This Song Feels Like a Summer Drive – John Deering’s ‘Groove, Groove, Groove
Minneapolis singer-songwriter John Deering has just released his second single, “Groove, Groove, Groove”. This follows his first hit “Strip Mall Jesus”. In this new song, Deering shares memories of summers at the Jersey Shore, mixing fun beach feelings with catchy music.
The song makes you feel like you’re at the beach with the sound of waves nearby. Deering’s words paint clear pictures of happy summer days full of good times. While the song looks back at the past, it sounds fresh and modern.
You can hear how bands like The Police, Television, and Talking Heads have shaped Deering’s style, but he creates something that’s all his own. The guitar work and singing blend old rock with new sounds.
The song sounds really good, even though Deering recorded it in his basement. Peter Anderson plays drums, giving the song a strong beat from beginning to end. Ryan Smith from Soul Asylum helped with production, making sure everything sounds just right.
Deering’s singing is friendly and full of feeling. You can hear his happiness and longing as he sings about those summer days, making the song feel both personal and something everyone can relate to.
“Groove, Groove, Groove” shows how Deering is growing as a songwriter. With its catchy tune and heartfelt story, it makes you want to dance and remember good times.
KILRAVOCK’s EP Delivers a Raw Anti-Capitalist Manifesto
Steven Wayne Smith’s project KILRAVOCK has just released a new EP called ‘Tyranny of the Clock’. This hard-hitting collection tackles workers’ rights, anti-work themes, and pushes back against capitalism. It dropped on May 1st – International Workers’ Day – making a strong statement from the start.
The EP features “Who Killed Saint Monday,” which takes inspiration from George Woodcock’s writing about how time rules over workers’ lives. The track combines powerful guitars with raw vocals while keeping a storytelling style that feels rooted in folk traditions.
KILRAVOCK also puts a new spin on the labor anthem “Solidarity Forever,” turning the once-hopeful song into something much darker and more reflective. The EP includes fresh versions of “Incompatibility” and John Lennon’s “Working Class Hero,” both reworked to feel urgent and relevant today.
KILRAVOCK also puts a new spin on the labor anthem
The final tracks bring in sounds from Smith’s earlier bands – The Alliterates and Lucid Fugue – adding depth to the EP. The mix of heavy rock styles creates a thick, heavy sound that matches the EP’s defiant message.
‘Tyranny of the Clock’ isn’t meant to be easy listening. It’s rough, focused on a specific audience, and deliberately challenging. But for those interested in its political themes, it offers a powerful experience – protest music that directly confronts modern work culture and capitalism.
Golden Alliance's "Cruise": More Than a Song, It's a Fervent Quest.
Golden Alliance’s new single, “Cruise,” lands with the kind of revving immediacy that makes you instinctively check if you’ve left the car keys somewhere obvious. This Sussex-based studio artist isn’t just plotting a holiday; “Cruise” maps out a profound, almost spiritual, desire to get under the skin of Route 66 – to understand its faded glories, those sun-bleached fragments of chrome and neon, its still-flickering rebellious allure, every last chipped paint memory. It’s like wanting to know the secret handshake of a forgotten, slightly disreputable, club.
The track motors along on a classic rock framework, high-tempo and determined, the sonic equivalent of unwavering lane discipline heading west. Yet, there’s a bright, rock-pop sheen to the production that makes the journey feel less about dusty desolation and more about the thrill of the open map, perhaps with a brand-new pair of driving gloves. I found myself thinking, oddly, of the precise, satisfying click of a Zippo lighter, that little spark promising… something. A beginning.
Golden Alliance’s “Cruise”: More Than a Song, It’s a Fervent Quest.
What truly resonates is this yearning to make the legendary highway intensely personal, to not just observe its remnants but to be marked by them, to weave new memories into its historical fabric alongside a companion. The song’s energy isn’t so much swagger as it is a kind of bright-eyed, fervent commitment to the quest itself. There’s a genuine reach here, an attempt to connect across the miles and the decades.
It’s a fascinating listen from an artist clearly pouring heart into their craft, this fresh voice from Sussex singing of American asphalt sagas. “Cruise” leaves you pondering not just the ghosts of an icon, but the sheer power of a destination – real or imagined – to call to us. If a stretch of road can hold such epic tales, which chapter are we hoping to write ourselves into?
GINAxC’s single, “Dopamine Rush,” doesn’t so much arrive as it… activates. It’s less a gentle introduction and more a direct feed into the central nervous system, a jolt that bypasses polite conversation entirely. This Swedish artist paints with a palette of electronic pop and synthpop that feels less like colours and more like raw, flickering currents.
The track itself is a shrine to the fierce, all-consuming need for that electrifying high. A brazen declaration of hedonism, really. Here, any grand ideal, any sweeping gesture, is rendered utterly pointless unless it directly fuels that immediate, almost agonizingly pleasurable spike. GINAxC makes no apologies for this relentless pursuit; the intensity is the point. The lyrics articulate a craving, and the music, with its dark, energetic pulse, becomes the very throb of that desire.
Credit: Photo: Linus Cinnamoni
It’s funny, isn’t it? This very modern articulation of a primal urge, all wrapped in hypnotic synth lines that coil around you like something both metallic and alive. It almost makes me think of those incredibly elaborate, jewel-encrusted snuff boxes from centuries past – beautiful containers for a very specific, potent experience, meticulously crafted for a fleeting sensation. GINAxC mentions a personal exploration of genes and dopamine needs; perhaps this is just the latest iteration of that human dance with intensity, our biology screaming for more against a backdrop of stark, intelligent electronics. The track is described as a pulse, and truly, it feels like one – insistent, a little dangerous, utterly compelling.
The effect is less about dancing (though you could, in a rather serious, focused sort of way) and more about feeling every single nerve ending light up. It’s an unsettling comfort, this fierce, emotional edge. It doesn’t soothe; it validates the hunger, the sheer need to feel alive and gloriously, chaotically free.
But what happens when the rush inevitably fades? Does the silence then become the loudest sound of all?
Bad Valentines Etch "Memory Tattoos" into Your Soul
Bad Valentines offer up their new EP, “Memory Tattoos,” and these four songs arrived like a bundle of stubbornly persistent wildflowers pushing through cracked pavement. This Helsinki quintet, veterans of the Finnish indie scene, isn’t peddling easy comforts; they’re dragging the raw, beautiful mess of existence into the flickering neon glow of their glam-punk-pop leanings.
The EP itself feels like being buttonholed by someone with a story etched onto their very soul, an urgent chronicle of loss so potent it almost carries a scent – something like damp earth and a forgotten bonfire. Themes of grief and the overwhelming weight of darkness aren’t just stated; they’re thrashed out with an energy that’s both defiant and desperately seeking. There’s a particular kind of Nordic melancholy, perhaps, in the way personal sorrow braids with the turning seasons and the wider, colder ache of global conflict. It’s the sound of trying to remember the exact shade of a loved one’s eyes while the news blares tales of far-off devastation.
For all its heavy heart, “Memory Tattoos” struts. The glam swagger and punk snarl are not mere affectations; they’re the glittery, slightly chipped armour worn against despair. One minute you’re lost in a 60s pop-inflected melody that could almost be playing from a transistor radio in a dream, the next, a guitar riff cuts through like a shard of glass, demanding your attention.
Bad Valentines Etch “Memory Tattoos” into Your Soul
It’s this peculiar blend, this melodic resilience, that captures the “life, love, and grit” they aim for. It makes me think of finding an exquisitely crafted, slightly tarnished silver locket in the pocket of a well-worn leather jacket.
This isn’t just lament; it’s a howl, a plea, and occasionally, a determined, if weary, foot-stomp against the dying of the light. Bad Valentines have managed to distill that feeling of carrying impossible burdens while still scanning the horizon for some, any, flicker.
Do these tattoos ultimately heal, or simply mark the scars with a defiant artistry?
Rosetta West’s “Circle of Doubt” – it’s less a song dropped, more a confession overheard, a rumbling from the Illinois underground that settles deep in your sternum like a slow, incoming tide. Right from the off, you’re not just listening; you’re in it, this swirling blues-rock miasma where the psychedelic fuzz feels like the very texture of that titular doubt, clinging like damp wool. Joseph Demagore sounds like a man who’s argued with his own shadow and mostly lost, his voice etched with the geography of internal struggle, a roadmap of weariness.
The air in this track is thick, almost unbreathable, a testament to Jason X’s co-production alongside his bass and keyboard work. It’s the sound of being trapped, alright, but not in a cage you can see or rattle. No, this is more akin to being stuck in one of those repeating dreams where you run and run but the scenery just… recycles, a personal purgatory loop. That oppressive “town” they conjure? I once saw an old, water-damaged allegorical painting, slightly tilted, the faces blurred into suggestions of judgement, that evoked this same disquieting, cyclical dread. Drummer Nathan Q. Scratch and bassist Jason X lay down a rhythm section that’s less a beat, more the persistent, heavy throb of an exhausted heart.
Into the Miasma: Rosetta West’s “Circle of Doubt”
Then, amidst this narrative of spiritual combat fatigue, this plea to an apparently deaf higher power, a raw declaration of love surfaces. It’s not a life raft, not exactly. More like finding a single, perfectly formed, blood-red bloom in the middle of a desolate, ash-covered battlefield. Utterly out of place, defiant, yet it redefines the whole damn war, doesn’t it?
This is Rosetta West, seasoned voyagers of independent sonic currents, laying bare a moment of profound exhaustion, yet still brandishing that defiant flicker. “Circle of Doubt” isn’t here to offer easy answers or a shoulder to cry on. It’s looking for anyone who truly understands the peculiar weight of carrying such an invisible chain. But I’m left pondering: is that desperate love the ultimate key to escape, or just the heaviest, most precious link holding it all together?
DJThriller "Ain't Asking" Permission For This Truth Bomb
The air crackles a bit differently when a new track from DJThriller arrives. There’s an expectation, a certain hum that suggests you’re not just about to hear a song, but perhaps a piece of someone’s mind, meticulously laid bare.
With “Ain’t Asking,” that hum amplifies into a clear, resonant signal. This is a front-and-centre declaration, a modern alt-rap piece that feels less like a request for your time and more like an affirmation of its own arrival.
The single immediately sets a tone. It’s sharp. It’s unapologetic. Think of the way a sudden shift in atmospheric pressure precedes a storm – that’s the kind of energy “Ain’t Asking” brings.
