London-based artist Zilo’s latest track sings as a diary page that has been left open on purpose. “Tell Her” is an open-letter plea to a lover to let go of an ex, while also offering the reflection that she should just trust her partner and let it go. Jealousy is a tricky emotion and Zilo’s exploration of this conflicting feeling is heightened by the sultry R&B bass grooves and staggered percussion leading us through her thoughts. Produced by Bowtye, the smallest detail of delicate chimes in the background sound eerily similar to a text tone and give the listener a tinge of anxiety similar to what you might feel if you were worried about a partner and someone they’re talking to. A slowed edit of the song was released alongside the original, which gives Zilo a more androgynous tone that seems exhausted by the stress of the unknown. “Tell Her” is the third single in a string of soulful releases from Zilo this year.

UK singer and songwriter L.A. Salami is a witty, insightful lyricist and an artist with considerable genre-blending range. His musical roots are in the folk singer-songwriter tradition; Bob Dylan was an early influence and role model. He has since delved into blues-rock and hip-hop, always driven by storytelling and perceptive social commentary. With “The Cage,” L.A. Salami delivers a timely meditation on race and politics, surveying the injustices and confines of our systems and societies. Over a hypnotic groove, he raps, “capitalism’s on its knees telling math jokes” and mentions “seeing race wars rage live on Facetime.” This is not acoustic troubadour folk music (which L.A. Salami also does quite well), but with its finger firmly on the pulse and its lyrics a mirror to our world, it is every bit a folk song. It’s also an example of some of L.A. Salami’s most inventive production choices yet and suggests an exciting direction for his upcoming album, The Cause of Doubt & a Reason to Have Faith, set for release on July 17. In challenging moments like this one, some artists just know what to say—L.A. Salami is one such artist, and we are lucky to listen.

“I’m sorry if this bumps / Can’t be mad I dropped another one” is what Halima says to an ex—and we are not mad about it at all. “Wake Up!” is genre-bending pop/r&b artist Halima’s newest single, full of intense, commanding lyrics with a seemingly effortless delivery. Her voice cuts through her lyrics like butter, but her words are in no way commonplace or lukewarm. “I was too woman, you ain’t enough man” comes right before “Imma choose myself in love,” which is Halima choosing her own personhood and her art above anyone who has not yet awoken to her talent and heart. Our society is inundated with deep injustice towards black people, and waking up those who have not already realized that is not just what should happen, but what is necessary. Sales from “Wake Up!” for the first month are being donated to Campaign Zero, Reclaim The Block and the NAACP.

I come home to the walls of my room painted in rich lavender. Like a loved lilac, I could bloom here after being watered all day. Why do I move, why do I dance when I am feeling low? I don’t know, but the colors wake me up. I’m alone in my room, let alone my house. My parents must be at work late. With life to myself, I stand on my bed and sing at the top of my lungs into a hairbrush. I watch myself go in my mirror. My hair's in my eyes, and my heart's in my throat. I wonder how much my throat would burn if it was possible to throw it up. I wonder if it was possible to grow another heart like a strand of hair, would I choose to? I wonder if I could sing along to Serena Isioma’s “Hard” and be heartless. I’m still wondering.

It doesn't take long to realize that Dana McCoy has her foot on the gas at the beginning of her new single “Broken Boy.” Don't let the track's midtempo melody and McCoy's luscious vocals fool you; her message is anything but subtle. 

McCoy's gentle demeanor still demands both the listener's and the 'broken boy's' attention. McCoy begins letting the subject know she sees him for all he is, and she's no longer going to put up with the noise he's inflicted on her life. However, “Broken Boy” isn't your typical break-up song relying on a laundry list of the subject's faults. McCoy throws a curveball simply by practicing a little bit of empathy. She stands her ground while reassuring him "I see myself in your pain / but I won't be treated this way." 

In an atypical fashion for a break-up song, McCoy prioritizes her self-importance—refusing to lose even an ounce of self-confidence in three and a half minutes. Her determination to keep herself intact (and 'whole' if you will) also allows room for McCoy's heart to come through when she acknowledges she understands this boy has been through it all. That being said, McCoy knows she has to throw on her metaphorical lifejacket first because some relationships are doomed to remain broken: no matter how far an olive branch is extended.

