This week, Choctaw singer/songwriter, musician and producer Samantha Crain takes us on an intimate walkthrough of her newest EP, I Guess We Live Here Now. Follow along as she discusses the meaning of each track and her journey crafting them. Photo by Dylan Johnson.

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There is a sense that, as we age, we get more and more limited and trapped by our situation, by our responsibilities, by our station. In this song, I attempt to parallel the feelings in our youth of freedom and opportunity even in times of struggle alongside the feelings in our adulthood of weakness even in times of relative ease. In the exploration of these two positions, I seek to find ways of unlocking that feeling of captivity to find the power of continued agency in our hearts and minds. — Samantha Crain

"clockWise" is a striking single, mysterious both in its feel and its creator. There’s very little that's easy to find out about thomTide other than the unquestionable — as an artist he is channeling some deeply creative and original textures and songs. His three previous releases are all less than 100 seconds, offering only a taste of what his musical world could be. Across these releases, thomTide brings up a diverse cast of comparisons for me: hints of Moses Sumney’s longing and grandiosity; using his falsetto as an instrument in ways that channel 645AR; and an undeniable swagger that feels like that of Brittany Howard. “clockWise” is an earned next step, an evolution in sound that still keeps the mystery alive. A driving kick forces a dark guitar riff onward, as he delivers poetic thoughts on growing and time. Just like the song’s energy, there is no stopping life from moving forward. Yet, rather than fall victim to its unrelenting momentum, thomTide takes it in stride, recontextualizing it as a motivation and reminder to “love and fail while we may.” Around halfway through, the song expands outwards, those lead vocals reaching for something more. In the final thirty seconds, drums are traded for a chorus of voices, creating a hauntingly beautiful moment. This is a performance that proves thomTide is not messing around, the mysterious figure capable of so much incredible artistry in under two minutes. We'll certainly be tuned in for what's to come. thomTide's hand-painted sweater is by Ryan Sadler and Spencer Lee. Photo by Ahmed Owda.

Brooklyn-based EXNATIONS return with their newest post-quarantine single, “Twin Flame,” and with it, enter into the solidly dance-pop realm. Vocalist Sal shared that with their prior release, “Love in the Time of Quarantine,” they were working to capture reality; now, so far into the pandemic-ridden year, “Twin Flame” channels more of an escape, and with lush production and evocative lyrics that transport the listener on a mental vacation, they definitely hit their mark. Weaving in the same energetic elements that make standout Young the Giant and Walk the Moon tracks great, as well as just a touch of more electronic acts like Hot Chip (big props to drummer Taylor here for these impossible-not-to-bop-to grooves), “Twin Flame” warms the listener up with a brilliantly catchy bass line and kicks off running, the chorus hitting like a celebration daydream. While temperatures drop and the country settles in for an even more isolated holiday season, transportive tracks like “Twin Flame” will keep that warmth of hope alive in our chests. Like the band’s slogan goes, “It’s sad, but we’re still dancing”; and we are, thanks to a perfect EXNATIONS track for every stage of this wild and wacky year. Photo by Adele Sakey.

KALI’s debut single, “Back to the Start,” is a fearless and joyful ode to the pull, the power, the hold the right one can have on you, and the momentary bliss of a freefall in love. What begins with a somber instrumental and muted monologue quickly explodes into an upbeat guitar riff that primes the track for KALI’s sweet but strong vocals to come in. Each time we hear the refrain, “It hurts too bad to live in the past, but you keep pulling me back to the start,” the same upbeat guitar riff, along with a thin layer of lush strings, washes away all resistance, all reluctance, and we find ourselves, too, being pulled back in. The song’s music video, directed by Sophia Ziskin and Zealand Yancy, is a cinematic and captivating homage to the free spirit of youth — KALI skips and runs through fields and rides in the car with her friends, through tunnels and over the Golden Gate Bridge, smiling, laughing, head out the window, hair blowing in the wind. Once you’ve seen her smile, you can’t help but hear it in the song. KALI is an artist to watch if there ever was one. Photo by Sophia Ziskin.

All Things Blue was born in Los Angeles to the unburdened artistry of India Coombs, with help from her co-writer/producer, Jon Joseph. This year, they’ve released a kaleidoscope of alternative, post-genre singles in anticipation of their debut album, Get Bit. Though fearlessly awake, “Lully” is the perfect title for the psychedelic surrender that is their latest single, a deadpan ode to environmental catastrophe. Its opening lyrics don’t beat around any burning bushes. “Overgrow the apples, we’ll watch them turn to waste / Pack them full of chemicals, we love the taste.”

In a jazz-driven, groovy whisper, she continues to riddle truths about our potential agricultural future that few American artists have dared to touch. For a cynical generation that functions under distant shadows of those in power, a recurring choral sentiment like “It doesn’t matter anymore,” can be eerily inspiring, at least as a proclamation of urgent self-care. “Lully” asks its listeners to protect their inner peace as they continue to endeavor to subvert the blockaded systems in control of our agriculture.

“A Slow Return” is out ahead of Oakland-based There’s Talk’s third EP Great Falls, expected December 18; it’s a meditative, spellbinding audio journey through the psyche of singer/songwriter Olivia Lee, who pulls from her identity as a queer woman of Chinese heritage. You have to really listen to pick out individual lyrics, but spellbinding synths and lofty guitars create a sensory experience. Listening to “A Slow Return” feels like entering a fugue state, a velvet fog from which you may never want to return.

LA's Halo Kitsch presents a heartbreaking serenade about mixing up love and trauma with "Do You Feel Like a Sinner Yet?" Guilt, loss and PTSD are translated easily into the slow march of acoustic guitar, the rhythmic snapping and the quiet whistling. The song feels like a prayer for forgiveness delivered in a now-empty room that was once filled with hope, even if illuminated by gaslight. 24-year-old Katrina Kerns is not new to breakup songs or writing about being hurt by old lovers. What gives the new single a special place on her repertoire might be the feeling of a fresh wound that comes from the realization that the memories you thought you missed were just mutual harm, observed, first through pink, and now through grieving glasses. "Do You Feel Like a Sinner Yet?" is the fifth track from the singer-songwriter, who started sharing her truth this year and is only getting started.

I love this one, it’s the perfect bedroom pop-ish type of song. Aidan is one of the most passionate artists I’ve spoken to and this is def a hit! — Claire Rosinkranz

Follow Claire Rosinkranz on Instagram so you can stay up to date on her latest releases. And make sure you check out her music video for the newer version of "Backyard Boy" with Jeremy Zucker.

German singer-songwriter Felix Räuber exposes love’s intrusive side in his latest single, “Colors.” Minimalist, droning and orchestral, the track builds an echo chamber for pining verses and a chorus that gives full authority to the speaker’s love interest. “You even control the colors in my head,” he sighs in disdain, “You even control the choirs in my head.” Räuber surrenders his own sense of presence for a distant light projection. The genius here lies in the song’s tonality — ironically gray and chromatically chilled. Overall, it is a moment of silence for romance turned sour, interrupted by noise in the spirit of unrequited love’s persistent voice. Photo by Madlen Krippendorf.