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.

“2short," the lead single from James Lockhart Jr.’s upcoming debut EP, poignantly and cleverly tackles the cruel beauty of memory and the uniquely sublime nature of time spent with those you love. The song follows a back and forth in the narrator’s mind, between moments of warmth, brought on by images of the past, and cold realizations that those images cannot compare to the true moments of connection that they shadow. This contrast is expertly accentuated by the arrangement and production choices. In the sections of memory, the sound is full, the drums are center stage, and it feels like James is singing right next to you. When the feelings of isolation and longing take over, the drums cut and his voice takes on the distant quality of a radio or telephone. The lyrics are straightforward yet lush with emotional potency. The second verse description of a Polaroid photo being taken, and subsequently looked to, “when I need to see somebody glowing,” struck me with a sharp bolt of nostalgia because of its accuracy and truth. In this particular moment, as we move into the summer and the world hopefully begins to open up safely, “2short” is able to delicately both lament the love and connection which was lost over the past year and implore the listener to cherish the moments that will come. Photo by Sara Laufer. 

Sunny chords strum in to transport you to a beach somewhere with great friends and cool drinks on Sea Glass’ newest single “Lemon Lime Watermelon.” 

Sea Glass is the brand new project from Brooklyn-based multi-instrumentalist and producer Jake Muskat. Through Sea Glass, he aims to create an exciting, collaborative project as each song features a different co-writer vocalist. For “Lemon Lime Watermelon,” Muskat enlists the help of Chicago native Sky Adler. 

Whimsical lyrics let us know that “Lemon Lime Watermelon” is “fresher than toothpaste.” The song builds as arpeggiated keys and a buoyant beat surface, inviting us to get out of our heads and be more present as Adler sings, “They’re stuck in last year / I’m flying through this week.”  

With the vaccine rolling out, the weather getting nicer every day, and the possibility of experiencing live music again, it certainly feels like we’re in the home stretch of a forgettable year. Although we must keep taking care of ourselves and others, these uplifting times tell us that despite what’s happened, there’s still joy to be found.

As the song closes and filtered keys play the last chords, you can’t help but feel compelled by their proposition: “I’m starting over baby / You should come along with me / Let’s go on a spaceship / Let’s go on a journey.” How could you say no to that? Photo provided by Sea Glass. 

This week, Oxford-based quartet Low Island is taking over Buzzing Daily to walk us through select tracks from their debut album, If You Could Have It All Again. Follow along as they delve into the modern synth rock-tinged record, which they've deemed "a love letter to a wasted 20s." Photo by Evelin van Rei. 

Momentary is a song about unrequited love. It’s about wishing that the strength of feeling that someone instilled in you is something that you could give to them, and how so often love’s trajectory can travel along steep inclines only to be met with abrupt cliff edges. But what the song is trying to say is that in spite of all that, it’s always worth being honest about how you feel, no matter the outcome, because only then can you find the strength to move on. It’s a cliche but it’s true. — Low Island

Instantly infectious and only more memorable with every listen, Wilby’s latest single proves once again how powerful of a songwriter and artist she can be, and already is. The band feels so welcoming and homey, a fuzzy riff tying a bow on it all. So when Wilby delivers a devastating lyric to open, it caught me off guard: “I can still hear your voice in the kitchen." The more I consider this lyric, the more beautiful it becomes. Some of my fondest memories live in the kitchens of my life. Family often finds itself there, a place to care for one another. The lyric and band transport me back to those places, and I can hear my grandma talking about her day, my aunt walking me through a recipe. It warms my heart. There’s more happening around us, but Wilby winks as she asks, “Honey, what’s the rush?" It’s moments like these that keep me in awe of Wilby’s music: tremendously human and vulnerable insights, from a voice like none other, sitting atop a loose and wonderful band. Shortly after the singalong-worthy chorus, we get another example of her magic. I’ve been haunted by this stunning thought: “Every memory has its limit / Good but never enough.” Even amidst Wilby painting these verses with specific and stunning imagery, it’s a reminder to be grateful for, and present in, each moment that comes our way. It’s easy to do that during this song, so lovely at every turn. The bridge offers another wonderful moment, a reminder that we can always carry our loved ones with us and hold those relationships close. The rest of the song has me singing and crying along, my heart filled to the brim with warmth and with love. Photo by Bennett Littlejohn. 

This week, Oxford-based quartet Low Island is taking over Buzzing Daily to walk us through select tracks from their debut album, If You Could Have It All Again. Follow along as they delve into the modern synth rock-tinged record, which they've deemed "a love letter to a wasted 20s." Photo by Evelin van Rei. 

This is a song about a toxic relationship; not necessarily with a person, but with yourself. A part of yourself that you become attached to and, for fear of change, you don’t want to let it go. It’s about taking that part of yourself, or that feeling, for one last dance before finally saying goodbye. In an interview the other day, the interviewer likened it to the last cigarette. I thought that was a neat way of summing it up. — Low Island

The other night, I was sitting on a patio in East Austin chatting with friends. With vaccines rolling out and folks excited to start stretching their limbs, maybe it was talk of travel that sparked this query to the group:

Friend: “You know when you’re first dating someone, or the relationship’s young...and you kind of ask yourself, are we cool? We’re cool right? Like when one of you is out of town, or you haven’t seen them in a bit? But then when the relationship’s more mature, you don’t think twice about it even when you’re apart.” She added with a smile: “It’s just—yeah, we’re cool. You know.”

As it should be. 

Ruth B.’s latest single, "Situation," brings to mind that overthinking, feel-your-cell-phone-vibrating-even-though-it's-off sense of uncertainty that can get muddled in with early relationships, or those lacking transparency and honest communication, especially around commitment.  

Despite her description of this uncertainty, Ruth B.’s lyrics spotlight self-awareness, and her silkily straightforward melody lets the song’s meaning ring clear—like the kind of communication everyone deserves to have (and give) in their relationships: "If you love me let me know or let me go / Let me know or let me go." Photo by Gabriel LN.

This week, Oxford-based quartet Low Island is taking over Buzzing Daily to walk us through select tracks from their debut album, If You Could Have It All Again. Follow along as they delve into the modern synth rock-tinged record, which they've deemed "a love letter to a wasted 20s." Photo by Evelin van Rei. 

Online there is this huge pressure to be showing yourself at your best, being successful, having fun, doing well; and because this false presentation has become so ingrained in our everyday experiences, we can start to perceive it as "normal." I think it’s far more normal, or at least equally as likely, to be looking terrible, failing, not having a great time and feeling fairly indifferent about life. This song toys with the idea of leaving life’s false presentations behind for good. Easier said than done! — Low Island