With “Call You Back,” Barcelona post-punk trio MOURN have crafted an anthem for me and every millennial or Gen Z-er whose fingers shake when we pick up the phone. While short, “Call You Back” is anything but basic; the track is packed with glimmering pop energy balanced with grungy guitar riffs and assertive vocals. Bubbly and bright, the tune offers some catharsis to the all-too-familiar dread of a dial tone, the anxiety of awkward silences and bad angles on video. “I’d rather die,” they shout, and despite the way Zooms have become my norm, I still concur. It’s hard to believe that the song was penned months before the pandemic, but its accompanying split screen cell phone-shot music video is all the more apt as a reflection on the ways that getting to see faces and hear voices has been a saving grace for many of us, the only way to feel connected. And I get it, I really do, even if it’s just my weekly hopping on Discord to play Among Us with some high school friends. But if you FaceTime me unprompted, just know I still won’t answer, no matter how much you think I love you. Photo by Cristian Colomer Cavallari.

MOURN's new album, Self Worth, was released via Captured Tracks on October 30. Listen on Bandcamp or wherever you stream.

Fresh out of the UK, where a burgeoning bedroom pop scene continues its spread across the pond via Soundcloud, Bandcamp and Spotify playlists, now comes Leeds-based artist John Gooding, a.k.a. JWestern. His most recent single, “Regret It All,” is a catchy, soulful track so smooth and mellow it will have you floating — headphones on and eyes closed for full effect. “Regret It All” is one out of five tracks that make up his promising EP debut, Just People. Its seventeen-minute runtime is a rich production packed with multi-layered sounds, some satisfying hooks stacked against a cool and hazy soundscape. Like much of the EP, “Regret It All” cleverly blurs the lines between its neo soul grooves and dream pop textures. The song begins with Gooding’s blurry, almost muffled vocals singing the main hook, "Don’t make me regret it all," a line that repeats itself throughout, essentially building out the song from that one verse. His vocals then melt away into the soundscape, fading in and out of the mix, along with his bright melodic guitar licks that come in climactically towards the end of the track, tying it all together. “Regret It All” is a guaranteed pleaser for those of us who’ve been vibing for the past years to Rex Orange County, Yellow Days and King Krule — or more recently, Arlo Parks among others. Photo by Aubrey Simpson.

There’s a feeling about the approach of summer that makes the season so liberating. It’s the indulgence in the sun's rays on a hot day while worries pass you by. Belgian artist Abrahamblue embodies this feeling on “You,” a selection from the artist's debut EP, Tracks I Made Last Summer. The track mixes elements of jazz, neo soul, and hip-hop to present a slow, groovy melody. Lyrically, the track is simple, but perfect. There's no need for an intricate narrative when blue's laid back attitude speaks for itself. For blue, the sweet escape of summer is nothing without the one who's caught his eyes. The repetition of "You" in the chorus especially creates a soft, melted ambiance that draws us in.

As a producer, sound engineer, mixer, composer and singer/songwriter, Ben Rice wears nearly every hat imaginable in modern music. In congruence with his multi-faceted commitment to the craft, his latest single pays tribute to the deserving, dedicated individuals who have become victims of their environment. "American” is a courageous speculation of waning national identity. With hints of country and Americana flair, this gentle listen primes its audience for a critical reflection on today's American dream paradox. It was always nebulous, and for many, it’s been increasingly inaccessible. Rice serenades those “riddled with anxiety through the best years of [their lives]” over a psychedelically empowered arrangement. From here, a culmination of influences surface, from the very generation that shaped this fate to the voices of today who fight tirelessly for a shift in ground. This piece is me, you, your mother and your uncle. While his focus is immediately grim, Rice encourages further artistic creation as we approach a horizon on which future generations will hold us responsible.

Sharp shimmering strings, defiant drums, an anonymous threat and a resilient refutation. On “Hunter,” the lead track from her 2020 album, The Greatest Part, Becca Mancari weaves together a swirling, eerie atmosphere through crunchy guitar tones, floating vocals and a kicking drum line. Throughout the song, Mancari flips back and forth between the voice of the sender and receiver of ominous letters which read, “I’m gonna hunt you down.” The track opens with three repeated stanzas of the same lyrics from the letters. The atmosphere builds during this time through flowing synth sounds and scratching strings. With a crash from the symbol and a flare of the guitar, the voice switches and we hear the bold response from the recipient: “Well, you’re never gonna track me down.” In the final verse, the two vocal lines are layered; the defiant recipient’s voice takes center stage, and the sender’s line buries itself insidiously within the instrumentals. The song ends abruptly as the contrasting characters disappear, and the listener is left with the haunting words from the letter repeating in the back of their mind.

Captured Tracks is a label based in Brooklyn, NY, and was founded in 2008. Becca Mancari's album, The Greatest Part, is available now on Bandcamp and other streaming platforms.

Does it seem like you’ve been encountering a certain number sequence over and over again in your day-to-day? These number sequences, which are often referred to as angel numbers, are seen in certain belief systems to carry particular messages to the beholder from their guardian angel. Each number can carry with it a plethora of different messages, making deciphering its meaning an intuitive act rather than a fishing expedition. Kyle Lux enlightens us with the meaning of his own set of angel numbers in "222," the highlight track of his recently released Projectors EP. 

The number sequence 222 is often a reminder to go with the flow of your natural processes in order to obtain self-discovery and growth, and Kyle Lux showcases that and more in this track alone. “222” is a refreshingly new sound for the young genre-blending artist, taking his usual R&B ballads and trading them for a quick-witted hip-hop flow that you can’t help bobbing your head to. Lyrically, Lux seems to be releasing all control and expectations of a certain connection, allowing himself to “go with the flow” as opposed to adhering to “just another complicated label.” The music video accompanying the track sports a blissful Lux dancing freely and dressed in a variety of colorful outfits, further embodying this concept of free forming flow. Overall, “222” is a blooming introduction to Lux’s new-found sense of self discovery, both as an individual and an artist. Lux proves he is more than willing to break self- and society-imposed barriers in order to grow as both an artist and an individual, and we can’t be more excited for all that is to come. Photo by Undine Markus.

I’ve had eight dreams about you 
in quarantine, about the parking lot
behind the mall, first landing
state park and pouring rain 
before I crossed the street.

maybe that’s where
I should have left you, maybe
I shouldn’t miss carpet burn
on my knees. 

—

Upon a bittersweet ending, Khamari leaves the door ajar on “Other Side,” the last single from his debut EP, Eldorado. The R&B tune, laced with easy strums and effortless slant rhymes, is a secret love letter slipped under the door to someone you shouldn’t be missing, stolen by the same serendipity that made your paths cross. While Khamari invites his ex to “hit my line, try to make up for all the wasted time," airy harmonies from Jae Stephens are a whisper that one day, “we could get it right.” Unearthing a ghost I thought I’d buried, I’m flooded by the notion that even years later, we could be better still. The candid sincerity of “Other Side” is enough to believe that it’s true.