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.

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.

Tomberlin's "Floor" is a song meant for evening walks, hovering on the cusp of light and dark. It reminds me of a street about half a mile from my duplex. The two lanes are divided by a graciously wide median, which is lined by almost naturally spaced oak trees. The only giveaway of artifice is the vintage style street lamps — one between every two trees, exactly. Straight down the middle of the median, sheltered by the oaks, is a brick path. Once upon a time it was meticulously laid with clean red bricks. Now it’s settled in some places along with the dirt, and in others it’s risen up as the tree roots keep growing underneath. The path isn’t even anymore, and you can tell it hasn’t been for a while. You can still see its sophisticated herringbone pattern though, doubtless voted on by some homeowners' association at some point. Around dusk the street lamps start glowing yellow, washing the path in a soft golden glow. It looks like something out of a fairytale, complete with houses that could be castles keeping watch on either side. It’s the street my feet always wander to when it’s late and I can’t sleep because my mind is racing too fast to stand still. It’s not because it’s well lit, or quiet, or close, or safe-feeling. It’s because I like to walk by the houses and make up stories about the people living inside. I like to wonder what it feels like to take up so much space and how they could possibly fill it all up. I like to think about what I want space for, and who I want space for, and how I’ll make sure there’s always enough to hold them. By the time I get home, I’ve finally found my edges again. I know where I begin, and where I end, and I have a dedicated space to hold whatever is worth holding. That’s exactly the feeling Tomberlin captures in "Floor" — something whimsical and as sad as it is optimistic. Like something out of a fairytale. Photo by Felix Walworth.

Remember being part of a world where rushing from place to place was a common occurrence? NYC duo Fake Dad does. Backed by the guidance of a pulsating drum machine and fueled by the eternal feeling of getting lost in a daydream, "Breakfast In New York" is a love letter to their hometown, and the beauty inspired by the age-old hustle and bustle that is deeply woven into New York's culture.

Fake Dad's ode to the simple pleasure of getting grab-and-go breakfast hits differently in our current era, ruled by a pandemic and an unwavering sense of universal paranoia. "Breakfast In New York" is just as much a loving nudge to ourselves, a reminder to slow down and take stock of those constants we're now inevitably wistfully wishing we never took for granted, especially the often bygone practice of allowing our thoughts to drift into the mundane. Vocalist Andrea de Varona's vocal refrain reminds listeners to remember to take care of ourselves, by remembering to indulge in the pleasure guaranteed to never stop giving: our beloved breakfast. Nothing can bring us back to a dear sense of security and wonder like a bacon, egg and cheese bagel, illustrating what Fake Dad gently reminds us in their Facebook bio: Everything is going to be okay. Photo by Sarah Schecker.