"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.

The Big Moon recently dropped their bright, infectious sophomore album Walking Like We Do, where they dive into self-worth, disenchantment with the world today and not being afraid of going after what you really want. While this second effort holds the same vivid lyricism, inspiring arrangements and reflective tone as their debut Love in the 4th Dimension, the indie quartet diverted in a more spacious, pop direction that was realized in a thoughtful, joyous manner. One of the most poignant tracks is "Dog Eat Dog," which is a sweeping piano ballad that emphasizes how we are all too focused on our own self-interest and seem to only notice societal problems when it immediately impacts us. Lead singer and songwriter Juliette Jackson exceptionally illustrates the isolating mindset that we all reside in as she sings, “You only build bridges when the river wets your feet / You only felt the fire when you felt the heat / So here we are.” The echoing choruses and bouncing production of the track add an approachable energy that backs her earnest, sharp vocals. There are no punches being pulled, but instead, a necessary, straightforward message that we all need to get our heads out of the sand and offer some real empathy to those around us. It’s an understanding that is never more important than now, and one that should be addressed sooner rather than later. Walking Like We Do is out now via Fiction Records.

Alexandra Savior will pierce your heart with “The Archer,” the title track off the dream-pop artist’s second album, in which she delivers an emotional wallop with just a few verses and a simple, lilting melody. The potent torch song opens with propulsive percussion and lyrics that immediately disrupt this rhythmic regularity: “The earth went ahead and shook itself apart / the very moment I laid eyes on you.” With this captivating image, she proceeds to describe a lover who devours and rejects her, while she eats it all up (quite literally). The visceral but ambiguous lyrics don’t reveal whether the partner is so intently fixated in their love for her that they can’t help but target her, or if they are maliciously preying on her. The smooth-voiced Savior with her retro-sounding, desert rock has received comparisons to women as varied as Dusty Springfield, Fiona Apple and Lana Del Rey. However, with "The Archer," her latest deeply personal, haunting piece, Savoir has created a scorching ode to devastating love that is all her own.

If the mission of Christine and the Queens is to prove that the complexity and depths of human emotion are limitless, then “People, I’ve been sad” is her masterclass. Héloïse Letissier dramatically increased her American fanbase last year with her second full-length album—the sexy, theatrical, genderbending Chris. Her newest track, which came out at the beginning of February, is more than an excellent portrait of the pain and rewards that come with real love (though it is decidedly that)—it’s also more evidence of her uniquely intricate understanding of the magical power of tension in music. Letissier’s bilingual lyrics provide the track’s emotional anchor, and with the satisfying way the synths and bass gradually build and release throughout, you can almost hear Phil Collins and Robyn smiling in admiration of their legacy. But the real accomplishment is that somehow, out of the rolling mountains of bass, the crackling snares, and Letissier’s signature sultry, hyper-focused vocal stylings, she creates an emotional energy that transcends any human language or worldly musical instrument. That’s why, by the end of the track, the word “sad” has never felt so understated. The emotions that matter—the ones that make us feel the most alive, most connected to other people—are too complex for a three-letter word. I guess that's why we need artists like Christine and the Queens.

NOVA ONE, the brainchild of Providence singer-songwriter Roz Raskin, is back with their new single “violet dreams.” The track is the first offering since 2018’s secret princess EP and the first taste of their upcoming, debut record entitled lovable. While the previous release focused on heartfelt, romantic declarations and desires, this new endeavor dives into analyzing femininity, gender presentation, and the process of figuring out your identity. Raskin describes the traditional aspects of what it means to be considered female and how that isn’t always aligning with a true vision of themselves. As they declare “Let me put on my make-up / Make me a drink / Make me perfection / Forget all my needs," you can hear the melancholy in their sweet, wistful vocals and the notion that what you actually want can be oppressed by others’ expectations and standards—that it’s better to sweep certain things aside in favor of putting on a front for others. The tender, swinging arrangement is the hazy backdrop that guides us deeper into the narrators’ mindset. Raskin’s offer of a sonic shoulder to lean on is not something to overlook. lovable drops April 24 via Community Records.