DJThriller is not trying to be friends with dishonest people; the song is a straight clash and a musical nod to the idea that sometimes the strongest attitude is the one you take without looking for approval from others.
At its heart is the idea of self-worth, which is something that is talked about a lot but not so honestly in a three-minute sound burst.
Drawing from a wellspring that seems to channel the spirit of artists like Kendrick Lamar and the eclectic vibes of EARTHGANG, DJThriller carves out a space that is distinctly his own. The modern alt-rap label fits, but it’s not a confining box. Instead, it’s a launchpad.
You can almost feel the roughness of the beats, which is like running your hand over rough-sawn wood. They do not just back up the lyrics; they become part of them, making a base that is both honest and carefully put together.
The lyrical content is where “Ain’t Asking” truly bares its teeth. DJThriller’s verses are surgical, cutting through the fluff and targeting the often-unspoken dynamics of ego and opportunism.
There’s a palpable sense of someone drawing a line in the sand, a reclaiming of personal space from those who might seek to encroach with “fake energy.”
It’s a theme that resonates deeply in an age where curated personas often overshadow genuine connection. The words don’t shy away from the uncomfortable, instead choosing to illuminate it, to hold it up for examination.
It’s like that moment in a play when a character breaks the fourth wall, not for a cheap laugh, but to deliver a truth that hits harder because of its directness.
What makes this daring so interesting is how it makes you think about yourself. It is not just a show of power; it is an assertion based on a deep understanding of what is true.
The second verse shifts gears effectively, moving from observation to action as DJThriller addresses the “opportunists” directly. This creates a narrative arc that keeps the listener engaged beyond the initial hook.
It reminds me of how Pablo Picasso once said that art is a lie that makes us realize truth. DJ Thriller’s lyrics function similarly—constructing stories that illuminate something authentic about our shared reality.
DJThriller “Ain’t Asking” Permission For This Truth Bomb
“Ain’t Asking” also showcases impressive technical skill. The cadence changes, the strategic pauses, the moments where the beat drops out to highlight a particularly cutting line—these aren’t accidents but deliberate choices that demonstrate an artist in control of their craft.
As social media continues to blur the lines between public and private, between performance and authenticity, DJThriller’s stance represents a countercultural push toward boundaries and self-definition.
For listeners who’ve grown tired of empty calories in their musical diet, “Ain’t Asking” offers substantial nourishment.
It demands active listening rather than passive consumption, rewarding those willing to engage with its ideas rather than simply letting it play in the background.
“Ain’t Asking” leaves me curious about what comes next. Will DJThriller continue down this path of raw honesty, or will future releases explore different facets of the artist’s perspective?
Either way, this single establishes DJThriller as a voice worth following in the alternative rap scene.
DJ AB's "YNS Cypher 2025": Heritage Forged in Fire
DJ AB’s “YNS Cypher 2025” has swaggered into existence. Not a gentle arrival, mind you, but more the auditory equivalent of a conquering legion setting up a very loud, very confident camp. This isn’t background hum for a Tuesday afternoon; it’s a full-colour, high-decibel assertion from the Northern Nigerian hip-hop vanguard, a yearly planting of the YNS flag. DJ AB, the central current, is amplified by Jigsaw, Lil Prince, and A-shagz, and together they unleash a verbal storm that feels both meticulously crafted and wildly instinctual – a controlled demolition of expectations. It’s the kind of sound that makes the air taste different, metallic and sharp.
The sheer, unadulterated confidence, the lyrical teeth-baring – it’s like observing a supremely skilled artisan, say, a bladesmith, rhythmically hammering incandescent metal into something lethally beautiful. There’s an inherent danger, but also an undeniable artistry in the sparks that fly, each one a tiny, fleeting star. This collective synergy isn’t just about taking turns on the mic; they’re constructing something formidable, each artist’s contribution a perfectly angled, razor-sharp stone in an ever-rising edifice of lyrical dominance, each voice distinct yet utterly cohesive.
DJ AB’s “YNS Cypher 2025”: Heritage Forged in Fire
That blend of local linguistic spice with globally resonant beats? It’s a curious, potent brew, smelling faintly of old spice routes and new city concrete. It sometimes makes me think of ancient tapestries suddenly shot through with electric, neon threads, still telling an ancestral story but now pulsating with an impossible, defiant new light. This is the sound of heritage roaring into the present, demanding its space. This track doesn’t gently request your attention; it seizes it with a swagger that’s frankly invigorating, even in its most chest-beating declarations. The boasts, one starts to suspect, are less about pure ego and more about survival’s proud, unshakeable echo.
It’s a stark, bracing listen, for sure. You feel the grit between your teeth long after it’s over. One wonders: does the annual arrival of such a cypher act less like a simple music release and more like a fiercely protective, sonic incantation, ritually renewing their claim over the landscape each year?
Geoff Westen - 'Music For My Friends': High Energy, Hidden Depths
Geoff Westen’s album, “Music For My Friends”, thumps onto the scene like a dropped box of heavy disco balls – all shiny potential energy and the slight threat of chaos. It aims for that classic pop song euphoria, the kind designed to rattle car speakers and fuel late-night dance floors, an “aural assault” as Westen puts it. And it does pulse with energy, a insistent, hard-pop beat pushing relentlessly forward.
But peel back the chrome plating, and the lyrical heart is pumping something darker, something almost bruisingly human. We’re thrown headfirst into a whirlwind of obsessive clinging (“You will stay!”), followed by the sharp, glass-shattering sound of rejection and blame. It’s an emotional U-turn performed at speed, leaving you momentarily disoriented. Where did that sweet melody just go? Oh, it’s now twisting around a lyric that feels like a slammed door.
From that wreckage, the album scrabbles towards escape. It chases impulsive joy, ducks into dreamlike romances that feel hazy, maybe unreliable. There’s this peculiar fascination with the city’s flow, particularly the subway – seeking anonymity or perhaps connection in that underground river of strangers. It reminds me, oddly, of the specific smell of ozone and damp concrete before a train arrives, a scent that always feels pregnant with possibility or just… mundane delay. This search escalates, craving transcendence through snatched encounters, altered states, a frantic dance against dissatisfaction. Even love, when seemingly captured, feels viewed through thick, rose-tinted glass, hyper-idealized, almost alien.
The effect is bracing, like mainlining sugar while reading someone’s diary. The rock-pop chassis is sturdy, built for movement, yet the narrative running through it is all jagged edges and feverish searching. It makes you want to move, absolutely, but you’re left wondering: are we dancing towards something ecstatic, or just furiously away from the wreckage?
Life in an Instant: RoofTop Screamers' "Blink of an Eye"
RoofTop Screamers’ “Blink of an Eye” has a way of unpacking itself in your mind long after the last note fades, like finding a single, unexplainable sequin on your collar hours after leaving a particularly vivid party. It struts in with this curious collision of sounds – a pinch of power pop’s bright-eyed yearning, the jagged, insistent pulse of new wave, a defiant shimmer of glam rock that makes you want to dig out platform boots, all swirling in a distinctly psychedelic haze. It’s as if they unearthed an old map to a rebellion that was once painted in bright colours, now beautifully faded yet still humming with energy.
And Royston Langdon, his vocals steering this particular sonic vessel, sounds less like a mere guest and more like the seasoned, slightly mournful ringmaster of this beautiful unease. The track grapples with that heavy cloak: disillusionment. That familiar, almost metallic tang in the air when reality’s promises turn out to be cleverly disguised holograms.
This idea of being caught in a rigged game, where joy is a fast-fading blip and the unseen puppeteers always seem to collect their winnings – it’s disarmingly potent. There’s a palpable sense here, akin to suddenly noticing the slight tremor in a tightrope walker’s smile, that we’re all players in an elaborate performance designed to chip away at our spirit.
Life in an Instant: RoofTop Screamers’ “Blink of an Eye”
Life zipping past, vanishing “in an instant,” as the lyrics observe. It makes me think of those timelapse films of flowers blooming and wilting in seconds, a whole lifespan compressed into a breathtaking, poignant spectacle. Are we supposed to just watch, or somehow intervene in our own fleeting show? The song doesn’t offer platitudes, just this pulsing, insistent invitation to notice the flicker, to acknowledge the speed, to perhaps dance a little before the lights go out.
This isn’t about succumbing to the void; it’s more like a very chic, knowing glance shared across a crowded room, acknowledging the shared absurdity and urging you to grab onto whatever solid thing is nearby – even if it’s just the undeniable hook of the song itself.
So, if our moments are as ephemeral as a soap bubble, does finding the beauty in its iridescent skin just before it pops become the ultimate act of living?
Mergo's "Bat Country": A New Sound with Deep Roots
Mergo’s new song “Bat Country” mixes rough acoustic rock with thoughtful lyrics, showing a new side of this three-person band from Kalgoorlie. Rob Grant, who has worked with Tame Impala and Spacey Jane, helped make the song. It has a simpler sound but keeps the raw Australian rock feel their fans enjoy.
The song starts with haunting guitar notes and deep vocals that create a thoughtful mood. Mergo sings about memories from the hot, wide open lands of rural Western Australia, showing both the beauty and the hardness of desert life in the Goldfields.
The words are very personal, painting clear pi
The words are very personal, painting clear pictures of wanting and inner struggle, with lines like “you said we’re ordinary, you said we’re temporary” that speak to how nothing lasts forever.
“Bat Country” feels both healing and like it belongs in a movie. The acoustic instruments make it feel more close and personal, letting Mergo’s powerful storytelling stand out while keeping their rough rock style. With this song, Mergo shows they can grow their sound while staying true to who they are – creating a moving, emotional song that stays with you long after it ends.
Varun Das is a musician worth knowing. This New York drummer, composer, and teacher has just released his new single “Childlike.” The song mixes Indian classical music, jazz, and progressive rock into something fresh and moving. As an artist who works with Yamaha, Sabian, and Remo, Varun brings a unique sound that’s both skilled and emotional.
“Childlike” balances complex and approachable elements. The unusual rhythms provide a strong foundation while catchy melodies keep listeners engaged. The song challenges you without pushing you away – a tough balance that Varun handles naturally.
We’re talking with Varun today about creating “Childlike,” the childhood memories behind its nostalgic feel, and how his music has grown from technical skill to emotional storytelling.
Can you walk us through the writing and recording process for “Childlike”? Did it differ from your previous work?
Yeah, this project was pieced together a little differently. It all began with the guitar part, in fact—the quite distinctive line you hear all over the track. The minute I had that, I knew that was going to be the anchor, the emotional core of the piece.
