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

The opening notes of Waxahatchee’s “Fire” are purposefully gentle, evoking the disquieting silence after hanging up a telephone. Waxahatchee’s upcoming album Saint Cloud, due out March 27, was written in the wake of singer Katie Crutchfield’s commitment to sobriety, and what comes after the dial tone are the wobbly first steps of someone with a newfound resolve. “It’s about the internal dialogue of shame surrounding mistakes you’ve made in the past and how we spiral and beat ourselves up when we slip,” says Crutchfield. The repetitive chord structure—the same three chords over and over—is a reminder that, for better or for worse, life goes on. Falling into familiar patterns can feel like an unstoppable downward spiral, but Crutchfield instead chooses to use the spiral as a foundation for new patterns, using repeating guitar parts interleaving with one another as building blocks. “If I could love you unconditionally / I could iron out the edges of the darkest sky,” she sings to herself. And while her voice betrays that she may not be there yet, she’s laying the groundwork.

Last week, Phoebe Bridgers returned with “Garden Song,” though it feels like she never really left. Since Stranger in the Alps, there’s been no lack of output from her, joining forces with Julien Baker and Lucy Dacus as boygenius, and Connor Oberst as Better Oblivion Community Center. That said, there’s a special kind of sublime sentimentality in Bridgers’ solo work that has made her sophomore album all the more anticipated. On “Garden Song,” Bridgers conjures the surrealist daydream that is young adulthood in a wash of aching lyricism and the kind of drowsy production that made Stranger a swift knife to the heart. Now a beloved patron saint of sadness, Bridgers, ever conscious of the pains of existence, seems that...she just might be happy? May we all aspire to be able to say “I have everything I wanted.“ Be sure to watch the video, it is quite literally a trip.

Soft, melodic and gentle, Tyson Motsenbocker's "Come to California" is a singer-songwriter emoting his most earnest plea. The songwriting itself seems to be as gritty as its production: an honest reflection of an honest feeling. Though the music and writing style is simple and stripped-down, Motsenbocker's talent is undeniable. The bare-bones nature of the music paired with his unusual and transfixing vocal has a really pleasant and iconic effect. The lyrics move from punchy and curt, "Is it such a bad idea being brave, wearing our skin down to the fray?" to softer and more metaphorical, "when the pine trees turn to palms.... you're the one change I wanted all along." This is certainly a good track to keep in your back pocket for when the weather gets a little warmer. Listen to Tyson Motsenbocker's "Come to California" and his recently released LP, Someday I'll Make It All up to to You anywhere you stream.

Brooklyn-based songwriters Claud and Del Water Gap (Holden Jaffe) do autotune with a DIY twist in their single “My Body.” Swinging between achingly poignant and tongue and cheek, their auto-tuned croons layer perfectly as they sing, “I already know / I figured it out / I think I figured you out / you only want me for my body,” which feels like both a joke and a statement at the same time. They mix sounds in a playful way with spurts of electric guitar breaking through the droning synths. It never stays in one mood for long—jumping from one sound to the next with ease. In the bridge, Claud sings, “Tell me to wait for this / already late so I leave my door open / for when you get lonesome” without autotune—winking at the possibility of a deeper meaning. The track marks the second collaboration from the two following their cowrite of Claud's "Never Meant to Call."

Genevieve Stokes sounds wise beyond her 18 years in her newest single “Surface Tension.” The Portland, Maine-based singer/songwriter sheds light on the cyclical torture that permeates adolescence, “I’m treading muddy waters / I’m not what you wanted / I’ve been through this before.” Stokes doesn't wallow in self-pity though. She states it more as a fact than something to mourn, breaking from the cycle with poignant lyricism—refusing to fall victim to teenage melodramatics. Her vocals are clear and smooth with a slight warble when she slips in and out of her upper register. The real sweet spot is when she settles into an almost gravely tenor before sweeping back up gently. “Surface Tension” is the newest single from Stokes’s debut EP out in summer 2020.

Adam Melchor puts his guitar to the side for his newest single “30 Minutes.” Instead, he opts for a gentle piano-centric offering that lives somewhere between melancholy and hope. Melchor’s voice climbs and falls with the turn of each phrase as he tells a story through short insights into a relationship, just enough to create a world where the listener can fill in the blanks, “every time you eat alone you say that you think of me / cause I used to say that’s what I like.” He turns what could be a sad song into something with at least a seed of hope—singing, “I just need a person who will hear just how I’m hurting / when something not so pleasant hits the fan.” “30 Minutes” is off of Adam Melchor’s newest EP Summer Camp out February 28.

Stripped back and sweet, “Man of Weakness (Acoustic)” is a gorgeous and raw rendition of the original. First released with a full arrangement as part of Your Smith’s 2019 EP Wild Wild Woman, this track carries its own with nothing but guitar, soft keys, lovely vocal harmonies, and raw emotion. Like a cool breeze on a warm summer day, the arrangement is light and pleasing, and this is due in large part to Caroline Smith’s clear, dynamic vocal, which is vaguely reminiscent of Sheryl Crow, and acts as the song’s most powerful instrument. In the lyrics, Smith paints an evocative picture of endings and all the emotional baggage one has to carry as a result: “I can't believe this, I can't deny it, I thought I'd beat this / And now I'm laughing 'cause I was acting / Like I ever stood a chance to win this time.” Through the relatable lyrics and a brighter melody, Smith reminds us that heartbreak is temporary, but good music will always be there.  Introspective and soft, “Man of Weakness (Acoustic)” is a hopeful tune for gentler days.

New York-based Modern Diet’s new track “Post Grad” astutely captures the disillusionment of growing older. Its subject feels detached from the passage of time, comparing himself to Sisyphus, a Greek mythical figure doomed to push a boulder up a hill for eternity. However, the song itself refuses to remain stagnant; while it begins melodic and airy, its lightheartedness is eventually disrupted by a biting guitar riff that incites the start of the track's decomposition. From this point, the energy builds steadily, at times returning to its initial softness only to reject it again, until it approaches a cheerful and choral end that feels like a final liberation. However, the listener soon finds that the narrative of “Post Grad” is circular, and that despite the battling sounds that seemed to have met their end, its narrator has not actually broken free. Rather, his farewell suggests that he has resolved to push his boulder into oblivion: “I have to go have to go, I have a boulder to push.”