Club-friendly beats and 80s inspired sheen aren’t usually associated with deep internal reflection. Sam Dust is here to challenge this notion with his first single in five years, “What Moves.” Dust, better known to fans as LA Priest, is opening up and getting candid about his deepest relationship concerns, directing his deepest fears toward us by asking, “What moves you to act the way you are / What moves you to fall into their arms?" He does this right before expressing the internal struggle of moving forward into the unknown by proclaiming, “But I know where I came from / but I don’t know where I’m gonna go.” Despite forcing himself to step back and hold himself accountable, Dust’s voice remains neutral throughout the song, perhaps making it easier to distract us from the tough themes of hard-to-swallow self-reflection. “What Moves” willingly moves us to dance into the unknown, while remembering to remain quizzical and true to ourselves. GENE will be released on April 24 via Domino Recording Company.

Niia’s “If You Won’t Marry Me Right Now” masterfully blends a number of different auditory aesthetics that culminate in a passionately delivered track that rolls over you in waves. Soft keys and gentle vocals greet you at the outset, but the song quickly finds its way to a bigger collection of sounds. Strings contrast with bass to foreshadow the crescendo that awaits you. Niia’s lyrical delivery increases in tempo, teasing you as the moment feels ripe for a shift, but you wait. "If You Won't Marry Me Right Now" ebbs for a moment until two vocal tracks build together and converse with increasing passion lamenting that they “wasted so much time / six years of my life” an amid this peak Niia’s grand vocals escort the song to an end, ready to be played again by someone looking for something refreshingly different to vibe to this Valentine’s. Be sure to check out her sophomore album II: La Bella Vita, which dropped today, February 14.

Bedroom folk-rock trio Sour Widows continue their streak of creating sleepy, harmonically driven singles in their latest track "Open Wide." The song opens with a warm, guitar intro that leads us into a sonic place of depth and intimacy. Maia Sinako's mellow vocals make a cozy entrance, acting as a guide throughout the single's growing dimension and dynamics. Susanna Thomson's complementary vocals join the journey as the track dives into themes of freedom, expression, and darkness, taking us through many climatic and meditative twists and turns. The last lyric we hear is, "Cause the dark doesn't stop until I open wide," right before we are sent into a big interlude, showcasing the band's dual-guitar dynamic. As the song ends, Maia and Susanna's voices melt together, singing, "My body wants to let every fucking word fly," before the thematic guitar riff from the beginning of the track makes one final appearance, bringing "Open Wide" to a fading resolve.

Have you ever heard a story from a friend so many times that you wish you were there? To be a part of their memory even though it’s an impossibility? On Clever Girls’ new single, “Spark” we find songwriter and guitarist, Diane Jean, exploring this idea. “I buried your tooth hoping baby / I could grow another version of you, maybe” they sing, casting this sentiment amidst a verse of melodic and thoughtful guitars, painting the desire to absolve someone of any past trauma and start new. The band does an incredible job of pulling you in with sonic tenderness on this song. They welcome you into their narrative and then shock you with their true spark. In this case, it’s the burst of bold, driving guitars that hit in the chorus with the reminder that “You’re not the spark,” of the past but you’re now new fuel to their fire.

Lose yourself in the upbeat emotional ballad that is “Heliotrope,” the new single from LA-based indie rockers Runnner. With a full, gorgeous arrangement that feels all-encompassing, the track is atmospheric and evocative as it explores the highs and lows of love through one pressing question: “Is this the conversation you want to have?” A catchy acoustic guitar strum feels hopeful and raw over a thrashing drum beat that sways like a pendulum, giving the song an easygoing sort of flow despite the constant build-up of momentum and intensity in the instrumentation. Best of all are the strings, which swell with complexity and elevate the arrangement by adding a layer of tenderness and starry-eyed whimsy, tying everything together in one big, beautiful bow. Nostalgic and endearing, “Heliotrope” feels like a grand romantic gesture you’ll want to experience again and again.