"Do you think I’m strange? I don’t blame you,” Victoria Reed’s voice spills like liquid silk across “Same Way," the opening track off her second album Aquamadre. “I’m still learning what to do / when you learn the whole world / wasn’t made for you” she croons, expressing a feeling of disillusionment we know all too well by now. What do we do when our perception of reality changes? The only thing we can, which is to adapt and grow into the new version of ourselves we need to be. “Same Way” describes the place between stagnancy and momentum; the growth of a person as they watch themselves through the eyes of another, a mirror into the future. Four years after her tarot-inspired 2016 debut Chariot, Reed stays true to her celebration of the mystical by drawing heavily on the visionary and healing aspects of Aquarius, the water bearer. Often mistaken for a sign of that element, Aquarius is actually an air sign, one that brings forth a new age of enlightenment. If water is emotion, then air is the sign’s ability to carry it without becoming overwhelmed. Aquarius diverts the flow of emotion by way of language to reach an understanding of the truth, which is clearly what Reed has set out to do with her album. 

The song “Same Way” shows her beginning to see an admission of love as strength, not weakness. In a lustrous voice akin to Lana Del Rey, she sings “Or maybe it’s that I’m not strange enough / Cause I’ve never been brave enough / to simply be myself," a concession towards self-acceptance.  Like anyone, she wonders if her affection is reciprocated, but chooses to repeat, “I think of you every day," because the only thing that matters is being true to how she feels. “Same Way” encourages us to push aside any internalized shame and embrace our own vulnerabilities, because self-acceptance is the only way to make space for compassion and healing in our lives. Both magical and haunting, Reed’s Aquamadre weaves dreamy synths with gauzy production in order to create the much-needed restorative atmosphere for staying at home and focusing on our more-than-skin-deep self-care.

“Bittersweet” is Lianne La Havas’ first solo studio single since her 2015 album, Blood, and her fans should be pleased. While her vocals make this track feel like standard La Havas fare, it’s decidedly more retro than her previous releases. Ironically, this helps to update her music for 2020. The lyrics paint a brooding, cinematic picture of classic long-distance relationship struggles over a heady, swaying, soul groove. La Havas starts out singing in her lower register. Her soft, honey-sweet voice has a lullaby effect on the listener. In all her trademark sultriness, she croons: “Bittersweet summer rain / I'm born again / All my broken pieces.” She then repeats, “Bittersweet summer rain / I'm born again,” this time an octave higher, immediately intensifying its meaning. La Havas continues to vocalize, delivering what she’s best known for: a powerful, well-trained belt with a slight grit around its edges. In the second verse, she returns to the lower octave, lulling us back to a still, urban coolness. Once again, the siren has us fooled. With a slight growl, she sings, “This shit's goin' nowhere, baby,” snapping us out of our dreamlike state. By the second chorus, we’re elevated once again, empathizing with her agony. The aptly titled “Bittersweet” pairs well with a dark and restless summer day, watching the world go by through rain-streaked window panes.

Héloïse Letissier, or simply known as Chris, of Christine and the Queens, continues to release music that feels uniquely in tune with her own introspective search and identity. Almost as a sequel to last year’s success on Charli XCX’s hot track “Gone,” Chris follows up this year with “La vita nuova,” off her newest EP of the same title. The track is a sleek, sexy duet that features singer-songwriter and producer Caroline Polacheck. “La vita nuova” has its roots in both electronic and theatrical pop and creates harmony within the different energy of their voices—Letissier is high and pent up in conversation while Polacheck is warm and dark. Lyrically, they weave in and out of Italian and English, with the words they sing conjuring up longing for touch and love. It brings the track a bodily quality that comes to a climax during the instrumental breakdown at the very end. Chris will play a few festivals in Europe over the summer, but in the meantime you can listen to La vita nuova, streaming now.

Never failing to create a bright and breezy scene, Papooz's newest release “Figs and Gorgonzola” is a crisp spring day in Paris. The French duo paint a picture of nostalgia chronicling the time spent with lovers, babies, orchids, and views of the park. It’s bittersweet, acknowledging the growth in a relationship, but missing the spark there used to be. Just as figs and gorgonzola are two distinct flavors, they still mesh together and “melt in your mouth.” The relationship described in the song is experiencing a lull or a difference, but nonetheless it continues to work. This moment of relatability is transformed into a sweet sound you’ll want to sway to. Ulysse Cottin on lead guitar and vocals sings: "I still love you but I wanna / Get back to the old days when we glowed in the dark / I'm hooked on forever / It's written on my heart."

