The shoegaze pop collab between Matt Messore and David Carey, have released their new self titled album, Cathedral Bells. The nostalgia washed aesthetic which plays throughout the work is best heard on the song "Time Capsule," the second piece off the album. Cathedral Bells sounds like a 2019 version of New Order meets Beach House, with hazy guitars, a dominant bass line and the synth melody line of contemporary indie rock. The song shimmers in and out of headphones, while Matt’s voice sounds something like a narrator for an indie movie dream sequence. "Time Capsule" perfectly captures all that is 2019 nostalgia, with a sprinkling of 80’s and 90’s aesthetics, and a strong penchant towards roll the window down bedroom pop.

Josh Gilligan is always cooking up some new and exciting project—whether it be collaborating on music with Liza Anne and Model Tenant, or writing and producing comedy sketches and short films. The Nashville-based singer-songwriter’s musical identity is as diverse and extensive as his multi-media creative vision. For this reason, it comes as no surprise that his latest, low-key love song, “Quiet Together” is just what you need this Valentine’s Day whether you’re celebrating with a partner, friends, family or on your own. The heart-filled ambience of “Quiet Together” melds elements of traditional jazz, synth-based sounds, and Caribbean-inspired instruments and harmonies. What results is a song about love that strikes the perfect balance between overly sentimental and lighthearted. Take the time today to find that quiet space and get some breathing room from the rest of the world. Have a listen to “Quiet Together.”

Few artists are on the come up like Izzy Olive, the indie singer-songwriter who performs as Half Gringa from Chicago, IL. She has slowly yet surely been gaining attention from indie artists and publications alike. The artist’s most recent release, Gruñona, was named the third best album of 2017 by the Chicago Magazine and in 2018, Half Gringa opened for Le Butcherettes and The Flaming Lips. "Teggsas" is a song that builds through the intensity of its instrumentation and lyric, coming to crescendo in a heartbreaking chorus of “How could you?” The opening lines of the tune, “I can see the end of everything/ You say that it used to be an open prairie/ When will you say other things that scare me,” are blunt and poetic, with melody floating above a simple yet piercing acoustic guitar line. Layers of guitar and synth stack on top of one another, culminating by the end of the song into a full ethereal orchestra. Half Gringa is a band that we have been watching for many years now, and "Teggsas" only further excites us for whatever is up next for this budding artist. Make sure to watch out for upcoming Half Gringa appearances in Chicago this spring.

Los Angeles singer-songwriter Jack Symes releases his debut album tomorrow but today we're giving you a sneak peak into the record. "City Fog" is steeped in folk, from Symes's distinct voice to its simple production. The title is a familiar concept to any Angeleno, but Symes's comparison of the city fog to disappearing memories is clever and endearing. Musically the song starts out with Symes’s voice accompanied by an acoustic guitar and then introduces us to Brittany Hanson's vocals, which color the song with harmonies and vocalizations. The horns add warmth to the sound and keeps us from thinking that this meant to be solely a "sad song." While the concept of memories fading and love dying are definitely melancholy in nature, we also get the idea that this is just part of life, and at times good for us. Sometimes we want to hold onto the memories, other times it's too painful when they're still so fresh in our heads. Symes seems to speak to both sides — not wanting to let go, but also knowing that when you do, moving on will be easier. Though the indie-folk scene is heavily saturated, with an entrance like this Jack Symes is sure to stand out. Take a listen to his debut album Songs For Mom out tomorrow!

On this Valentine's Day we can't help but bring you some songs about love — different than love songs. In "Untrain My Heart" Wyatt Waddell is looking to let go of some things, specifically the affection he has for an old lover. "I can't get over you baby, I'm not even at the age of 25. / The more you run through my brain / The more I think that it's not wiring right." The song starts off with this lament and Wyatt continues to voice his sweet and sentimental frustrations throughout. Growing up on the South Side of Chicago, it makes sense that there is such a strong sense of the past soul and R&B greats in Wyatt's sound. His rich voice is dynamic in nature, showing us its full range in a matter of seconds. This up-and-comer is a multi-instrumentalist who has been made a name for himself in his hometown and has been referred to as "Chicago's Boy Wonder" for his undeniable talent. With the resurrection of soul, we're adding Waddell's name to the list of artists to keep on our radar.

