"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.

David You’s “Sand” is a gentle rumination on the intangible beauty of love. Born and raised in New York, the indie-folk artist layers soft angelic vocals over delicate acoustic fingerpicking and a light twinkle of the piano. The five-minute track is languid in its gratitude as he sings, “I wanna say / I am thankful for your love / you give me hope and trust.” Though the sound is almost mournful, the song is an ode to love and the peace it can bring. It explores the beauty in finding someone with whom you can completely be yourself and feel unashamed. You describes the way love can alter the passage of time singing, “now all the time / passes me like sand / slipping through my hands.” Though we long to hold onto love and happiness forever, it comes and goes at it pleases. “Sand” is the first track off of David You’s newest EP Beautiful, Like Pyramids.

French-Korean artist Claire Chicha, otherwise known as spill tab, creates mesmerizing electro-pop alongside producer David Marinelli. On their latest single, “Calvaire,” the two deliver an unstoppable bop that is as danceable as it is atmospheric. The vocal is lush and delivered in French, but you don’t have to know French to appreciate this banger. In a teaser for the music video accompanying the song, Chicha mentions “Calvaire represents shitty circumstances that can ruin life. Something overbearing.” This sentiment is relatable now more than ever before, as we isolate ourselves and navigate away from our “normal” lives. As troublesome as our current crisis might be, at least we have “Calvaire” to move us with it’s embellished, percolating beat.

Hey. Hello...hello? “Jupiter” begins with the ring of a phone call and what sounds like a one-sided conversation. It’s easy to get lost in this track, a gentle wash of strumming and percussion from The Marías. Lead singer María Zardoya’s vocals are spellbinding, as she sings about waking up next to someone you love, bathed in sunlight. She delivers sweet musings in breathy tones, “Maybe the photo’s out of focus, I can’t believe that no one noticed," never raising her voice beyond a few octaves. When you learn the band’s origin story, which begins with drummer Josh Conway approaching Zardoya at a gig in Los Angeles, the harmonies take on a deeper meaning.

Scene: the spartan hallways of a music academy, after hours. Distant piano arpeggiations fade into consciousness, floating skyward before dissipating into aging, yellowed, acoustic ceiling tiles. You follow the sound, and at last, crack open the door to a large, nearly empty rehearsal hall, revealing a lone pianist practicing what sounds to be a Liszt piece. A percussive element follows the shape of the melody: the exaggerated clack of piano keys snapping you into reality. Staying grounded is necessary. Yael Naim casts a siren’s spell, tantalizing with her perfect vocal blend of airiness and earthiness. To prevent you from drifting to sleep, a plucky synth part enters, and suddenly you’re catapulted into a magical quest to save Zelda...or something. The production builds, adding a harpsichord, an angelic choir, a small brass section. “She” guides the listener through an orchestral journey of the psyche: the loss of control, the doubting of your own sanity, the questioning of self and the fear of what comes next. Above all the confusion, sunlight streams, blinding as through stained glass in a stately cathedral, bathing you in hope. Naim spins an ethereal dance that twists and turns in and out of darkness and light, serving up a hauntingly appropriate backdrop for these uncertain times.

“Witches” from Alice Phoebe Lou is magical. Boldly incessant synth cascades over every word, hypnotizing and enticing. This song weds the cosmic and the terrestrial as Lou’s entrancing vocals cast spells, proclaiming “I'm one of those witches, babe / I'm one of those witches, babe / Just don't try to save me, 'cause / I don't wanna be saved." Listen as this track pulls you in and out of a lovely dream, and makes your body sway in that “golden way." When the things that make us worry are far beyond our control, songs like these are a wonderful gift. We can surrender for a moment to kindly hypnotic music like “Witches” and be at ease.

