The new EP from LA-based Scarypoolparty (solo project of Alejandro Aranda), Doom Hologram, opens with “Return2Sender”—the first of an eight-track story, meant to be played in order. Lingering just under five minutes, “Return2Sender” encapsulates the feeling of watching raindrops roll down the window, as golden candlelight flickers and once-fresh flowers on the table slowly wither away. Throughout the ethereal track, the scent of broken promises is as fragrant as wilting roses, leaving the listener to once again taste the words they wish they’d said to someone (“You take my words and break me down / I wrote you letters just to say ‘I love you’ / And now I know that you would tear them all apart”). The track allows Aranda, an American Idol alum, to flex his pop sensibilities and brings to mind the exact inspirations referenced in the release’s press statement—that he “channels the prodigious dexterity of John Mayer overlaid with the ethereal pop of The 1975.” Aranda’s hurt is undeniably palpable, and this candor is the heartbeat that drives the song through its melodic turns and an aching acoustic interlude. But, as great art is so often made, Aranda turned heartache into a glowing and visceral connection with his listeners — and one they won’t soon forget. Photo by Nicole Busch.

If you forgot to do your part to fight the patriarchy this week, take a moment to listen to Miya Folick’s new single, “Malibu Barbie”—if you didn’t forget, still listen, you’ll probably enjoy it. “Malibu Barbie” is Folick’s first release since her debut album, Premonitions, dropped last October. The track is a delightful, glossy takedown of materialism and unrealistic ideals. The song opens with whispered vocals that detail a list of accessories in a tone that is borderline salacious. From there on, Folick picks apart a myth that is hammered into girls as soon as they’re old enough to own a doll: you’d be happier if you looked a certain way. Despite the heavy subject matter, “Malibu Barbie” is a sunny, pop anthem. Subtly sinister lines like, “nip it, tuck it ‘til I’m nothing” hide underneath a breezy, bubblegum pink guise that uses shimmering synths and grounding drums to keep you head-nodding along. The swirling bop goes head-to-head with oppressive, destructive beauty standards while Folick shows off the range of her powerful vocals. In the end, though, all of those glittery beats come to a screeching halt with Folick’s sardonic realization: “Oh no, I’m still a human being.” “Malibu Barbie” is a cautionary tale from a rebel with a cause, but Folick makes sure that it’s one you can still jam out to. Catch Miya Folick when she joins The Wild Honey Pie for a Dinner Party on June 24th.

Singer-songwriter Jordan Moser’s “The Devil” feels like summer nights around a Texas campfire with folk songs and ghost stories. It has a soft sadness as he sings, “how am I gonna know where your hand is gonna be on a night so dark.” He is reaching hopelessly into the night, searching the stars for answers just to be met with emptiness. The acoustic guitar floats warmly above the soft percussion. The beautifully sad and timeless track nods subtly to country greats like John Prine and Guy Clark while rooting itself in modernity through the contribution of fellow Austinite Molly Burch’s ethereal tone. “The Devil” is the first single off his label debut at Austin label Keeled Scales (Buck Meek, Twain) due out July 26.

Join Jay Som in a golden summer dreamscape with her butterfly-inducing new single, “Superbike.” Los Angeles-based artist Jay Som (a.k.a. singer-songwriter Melina Mae Duterte) invites listeners into what feels like the song equivalent of an orange creamsicle on your neighbor’s front porch step. With her ethereal voice gliding over bouncy strums and riffs, this track will transport you into a warm, wistful 90’s revival. Jay Som sings of the departure of love: “If I’ve fallen from your lips / Straight to your fingertips / (Somebody tell me)”—her lyrics are evocative of the familiar feelings of heart-rending scenes in favored 90’s & 2000’s romance films. Place this song safely into your pocket and hold it tightly until Jay Som's new album, Anak Ko, is released on August 23rd.

The Nashville based art-pop duo, Okey Dokey is comprised of Aaron Martin and Johnny Fisher, who are both by all accounts, highly-collaborative, opened minded songwriters and musicians. Even their own personal creative history portends to a rare level of ego-less fluidity—Martin and Fisher previously wrote together in Sol Cat only to circle back to each other again around 2016. When they realized they sired a nice vibe from a songwriting standpoint they, in their own words, “brought in around 20 friends from other projects to either perform or record with us.” Okey Dokey’s summer 2019 album, which will feature 10 songs with 10 different artists, is a logical extension of the band’s innately communal ethos. The first single, “Thick and Thin,” features LA-based indie synth-pop staple Dent May. It’s a 60’s nostalgic little ditty about being a good pal to a friend in need—a pleasant track to both the ears and the soul. Okey Dokey is basically :) personified.

Like many great albums before, Tōth’s debut album, Practice Magic and Seek Medical Help When Necessary, was born of heartbreak in a Brooklyn apartment. Tōth is the project of Alex Toth and the aptly titled album tracks his road to recovery after a debilitating break-up. The standout single from the album, “When I Awoke” addresses the literal feeling of waking up next to someone you love and knowing that it’s over as well as the philosophic waking up to yourself and the world in the wake of loss. Toth enlisted friends to build a gloomy, gorgeous arrangement of drums, upright bass, and echoing cello to create a dream-like trance that pulls his listeners into the moments and the rooms where his relationship unfolded and ultimately ended. With an ethereal build up of percussion, he somehow manages to capture the sound and ubiquity of memory. Toth is a poet in this song and lines like “you looked like a shadow of the day before” and “you step into my stream about a thousand times a day” illustrate the hazy shape a memory can take and how persistent those memories can be. The track is absolutely wrenching but holds notes of acceptance as well as loss, suggesting that Toth may be coming up for air soon. When things fall apart, they often look different once you put them back together. However, in putting himself and his music together again, Tōth has found a voice and created a song both ephemeral and pervasive.