With the namesake of a tarot card that represents insight, honestly and simple solutions, Daughter of Swords is the new and aptly named solo project of Alexandra Sauser-Monnig. One of the golden, otherworldly voices of folk-trio Mountain Man, Sauser-Monnig has long possessed a keen ability for creating rich, poetic narratives that root themselves in the beauty of everyday experiences. Her first release under the new moniker, "Gem" is a precious summer-soaked keepsake, a treasure found amongst sweet green grasses. Produced in tandem with Nick Sanborn of Sylvan Esso, the track is playfully composed and quietly danceable. A gently puttering drum track and a bright, jangling guitar sway and shimmy as Sauser-Monnig dreams up the kind of beaming, wondrous world that falling in love gives us a window into. A meditation on the peace and vibrancy of loves both old and new, "Gem" is the setting of an intention and a declaration of optimism, a finger held up to the wind. We’re anxiously awaiting the rumored summer release of the full-length Daughter of Swords record, soon headed toward a golden hour near you.

“We were strangers for all of those years / now we’re strangers of a different kind my dear” croons singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist A.O. Gerber on her new single, "Strangers." Though the love that Gerber sings of turns out to be star crossed, the tune itself feels more cosmically aligned. Layered vocals that waft in harmony above sparkling, roomy instrumentation make this a daydreamy, easy listen and though the tune’s laid back composition easily lends itself into the canon of Gerber’s Los Angeles locale, "Strangers" does much more than groove. Gerber’s lyricism prods at the ache of distance and heartbreak, as she tries to untangle the questions that she’s found herself wrapped up in. Unwilling to be defeated by the uncertainty, Gerber remains to the chase and challenge of love, singing “here’s to making the same mistakes again / and again / and again,” as guitars warble over a warm, humming soundscape. A.O. Gerber is hard at work on her upcoming record co-produced by herself and Madeline Kenney and we're looking forward to more of her vibe-y folk rock.

Alycia Lang is well-known throughout the Bay Area music scene due to the several bands she’s been a part of and her multi-instrumental talent. Now, she’s making a name for herself as a solo artist—recognized for her unique blend of indie, folk and jazz. Lang’s latest single, "Projector" is a classic example of her adaptable style. Throughout the song, Lang captures listeners with her vocals which mingle delicate notes with dramatic power. The lyrics themselves add to this melodic energy—the story she tells is one of letting go of the labels that others may place on you. That slow but fierce energy builds and presents a statement, a message. "Projector" is just a taste of what’s to come on Lang's much-anticipated EP, MakeShift. The EP was inspired by her personal battles and particularly, her family’s encounter with the wildfires that left many residents of California on constant edge. Look out for MakeShift coming in late Spring.

Charlie Cunningham has created yet another spell-binding track with his latest single “Sink In.” The British singer-songwriter has combined elements of Spanish-style guitar playing and smoky synths with his emotive, hypnotic voice, creating a simple yet captivating piece of music. As Cunningham sings about life and the state of the world being “divided”, the acoustic melody submerges you into a sonic cloud full of stripped down and sedated instrumentation. Luckily, he doesn't leave you in this sunken place for long. As the synths take a lighter, ethereal turn, a glimmer of hope sparks even though “the tears in your eyes are justified.”

A tune about the open road and a yearning heart, "Montana," the latest release from Brooklyn based singer-songwriter Eliza Elliott, is a distillation of equal parts sunshine and heartbreak. A tumbling, rhythmic guitar keeps time while Elliott measures the distance between herself and an unfinished love with the states that lie between them. Soulful, grounded and sweet, Elliott has the kind of voice that you can’t say no to. Her lyricism is narrative and intuitive as she lays her heart on the line with searing honesty. She examines the confusion and duality of unrequited love, confessing “How I wish you didn’t move to move to Colorado / no wait I wish I didn’t keep you in my phone.” This tangible uncertainty doesn’t come across as a weight, but rather as a reminder of the importance of perspective as Elliott finds a sense of lightness and joy in the face of an undetermined future.

