It's not cool to admit you're lonely, sad and looking for something real with someone else in the hellscape of modern dating. But on her new song "Andromeda," Weyes Blood does just this AND makes it sound cool because that's just what she is — cool. Her singular sound is hard to place, with the only fair comparisons being Lana Del Rey meets Karen Carpenter, or Tammy Wynette's backing band meets Mind Games-inspired psych rock. Her lyrics, as always, twinkle with mystic themes, the track's title being inspired by Andromeda Galaxy, the galaxy closest to the Milky Way. The story of her broken heart and the "crazy guy" who she "dares to try" to love her is a tale as old as time, but Weyes Blood asserts the gravity and sincerity of her affections with zeal. Her strong voice croons, "You know that I hate the game/don't wanna waste any more time/you know I been holding out." Tired yet hopeful, "Andromeda" is a song for disheartened romantics holding out for something true "to hold on to."

You may know JP Saxe from last year's breakout song " The Few Things," but he is far from a one-hit wonder. With "25 in Barcelona" Saxe beautifully sings us a confessional song, accompanied by an acoustic guitar, that seemed to accidentally happen. The plan for spending his 25th birthday in Barcelona, was for a celebratory time with friends immersed in a new culture, but within the good times is a longing for someone who isn't there. As seen in "The Few Things" Saxe has a way of accurately expressing universal feelings that at one time seemed to only find their existence in our heads. Traveling while having someone on your mind is an experience in and of itself, and the balance between trying to enjoy the moments while also wishing that person was were there alongside of you, can easily taint them. It's a battle of the mind and the heart, and as Saxe sings his breath-taking voice echos the deep emotions he feels within. As the song comes to an end, the last lines tie it all together in one final confession, "I'm halfway round the world in Barcelona / Tryna feel my world expanding / Like none of it was built around you / This wasn't supposed to be about you."

Just months after releasing a three-song EP recorded live, directly to tape, on a Tascam Portastudio, The Wild Reeds are back with a lush new single, “Lose My Mind,” from their new album due out in March. Upon releasing the New Ways to Die EP in late 2018, the band made it clear that the lo-fi sound was not a departure, nor an explicit return to their acoustic folk roots, but rather an experiment, a small step in a long musical journey. The Wild Reeds have been evolving with each release, largely due to the disparate input of the three singer-songwriters fronting the band, Kinsey Lee, Mackenzie Howe and Sharon Silva.

“Lose My Mind” is an ode to the one person close enough to give perspective through highs and lows, steeped in the psychedelic stutter of Dan Auerbach’s fantasies and filled out by harmonies akin to those of Lucius or tourmates The Lone Bellow. The rhythm section, affectionately nicknamed the Nicks of Time for their shared name and steady beat, plays with empty space, giving the impression of great heights during the verse until the harmonies of Howe and Silva swoop in to firmly anchor the song. “You believed in me / When it would have been so easy to leave,” sings Lee, who wrote the song and takes charge of its melody, grounded by the support of her bandmates’ harmonies and the care of a close friend.

"School of Design" is the latest single from the New Zealand based group, Tiny Ruins. Frontwoman, Hollie Fullbrook is more than a musician, she is a storyteller. Fullbrook's voice is gentle and soothing. The vivid lyrics describe a place that is supposed to evoke distinct thought and creativity. But the institution itself is a very controlled uniform space, "Everything was white / And all the clocks were well designed / All ticking in time." The guitar is captivating and gives the song the motion it needs to progress in contrast to Fullbrook's subdued vocals. Look out for the full album, Olympic Girls on February 1!

Spirited singer/songwriter, Skylar Gudasz shares “Play Nice,” a breezy single that serves as a pointed, unbuttoned rebuttal to the commonalities of toxic masculinity. Gudasz doesn’t waste any time getting into how men's misconceptions of women have effected her, singing lines like, “I ain’t no silent doll and I ain't that sweet.” Her soaring and controlled vocal is pungent and placed in a vintage radio-esque delay that echos for your attention. The song is a PSA, that rightfully scrutinizes the belief that women can’t stray from “social norms,” all while immersed in an folk-rock bop. 

The production on "Play Nice" paints an energetic soundscape, incorporating synth and glittery electronics, a few elements absent from her debut release, Oleander. “When I wrote it I was feeling a lot of rage at the idea that, as a woman, you have to play nice and smile and go along with certain things as sort of a survival mechanism,” Gudasz said of the song. “I hope when people listen they come away with the feeling that it’s okay to be angry.”

