"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.

“Terminal Daze” is a gleaming indie rock track made for the beginning of a coming-of-age film, featuring unbridled youth and charisma. It’s the catapult into summer on the last day of school — a feeling ready to chase away inertia. The Copenhagen-based quartet Kindsight says it’s “as unrelenting as a big train — steady as it goes.” And it’s certainly a train you would want to catch: an enticing escape from responsibility, further persuaded by the guitar and commanding drums. The bright, silvery vocals whisk us away in high lilts and phrases, and all care is gone in the world, at least for a small moment. Photo by Line Hvid.

The world isn’t a pool. What we know of ourselves isn’t consistently reflected back at us. For folk artist Raye Zaragoza, an Indigenous woman of color raised in a New York City studio apartment, feeling seen in a white-washed landscape is often insurmountable. “I have felt like my mixed-race, intersectional identity is somehow letting everyone down,” she says of her experience, “I have felt that I can’t belong to any community because I am not enough of any one to belong.” So instead, Zaragoza sets out to be her own mirror. She grounds herself in her roots with strength and ease on her latest record, Woman In Color, and reclaims her sense of self with her own anthem, “Rebel Soul.” The song begins delicately, serene guitars and gentle drums guiding each other. As it builds, the entire song crescendos together and is met with uplifting strings and glints of piano, swirling around like wind brushing against your face. The music complements the message in a gorgeous pairing, all seeming to symbolize Zaragoza’s path to self-triumph. Her embrace of identity is entrenched in the song’s righteous chorus as she sings, “When the only thing you're left with are your torn and tattered clothes / And you find yourself a-wandering down a dark and lonely road / When you’ve got a feeling in your heart that no one seems to know / Feeling like a complete unknown / I’m a rebel soul.” It wasn’t until Zaragoza found herself on this very road that she realized she can leave behind her inhibitions and step fully into her power, as a rare musical talent and unique rebel soul. Photo by Cultivate Consulting.

Virginia Beach songwriter Khi Infinite breaks new ground with his single “LUCY,” a tune as addictive as the push-pull love that has him hooked. Though he knows he and “LUCY" have their problems, Infinite dives headfirst into the sea of red flags with no tether to the truth, naïve, hopeful and “too hard headed.” A faint, rosy guitar riff, breezy ad-libs and laid-back storytelling almost make an otherwise draining back-and-forth seem easy. While my hometown of Virginia Beach has been a longstanding hub for innovators in hip hop and R&B, Infinite’s eccentric approach to bedroom pop plucks the smoothest parts of each genre to craft something more breezy and clean, down to a catchy hook spiked with carefree joy. His upcoming record TAKE WHAT YOU NEED is due out in November, and until then, 50% of proceeds for “LUCY” will be donated to local homeless shelters in the 757 area.

Tomberlin's "Floor" is a song meant for evening walks, hovering on the cusp of light and dark. It reminds me of a street about half a mile from my duplex. The two lanes are divided by a graciously wide median, which is lined by almost naturally spaced oak trees. The only giveaway of artifice is the vintage style street lamps — one between every two trees, exactly. Straight down the middle of the median, sheltered by the oaks, is a brick path. Once upon a time it was meticulously laid with clean red bricks. Now it’s settled in some places along with the dirt, and in others it’s risen up as the tree roots keep growing underneath. The path isn’t even anymore, and you can tell it hasn’t been for a while. You can still see its sophisticated herringbone pattern though, doubtless voted on by some homeowners' association at some point. Around dusk the street lamps start glowing yellow, washing the path in a soft golden glow. It looks like something out of a fairytale, complete with houses that could be castles keeping watch on either side. It’s the street my feet always wander to when it’s late and I can’t sleep because my mind is racing too fast to stand still. It’s not because it’s well lit, or quiet, or close, or safe-feeling. It’s because I like to walk by the houses and make up stories about the people living inside. I like to wonder what it feels like to take up so much space and how they could possibly fill it all up. I like to think about what I want space for, and who I want space for, and how I’ll make sure there’s always enough to hold them. By the time I get home, I’ve finally found my edges again. I know where I begin, and where I end, and I have a dedicated space to hold whatever is worth holding. That’s exactly the feeling Tomberlin captures in "Floor" — something whimsical and as sad as it is optimistic. Like something out of a fairytale. Photo by Felix Walworth.