Heavy, subtly unsettling beats offset a buttery voice and introspective lyricism on Spencer.’s latest "Maybe." The 21-year-old New York native who bet the house and his college education on a music career certainly came out on top and it's easy to see how in just two short years, he amassed quite a substantial following and millions of streams on his art. 

Spencer. opens with “Maybe life’s a joke / I feel like my soul is stuck” immediately and somberly introducing a raw and relatable emotion that is a theme throughout the song—overwhelming skepticism about life and the future. At such a young age, Spencer.'s grasp of the complexities of the emotions attached to the future is definite and his interpretation of them is creative. He playfully transitions from singing to speaking in epithets like, “I’m on my way up / cumulonimbus it got me stuck / in a few weeks I’ll be 21 / 2020 my vision till 20 sumn / I been working like I’m scared of growing up."Spencer. is currently working on his first full-length album—we definitely can't wait to hear more. Photo by Nathanael Turner

In ecology, a habitat is the environment that’s the most compatible with an organism’s specific traits. In other words, it’s the exact place where the same things that make you unique allow you to thrive—just by existing as you are. This sense of finding a home you’re perfectly adapted for is hard to find as a person, and that universal yearning is exactly what "Habitat" by Momma captures. Sonically, "Habitat" could easily find a home nestled in a playlist next to works from an assortment of other artists. The tight vocal harmonies would sit comfortably next to tracks by Girlpool or Hand Habits. The harmonically patient guitar lines, floating between reverb and grunge, would pair well with Chastity Belt. The lyrics are masterfully balanced between whimsical and serious, similar to their label-mates, Current Joys. However, Momma’s talent is their strong skill to weave a multi-faceted narrative. The verses are poetic and confrontational; the chorus is tender and longing. Overall, the song paints a picture that will resonate with anyone feeling small, filled with fire, and slightly out of place everywhere they go. So go ahead, sink your teeth into it while you wait for Momma’s sophomore album, Two of Me, due June 5 via Danger Collective Records.

Parcels, the Aussie fivesome known for their disco-pop bangers, recently released Live Vol.1 as a follow up to their 2018 self-titled debut album. Among the classic studio recordings made in Hansa, Berlin is “Overnight," famously cowritten with Daft Punk and carrying the same funky vibes off of the iconic French duo’s Random Access Memories. If you’re familiar with Parcels, you know they have a knack for transporting their listeners back to the groovier days of the ’70s. I wasn’t alive yet, but tracks like “Overnight” feel like the rainbow that bridges the generational gap between us all. 

The recent turn of weather is a reminder of the New York City summer looming over our heads, and with quarantine, the uncertainty of what that summer looks like. Before self-isolation, we could rely on the routine of heavy heat like clockwork. Everyone knows some iteration of what I’m talking about; when Friday finally rolls around and the murderous sun has set, you hit play on a track like ”Overnight” and start to get ready. It’s a reminder of late nights spent out with friends, in your best outfits, dancing at halogen lit bars like Mood Ring or Friends and Lovers, skin sticky with the humidity, and the pulse of too many people packed into too small of a room. The bathroom line might be long but the possibility in the air is electric. Under the flashing lights, the silhouettes of your friends are bobbing up and down to the beat. One catches your eye and smiles, teeth glowing blue-white. Another is across the room, leaning over the bar with cash in hand. "Do you want anything?" they mouth over the heads of strangers. There is the laughter of shared inconvenience, of worries saved for another day. It may be hot and loud, but with the right music and the right people, there is a feeling of fullness; a promise of life, playing on repeat.

The third studio album from RAC titled BOY is a collection of songs that reflect the innocence of youth while exposing the angst and pain that comes with growing up. André Allen Anjos is the musician and producer behind RAC, which leaves room for a variety of vocalists to feature on his projects. The instant I saw Luna Shadows on the tracklist I knew the song “Boomerang” would become an instant favorite from the album. California alt-pop artist Luna Shadows is known for her ability to pair contrasting subjects and for finding a way to blend light and dark. “Boomerang” does exactly that by referencing all the ways in which we try to stay connected via social media— revealing how they ultimately leave us lonely. The playful way in which she sings, “Everyone who loves you is leaving,” almost has me believing this song is a happy one. The swinging melody and reverberated guitar insist that Juul pods, Instagram DMS and Boomerangs are cool, but the lyrics unveil the bigger picture that they lack any lasting substance. As the song comes to a close I find myself wanting to post a selfie and delete Instagram all at once.

If it wasn’t blatantly obvious from his previous work, the guitar mastermind and accomplished producer Blake Mills has a way with words, too. Mutable Set, Mills’ newest LP, is an intricately intimate album that sounds gentle but packs a lyrically gut-wrenching punch.

In “Window Facing A Window,” we are moved through an empty house, to a bare garden, then to a lacking bedroom, where Mills traces just where the vivid memories and past meanings from a relationship go. A slight line change in the chorus from “Are you upset?” to the latter “Are you all set?" shows the development—or rather, the deterioration—of a relationship, set to a sparingly played guitar and gentle piano sounds.

Mills’ humble voice makes his lyrics more raw and relatable, allowing him to capture a sound of longing that feels like waking up next to a warm body and knowing that it will be for the last time. All that is left is Mills, crafting poignant sounds in combination with desolate imagery that makes the song sorrowful, yet entirely comfortable. Almost like it was made in a bedroom, “with a bed that isn’t there anymore.”