Don’t be surprised if you catch yourself bouncing along to Chris Rovik’s latest single “Burning Bridges” which, despite being a bittersweet farewell to a toxic relationship, makes itself out to be quite the departure from the artist’s last EP, Let Go, which he released around the same time last year. Opting for pop over grunge, this track wastes no time getting started, filtering into focus with an upbeat guitar, a bouncing bassline, and the infectious tongue-click of a wooden block. Rovik ends up with something a little less signature moody-goth-acoustic, and something more Tom Petty-playful. With the instruments maintaining a bubbly momentum, dynamic vocals lead us through the emotional evolution of the song; Rovik begins in the tenderness of a lower register and builds up to the powerful delivery of someone carrying the weight of a relationship he no longer wants to bear. When he repeats “This will be your last” in the chorus over and over, it seems to be more of a reminder to himself than anything else. “Burning Bridges” might be a last goodbye, but with this ending comes the sense of having a weight lifted from your chest, leaving you a little lighter as you dance off into the future.

Delicate and flirty, Hinds’ latest release “Come Back And Love Me <3” puts visions of swaying with a lover in your head. It’s refreshing and sweet to hear at a moment when things feel uncertain and scary. Listen to it while laying in the grass with your eyes closed; move your arms to the tune. The 4-piece band based in Madrid, Spain never fail to turn a song into a theatrical experience, as if you are watching a plot unfold on stage. In the chorus, their lyrics switch back and forth between English and Spanish. The contrast is lovely with smooth transitions between the two languages. "Come back and love me / Vente y te dejo ganar (Come and I’ll let you win) / Come back and love me / Es que odio esta manera de jugar (It’s just that I hate this way of playing).” The mix of pretty vocals and soothing guitar strums make this track one to ring in the new season.

mxmtoon’s “Quiet Motions” is lovely to listen to. Cars and footsteps are met by warm and shimmering acoustics. The soundscape is calm as mxmtoon asks “Isn’t it nice to be all by yourself?” This track poetically encapsulates feelings familiar to many young people. It calmly details the simple pleasures of living alone: the “quiet motions." In a time where many of us are stuck at home, we could learn from this song to appreciate the quiet motions of our lives. Whatever home may look like for you, give this track a listen while you find the quiet motions in your own life. Meditative in a beautifully modern way, "Quiet Motions" fades away to a peaceful end, and leaves us thinking the same thing mxmtoon asks earlier: “Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it nice?”

What began as a self-described “bedroom project” from frontman Jordan McAfee-Hahn has turned into a bi-coastal musical collaboration between friends producing some of the freshest indie pop since Grizzly Bear. Ackerman,which consists of McAfee-Hahn, Bernardo Ochoa, and Matti Dunietz, is known for its beachy, retro vibes. The group's latest release “Surf King” doesn’t stray from that arrow. In 2018, the Brooklyn-based band was in the middle of producing its EP when McAfee-Hahn set out on a new adventure. “When I moved to Los Angeles, I thought I’d be closer to the beach / When I moved to Los Angeles, I thought I’d be a surfing king.” The lyrics are tinged with humor but based on real experiences (likely McAfee-Hahn’s) that play out like a bad case of Instagram vs. Reality. The soul-sucking traffic from LAX, the pollution and smog blocking the view of the mountains and sun, and a beach that remains to be seen only on a map leads our narrator to profess he “doesn’t know what [he] is doing.” Described by McAfee-Hahn as “a love song for a city that’s tough to be broke in,” the song drips with equal parts adoration and frustration. The city, like the ocean, takes you in and spits you back out when you’re least expecting it.

After a jam-packed year of releasing her self-titled album and touring across the country, SASAMI begins 2020 with her dark new single “Mess.” The track is an edgy departure from the soft, sensitive sound that permeated many of her releases in 2019, and perhaps sets a new tone for what's next for the LA-based singer-songwriter in the coming months. “Mess” begins with a moody bassline accompanied by SASAMI’s dejected lyricism; "I’m just trying to get paid and I’m already high now," which, as the song continues, is a phrase that is continuously bookended by a biting guitar riff that intensifies with each repetition. Though “Mess” is grungy, it never becomes unwieldy; each eruption of noise alternates between neat melodies. Though SASAMI flawlessly captures the feeling of losing control, the track itself never does; portraying intense emotion while staying musically grounded. Her single couldn’t have come at a more fitting cultural moment, and hopefully within the unpredictability, we, too, can maintain a modicum of control in the mess.