I just wanted the groove to flutter from there — something spectrally delicate that would sit under everything else without clogging it up. Usually I work with drums first, but in this case I let the mood of the song dictate the rhythm, and not the other way around. That change really opened things up creatively — it felt like I was scoring a feeling, not just a song.
The title “Childlike” is intriguing. What does it represent to you personally or creatively? To me, being childlike is being open and free. Generally, children are unafraid to imagine, to feel, to try something out without concern for whether it’s “cool” or “correct.” That’s where I wanted to go creatively. I allowed myself to not overthink, to make the kind of music that feels true, even if it’s messy or peculiar. “That, in many ways, is about exploding boxes and limitations.”
Did any specific childhood memories or experiences influence the lyrics or mood of the song? Definitely. I used to daydream constantly as a kid — create entire worlds inside my head, dork around on drums for hours. The sense of escape is all over the song. And there’s that tension in the song — that kind you feel when you read something trying to hold on to something pure in a world which just won’t stop trying to make you “grow up.” That’s super real to me.
Definitely. I used to daydream constantly as a kid — create entire worlds inside my head, dork around on drums for hours.
How would you describe the overall sound and vibe of “Childlike” for someone hearing it for the first time? I would definitely describe the overall sound as emotive and atmospheric; at moments, it’s almost psychedelic. The track is a space rather than a structure. You’re sort of inside the sound, not just hearing it. The guitar is responsible for setting the emotional tone — this hypnotic, looping line that feels like nostalgia and being a little perturbed.
The synths are there to stretch out that space, to make it seem dreamy and indefinite. I intentionally wanted the drum sound very subdued — I wanted them to breathe, to feel like a pulse that’s in the background, not so much pushing things forward.
Were there any new instruments, production techniques, or stylistic influences you experimented with in this track?
Yeah— one of the big changes for me on Childlike was how I used electronic textures. I wasn’t trying to do anything glitchy or abrasive. I didn’t want them to feel that technical at all, but rather almost like a slide guitar — bending, floating, adding this emotional, melodic layer that felt very slippery. It wasn’t there just for the look of things — it was doing some of the storytelling.
I paid a lot of attention to space too — to not being afraid to give room for things to breathe. The drums, for one thing, are super understated — on purpose. I wanted the groove to feel like it was moving under everything else, just giving the track a pulse, without latching onto it. The entire production was about emotional clarity as much as technical flash — everything had to serve a feeling, and not simply fill space.
Is “Childlike” part of a larger project, such as an upcoming EP or album, or is it a standalone single?
It is, in fact, one of the 8 tracks on a full-length album, also titled Childlike. The record takes that idea and extrapolates it in dozens of different emotional and sonic directions. Each track delves into an aspect of what it means to hold onto that childlike view and take it with you into adult life — whether it’s through wonder, confusion, nostalgia or even discomfort. I really wanted the album to be an inward journey, moments that are raw and stripped back and moments that felt more layered and surreal. It’s not a concept album in a traditional sense, but there’s definitely a bigger emotional thread that’s tying everything together.
How do you feel “Childlike” reflects your growth as an artist? Has your creative approach changed over time?
Big time. Early on, certainly as I came up through the modern-jazz world, I was very much focused on technique, technical facility — with drums, with composition. I was involved in sophisticated rhythmic systems and transmission: you’re going to learn a modern jazz vocabulary, you’re going to learn duke Ellington and Thelonious Monk, but you’re going to also learn deep Indian classical traditions.
I was always wanting to prove myself — it’s like, “I’m supposed to be here,” you know? And as good as all of that was — the depth and discipline of this rich tradition — I found that I was sometimes losing sight of the Forest for the Trees: What got me into playing music in the first place. Childlike was a turning point for me. Not complexity, not virtuosity — connection. About loving something so passionately that it’s what informs every decision. I gave up trying to impress and concentrated on just being real.
It shows in the song —it’s big, emotional and not afraid to hang in this grey area. I think I’ve developed into someone who’s more open to being vulnerable in the music, more focused on just creating things that people can feel rather than concerned whether they understand all the nuts and bolts of it. That’s been the biggest shift — being true to my identity and my roots, but using the base to become one with people more than I did in the past.
Are there any visuals, like a music video or artwork, accompanying the release of “Childlike”? Yes, absolutely. The main art for Childlike is a big part of how I wanted the track to make people feel before they even pressed play. It pushes this kid into this surreal, dreamy landscape — magical, sci-fi, a little creepy but full of wonder. That one very much captures the mood of the song, which is the sense that childhood can be timeless and mysterious.
If you could describe “Childlike” in three words, what would they be? Imaginative. Raw. Transformative.
What’s next for you after the release of “Childlike”? Any upcoming projects or performances we should look out for?
I would like to take this music on the road very soon – first with a US tour and then hopefully bring Childlike to India, a country where so much of my musical formation took place. There’s just something so satisfying about being able to share this music live and for me, to feel the energy in the room, to get to make those amazing moments with a bunch of humans together and bring them into the world of Childlike in real life. But here’s the exciting part — it’s not only about the music.
And in its wake, a short film based on Childlike will hit the screens. It’s a visual narrative that brings the album’s concept to life, threading its themes of wonder, nostalgia and self-discovery in a manner that surpasses sound. The movie incorporates cinematic storytelling with the album’s music, so it’s sure to be an experience that draws audiences into the Childlike world with open eyes.
Additionally, my next project is something really close to home — both musically and personally. It’s been in the works for a while and was recorded across two cities that have deeply shaped me: Mumbai and New York City.
In Mumbai, I had the chance to collaborate with some truly incredible Indian classical musicians — Purbayan on sitar, Rakesh on flute, and Dilshad on sarangi. These sessions captured the spirit and nuance of Indian classical music in a way that felt both rooted and exploratory.
Back in NYC, I brought together another group of amazing musicians — Luis Perdomo on piano, Matt Brewer on bass, Charles Altura on guitar, and myself on drums. The jazz sessions added a different kind of depth and interplay, building on the rhythmic and harmonic language I’ve grown up with here.
This project is essentially a reflection of who I am — drawing from two strong musical lineages that have shaped my identity: Indian classical and jazz. The goal wasn’t just to blend genres for the sake of it, but to find an honest, organic intersection between the two. I tried to include Indian classical elements in a way that goes beyond surface-level fusion — really respecting the depth of both traditions.
It’s not about doing something “new” just to be new, but more about telling my story through sound — a story that naturally spans continents, traditions, and time.
Connecting Hearts Across Distance – Thomas Roscoe’s “Sooner Than Later”
In his latest single “Sooner Than Later,” Thomas Roscoe opens a window to the heartache and hope that come with long-distance relationships. Recorded in his home studio in Farmington, NM, the track blends indie folk with gentle country undertones, drawing inspiration from artists like Zach Seabaugh and Post Malone.
Roscoe’s warm, earnest vocals glide over the soft strums of his orangewood guitar, creating a vulnerable and intimate listening experience. The lyrics capture the emotional toll of loving someone from afar, offering a poignant message of faith and belief that, sooner or later, reunions will come.
On the day it dropped, his fiancée’s mother received news of a court date that could fina
The song holds a special significance for Roscoe. On the day it dropped, his fiancée’s mother received news of a court date that could finally bring her home after being deported—a real-life reflection of the song’s hopeful narrative.
“Sooner Than Later” is more than just a song—it’s a heartfelt prayer for connection, a reminder that even when distance keeps us apart, love remains a powerful bridge. Through this touching release, Roscoe invites listeners to hold on to hope and keep believing in better days ahead.
Al Kenizo's New Single Explores Grief with Raw Honesty
Al Kenizo from Randwick, Australia has released “A Little More Time,” a song that honestly deals with grief and time passing. Kenizo recorded this personal song in his bathroom, where the echoes add to the feeling of the music.
The simple production puts focus on Kenizo’s voice and words. His honest singing style creates a space for listeners to think about pain, memories, and wishing for more time – time to heal, grieve, and remember loved ones.
What makes “A Little More Time” special is how real it feels. Kenizo turns his personal pain into something everyone can understand and connect with. This isn’t just music – it’s a way to release feelings and process emotions.
The song reminds us that sometimes the simplest settings (like a bathroom) can be where our deepest feelings come out. Through this straightforward approach, Kenizo has created something both deeply personal and easily relatable.
Music Review: Satch & Ug Havok Bring The Heat With "Flava"
Louisiana rapper Satch teams up with UG Havok on “Flava,” a hot new trap song that shows why Southern hip-hop remains so powerful. This track hits hard with deep bass and sharp lyrics that grab you from the first beat.
“Flava” stands out by mixing heavy 808 drums with clever wordplay, creating a sound that’s hard to forget. It’s not just another trap song – it shows how Southern hip-hop keeps growing and changing while staying true to its roots.
What makes this team-up special is how it works for both casual listeners and serious hip-hop fans. The chorus sticks in your head and makes you want to play it again, while the verses keep it real with street-level storytelling.
As an independent release, “Flava” proves both artists are at their best right now. They bring that special Louisiana style front and center, delivering a track that feels both fresh and authentic to the region’s rich hip-hop tradition.
Beats, Honesty, and "White Noise": A Conversation with Hamilton Hound
A duo from Bearsted, England, Hamilton Hound, has recently released the new song, “White Noise”, on April 7, 2025. They collaborated with James Mason, who plays many instruments, in this track.
Song combines jazz with other styles and discusses partying too much, addiction and what follows it. It has a good beat and real lyrics on how partying may go wrong – something that many people can relate to.
Hamilton Hound mixes drum & bass, jungle, hip-hop as well as funk in their music. They are famous for singing true stories in their songs. “White Noise” reveals the ugly face of the attempt to run away from reality. It is referred to as “sonic gut punch” by people. They wrote it for an upcoming movie with the title “Sessions” about the reality of drugs use.
Their manner of talking in songs is like that of John Cooper Clarke and The Streets. Hamilton Hound and James Mason are gaining recognition in the UK underworld music environment through the telling of great stories.
Congrats on the new release! “White Noise” is such an evocative title—what does it represent to you personally or creatively?
White noise has been written for a film called “Sessions” which is due out later this year, it tells a story
echoed in every town and
city—a narrative woven
through a culture of
excess, addiction, and
escapism. It often begins with good intentions but can spiral
into despair and self-destruction”
The phrase “white noise” often symbolizes distraction or emotional overload—does the track explore those kinds of themes?