Hand Habits’ Meg Duffy has a lot of questions in their latest release can’t calm down. Duffy — a longtime member of Kevin Morby’s touring band — started releasing music under the moniker Hand Habits after moving from Upstate New York to Los Angeles. The folk-alternative sound they established in their first release Wildly Idle (Humble Before the Void) builds carefully upon itself. The song starts small with just Duffy’s gentle voice, rhythmic strumming and the steady beat of a snare drum. It builds with the first chorus as Elizabeth Powell of Land of Talk layers her voice deftly atop Duffy’s. It reaches a satisfying peak with a soaring guitar solo after the second chorus. Their voice gives a somnambulant quality to the song as they ask the pressing question, “what if I can’t calm down/ and I don’t have that in my bloodline?” can’t calm down is the second single from Hand Habits’ latest album, placeholder, which will be released on Saddle Creek on March 1.

Both earnest and cinematic, Adam Melchor's new single "3 Hours Ahead" is the second song to come from the blooming singer-songwriter. While now residing in sunny LA, Melchor is a New Jersey native, and though he has left the Garden State, there are still remnants of him there. Time and distance keeps him away from the ones he loves, but it's not a matter of out of mind, out of sight. Instead there is a longing for letting these people know that they're on his mind. The sound of his mother's laugh is still audible in his ears and the memories of a past life in Arizona have not been forgotten. There is a warm haziness in the musical landscape of the song. Melchor's vocals wax emotion while the backing vocals punctuate and echo the sweet sentiments. Though the time difference from the East Coast to the West Coast coast may seem like a mere three hours, many of us know just how much of a difference those few hours can make. We'll be looking to hear more from this precocious new artist!

With their latest single “Bed Bug,” HEAVY HEART  has taken a break from their signature hazy sound. Instead, they opt for a sharper fuller take on alt-rock with heavy dream-pop and shoegaze influence. The song is the first of three new tracks that were co-produced and mixed by Grammy Award-winning producer Gabe Wax (The War on Drugs, Fleet Foxes, Soccer Mommy). The step up in production value allows the London based alt-rock group’s skills to really shine through.

The jangly guitar mixes with well-placed synths creating a lush sound that fills in and around Anna Vincent’s soft almost lilting vocals. This lush and heavy sound just adds to the restless lethargy of the song as Vincent sings, “time after time it feels the same to me.” It begs to be listened to over and over as it creates its own world in just over four minutes, beckoning you to stay in bed with it just a little longer.

Photo Ops’ “July” basks in its own simplicity. From the simple chug of the drums to the unambiguous declarations of singer Terry Price, this dreamy new single from Photo Ops’ forthcoming 2019 album attempts to find sense in the most complicated matters. “Sometimes the only thing / The only thing to say / Is the most obvious,” sings Price, opting to offer comforting platitudes because they are universally understood. November 2016 saw massive change for many across the country, and Price found himself moving from his home of Nashville to Los Angeles, spurred on by the larger scale national changes. A resident of two of the American cities most steeped in music industry tradition, Price’s sound is one of timelessness, a fading photograph of an aging phonograph record. Price’s musicianship shines in the chorus, when his vocals soar, “I did you right / You just won’t know it for a while.” It all makes sense to him now, and that will have to do. He offers us his own comforting advice in the form of a song, says what it is he needs to say, and then fades out.

“Eggshell” is a look into the quiet pain of everyday life, cleverly assembled from parts found in the dustiest corners of the house. The drum loop might as well be leaking through the walls from a boombox in the next room, and anxieties once swept under the rug erupt left and right in the forms of various household chores. Singer Noah Weinman performs an earnest sort of verbal gymnastics through unexpected but charmingly effective rhymes to convey his constant state of malaise: “Nothing to do but keep texting my therapist / So many half-assed attempts to get over this.”

Los Angeles’s Runnner have dubbed themselves “Ableton folk” for the electronic production sounds of the Ableton audio software and the raw, heartfelt, stripped-down sincerity of acoustic confessionals. Weinman writes “Bandcamp songs for SoundCloud kids,” shouting his codas to the rafters with his indie rock friends, but secretly scribbling his angst down in garage solitude like the heroes of Internet bedroom hip-hop. The wide array of influences in Runnner’s music meld to structure a sound so endearingly original it has to be believed, while the lyrics steer clear of melodrama by portraying a familiar mundanity that permeates every second of every day. Even at the height of the song’s most cathartic moment, the melancholy is inescapable, as Weinman admits, “I hate the part of the song where the chorus hits / ‘Cause I don’t like sticking flags on my nervousness.”