LOS LEO is an Australian pop artist with a love of bands like U2 and Coldplay. Drawing inspiration from these bands' sounds, his work feels novel and bold, sounding vaguely familiar but clearly standing out from contemporary pop.

His recent release "False Start" is a fresh new pop track with an energetic outset and a malleable motif. The singer from Adelaide takes a quicker approach from the start of this tune than past tracks, which pays off in distinguishing the emotion behind the subject matter. Singing, "It wasn't a break up / We false started / We were too young for true love/ Way too guarded," LOS LEO cooly introduces the notion of a love that began too soon for its own good. With dreamy and layered vocals challenging the resonant instrumental with euphonic combinations, this song makes for an energizing and inspiring listen.

Luego’s “Elephant Ride” feels elegiac, like a farewell to a darkened epoch on which an orange sun has just set. Dominated by raw and eloquent instrumentals, the lyrics feel like a whisper of a truth long forgotten. The musical apportionment that understates the lyrics is what lends them their power. Emotional and present horns mingle with evanescent strings. They play out wistfully together with steady vocal chants that sound almost like nostalgic, bittersweet laughter. “Elephant Ride” rides itself out calmly like a distant dirge fading across a desert.

Richmond’s Minor Poet is back with the saccharine sounds of “Tropic of Cancer,” the first single from his forthcoming album, The Good News, due out in May. With apparent influences as wide and varied as the jangle-pop of the ‘60s, the New York indie rock of the early 2000s and whatever Dexys Midnight Runners were, singer Andrew Carter tackles depression with infectious energy. “It’s like a wave again / A familiar kind of sadness,” he begins, the cheer in his voice belying the darker implications. But as the song progresses and the doubts continue to take their toll, there’s a tiredness hidden in his voice, like a portrait subject desperately trying to hold a smile to keep up appearances. “Don’t worry baby, I think I’ll be fine / Start to believe if I say it enough times,” he sings, but of course it’s never clear if even he believes himself. Carter is playfully self-aware, poking fun at his own reiterative structure in the next line, “Don’t worry baby, I think I’ll be fine / Over and over, repeating the same lines.” One might think that an array of whimsical instruments and carefree guitar solos could heal even the deepest of scars, but they can only cover them up—“Deceptively simple.” (Photo credit: Joey Wharton)

Not many bands have the guts, or perhaps the healthy disregard for convention, to spend three and a half minutes of a six-minute song on a wordless build. “Deterritory,” the opening track from Young Jesus’ newest album, The Whole Thing Is Just Here, measures in the bottom half of song lengths on the album in the face of tracks like the 20 minute closer, “Gulf,” but serves as the album’s bold opening statement. Distorted chords ringing out in sustain leave room for all of the twisting paths on which the band will embark. Nestled comfortably in the middle of the track as its emotional apex are singer John Rossiter’s howls, the kind that might soundtrack a movie’s protagonist running to meet their fate, or sprinting to escape it. Finally, with all of the grit and syncopation of Hop Along’s Frances Quinlan, singer John Rossiter shouts the song’s mission statement, “It’s not / Enough / To hate / The world / We live / Within.” The line, repeated in a seamless loop and perfect disyllabic symmetry, illustrates the endless cycle of hatred begetting itself—how inaction is powerless against its reckless inertia.

M for Empathy, the new record from Lomelda, is a collage of thoughts and “things said or should of said.” With all tracks running under three minutes and lyrical narratives that feel more like tender voicemails than rambling love letters, Lomelda finds clarity of thought as she carefully pieces through the realities of her relationships to herself, others, and the world that is laid out around her. The second track on the record "Bust" is a ninety second, two-sentence affair that unfolds with an incredible amount of nuance and care, finding a surprising sense of expansiveness. While a flourish of warm, muted guitars and a sweetly rambling piano shift like shadows, a contemplative voice meets us at the halfway mark—trying to recall a list of confessions that seem to have escaped them and consider how their words might be received. This investigation of perception is the thread that weaves itself through "Bust" and into the rest of the record. Lomelda continually seeks a better understanding of the ways in which we are held either close or at a distance by our ability to empathize and see things from someone else’s perspective.