“white noise” refers to many things, a distraction in people’s lives, chemicals that are consumed recreationally but then become part of a daily routine which cause guilt, shame and ultimately in some instances ruin people’s lives.
How would you describe the sound and mood of “White Noise” for someone hearing it for the first time?
The sound and mood from the start is punchy and pulls on an old school early 90’s beat, James and I wanted you use influences of funk too and adding the Hammond keyboard adds a purpose to the track.
Did you experiment with any new sounds, instruments, or production techniques while making this song?
When producing the track we played around with the sample beat, James and I have process which we now laugh about. We tend to build the basis of the track including a vocal then start adding too it. It’s very easy to get carried away in the studio and over produce. We then go away and listen normally realizing we have added to much to the track then start stripping back until we are happy
When producing the track we played around with the sample beat, James and I have process which we now laugh about.
What was the most challenging part of creating this track, and what part came most naturally?
Probably the most challenging part was writing the track for a specific reason, something that can be difficult as there can be a tendency to force the track. Luckily we both could relate to the subject matter having lived through the early 90’s dance scene and watched it unfold.
Are there any lines or moments in “White Noise” that really hit home for you? I think from the amazing feedback we have had is that the minute you push play the track says something so relatable to so many people…I suppose the line “5am in the mourning and the birds start to sing, last nights a blur but I still feel like a king” will resonate and take people back to that place and feeling.
Does “White Noise” tie into a larger body of work—like an EP or album—or is it a standalone release?
“White noise” although written directly for a film also shows that we are adaptable and not set to one genre, I think what our music represents is real life stories with emotion, authenticity and a narrative that is relatable. Ultimately, we are working towards an album and would recommend checking us out on Spotify or Hamiltonhoundmusic.com to get feel for our stories.
How do you want listeners to feel after hearing the track? Is there a message or emotion you hope lingers?
I think the listener will definitely feel something, one review described it as “a sonic gut punch” and if you have experienced any part of dance or session culture this will stir a lot of memories and emotions in you,
What kind of visual would you imagine for a music video or live performance of “White Noise”? There is already a video to the track that you will find on our Instagram @hamiltonhound reels, it’s manic, powerful and relates perfectly to the song, I don’t want to ruin it so go check it out!!
You’ve built a distinct sound as Hamilton Hound. How does this single reflect your growth or shift as an artist?
Each single we have out has shown growth not only musically but the quality of production, this is where James “Jim” comes into his own. Like I have said we font want to be a one trick pony and be defined to a genre, I think what we are doing is unique and not many other artists out there doing what we do.
Have you noticed any unexpected reactions from fans or listeners so far?
The support we have received has been amazing, our first 3 tracks were picked up by BBC Introducing which is a radio show dedicated to new artist, to be asked to write a track for a film is crazy considering we released our first track only in October last year!, we seem to be gaining a small following of listeners and are hoping that more follow because they like the narratives and the music we are producing.
What kind of headspace were you in when making this song—was it therapeutic, reflective, or something else entirely?
I think when we wrote this track for the film we were luckily enough to have read the script which helped. I think the subject matter and having seen the effects of “white noise” around us made fairly easy to build and set the scene for the listener from the outset.
What’s next after “White Noise”? Are there more releases on the way, or maybe some live shows in the works?
We are already working on our next track “Going up in flames” which had had a slower raw gritty 70’s soul vibe, not as fast but still packing a punch with the lyrics and theme, this should be out in the next month or so, I really love the vibe of this one do watch this space.
Hard-Won Perspective: WESLYNN Delivers "Love and Let Go".
WESLYNN drops their single “Love and Let Go”, and listening feels a bit like finding a perfectly preserved cassette tape from 1988 wedged in the glovebox of a surprisingly modern car. Here are Jared Geyer (Vocals, Guitar, Keys, Bass), Greg Olin (Guitar, Mix, Master), and Kevin Holmes (Drums), a trio seasoned by over a decade together, wrestling with that messy, human tangle of connection and detachment.
The sound itself is fascinating. There’s a definite nod to the big sonic landscapes of Peter Gabriel and the heartfelt drive of Springsteen, polished with a contemporary sheen reminiscent of The 1975. Yet, it avoids mere pastiche. The vintage gear Olin mixes in doesn’t just mimic; it evokes. Certain synth lines shimmer with the cool, detached glow of neon on wet pavement – a surprisingly fitting texture for a song about emotional distancing.
And the core message? Oh, it’s the tricky stuff. Loving something, someone, while knowing you might have to sever the cord. It’s about navigating a world where people bump and bruise each other, sometimes deliberately, often just because they’re preoccupied with their own internal static. Geyer’s vocals carry this weight, not with melodrama, but with a kind of weary clarity. The insistence on “letting go” feels less like a command and more like tracing the fault line before the inevitable quake. It reminds me, strangely, of the faint, persistent smell of chlorine after leaving a public pool – the lingering chemical tang of necessary separation.
Hard-Won Perspective: WESLYNN Delivers “Love and Let Go”.
This isn’t a track that explodes; it unfolds, layering its earnest classic songwriting with production that feels both nostalgic and cleanly current. It’s the sound of hard-won perspective, the trio’s maturity showing not in grand gestures, but in the steady pulse beneath the surface.
So, after the music fades, what remains? Not catharsis, perhaps, but the quiet hum of understanding a difficult truth. When does loving become clinging, and how loud does the inner voice have to shout before we finally heed its warning to release?
Tavo Man's Gimugatiña A Parranda Garífuna Anthem of Unconditional Love
In the increasingly homogenized landscape of Latin music, Tavo Man (also known as Abuti) emerges as a vital cultural custodian, wielding his artistry as both preservation and innovation.
His latest single “Gimugatiña” — which translates to “They have envy us” in the Garifuna language — functions as a multidimensional text, simultaneously serving as love song, cultural artifact, and quiet manifesto of identity.
The Latin Grammy-nominated multihyphenate of Honduran origin has constructed a sonic experience that transforms the traditional Parranda Garífuna genre into something immediately accessible yet profoundly rooted in historical specificity.
What’s remarkable about “Gimugatiña” isn’t merely its technical prowess but its strategic emotional intelligence — Tavo Man understands that unconditional love serves as the perfect thematic vehicle for introducing mainstream audiences to indigenous musical traditions.
Beneath the track’s immediate appeal lies a sophisticated cultural cartography. The rhythmic foundation demonstrates the percussive complexity characteristic of Garifuna music, with patterns that evoke centuries of resilience among a people descended from shipwrecked African slaves who intermarried with indigenous Caribbean populations.
Yet Tavo Man resists ethnomusicological pigeonholing by incorporating contemporary production techniques that position this heritage within a modern context.
The song’s lyrical framework — focusing on a love that “doesn’t listen to opinions and ignores all bad energies” — carries subtle socio-political dimensions when considered against the historical marginalization of Garifuna communities throughout Central America.
The unconditional love being celebrated exists not just between individuals but potentially between an artist and his cultural inheritance, between a diaspora and its origins.
As a Honduran artist now based in the United States, his work inherently addresses questions of cultural displacement and preservation. His multi-layered identity as painter, producer, and musician mirrors the intricate cultural weaving present in the Garifuna tradition itself — a tradition born from the fusion of African, Arawak, and Caribbean influences.
The production choices on “Gimugatiña” demonstrate a sophisticated understanding of how traditional and contemporary elements can amplify rather than dilute each other.
The percussion establishes authentic rhythmic architecture while guitars and bass provide familiar entry points for listeners unfamiliar with Garifuna musical traditions. This careful balancing act creates a listening experience that educates without ever feeling didactic.
What distinguishes Tavo Man from many artists engaging with indigenous traditions is his multidisciplinary perspective. His background in visual arts — evident in his successful painting and drawing career as well as his self-produced music videos — brings a compositional understanding to his music that transcends purely sonic considerations.
One hears in “Gimugatiña” a pictorial sensibility, with textural elements arranged to create emotional depth fields reminiscent of visual art techniques.
Tavo Man’s Gimugatiña A Parranda Garífuna Anthem of Unconditional Love
This represents a particularly important evolution in how indigenous artistry enters global markets without surrendering its essential character or being reduced to exotic novelty.
“Gimugatiña” ultimately succeeds as both cultural document and compelling musical statement because it trusts its audience’s capacity for cross-cultural engagement.
Rather than diluting the Garifuna elements to make them more palatable, Tavo Man invites listeners into a fully realized cultural space, allowing the music’s inherent emotional resonance to transcend linguistic and cultural boundaries.
For listeners seeking music that offers both immediate emotional connection and deeper cultural significance, Tavo Man’s latest release provides a richly rewarding experience.
“Gimugatiña” reminds us that unconditional love — whether between people or between an artist and his heritage — remains perhaps our most powerful tool for overcoming divisive forces.
Jay Swishes Returns With Infectious Single “Pronto
The airwaves are crackling with a fresh energy, a sound that’s undeniably New York yet pulsing with a distinctly modern current.
Jay Swishes, a name rapidly ascending from the city’s vibrant underground, has delivered a potent dose of this new-era hip-hop with his single, ‘Pronto.’ This is a statement, a vibrant flag planted firmly in the soundscape of 2025, signalling the arrival of an artist who is, as the press release boldly claims, not just next, but very much now.
From the initial listen, ‘Pronto’ grabs you. It’s a high-octane offering, meticulously crafted for the dual arenas of viral TikTok trends and the sweat-soaked floors of nightclubs. The production is sleek, polished with a sheen that speaks of ambition, yet it retains a raw, street-level authenticity.
This balance is where Jay Swishes truly begins to carve out his niche. He navigates the space between gritty lyricism – the kind that echoes with the lived experiences of the city – and an upscale, almost audacious confidence. It’s a combination that feels both aspirational and relatable, a difficult tightrope to walk, but one Swishes traverses with an effortless swagger that’s compelling.
The track’s momentum is already an affirmation to its infectious quality. Having initially surfaced in late 2024, ‘Pronto’ has steadily built a formidable presence, reportedly amassing over eleven hundred radio spins weekly and making a significant dent in the National Urban Media base Charts.
This isn’t just background noise; it’s the kind of organic growth that signifies a genuine connection with listeners across diverse urban centers, from its New York birthplace to Atlanta, Charlotte, and beyond.
The music industry is a fickle beast, often swayed by fleeting trends, but the sustained traction of ‘Pronto’ suggests something more substantial is at play here – a resonance that cuts through the noise.
