"These Kids We Knew," the latest single from ROSTAM, addresses climate change with an assertive, but hopeful hand. Lushly produced simple strums are a warm background for the contrastingly harrowing subject matter. Written while Rostam was recovering from Covid-19 last March, the song chronicles Gen-Z putting an older generation on metaphorical trial in "sidewalk courts" for the state in which they've left the Earth's climate. We see the lasting effects already with what's going on in Texas as we speak, unprepared for the temperatures they are now withstanding. It's not a far-off future that Rostam conceptualizes in this track, so with young activists like Greta Thunberg and Leah Thomas as key leaders in the climate revolution, change may still be on the horizon. Rostam's hopeful outlook might inspire that generation to believe that it's not too late to hold these harbingers of destruction accountable for their part in causing this crisis. You'd just have to wait for them to get back from Cancún first. Photo by Olivia Bee. 

"Dominique" by Ela Minus is a four-minute space opera of a song that almost succeeds in not caring about anything. I'm glad this is so, for if it did, it wouldn't have that human touch Ela Minus so subtly inserts into the ping-ponging rhythm to assure a weary listener they won't be beamed up into space after listening to this song one too many times. It's the ad-libs, it's the way the song breathes without vocals, it's the way the vocals barely register.

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It's 3:03 a.m., and I'm thinking about how Ryan Gosling's character in The Place Beyond The Pines, Luke Glanton, was born on October 31, 1966. Jesus. I wonder if I could fly, would I fly far enough to reach outer space and taste exploration on my lips? Or would I barely make it to the windows on the 18th floor of my high-rise? Would I even make it off the ground with all this heaviness inside my soul? I wonder what would happen if I someone from another planet – an alien – followed me on Twitter or Instagram, and I couldn't tell anybody about it. I wonder if they asked me what music was, would they like the song I played them, the Ela Minus song "Dominique"? I imagine they would. Ela Minus may make music for humans, but it's safe to say she could do just fine for herself making music for aliens, too, should they ever have a hankering for manmade music. Stay weird and beautiful. Photo by Juan Ortiz-Arenas.

A repetitive, stuttery guitar plays two notes over a disjointed bassy kick and floor drum groove. Voices sing ghostly oooo sounds, fading in and out of the foreground. Christinna O’s "Braided" isn’t trying to fill the room with a million instruments — she’s doing it with energy. The minimalist repetition is meditative, draws us into a dream-like state. "Braided to the back of my head, now, baby," she says, alternating seamlessly between speech and song. Then, out of nowhere the room empties and it’s just Christinna the poet laying out truths in such perfect precision. Only the oooos are left, as she intones, “Come on now, let’s not act like this skin ain’t my skin, like it don’t hold the whole sun inside its mouth.” We, too, are consumed by the truth and beauty of this song and poem, braided together as one. Photo by Kenya Naomi.

"Juice," from PYNKIE's latest album #37, is an oasis for the lost hearts scared of falling too deep. Not only can NJ-based Lindsey Radice write a lo-fi dance ballad like very few, she can write, perform and co-produce an entire album of them and make it look easy. "Juice," which appears about halfway through the album, reflects upon a troubled relationship with dependency issues over a comforting lo-fi beat. While Radice sings, "Make me go home / Once in a while / Don’t let me stay all night / I don’t wanna fight," the song will have you feeling safe — maybe a perfect analogy to what keeps you coming back and back again to someone who makes you feel scared. That and the fact that the rest of life can be much more scary. PYNKIE's sophomore album #37 is out now, and it's full of sweet testaments of love and figuring the world out. Photo by Kelli McGuire.

“Terminal Daze” is a gleaming indie rock track made for the beginning of a coming-of-age film, featuring unbridled youth and charisma. It’s the catapult into summer on the last day of school — a feeling ready to chase away inertia. The Copenhagen-based quartet Kindsight says it’s “as unrelenting as a big train — steady as it goes.” And it’s certainly a train you would want to catch: an enticing escape from responsibility, further persuaded by the guitar and commanding drums. The bright, silvery vocals whisk us away in high lilts and phrases, and all care is gone in the world, at least for a small moment. Photo by Line Hvid.

The world isn’t a pool. What we know of ourselves isn’t consistently reflected back at us. For folk artist Raye Zaragoza, an Indigenous woman of color raised in a New York City studio apartment, feeling seen in a white-washed landscape is often insurmountable. “I have felt like my mixed-race, intersectional identity is somehow letting everyone down,” she says of her experience, “I have felt that I can’t belong to any community because I am not enough of any one to belong.” So instead, Zaragoza sets out to be her own mirror. She grounds herself in her roots with strength and ease on her latest record, Woman In Color, and reclaims her sense of self with her own anthem, “Rebel Soul.” The song begins delicately, serene guitars and gentle drums guiding each other. As it builds, the entire song crescendos together and is met with uplifting strings and glints of piano, swirling around like wind brushing against your face. The music complements the message in a gorgeous pairing, all seeming to symbolize Zaragoza’s path to self-triumph. Her embrace of identity is entrenched in the song’s righteous chorus as she sings, “When the only thing you're left with are your torn and tattered clothes / And you find yourself a-wandering down a dark and lonely road / When you’ve got a feeling in your heart that no one seems to know / Feeling like a complete unknown / I’m a rebel soul.” It wasn’t until Zaragoza found herself on this very road that she realized she can leave behind her inhibitions and step fully into her power, as a rare musical talent and unique rebel soul. Photo by Cultivate Consulting.

Virginia Beach songwriter Khi Infinite breaks new ground with his single “LUCY,” a tune as addictive as the push-pull love that has him hooked. Though he knows he and “LUCY" have their problems, Infinite dives headfirst into the sea of red flags with no tether to the truth, naïve, hopeful and “too hard headed.” A faint, rosy guitar riff, breezy ad-libs and laid-back storytelling almost make an otherwise draining back-and-forth seem easy. While my hometown of Virginia Beach has been a longstanding hub for innovators in hip hop and R&B, Infinite’s eccentric approach to bedroom pop plucks the smoothest parts of each genre to craft something more breezy and clean, down to a catchy hook spiked with carefree joy. His upcoming record TAKE WHAT YOU NEED is due out in November, and until then, 50% of proceeds for “LUCY” will be donated to local homeless shelters in the 757 area.