Runnner, the sometimes-solo-sometimes-collaborative project of Noah Weinman, is back with his third release of 2020. “New Sublet” has the band’s characteristic lo-fi slacker-folk vibe, but this time it’s met with strumming reminiscent of early 2000s Coldplay, meets the folk sensibilities of Caamp, with the croon of solemn horns. Melancholy and candid, the song describes an experience all too familiar to many 20-somethings: something in your life ends, whether it’s a relationship or a job, and it sparks a desire to browse new apartments in faraway cities—aching for the chance to begin again. But what happens when running away starts to become a habit? Does a fresh start ever truly fix what is in need of repair? Throughout the track, Weinman tries to talk himself out of craving a dive into the unfamiliar. Over a soft banjo melody, Weinman sings, “you’re just getting addicted to starting all over again.” After all, “New Sublet” reminds us that no matter where you go, you take yourself with you.

"Bloom" by Jessy Rose is a satisfying and cinematic track full of saucy chromaticism. Rose’s voice rests tantalizingly on leading tones, building tension and release that keeps you on the edge of your seat. The verses show off the song's jazzy piano ballad base which delivers goosebumps and sounds reminiscent of John Legend. The chorus is augmented by a blend of synthetic effects and syncopated percussion that gets increasingly dense as the song progresses. Meanwhile, Rose’s voice slides effortlessly in falsetto and swoops back down to cradle in the middle of the piano line. By the time you reach the end of the 2:50 minute track, you feel like you’ve sat through an entire feature film. Suddenly, you notice that you haven’t had a single thought about anything else for almost 3 minutes. Bloom’s dense chromatic universe—simultaneously subverting expectation and resolving with a sense of inevitability—absorbed you completely. Now released, you feel ready to emerge from the dark theater—blinking into the sunlight and feeling slightly changed.

A delicate elegy, "Gaslight" is a stunning new offering from Ntu. It opens with a stutter, making us check that our headphones are working, but yes, they are, it’s just Ntu ushering us into his world of uncertainty. Each layer of ambient sounds—metallic whooshes and creaking floors—is laid down with the precision of a painter adding soft strokes to an intricate canvas. We are in the haunted house of Ntu and his lover, each daring the other to “gaslight me, then leave." It’s a world of pleasure and pain. The electronic kick drum is the slow beating heart of the lovers who want to make something work even while enjoying the dysfunction: “my love can hold you down / it’s like a million birds / around your neck, dead / weight, don’t leave me.” Ntu’s voice melts into the soundscape, a hushed whisper-song coming at us in all directions, then singing in tandem with the other vocalist with simple but luscious harmonies. We are subsumed, and we love it.

London-based artist Zilo’s latest track sings as a diary page that has been left open on purpose. “Tell Her” is an open-letter plea to a lover to let go of an ex, while also offering the reflection that she should just trust her partner and let it go. Jealousy is a tricky emotion and Zilo’s exploration of this conflicting feeling is heightened by the sultry R&B bass grooves and staggered percussion leading us through her thoughts. Produced by Bowtye, the smallest detail of delicate chimes in the background sound eerily similar to a text tone and give the listener a tinge of anxiety similar to what you might feel if you were worried about a partner and someone they’re talking to. A slowed edit of the song was released alongside the original, which gives Zilo a more androgynous tone that seems exhausted by the stress of the unknown. “Tell Her” is the third single in a string of soulful releases from Zilo this year.

Portland-based band M A N E's first single “|| Catamaran ||" is a dazzling, easy-listen. Its bedroom pop and soft sound is soothing to the ears, making you instantly feel at ease—mentally transporting you to the sea where you sail calming waters on a catamaran. The lyrics create a lovely juxtaposition, where expression of anxiety and inner battle exists. At a time when many are experiencing pain and unease, this track is there to make us feel a little less alone with our feelings. “When there’s a war in your chest, anxious and vexed, it’s all such a mess.” M A N E, who perfectly embodies HOMESHAKE and King Krule, successfully builds a sound of honesty when the world needs it most.

HAWA’s dreamy track “IPHONE” opens with a nuanced piano line and simple guitar accompaniment—it sounds soothing, smooth, and calm. But when you pay attention to the lyrics, they tell another story.  “I just wanna love someone / I don’t wanna fight no more / You say you sick of all the lies / I don’t know why I keep lying,” she sings earnestly. At its most emotional points, “IPHONE” is a song about the push and pull of relationships, and both craving and fearing intimacy. The person she longs to be intimate with, however, does not seem to fully reciprocate her feelings. 

“I just wanna know if you’ll be all mine / I can take it slow, I don’t really mind” HAWA pleads to her lover, which sends the message that she would do anything for their approval. As she receives a phone call at the end of the song, it’s not hard to imagine that it is her lover on the other line, ready to fight. “Fuck,” HAWA mutters as her phone starts to ring. Instead of the actual phone call, we hear these lines repeated like a chant: “Leave me alone / Leave me alone, babe / Leave me alone” and “Is it alright? Is it alright? / You know I want peace and safety in my home.” It seems that no matter what she says or does, the person she’s in love with will never be satisfied. Listen to “IPHONE” wherever you stream.

When your admiration for someone is strong enough, there are moments when you can’t help but step back in awe that you actually know them. Nashville’s Carmen Canedo explores that feeling with an acoustic guitar and a folksy chorus of angels on “How Can I Know You.” Like the musical setup, the lyrical scenes are powerful in their tender simplicity. With the right company, everyday activities like watching the clouds or sipping hot tea become vessels of tender significance. Your perception of temperature can even shift; suddenly, sitting on the icy ground is a small price to pay to be with this special person. In fact, as Canedo says in the chorus, you may even “welcome the chill.” What strikes me is that this is not exclusively a description of romantic love. Although you could feel this way about a partner, you could also feel it about your mother, or your friend, or your baby nephew. It’s a special strand of love found only in genuine camaraderie, and the feeling of incredulity that comes with it is totally understandable. We are taught from a young age that magic isn’t supposed to exist.