Lyrically, Jay Swishes operates with a sharp, incisive delivery. His bars are described as “luxury-coded,” and there’s certainly an air of aspiration and an appreciation for the finer things.
Yet, this is consistently undercut and grounded by that “street finesse.” He’s not painting a picture of a life completely removed from struggle; rather, it’s a narrative of ascent, of ambition realized without forgetting the starting point.
His own words, “Every move I make is pressure. Black card living, but it’s still from the block,” encapsulate this duality perfectly. It’s a line that’s both a boast and a mission statement, acknowledging the weight of expectation while reaffirming his roots. This ability to project confidence without alienating, to speak of success while maintaining an undercurrent of relatability, is a significant strength.
Comparisons to established names like Fivio Foreign, Lil Durk, and EST Gee are inevitable in today’s hip-hop landscape, and the press materials don’t shy away from them. These artists have, in their own ways, defined certain facets of contemporary rap.
However, the crucial addendum is that Jay Swishes possesses “a tone and image all his own.” This is vital. While drawing parallels can provide a useful entry point for listeners, true artistry lies in differentiation.
‘Pronto’ offers glimpses of this unique identity – a particular cadence, a specific way of turning a phrase, an energy that, while fitting within the broader genre, doesn’t feel like a carbon copy.
The challenge for Swishes, moving forward, will be to continue cultivating and amplifying these distinct characteristics, to ensure that his voice becomes not just a voice, but the voice his growing fanbase tunes in for.
The promotional push behind ‘Pronto’ is also indicative of a well-thought-out strategy. Interviews with top-tier radio stations, particularly across the Carolinas and the East Coast, demonstrate a commitment to building a grassroots connection alongside the digital buzz.
The promise of club performances and a remix rollout further suggests a plan to maximize the single’s impact and longevity. In an era where a song can be viral one day and forgotten the next, this multi-pronged approach is sensible. It’s about building a career, not just a hit.
The anticipation for a remix, in particular, opens up exciting possibilities for collaboration and for reinterpreting the track in new and unexpected ways, potentially extending its reach even further.
What does ‘Pronto’ ultimately say about Jay Swishes and his place in the current musical climate? It positions him as a keen observer of contemporary trends, an artist who understands the mechanics of what makes a track resonate in 2025.
The hook is undeniably catchy, designed for maximum impact and shareability. The beat is infectious, a perfect canvas for his confident flow. But beyond the immediate appeal, there’s a sense of hunger, of an artist on the cusp, ready to seize his moment.
Jay Swishes Returns With Infectious Single “Pronto
The term “next-gen hip-hop wave” is used to describe his sound, and ‘Pronto’ certainly feels forward-looking, even as it draws from established genre conventions. It’s polished but not sterile, confident but not arrogant, street-smart but with an eye on broader horizons.
As a listening experience, ‘Pronto’ is invigorating. It doesn’t demand deep, introspective analysis on first play; its primary function is to move you, to make you nod your head, to get you hyped.
And in that, it succeeds unequivocally. The real test, of course, will be what comes next. A breakout single is a powerful launching pad, but sustained success requires consistency, evolution, and a continued ability to connect.
Jay Swishes has laid down a significant marker with ‘Pronto.’ He’s demonstrated his technical skill, his understanding of the market, and his inherent charisma. The foundation is strong.
The task now is to build an edifice that not only stands tall but also stands apart. This track is a compelling invitation to watch that construction unfold, a vibrant signal that New York’s hip-hop legacy is in capable new hands.
The movement is growing, and it’s hard not to get swept up in the energy of an artist who is, quite clearly, ready for the spotlight.
There’s a particular weight to the air these days, isn’t there? A feeling that the ground beneath our feet isn’t quite as solid as we once believed. We grasp, we control, we plan, but so much remains stubbornly outside our influence.
It’s into this atmosphere that Los Angeles artist Rebecca Anderson releases her new single, “Lay It All Down,”. Following her previous single, “In the Beginning,” this track promises a continued exploration of faith and the human condition, presented through a lens described as soulful and deeply felt.
The song itself emerges from Anderson’s personal wrestling, a grappling with the often-uncomfortable truth that control is. She talks about watching her own life, the lives of people close to her, and the bigger currents that shape our world.
From this confluence of the personal and the collective comes a call to release, to surrender. She feels a certain kind of peace when she gives things to God. That is not giving up; that is active trust, a way to get through hard times with hope still alive. This is about recognizing where our true strength lies, or perhaps, where it doesn’t.
Rebecca Anderson, described as a classically trained artist, brings a certain gravity to her work. While “Lay It All Down” precedes her debut album, “Citizen of Heaven,” it makes its own message.
The theme is strong: finding comfort not in changing the outside world, but in changing how you feel inside. How does one turn the act of giving up into music? Based on the soulful and R&B-influenced melodies of her earlier work, one might expect music that gives people time to think, with arrangements that build and release stress to reflect the emotional journey of letting go.
Will it be a quiet prayer or a soaring anthem of release? The song leans towards introspection, a heartfelt delivery guiding listeners.
Consider the ancient practice of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. It doesn’t hide the breaks; it highlights them, suggesting that the object is more beautiful for having been broken.
Is this a repeat of that? Recognising the places where we do not have control, where life pushes us to act, and not seeing that as a sign of weakness, but as a way to become more whole?
The song talks about getting through each season and sending a message that will last longer than one moment. It wants to have a kind of timeless value and be something that people can use whenever they feel swamped by the “uncontrollable.”
Can a few minutes of music truly recalibrate one’s approach to life’s immense pressures? Perhaps not entirely, but it can offer a point of focus, a reminder whispered (or sung) in the ear.
Rebecca Anderson Says “Lay It All Down” For Peace
What does it mean to truly ‘lay it all down’ in 2025? In an era saturated with self-optimization gurus and relentless productivity pressures, the act of surrender can feel almost counter-cultural, a quiet rebellion against the demand to always be striving, always in command.
Anderson plays with this tension to offer a different way forward, one that does not require more work but rather freedom. It is powerful to let go and accept that some things are not ours to carry alone, or maybe not at all. It is a deep idea that is easy to say but impossible to put into practice.
The music has a lot of emotional depth and continues the path Anderson started with “In the Beginning.” “Lay It All Down” sounds like it will be a great song for people who are looking for comfort, peace, or just a beautifully written song that gets to the heart of how people deal with control and faith.
It makes us stop, take a breath, and think about what weights we carry around with us that are not necessary.
Peter Spacey Steps Into the Light with "All I Want Is You To Stay"
Peter Spacey’s “All I Want Is You To Stay” has materialised, not so much as a song, but as an intricate emotional schematic set to a rather compelling pulse. It’s always a peculiar kind of revelation when a producer, traditionally a sonic puppeteer hidden behind the grand curtain of the mixing desk, steps into their own vocal spotlight. Spacey, known for shaping soundscapes for others and projecting visions onto gallery walls, threads his voice through a lattice of futuristic synths that shimmer like heat haze over a distant, neon city – or perhaps the aurora borealis, if it had a penchant for heartache.
The track has this brilliant, slightly maddening duality. One foot’s in the club, tapping to those dance-oriented grooves, all electronic pop fizz and bass-music weight. The other? Stuck fast in the quicksand of a relationship doing the tango with abandonment. “Heartfelt” barely covers the lyrical ground; it’s more a chronicle of that wearying cycle where intimacy flashes, bright and beautiful as a firefly, then poof, gone again. It’s like watching one of those agonizing kinetic sculptures that almost achieves perfect symmetry before deliberately, maddeningly, unspooling just shy of completion. That constant near-miss, the almost-staying, the ‘if only for a nanosecond longer,’ is the track’s aching, danceable core.
Photo by Yana Mori
There’s a polished resignation here, a hyperpop sheen over raw frustration that tastes metallic, like a coin held too long on the tongue. The desire for stability clashes so elegantly with the unreliable ‘you’ he sings of, creating an odd tension settling in the gut like undigested stardust. He’s found a perfectly preserved mayfly in lucite – beautiful, trapped, aware of its brief, repeating plight, yet the lucite gleams invitingly. The spacey atmosphere shifts from interstellar travel to the vast, echoing distances between two people under the same roof, existing in different emotional galaxies.
Ultimately, “All I Want Is You To Stay” doesn’t try to mend the fractured connection it portrays. It simply holds it up to the light, letting the complex, melancholic colours shine. So, does acknowledging the pattern ever actually help break it, or are we just left admiring the painful, intricate beauty of our own recurring follies?
Freddie Gambini & Tikki Waja Talk Love On "Koenam"
Finding love is something everyone wants to experience at some point in their life. For Freddie Gambini, it is not enough to find love, but to find love in the right person. After gaining his confidence back on his last release, the Afro-fusion artist returns with a new song. This time around, he is out looking for love.
Titled “Koenam”, which is an Ewe word, one of Ghana’s language’s meaning “Give it to me, the song features fellow 99 PHACES collective rapper Tikki Waja.
The song is an upbeat fusion of Afrobeats and Amapiano produced by long-time collaborator Kwesi Lu. The song follows Freddie’s newfound love, where his lover assures him of loving no one else but him. In a like fashion, he also reassures her of his love and commitment to making things work between them. Tikki jumps in with his own experience of finding the person who loves you right, even when others feel they are not the right person for you.
When you find someone who loves you right, make it a point to always let them know just how much they mean to you. While you ask them to give you their love, you must also make clear your intentions of building forever with them.
Koenam is out now and streaming on all streaming platforms here
Gus Defelice: Turning Life’s Harshest Truths into Sonic Art
Some albums just play in the background. Others grab you and don’t let go. Gus Defelice’s “The Sound of Inevitability” belongs in that second group.
This Italian musician has created something special – a concept album that uses no words but says everything. Through seven powerful tracks named after life’s big forces like Death and Change, Gus takes us on an emotional ride that feels both personal and universal.
The guitar work will blow you away. Every note feels like it matters. The music paints pictures in your mind, with layers of sound that pull you deeper with each listen.
What makes this album stand out is how Gus mixes technical skill with raw feeling. Working mostly alone (with some guidance from guitar hero Kiko Loureiro), he’s made music that feels like therapy – helping us face the tough parts of being human that we often try to ignore.
Each track gives you space to find your own story in the music. It’s like Gus built the framework, but you fill in the details with your own experiences.
We sat down with Gus to learn how this powerful album came to life.
