls out, it overtakes your senses and you’re left powerless to take the call. For those moments of memory and sensory reemergence, Puma Blue gifts to the world “Opiate,” ahead of his forthcoming debut album, In Praise of Shadows. The track is a sonic embodiment of one’s past coming back to haunt them, even after they were sure they had moved on. Affectional vocals, soul stirring ad libs and a nostalgic keyboard tune are just a few of the gems that truly bring this track to life. The song comes packaged with a minimally ornamented yet visually pleasing music video inspired by a photograph of one of the first internationally recognized Asian-American actresses, Anna May Wong. Puma Blue, also known as Jacob Allen, shared the image on his Instagram the day before the song’s release, stating that the track is “about sensory memory and dreams, and really the first time I’ve written about anxiety.” Allen ends the caption deconstructing the meaning of the song, following with, “Waking from old haunts, wondering how/why they resurfaced in your subconscious, when you were so sure you’d left them behind. But that can be part of realising that you still have some healing to do.”

In Praise of Shadows will be released on February 5, but until then we’ll be wrestling with our subconscious and using “Opiate” as the soundtrack. Photo by Netti Hurley.

“Bunkbed," the recent track by self-described, “sad boy indie rock band from Memphis, Tennessee,” Blvck Hippie showcases the powerful combination of bold lead guitar and impassioned vocals. Front person Josh Shaw opens the song by ripping a guitar lick, which weaves together seamlessly with the bass. Shaw’s lead line is an ever-present force throughout the song, matching the emotive energy of the vocal and adding depth. Shaw’s mastery of expression through his instrument is on full display at the end of the bridge, where he repeats the phrase, “god I hate being alone.” The solo that he plays underneath those lines perfectly matches the sentiment and magnifies the emotional potency for that cathartic section of the song.

In addition to his guitar chops, Shaw shows off his impressive lyrically skill, machinating on dualities and dichotomies for much of the song. In the second verse, Shaw poignantly juxtaposes vodka and perfume—indicators of adulthood—with a twin-sized bed and a teddy bear—representations of the innocence of childhood. During the coda he shines a spotlight on the two-sided nature of any relationship or breakup, asking, “are you better off than I was?” Even the title refers to an object with an inherent paradox; a bunkbed provides connection and isolation simultaneously.    

“Bunkbed” is the first release of several singles recorded in one 10 hour session at Sun Studio in Memphis.

Babeheaven’s single “Cassette Beat” will be featured on their debut album Home for Now, out November 6. It’s a blissed-out ramble through a field of trip-hop on a cloudy winter’s day. Nancy Andersen’s voice is an icy river, cool and steady, and I can’t help but imagine that somewhere Imogen Heap and Dido both look up and smile every time I press play on Babeheaven’s music. Even within Babeheaven’s sonic world, “Cassette Beat” has a particularly cinematic sensibility about it. Is the track setting the scene for a post-break-up montage with shots of West London? Or does it accompany a victorious breakthrough panoramic of the English countryside? The slow, bittersweet hit of each snare allows for either in equal measure. In the chorus, Andersen sings, “Behind the cloud there’s a blue sky.” But as for how long the clouds will stick around today—that depends what chapter of your story you’re on.

Slow Dress is the Boston-based duo of Katie Solomon and Bredon Jones. Together they craft contemplative indie-folk songs. Their latest single, “Butterfly,” promises a life saturated with feeling. It is a commitment to experience everything fully, no matter how uncomfortable. “I don’t want to follow their feet. I want bare toes even in the snow and the sleet,” Solomon sings, dedicating herself to the necessary discomfort that comes with open awareness. Better frostbitten than oblivious, she insists. In a statement accompanying the release of “Butterfly,” the band wrote, “...it’s about watching people, especially those with money and privilege, close their hearts and minds to what is happening in the world.” The song illuminates the possibilities that emerge when we turn our focus outward. The butterfly in question isn’t taking flight; its body is fixed to the kitchen wall, like a pressed flower in a frame. “Admire,” Solomon urges, and for a moment, you pause to do just that. “Butterfly” is available for purchase and streaming, with half of all proceeds going to National Bail Out, Black & Pink, and mutual aid funds.

It’s funny how mornings are the most subject to routine. When I wake up, one of the first things I do is take my dog outside. The backyard is always shaded in the mornings, so we play a few rounds of fetch. My pup bounds after his beloved orange ball with so much single-minded joy that it blesses the rest of the day. That’s how "It’s Infinite" by Lomelda feels. The first two-thirds or so of the song weave metaphor, quantifiers, and disqualifiers together in lyrics that draw longing out of your heart. For a little while, you look at joy like a foreign object. Something compelling that you don’t quite understand or half-remember from a dream. You wish you knew what it feels like, to feel like that. Acoustic guitar and keys gently tug your hand towards sunshine and adventure, but your feet stay stuck where they are. Around 2 minutes in, drums come in, your entire soul thaws, and you remember. Life is an art of creation. Joy without reservations feels like grass on your feet and sunshine on your back. How could you ever forget? It feels like chasing after a ball, only to return, and then experience the joy of a chase all over again. You’re not happy because you feel like you should be, but just because you are. It’s as innate as your name, and you know exactly how it feels. It’s infinite, and rediscovery is inevitable no matter how long it appears to go missing.