"Broken Boy" is now available via Liftoff Records.

Kelsey Lu roots herself within the delicate tendrils of nature in her new single, “Morning Dew.” The track emerges with wistful pickings of guitar and deep, meditative saxophone tones—reminiscent of an awakening sun that gently disturbs the horizon and gradually rises over glistening meadows. The saxophone is played by Onyx Collective’s Isaiah Barr, and it re-enters with a fluttering grace midway through, further emulating the sun’s rippling rays, cradling all in its embrace. 

Spurred by heartbreak, the track grieves for a home found in another, as Lu sings, “Bring me home / back to you / wash off the old / put on the new.” While Lu grapples with the notion of a home, she communes with nature as a source of renewal. In an Instagram post detailing the song’s origins, Lu writes, “I’m relieved to feel like I’ve found a Home within myself enough to connect to the universe on a deeper level than when I first wrote it, and I invite you to feel that and get lost in it as well.” “Morning Dew” is a true cleanse to the system, of which you may surely lose yourself in its tender solace. Take this offering with care, and enjoy.

"A Comma," the first single from Brooklyn-based serpentwithfeet’s three-song EP Apparition, is a flowing, triumphant rumination on the turbulence that we find ourselves living through today—and the psychological toll that comes with carrying on during these unprecedented times. Following an attention-grabbing baroque-inspired piano line, the artist born Josiah Wise begins to sing about the pain and confusion that repressing his emotions has caused him. Just when it seems as though the song is heading in a darker direction, however, Wise provides us with a glimmer of hope, stating “I’m struggling to find a way / One day soon I’ll find my place / Life’s gotta get easier.” His warm, velvety vocals come straight from the heart—when he asserts that “Life’s gotta get easier,” you can’t help but believe him. 

As an outspoken advocate for the Black Lives Matter movement who regularly condemns police brutality and racism via Instagram, Wise is an artist who recognizes the duty that he has to use his platform for good. His music enriches and inspires. The title of the song, “A Comma,” is taken directly from the first line of the second verse: “I pray for punctuation / Lord, be a comma / Or better karma / Or a sweeter situation.” He seems to be saying that though the world seems to be in constant turmoil right now, these times are not the period concluding the sentence of our nation. They are a comma—we will educate ourselves, learn, and improve—and life will get easier. Listen to “A Comma” wherever you stream.

Spencer.’s newest release “Hold It down,” tastes like a whiskey sour on a cool summer night: soft and fruity on the first sip, with a tinge of heat at the bottom of the glass, and, of course, a few bitters sprinkled in between. On a first listen, it’s easy for the track’s trap-inspired beats and lo-fi harmonies to convince you of the singer’s romantic ambivalence. However, buried within Spencer.’s exaggerated vocals and tender lyrics are feelings of intense longing and desire. “Hold It down” is a slow burn in more ways than one. It’s old school hip-hop qualities gently pull listeners into their own hazy reveries, while it’s laid-back ambiance encourages one to cast their worries aside—for one more night—and have another drink.

London duo Babeheaven knows how to cultivate a mood.  On “Human Nature,” synths ease into a downtempo guitar beat reminiscent of a 90s grunge track you’d (re)discover on an old mixtape. It feels like the kind of song you’d queue up at the end of a long shift, or subway ride while walking through dimly-lit city streets: maneuvering your course while observing the people you pass by. Sparse instrumentation allows lead singer Nancy Anderson’s vocals to shine. Lyrics like “Your mask is stuck in your hollow insides” and “And although I’m there, I’m not quite here” demonstrate a conflict between public and private selves. In the band’s own words, “Human Nature” is about “the performance we do online, where everything exists in a sort of grey area. We thought that social media would lead to individualism but a new human nature is exciting in an otherworldly state. It’s about losing touch with yourself and not transmitting emotions." “Human Nature” plays at the chasm between the faces we show the world and the voices narrating from within.