What is the meaning of the Album the Sound of Inevitability? The Sound of Inevitability is a concept album about confronting the forces we all live under but often try to ignore, those inescapable truths that define our existence, no matter who we are. The album is built around seven core themes: Time, Death, Change, Entropy, Aging, Evolution, and Conflict. These aren’t just abstract concepts to me, they’re experiences I’ve lived through, wrestled with, and, in many ways, been shaped by.
The title itself speaks to that moment when you realize something is coming and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. But instead of resisting it, you listen, and that’s what this album is. It’s not about fear or defeat. It’s about awareness, acceptance, and transformation.
Each track is like a chapter in a larger story, not just musically but emotionally. I didn’t want to tell people what to think or feel. I wanted to create a space where they could project their own experiences, whether it’s grief, growth, rage, or clarity, and find something real within the sound. The fact that it’s instrumental actually helps with that. It removes language as a barrier and lets the music speak directly to something deeper.
In the end, The Sound of Inevitability is a journey inward. It asks listeners to reflect on their own lives, their own inevitabilities, and maybe even find peace in them.
What sparked the idea for the Album, the Sound of inevitability? Was there a moment or experience that made you say, “I have to write this”? The idea for The Sound of Inevitability came from years of reflection on the forces that shape our lives, whether we like it or not.
It wasn’t a single moment, it was a gradual realization that certain truths keep resurfacing no matter how much we try to outrun them. I started to see a pattern: seven forces, Time, Death, Change, Entropy, Aging, Evolution, and Conflict, were always present, shaping who we become.
I felt a deep urge to give sound to those experiences, to turn them into something tangible and emotional. That’s when I knew I had to write this album, it became my way of making peace with the things we can’t avoid, while still fighting to find meaning within them.
The word “inevitability” carries weight, does this song explore fate, choice, or something else entirely? “Inevitability” is a heavy word, and I chose it intentionally because it sits at the crossroads of fate, time, and our illusion of control. The album it’s about confronting the uncomfortable truth that some things are simply beyond us.
It explores that tension between our desire to steer life and the quiet, often brutal realization that some outcomes are written in the fabric of existence and not just about fate or choice; it’s about how both choices matter, but they often lead us to places we were meant to face all along.
How would you describe the overall sound and mood of the track to someone who hasn’t heard it yet? The sound of The Sound of Inevitability is cinematic, heavy, and deeply emotional. It blends the crushing weight of progressive and atmospheric metal with moments of eerie calm and melodic introspection. Each track is its own world, shaped by the theme it explores, whether it’s the chaos of conflict, the stillness of death, or the slow unraveling of entropy.
You’ll hear layers: big guitars, intricate rhythms, haunting melodies, and textures that feel almost visual. The mood shifts between tension and release, beauty and brutality, like a journey through the mind at war with time and truth. It’s intense, but always purposeful. I’d say it’s not just something to hear, it’s something to feel.
What was your process like in writing and producing “The Sound of Inevitability”? Did anything surprise you along the way? The process of writing and producing The Sound of Inevitability was both structured and deeply emotional. I approached it like a concept project from the start, I knew each track would represent one of the seven inevitable forces, so I built a framework, almost like a narrative arc. I worked in sprints, like I do in project management, setting specific creative goals for each cycle, whether it was writing riffs, arranging parts, or producing transitions.
But what really surprised me was how personal the music became. I started with universal themes, but as I wrote, they pulled memories and emotions I hadn’t expected. Some riffs came effortlessly, others fought me for weeks. I also integrated a lot of cinematic elements, sound design, ambient textures, and field recordings to create a sense of space around the metal core.
The biggest surprise? How healing it was. I thought I was just writing music, but in the end, it felt like I was mapping out my own internal landscape and making peace with it. This is what I hope the album does for others, too.
I thought I was just writing music, but in the end, it felt like I was mapping out my own internal landscape and m
Did you work with any collaborators on te record, or was it a solo creation? It was largely a solo creation. I wrote, arranged, and produced the entire album myself because I needed it to be an unfiltered expression of what I was going through. But I wasn’t entirely alone. I had the privilege of being mentored by Kiko Loureiro during the latter part of the process, and his guidance was invaluable. He challenged me to connect several dots, filled up just with a few words.
I also collaborated with Paris, my mastering engineer, whose work brought clarity and cohesion to the final mixes. The core of the album was built in solitude, these key collaborations added depth and precision that I couldn’t have achieved alone. It was the perfect balance between introspection and outside insight.
Overall, several other professionals have helped me support this work.
What inspired you to create an entire progressive and death metal album without a single lyric, and how did you approach conveying meaning and emotion purely through instrumental music? Creating a full progressive and death metal album without a single lyric was a conscious and deliberate choice. I wanted to challenge the idea that words are necessary to communicate meaning. In metal, especially in its more extreme or progressive forms, so much emotion lives in the textures, dynamics, and structure.
So I treated each track like a short film. Every riff, transition, and sound design element was crafted to trigger emotion or reflect a specific internal state. Without lyrics, I leaned heavily on contrast, aggression vs. calm, chaos vs. clarity, repetition vs. disintegration. Ironically, the lack of vocals gave the music even more room to speak.
What’s been truly validating is the feedback I’ve received. People who’ve listened to the album, fans, fellow musicians, even casual listeners, have all said the same thing: They never missed the words. The message still hit, the emotions still landed. That’s when I knew I’d succeeded in letting the music speak for itself.
Was there a particular sound, instrument, or vibe you were chasing when crafting the album? Absolutely. I was chasing a very specific emotional atmosphere, a sound that felt cinematic, visceral, and alive, but also unpredictable and uncomfortably real. I wanted the listener to feel like they were walking through different mental and emotional landscapes, without ever needing words to guide them.
The guitar was obviously central, it’s my voice. I explored a wide palette of tones: Sharp and aggressive for conflict and chaos, but also clean, ambient, and haunting for the more introspective moments. I layered those with atmospheric textures, sound design, and sometimes even field recordings, to add a sense of space and depth. Drums had to feel organic and human, not over-quantized, they needed to breathe with the song, not just drive it.
I was also chasing contrast: I’d move from brutal riffs to fragile melodies in the same track, like you’ll hear in Starlight. That juxtaposition was crucial, especially because the album deals with inevitable forces that are both destructive and transformative. The overall vibe I aimed for was a kind of beautiful tension, something that draws you in and keeps you emotionally off balance, the same way life does when you’re facing things you can’t avoid.
How do you hope listeners interpret the entire work? Or are you more interested in letting people draw their own meaning? I definitely have my own stories, seven of and intent behind The Sound of Inevitability, but I’m not interested in forcing that onto anyone. What matters most to me is that people feel something, that the music resonates on an emotional or even subconscious level. These themes, Time, Death, Change, Entropy, Aging, Evolution, and Conflict, are universal, but how we experience them is deeply personal.
So while the album came from my journey, I want listeners to bring their own stories into it. I’ve had people tell me it helped them through grief, or that it gave them clarity during a major life transition. That kind of feedback means everything, because it means the music is alive, it’s not just mine anymore.
In the end, I see this album as a mirror. It reflects back whatever the listener is ready to confront. And that, to me, is the highest purpose of art.
What has the early response been like from fans and listeners? The early response has been incredibly encouraging, honestly, more than I expected. We talk about more than 6 figures streaming on all platforms in less than 2 weeks.
I’ve received messages from fans saying it helped them process something personal, that they felt seen or understood by the atmosphere of certain tracks. Others have commented on the depth, the emotional pacing, and how each track feels like a journey in itself.
It’s been shared in playlists, featured in underground metal communities, and even sparked some conversations around mental health, time, and identity, which was never something I expected, but truly appreciate.
It’s still early, but it feels like the album is doing what I hoped it would: making people feel, reflect, and listen in a deeper way.
Looking at your evolution as an artist, how does this single reflect where you are now creatively? The Sound of Inevitability feels like a defining moment. It’s the most honest, ambitious, and focused work I’ve created so far. In the past, I might have been more concerned with technicality, genre conventions, or outside expectations. But with this album, I let all of that go. I wasn’t trying to impress, I was trying to express.
Creatively, I’ve reached a place where I trust my instincts more. I’ve developed a clearer voice, not just as a guitarist or producer, but as a storyteller through sound. This album reflects that shift. It’s concept-driven, emotionally layered, and intentionally instrumental.
The Sound of Inevitability is the story of me accepting who I am as both a musician and a human being, having compassion for the past, the present and the future with a depth presence in the present, being unafraid to face the things we all carry inside.
What’s coming next for you after this release? More music, live performances, or something else on the horizon? After the release of The Sound of Inevitability, I’m already deep into the next phase. This album opened a new creative door for me, and I’m not closing it anytime soon. More music is definitely coming, but I’m also working on bringing this project to life in a live setting, not just as a concert, but as a multimedia experience. Think of it like a theatrical performance where visuals, lights, and atmosphere merge with the music to fully immerse the audience in the themes of the album.
Beyond that, I’m exploring some collaborations that align with this more cinematic, conceptual direction, and I’m also documenting my process more openly, sharing behind-the-scenes work, reflections, and the balance between my music and digital life.
So yes, more music, yes to live performances, but also something deeper: building a world around this sound. I want people to not just hear it, but step inside it. I’ll, of course, keep everyone posted through my socials, especially Instagram @gus.defelice.
“Ain’t Sad About Losing You: A New Kind of Breakup Anthem”
Return Of The Human delivered another chart-topping release to their fans. The track “Ain’t Sad About Losing You” became available on June 20 through Right Track/Universal Music.
The musical duo of Dave Colquhoun and John Vincent maintains high spirits following their successful launch in 2025. Their latest track exposes the raw emotions of breaking up.
These artists stand out because of their direct approach to life. The music speaks absolute truth about everyday life without using pretentious language or artificial emotions.
This track combines rock instruments with country music elements to create its unique sound. The melody stays positive as the lyrics address heartbreak. Dave and John shared their experience with us during a conversation about making the song while discussing changes in their writing process and their mission to restore emotion into music.
This breakup song differs from traditional sad songs about breakups. The song delves into the strange sense of happiness that comes from knowing a breakup was necessary.
During our meeting with Dave and John we spoke about making the song together while discussing their writing processes and their mission to restore emotion to music.
Watch out because their musical journey has only begun.
“Ain’t Sad About Losing You” has such a confident title. What inspired this track and the emotions behind it? Well thank you for noticing the subtlety of the wording, not sure its confident though! The emotional content of the song is also driven by the sound and feel of the track. There is a triumph and optimism in the music an uplift that is counter balanced by the lyric. The basic principal is about loss in the physical sense causing a bad feeling of grief or upset. The twist is the overpowering sense of gladness that the memories were even made in the first place.
