On the edge of uncertainty, propped by a slew of disappointment, Chastity Belt’s Annie Truscott and Jay Som’s Melina Duterte cling to one another in their latest musical collaboration as Routine. After the wracking letdown of cancelling tour during the rise of the COVID-19 pandemic, the duo spent a month of writing and recording in Joshua Tree—leading to their debut EP, And Other Things. Infused with this desert essence and leeway into catharsis, “Numb Enough” is one of five sonic vignettes offered on the EP. The misty vocals traipse along shaded strings of guitar, in a crestfallen deliverance of one’s frustration toward a cold and detached partner. Despite the despondency, there is an element of self-assurance in the lyrics: “I’m not here to entertain you / I’m not your play doll.” The track further rises out into a sturdy fizz of guitar, clearing away into daybreak. It is a signal of renewal, culled from disappointment, that can inspire all to find release in turbulent times. Photo by Eleanor Petry.

Leading in with immediately captivating vocals and an energetic drop-in of electric guitar, girlhouse documents the realization of a relationship conflict during what many call the most wonderful time of the year. This track explores the concept of dressing things up and becoming convinced that they can work when in reality we are so capable of creating mirages of beautiful love. Lauren Luiz conveys this sentiment through lyrics like “All of our lies are covered in tinsel now.” “Ugly xmas sweater party” is the type of song that delivers warmth and goodness through its sound, even when the message is acute and empathetic to reconciling with the recognition that being with someone was not, in full, what they seemed. Photo by Anna Lee.

Rachel Bochner’s latest single, “Pick Me Up,” details how toxic love can be when we use its addictive powers to fill a glaring void in our own lives, to distract us from our loneliness. Bochner is NYC-based and you can hear the city’s influence in her sound; the cyclical and mesmerizing electric riff and steady drums frame its view like a yellowing Polaroid frame—the driving bass like the hum of taxis and traffic. Whether it's in NYC or elsewhere, most of us have endured the lyrical story that Bochner is narrating. Imagine yourself wandering the city on an early winter evening; it’s already dark by the time you walk alone to the subway, passing and peering into warm, golden windows where you see friends having dinner and two lovers on a date. You look down at your phone—no messages—and hasten your speed to dissolve once again into the darkness, obscured only by neon “open” signs on bodegas' doors and red traffic lights reflecting in the puddles on the ground. It’s here that loneliness bites even harder than the cold air, as the world seemingly spins magnificently around us for everyone else yet we wander home with no plans, no purpose. The only thing that shatters this sinking melancholy: your phone lights up and it’s the person who’s made a mosaic of your heart, despite you denying with each new crack in the glass that you’ll never let them do it again. The pull of better judgement loses out to having company for the sake of it—for the promise of whatever small adventure awaits with them as opposed to your empty apartment, and you give in (“I know it isn’t good for me / But whеn I’m down / And need a pick me up / Can you pick me up”). “Pick Me Up” is the tonic for this ennui, like a note from a friend telling us that we can do better, and that when you’re in a sparkling, skyscraped city, loneliness is often just a mirage. Bochner’s full EP, 2AM, is out in January.

I Know I Know said, “You know what 2020 needs? A good ol’ 2014-style breakup banger,” and then delivered exactly that with their latest single, “Talk." It’s got an infectious syncopated pulse that tugs your body out to the dance floor. True, that dance floor is your room with a Bluetooth speaker hopping across your desk, but it doesn’t matter. Coiled tight, under stress, it was only a matter of time until you exploded somehow. The intense kick drum shakes apart any thoughts, leaving only feelings in their place—and feelings, you can deal with. Feelings, you can drown. They don’t stand a chance against the electronic effects and noise. Melting into movement for yourself and absolutely no one else feels cathartic, in a rabidly selfish way. The moment is yours, and you refuse to share it. You are wrapped in yourself completely, and it feels good. Once you lose your breath, there’s just enough space cleared in your brain to think about someone else. You consider yourself in context, exploring your actions from multiple perspectives. Yours. Theirs. Not all the angles are pretty, but they’re not all ugly either. It might be too little too late, but you finally got there. That should count for something, you think, even if it doesn’t. "Talk" ends with an unspoken question dangling off the edge of the track. It’s an eternal question, as terrifying as judgement day: “If I call you, will you answer?”

Em Beihold dances on the line between wrong and right in her new dark-pop single, “Painful Truth.” Her vocal dexterity bounces between wispy falsetto and full voice, while the production around her alternates from a booming bass line to minimalistic accompaniment. All at once, listeners can feel the depth of addiction paired with contrasting overtones of lust and desire — the feeling of “need” that transcends all consequences. Em Beihold frequently showcases her talents on TikTok, with breathtaking acoustic cover songs. The thoughtful production quality of “Painful Truth” speaks to Beihold’s artistic integrity. Her voice resonates in this song with the same honesty of a live performance or social media cover video, which is not an easy task for most recording artists. Be sure to follow Em Beihold on TikTok, and remain on the lookout for future releases. She is an artist on the rise and can be compared to a young Halsey. Her songwriting is mature beyond her years.

Canadian-born singer Love Mansuy's “Saturday” ushers you in with a laugh for an easy tune that alleviates some pressure, giving you permission to unwind. This gem from side B of his new EP, (món-swee), features a spacey guitar riff in tandem with a melodic bassline for a sound more indie rock-leaning than his previous R&B releases. While Mansuy is New Jersey-bred, “Saturday" calls to mind a weekend afternoon on the deck at my parents’ old house in Virginia, a sweet whiskey lemonade, fresh-cut watermelon and a few rounds of Durak with childhood friends. There’s something intimate about the nature of Mansuy’s carefree tone that's “bringing back a feeling I can taste,” evoking nostalgia for things that haven’t even happened. While parts of life may be “a ticking time bomb,” he invites you to take a seat with your feet hanging out the back of a truck and exist in the moment, even if that moment is simply enjoying "fries and a shake.” Photo by Sam Balaban.