Chicago-hailing Chase Walsh, popularly known as Worry Club, waltzes back into the scene with an impactful new release, “Bleach." The song welcomes listeners with a languid guitar that appears to hypnotize into a state of dubious bemusement, setting the tone for this reflective piece. The track attests to growing pains, bringing to life those overwhelming urges to transform one's identity in the midst of undergoing a whirlwind of issues. On the track itself, Walsh shared: “I really wanted to capture the nostalgia associated with a fleeting childhood. The idea of growing up has always scared the shit out of me.” In his plight to unearthing deeply-rooted childish nostalgia, Worry Club manages to create a single capable of tapping into one’s past while taking a contemplative eye to the current reality.

I’ve had eight dreams about you 
in quarantine, about the parking lot
behind the mall, first landing
state park and pouring rain 
before I crossed the street.

maybe that’s where
I should have left you, maybe
I shouldn’t miss carpet burn
on my knees. 

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Upon a bittersweet ending, Khamari leaves the door ajar on “Other Side,” the last single from his debut EP, Eldorado. The R&B tune, laced with easy strums and effortless slant rhymes, is a secret love letter slipped under the door to someone you shouldn’t be missing, stolen by the same serendipity that made your paths cross. While Khamari invites his ex to “hit my line, try to make up for all the wasted time," airy harmonies from Jae Stephens are a whisper that one day, “we could get it right.” Unearthing a ghost I thought I’d buried, I’m flooded by the notion that even years later, we could be better still. The candid sincerity of “Other Side” is enough to believe that it’s true.

“Challenger” is TOLEDO’s newest graciously given tune, the first released of their upcoming EP, Jockeys of Love, permitting a few minutes of easy listening. TOLEDO is a Brooklyn-based indie duo comprised of steadfast friends, Jordan Dunn-Pilz and Dan Alvarez. These friends rely on the magic within one another to allow the creative process to happen in their work; Alvarez claims sweetly that together their “strongest qualities reveal themselves.” This track features ease and comfort breeding hope and lightness with sentiments of perseverance while in the throes of discomposure.

"Dominique" by Ela Minus is a four-minute space opera of a song that almost succeeds in not caring about anything. I'm glad this is so, for if it did, it wouldn't have that human touch Ela Minus so subtly inserts into the ping-ponging rhythm to assure a weary listener they won't be beamed up into space after listening to this song one too many times. It's the ad-libs, it's the way the song breathes without vocals, it's the way the vocals barely register.

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It's 3:03 a.m., and I'm thinking about how Ryan Gosling's character in The Place Beyond The Pines, Luke Glanton, was born on October 31, 1966. Jesus. I wonder if I could fly, would I fly far enough to reach outer space and taste exploration on my lips? Or would I barely make it to the windows on the 18th floor of my high-rise? Would I even make it off the ground with all this heaviness inside my soul? I wonder what would happen if I someone from another planet – an alien – followed me on Twitter or Instagram, and I couldn't tell anybody about it. I wonder if they asked me what music was, would they like the song I played them, the Ela Minus song "Dominique"? I imagine they would. Ela Minus may make music for humans, but it's safe to say she could do just fine for herself making music for aliens, too, should they ever have a hankering for manmade music. Stay weird and beautiful. Photo by Juan Ortiz-Arenas.

A repetitive, stuttery guitar plays two notes over a disjointed bassy kick and floor drum groove. Voices sing ghostly oooo sounds, fading in and out of the foreground. Christinna O’s "Braided" isn’t trying to fill the room with a million instruments — she’s doing it with energy. The minimalist repetition is meditative, draws us into a dream-like state. "Braided to the back of my head, now, baby," she says, alternating seamlessly between speech and song. Then, out of nowhere the room empties and it’s just Christinna the poet laying out truths in such perfect precision. Only the oooos are left, as she intones, “Come on now, let’s not act like this skin ain’t my skin, like it don’t hold the whole sun inside its mouth.” We, too, are consumed by the truth and beauty of this song and poem, braided together as one. Photo by Kenya Naomi.

"Juice," from PYNKIE's latest album #37, is an oasis for the lost hearts scared of falling too deep. Not only can NJ-based Lindsey Radice write a lo-fi dance ballad like very few, she can write, perform and co-produce an entire album of them and make it look easy. "Juice," which appears about halfway through the album, reflects upon a troubled relationship with dependency issues over a comforting lo-fi beat. While Radice sings, "Make me go home / Once in a while / Don’t let me stay all night / I don’t wanna fight," the song will have you feeling safe — maybe a perfect analogy to what keeps you coming back and back again to someone who makes you feel scared. That and the fact that the rest of life can be much more scary. PYNKIE's sophomore album #37 is out now, and it's full of sweet testaments of love and figuring the world out. Photo by Kelli McGuire.

“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.