Things change, times change and we are often left with memories alone. This could be about an object a pet, location, relationship or even an era. We wanted to explore the often conflicting and layered process of grieving. Missing someone, sometimes feeling just plain sad, sometimes feeling just glad, and even feeling bad that you’re not sad.
How would you describe the sound of this release to someone who hasn’t heard your music before?
“Ain’t Sad About Losing You” is a very joyous Guitar driven song. It has an American almost Country sound with a dollop of British satire and sarcasm. Layered Guitars provide an almost “SMITHS” like quality using Rickenbacker 12 string electric mixed with Acoustic Guitar blend.
“Ain’t Sad About Losing You” is a very joyous Guitar driven song. It has an American almost Country sound with a dollop of Briti
Was there a specific experience or relationship that influenced the lyrics for “Ain’t Sad About Losing You”?
There were multiple factors involved that overlap in ways that cannot really be quantified. Both personal and observational. Watching another person in grief can be very upsetting maybe more so than suffering. However it’s always great to see someone back on their feet or to be feeling like you’re getting over a situation.
How does this track fit into your overall musical journey? Does it represent a new direction for Return Of The Human? Musically this song is far more straight ahead in format and structure. It’s a deliberate short form direct song. We have many diverse tracks that all are quite specific. The lyric relates to the Human emotion and that is how ot ties together with other “Return of the Human” material.
What was the recording process like for this release? Did you try anything different in the studio this time?
The Song was a late comer to making the album. By that time we were in full flow. It all happened very quickly two run throughs then a take. Everything about the recording and mix was pretty much instant. One take Vocal and also very quick and easy to mix. It is not always like this by any means, some songs can be far more difficult to capture.
Are there any musical influences that particularly shaped the sound of “Ain’t Sad About Losing You”? “Ain’t Sad About Losing You” tips its hat to bands like
THE EAGLES, THE HEARTBREAKERS and THE SMITHS.
What do you hope listeners take away from this track? Hopefully it will help people to reflect on their own experiences and take some comfort from the music. It may also encourage them to understand the situation they may be facing. It could simply be humming along to the catchy tune and feeling better about life. Above all it is for the listener to decide what they think the song is about and then take as they wish. It’s all good!
How has your approach to songwriting evolved since your earlier work? From the outset the approach has been to draw on something from inside and then craft it into a tangible format. Songs are a medium to portray feeling. That feeling can be expressed both musically and lyrically. When the music, melody and lyric collide to be inseparable then that’s really something. Think of the word Yesterday or Help and let your brain fill in the rest.
What’s next for Return Of The Human? Is this single part of a larger project coming soon? Next single is a song called ADHD which is a very different track.
Then release the album.
About Love, Covers, and Creative Freedom: Arne Floryd Speaks
There’s something disarmingly sincere about music that manages to be both nostalgic and forward-looking at once. The first time I pressed play on “Some Angels Never Learn to Fly,” I found myself suspended in that exact sweet spot—a sonic world both familiar and strange, created by Arne Floryd under his delightfully whimsical moniker, Arn-Identified Flying Objects and Alien Friends.
The former Redmoon member has quietly built a catalog that defies easy categorization. Floryd’s gift lies in his ability to blend heartfelt vulnerability with just enough ironic distance, wrapping deeply emotional songwriting in layers of vintage textures that feel both comforting and slightly off-kilter.
Just when you think you’ve got Floryd’s sound pinned down, he pivots. His recent cover of Paul Anka’s obscure gem “Your Love” transforms the original into something altogether more spectral—a dreamy, atmospheric piece that hovers like mist over water. Released as a B-side, it showcases Floryd’s talent for musical alchemy, turning familiar elements into something hauntingly new.
What makes Arn-Identified Flying Objects so compelling is Floryd’s refusal to be confined by genre boundaries. Elements of folk, power pop, and Americana weave through his work, but they’re always in service of his poetic explorations of love, regret, memory, and the passage of time.
The contrast between tracks like the playfully swaggering “Sing-Along Songs” and the ghostly melancholy of “Your Love” highlights Floryd’s impressive range. Yet there’s always a consistent thread—music that balances intimacy with an almost otherworldly quality, as if these songs are being beamed in from some parallel universe where heartbreak sounds just a little sweeter.
During our recent conversation with Floryd, we delved into his creative process, the constellation of influences that shape his sound, and the stories lurking behind his latest musical offerings. Stay tuned for our full interview coming later this week.
Listen to Your Love
Follow Arn-Identified Flying Objects and Alien Friends
The name “Arn-Identified Flying Objects and Alien Friends” is quite distinctive. What’s the story behind it, and how does it reflect your artistic identity?
As I started recording on my own, a former bandmate from Redmoon jokingly suggested I’d call my project ”Arne and the Flying Saucers”, and something in that ridiculous name stuck my mind. I played around with it and came up with the even more ridiculous ”Arn-Identified Flying Objects and Alien Friends”. It’s sort of humorous and pretentious at the same time.
How would you describe your musical style to someone who’s never heard your work before? As a blend of folk and power pop I guess, but with a hint of punk and Americana. But the truth is that I, after going solo, try not to think of ”style” at all. This might be for better or for worse, but I’ve found that this is the best way, and maybe only way, to keep up my own interest in what I’m doing
Who are the members of the collective, and what does each person bring to the creative process?
As I mentioned before this as a solo project – BUT plenty of friends and musicians do contribute. The former members of Redmoon have popped up on my both albums, and will do so on the next one.
I also want to mention David Myhr (of the Merrymakers) who has co-produced some of my recordings, but also has provided beautiful backing vocals and slide guitars on some tracks, among other things. Super drummer Andreas Quincy Dahlbäck has done most of the drumming on the stuff recorded. On this particular recording, my wife actually sings the soprano part!
What was the initial spark or inspiration behind “Your Love”? I seldom do covers, but I’ve always found this forgotten Paul Anka song fascinating. There is something eerie in the atmosphere that undermines and contradicts the sugary lyrics
There is something eerie in the atmosphere that undermines and contradicts the sugary lyrics
Walk us through your typical songwriting process. Does the music come first, or the lyrics? It usually starts with a short musical phrase that simply pops up and enters my head, sometimes with words. Sometimes without. The chorus in ”Sing-Along Songs” (the ”A-side” of Your Love) rung in my head when I woke up one morning. Then the rest of the tune in the best cases, grows out of that musical atom more or less by itself.
Were there any unexpected moments during recording that ended up shaping the final versionof “Your Love”?
The most unexpected is that I actually finished the recording- I had no intention to do so. But after sitting down with the guitar, one thing led to the other, and when my wife had sung the soprano part I realized that I might forge it all into a decent cover version.
The title suggests a personal connection – is there a specific story or relationship that informed this track?
I did think of my wife – with whom I’ve lived for a long time – and my family, but also of love in a more general or even metaphysical sense.
Your band name evokes cosmic and otherworldly themes – how do these elements play into the storytelling on “Your Love”?
Well, the lyrics of the song, in combination with the mysteriously ringing tremolo guitars and eerie melody, do imply that an “otherworldly” reading is possible, don’t they? Love in general? A transcendent power? God?
Were there any particular instruments or recording techniques that were essential to achieving your vision?
My vocals differ a lot from Paul Ankas sweet teenage voice. But I didn’t want my version to drift to far from Ankas rendition, so I worked quite a lot on the guitars, and they ARE quite close to the original.
How does “Your Love” fit into your broader artistic journey? Does it signal a new direction? Well, the song is an exception rather than a sign of change. I decided to release the song – I mean I really like it – as a flipside on this single, as it stylistically won’t fit into the forthcoming album, which will dig deeper into folk music, and especially Swedish dito.
Are there plans for more releases or perhaps a full album in the near future? Yep! I’m working on two albums simultaneously, on in English and one in Swedish. The English will probably be released in December 2025 or in January 2026. The Swedish? Realistically, in 2027.
As an artist with such a unique identity, how do you navigate the current music landscape? The truth is I don’t navigate that much, on a conscious level anyway. Maybe I should? But I can’t. If I hear something I like, it sticks, and it probably influences me in one way or the other. Right now I’m listening to a lot to Dylan’s ”Rough and Rowdy Ways,” which is a dark masterpiece. It will probably faintly echo in future songs of mine.
Brendan McKinney's "Fashion Magazine": More Boot-Stomp Than Catwalk
So, Brendan McKinney and the 99 Brown Dogs drop “Fashion Magazine” into the world, and honestly, the title itself throws you for a loop before a single note plays. Expecting glitter? Nope. This thing lands with the satisfying thud of a well-made boot hitting packed earth. It’s got that signature tight, chewy groove they’re known for – a compelling shuffle somewhere between Americana grit and Bluesrock muscle, nudging shoulders with Newgrass precision. Think The Black Keys meticulously organizing their tool shed while somehow making it swing.
The track practically breathes its central idea: life’s a finite resource, don’t waste the good stuff – time, energy, goodwill – on yesterday’s nonsense or fretting about hypothetical stumbles. It advocates a kind of pragmatic preparedness, keeping your powder dry, metaphorically speaking. There’s a low hum of resilience running through it, almost like the steady gaze of a lighthouse keeper during a lull – acutely aware storms exist, perhaps even imminent, but finding a peculiar strength in readiness and routine maintenance of the self.
Brendan McKinney’s “Fashion Magazine”: More Boot-Stomp Than Catwalk
It’s not about building walls, exactly, more like understanding the structural integrity needed before inviting people in. The gradual lean towards kindness and chosen companionship feels less like a sudden conversion and more like a calculated, conscious opening of the door, having first checked the hinges are strong. It rejects dramatic negativity not out of naiveté, but out of a seemingly world-weary efficiency. Life’s too short, the groove implies, to let psychic static drown out the beat.
Erik Horvitz co-produced and played drums on this release.
Does “Fashion Magazine” offer a complete map for living? Probably not. But it lays down a rhythm for navigating the tricky bits with a blend of watchful caution and deliberate warmth that feels surprisingly sturdy, unexpectedly compelling. You’re left with this insistent beat, wondering about the quiet fortitude needed to truly live that focused, clutter-free existence it champions.
Finding Roots in the Rubble: Allan Jamisen's "Living the Dream"
Allan Jamisen’s new single, “Living the Dream,” settles in not with a shout, but with the unsettling quiet of finding oneself utterly lost in familiar territory. It’s pop-rock, sure, the label fits loosely enough, but the air hangs thick with something else. Jamisen’s vocals, subterranean and strangely calm, anchor the track. They don’t soar; they resonate, like the hum you feel through the floorboards when a cello is played downstairs.