There's something a little daunting about the concept of Maia Friedman's angelic voice singing the word "Overlord" several times in two-and-a-half minutes, but the reality is actually much better. For their first single in two years, Dirty Projectors comes back with a sunny single reminiscent of a radio single we might hear in the Summer of 1998; Friedman's beautiful voice singing over a simple acoustic melody, while still tackling tough topics. "Overlord" kicks off with an inner dialogue plea appropriate for, and thought by so many through the seemingly endless election year, "Please don't yell at the train / just get aboard." The politician wants us to all strap in and stay quiet. Never mind we all might be feeling afraid. Other common desires between citizen and candidate are addressed, but for listeners, the relatable subject matter never becomes tense. Friedman makes us feel like we're sitting with our friends over a cup of coffee while endlessly lamenting possible outcomes to a crucial election and facing its potential reality because we know "Those who stay behind / will be left on the shore," and, as she continues in the chorus, the elected leader will inevitably ignore our concerns by begging us to believe "Good outweighs bad / as we approach perfection." Dirty Projectors are currently on tour.

With releases that span at most 16 years apart, Australian band The Avalanches take their time carefully crafting music that feels both grounded and out of body. And their newest single “We Will Always Love You” is just that. The track begins with a sample from Smokey Robinson, tripped out and mixed to introduce a cosmic energy to the song. Additionally, Blood Orange (aka Dev Hynes), contributes soft lyrics that are delivered in both spoken-word and Hynes’ gorgeous falsetto. The hook samples the iconic “Hammond Song” by The Roches, pitched higher for a haunting feeling that takes you floating out of your body as the track comes to a close. "We Will Always Love You" will keep you cozy, contemplative and hopeful through these remaining winter nights, as we prepare for the fabulous spring weather we've all been waiting for.

Contemplate the nuances of shame with “Embarrassing," the second release off the self-proclaimed emo dream-pop artist Ellis’ new album, Born Again. In this deeply confessional slow burn, the Ontario-based artist turns her gaze inward to address the feeling of embarrassment, deviating from the beaten path towards a much harder truth; sometimes we feel shame because we should. This synth-forward, dreamy track is no pity party, it’s a promise to be better in a remarkable coming to terms with accountability. Making concessions like “maybe you were right when you said I love to play the victim” Ellis displays a maturity and self-awareness beyond her years. Despite its vulnerability “Embarrassing” is full of defiance and strength, using a feeling we so easily look away from or blame others for as a tool for growth and self-forgiveness. The purposeful drumbeat and unhurried guitar move steadily towards a power ballad climax and in the closing refrain Ellis repeats in her honey-sweet voice, “some things should be embarrassing” over and over as a reminder not just to herself, but to her listener as well. Born Again is out on April 3 via Fat Possum Records, and be sure to catch Ellis on her North American tour while you can.

“All of the songs on my new record are about people. Individual, real people. Some are strangers I’ve met, but a lot are friends”, explains Hamilton Leithauser in a teaser for lead single “Here They Come” before the song’s official release. That video would lead us to believe that the friend is actor Ethan Hawke (who, upon hearing the song, turns off the stereo and bludgeons Leithuaser with a chair), but in truth it doesn’t matter. Hawke, or whomever the song’s subject truly is, may or may not have hidden from his problems in the darkness of a movie theater, but “Here They Come” is a song for anyone who runs at the first hint of difficulty. Yes, you. The track is an excellently executed return, a chance encounter with an old friend who is just as excited to see you. It features all the hallmarks of a Hamilton Leithauser classic—the lightning-fast classically influenced fingerpicking, Leithauser’s own strained yells, and of course that unmistakable piano sound—but perhaps the most Leithauser-like quality of all, keeping the familiar sound fresh, is his unbridled bandleader’s joy, a smile behind every syllable.

Two packs of cigarettes down, half-Catalan and half-Irish singer Núria Graham peaks into the past on the title track of her latest album. A slow-burning folk ballad warped by airy, chiming guitars and soaring synthesizers, "Marjorie" is built perfectly for dramatic moments of introspection. Keeping watch for a lover as the night draws in around her, Graham lovingly connects the dots between her and the grandmother she never met. Despite being permanently separated by a gulf of time, she pulls herself closer to Marjorie as she chews through painful, intergenerational deja vu; "we seem to be making the same mistakes," she sings out, in the chorus of one of her most direct and powerful vocal performances to date. A window-gazers dream, "Marjorie" pushes a revitalized Núria Graham to new heights.