Margaret Sohn is a NYU electrical engineering student by day and Miss Grit by night. In a highly saturated indie music scene, Miss Grit's first single "Talk Talk" proves that we should all be paying attention to her. From the first taste of her music, the influences of St. Vincent and Wilco's Nels Cline run deep. What we love the most is that there is something very personal and reflective about the lyrics combined with an instinctively groovy and danceable instrumental. We can't wait for what comes next for Miss Grit. Her debut EP Talk, Talk premieres January 11.

French for Rabbits' new single, "Highest Hill" feels, in its essence, like a break-up song. The minimalistic ballad from the New Zealand indie pop group is dreamy catharsis for the recently scorned. Lamenting the loss of a close relationship, front woman Brooke Singer sings in a mournful whisper, "You took me higher than the highest hill, then you took me lower than I've ever felt." Honest and cutting, this track is great for a sad walk around the neighborhood, or a soft, discreet cry on the bus. The group has been active since 2012, but a slew of career-leveraging moments, like an opening slot for fellow New Zealander Lorde and an upcoming performance at SXSW, point towards a bright future for this dynamic duo.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating breakup, Angelo De Augustine’s “Kaitlin” is a hushed journal of the stream-of-consciousness thoughts that fill the silence when a gaping hole opens up, revealing that there never really was anything else. Sing-speaking with matter-of-fact phrasing that implies all other words have failed him, he resorts to simply crying her name. De Augustine whispers intimately, in a way that must have been reserved for the eponymous Kaitlin, but, without a muse, is now full of sorrow. The thought of life without her is wholly unfathomable, but even the thought of her causes its own form of pain, evident in the empty space he leaves at the end of a verse to inhale in preparation of uttering that awful, beautiful name. Not enough time has passed to erase the venom that the end brought forth, so he alternates between sweetness and bitterness, regretting that “I lost my friend,” but telling her to “leave your old boyfriend.” At the end of relationship in which each person’s voids made room for the other — one partner had a missing mother, the other a missing father, and both a missing piece that the other could fill — now there’s just twice as much emptiness.

The passionate question on the chorus of "New Mercies" asks both the singer herself and the listeners “Is it too late for me to believe in the morning’s new mercies?” 19-year-old Taylor Janzen’s latest single gives a voice to her skepticism about the things of heaven and earth. "New Mercies" is the Winnipeg singer-songwriter’s first single recorded in a studio with a full band, which captures all the frustrated energy that brought the song to life. The song was written in a moment of disequilibrium between the feelings of Taylor's energetic soul and the faith she was raised to believe in, a discordance she has always felt but was unable to explain until now. Asking about the mercies conceived in the morning to those who believe in the Biblical God, she questions if it is too late to believe and be saved but she answers herself and her cynicism along the song. Taylor is set to perform in several festivals including SXSW and release her new EP in 2019.

Sydney atmospheric-pop duo Micra recently released their second single "Child Grows Old." The duo is made up of Ivana Kay, a Bulgarian vocalist and guitarist and Robbie Cain, an Australian multi-instrumentalist. After being seated together at an Unknown Mortal Orchestra concert last year the two, kept in touch and decided to make music together. The end result is  a sound that is reminiscent of Beach House and Ariel Pink. When it comes to "Child Grows Old" “The song explores a time in life which felt like nothing had changed for too long. Waiting around for something to happen without knowing where to begin. It's an internal conversation about forcing yourself to jump into the next phase of life and facing the obstacles that come out of that,” Cain says. "Child Grows Old" is trippy in nature, but familiar in content and dedicated to finding life in those times that feel more like dead space.

Outside of Montreal, Murray A. Lightburn is predominantly known for fronting chamber-pop band The Dears and for sounding a whole lot like Morrissey. Ghosts of past success and musical icons could haunt a less versatile musician into irrelevance, but in “Bellevue Blues” Lightburn bares his soul and his soulful influences to dispel any doubts in his ability to continue creating. Of his upcoming release, due out in February, he told his label that it is an album with “no guitar solos at all, and very few instrumental passages. It’s just singing on top of songs.” "Bellevue Blues" is a simple song pairing the sound of the soul and motown hits so beloved in his childhood with the most complex subtleties of adulthood. Lightburn refuses to allow the simplicity to detract from the emotional weight, though, as he bursts into a chorus that would make even the toughest member of Snow Patrol well up a little bit. “I need you / To save me from myself,” he sings, though he is perfectly capable of holding his own.