The song unpacks that feeling of hitting the wall, that precipice where everything you thought you knew looks flimsy and ridiculous. It’s the “do or die” crossroads, starkly painted. But that title – “Living the Dream” – flickers constantly. Is it sarcastic? A desperate mantra? Or does it point to some private, internal reality being fiercely guarded while the external world crumbles? The track pulses with this ambiguity. The organic production helps; it feels less manufactured, more dug up, like finding surprisingly sturdy roots beneath cracked pavement.
Finding Roots in the Rubble: Allan Jamisen’s “Living the Dream”
There’s a moment, a particular swell in the arrangement, that unexpectedly brought to mind the slightly metallic scent of old library ladders – that blend of aged wood, paper dust, and sheer vertical potential. Strange, I know, but it felt linked to this song’s peculiar climb out of a pit, the search for solid footing, the tentative reach for something genuinely exciting.
Finding Roots in the Rubble: Allan Jamisen’s “Living the Dream”
Jamisen doesn’t offer easy answers here. The track presents the crisis, the need for action, the stark choice between succumbing or somehow reconfiguring reality. It lingers, this sense of navigating profound darkness with only the faintest, maybe even self-deceiving, light called a ‘dream’. It leaves you wondering: when we’re fighting through our worst, what exactly is the dream we claim to be living?
From Inspiration to Intention: DaeMarcus on Art, Sound, and Soul
DaeMarcus stands out in a music industry where looks and quick fame dominate since he presents genuine musical value. The musical combination of Moby’s passion with Joy Division’s intensity and Beck’s inventive style produces fresh authentic music in his work.
The new musical album Give represents both a song and an essential meaning to him. Each element of DaeMarcus’ work includes genuine meaning as he exclusively creates music for others rather than for his personal enjoyment.
His musical beginnings originated from acknowledging two friends who became the person he is today. As the self-made artist DaeMarcus handles every aspect of music creation including songwriting and instrument playing along with production responsibilities in his solo music journey.
The album Give combines spiritual and earthy elements while avoiding production tricks because it features pure performances without fake audio effects along with hidden rewards for listeners to discover.
DaeMarcus joined us for an interview about the inspiration behind Give and his musical intentions as well as his creative drive. People who discover him recently will experience something unique.
For those just discovering your music, who is DaeMarcus? How would you describe your artistic identity?
I would say it was a mixture or blend of a little bit of Moby a little bit of Beck and maybe some joy division kind of smashed together, sprinkle a little coldplay and then postal service on top and you pretty much got the blend of DaeMarcus however I can tend to stray off even from those sounds sometimes and tap into a different area. It depends on the current mood I’m in when writing.
What does the name “DaeMarcus” represent to you personally? DaeMarcus originally was just the names put together of two of good friends Davey And Mark who are two great musicians that I had the pleasure of playing with for a short period of time, however the name has evolved now that represents a sound that found only in DaeMarcus.
How has your musical journey evolved to bring you to this current release? It has evolved with time and knowledge in understanding of production and of the music industry itself. As a solo artist and as the producer, being both roles comes with an experience of two different sides of the process, the creation side as well as the production side of it which are two separate things but both contribute to the sound that you hear in the final product.
“Give” is an interesting one-word title with a lot of potential meanings. What does this title represent for you? It represents what I intend to do with DaeMarcus. Give is what I feel the artist should always be thinking about when writing music -others. I won’t write music just for myself or what I believe is good. I want the experience to be objectively good for the listeners, and I’m always striving for that. As albums keep rolling out, I believe that DaeMarcus will provide a better and better experience with each release.
What was the initial inspiration or moment that sparked the creation of “Give”? There’s always a time of the year after all the previous album PR is done and things have settled down when you begin to get little cues and hints that it’s time to pick up the pencil and start writing again, I can’t explain exactly why but it happens every time it’s like the studio and all the instruments start poking at you saying “hey time to write again” and you know.
If you had to describe the emotional landscape of this track in a few words, what would theybe?
“Give” would be Spiritual, submitting to a higher purpose and power, Love, Gratefulness, calm familiarity, trial and the understanding of humility.
Could you walk us through your creative process for “Give”? Did it start with a melody, lyrics, or something else entirely? Yes “Give” I believe started with the bass, I worked a Melody off of that which became the hook Melody, and then layered in the chimes and female choirs from the synths, the final process was lyrics I wrote last mixed the man in the final steps and then finally mastered the whole track and that was the final step of the process before submitting it for distribution.
Yes “Give” I believe started with the bass, I worked a Melody off of that which became the hook Melody, and then layered in the chimes
Were there any parts of “Give” that were particularly challenging to get right? Yes vocals always vocals are there most difficult thing to mix and to get right and especially when you use zero pitch correction which I do vocals using no pitch correction on vocals, I believe you should just get it right if you can at the mic, it’s the most natural and raw sounding and the best way in my opinion however it is more difficult to get the proper takes that you need and does usually require more takes at the mic to fix a flat note or get a pronunciation the wat it’s meant to sound.
And I believe it makes you not only a stronger singer but also a stronger musician as a whole. And when you can actually sing without using pitch correction I believe you’ll be a much happier musician as well!
If listeners pay close attention to “Give,” are there any hidden details or layers you’d want them to notice? That’s not only in “Give but in every one of my songs there are always small hidden things in every song I write, it’s all about the listener to find it. I’m all about subliminal, and if you look closely in the cover of give there is a small Easter egg maybe you guys can find it ! 🤫
How personal is this release? Does it draw from your own experiences or observations? Always, always, that’s the only well to tap for material really, it’s always life experiences, pain or or loss or regret happiness and joy, it’s always from life experiences.
Has the meaning of “Give” changed for you at all since completing it? No it’s exactly what it was meant to be and I hope it can be even more than that.
How do you envision “Give” connecting with your audience? What do you hope they take away from it? Mostly I hope the audience take away feelings that they can use to their benefit, to get done whatever they are trying to get done in their lives maybe they can use it to sit and contemplate maybe they can use it to find some inspiration or motivation to do that next thing they’re trying to do and if nothing else I hope it helps them to feel something whatever those feelings may be.
What’s next for DaeMarcus after “Give”? Are there more releases on the horizon? As long as I’m able to write yes there will be material in the works as long as I can keep pumping it out and I only hope it continues to get better and better for the audience and also for DaeMarcus!
As an artist releasing music in today’s landscape, what have been your biggest challenges and rewards?
Biggest challenges are definitely time and equipment constraints as well as some financial constraints, the struggling musician is real but it grants me a positive outlook because if I’m able to write on minimal resources I can’t wait to see when I have the proper equipment and time I’d love to “give” DaeMarcus.
How do you balance staying true to your artistic vision while connecting with an audience? My audience comes first before me and that’s the way it will be, I won’t ever write music that I don’t like to play however I always think about what I subjectively/objectively believe the audience would like to hear and that’s always a big motivation to write as best as I can.
If “Give” could open any doors for you, what opportunities would you most hope to see? God at this point a proper studio would make me happy hahahahah, yes very small things would make me a very happy musician however that would just make anything big seem even bigger and I’d be open for that as well. I am grateful for any opportunity that comes to DaeMarcus and I’ll always use that to give back as much as I can to the World and to my audience.
Mike Coner's "Aho Ahoa" Transcends Urban Latin Boundaries
Not only is Mike Coner‘s newest song “Aho Ahoa” another addition to the genre, it also shows how music can be a safe place to be and a way to reach higher levels of consciousness.
Hip-Hop, Bachata, Rap, Reggaeton, Merengue, Trap, Dancehall, and Afrobeat are just some of the styles that this Colombian-Venezuelan artist plays. A real variety of musical styles.
Coner does not just play around with these styles; he seems to live in them and bend them to fit his story. “Aho Ahoa” shows this variety, but at its core, it is about something that is been in songs for a long time: the spark of a love meeting.
“Aho Ahoa” makes you feel like you are going into a certain moment instead of breaking down a track. There are parts of the process that should not go together but do in some way.
There’s a pulse, an undeniable energy drawn from reggaeton and dancehall, yet layered with melodic sensibilities that soften the edges. It’s the sound of city lights reflecting on wet pavement after a sudden downpour, a mix of grit and unexpected beauty.
Coner’s delivery changes. Sometimes he rides the beat with cocky confidence, and other times he takes on a more personal, almost chatty tone.
It is not just about technical skill; it is also about showing how you felt during that first meeting—the hesitancy, the curiosity, and the growing sense of possibility that are at the heart of the song’s love encounter theme.
It is interesting how a song about a simple meeting can hold the weight of a whole life. “Aho Ahoa” does not directly talk about Coner’s past or the struggles he went through from living on the streets to performing on stages across countries, but they do affect how he sings the song.
In his voice, there is a strength that comes from knowing how important relationship is because he is been without it. They are very different types of music, but the way they turned their experience into art hits home.
The 2025 return to Europe is a big step forward in Coner’s artistic career. His work with European artists suggests that he is expanding his musical language on purpose, taking in new influences while keeping the core parts that make up his unique sound.
In contrast to many artists who try to appeal to a wide range of cultures, Coner’s work shows how uniqueness of experience can, in a strange way, make connections that are more universal.
Regarding production, the track shows what Capital Porcual meant when they said “tremendous musical and cinematographic production.” Sound parts are put together with a dramatic sense, making emotional arcs that go beyond language boundaries.
The different sounds of the instruments show different emotions, and the rhythms bring to mind both old-fashioned Latin styles and new urban styles.
“Aho Ahoa” shows that he can play a lot of different types of Latin Urban music. You can hear the steady beat of dancehall, the catchy melodies of modern reggaeton, and maybe even hints of bachata in the music itself, though you can not hear the instruments breaking down clearly. It is more of an effect that you can feel.
There is no chaos in this mix; it is a combination. It is about an artist who is happy with who he is and does not want to be put in a single box.
This unwillingness to fit into a single category is a statement in and of itself, showing how complicated modern identity is, especially for artists who connect different countries and experiences.
Like migrant birds that find their way by stars that most people can not see, Coner finds his own way through the sonic air.
Mike Coner’s “Aho Ahoa” Transcends Urban Latin Boundaries
“Aho Ahoa” feels like a sign of growth and a testament to Mike Coner’s journey, from being in danger to working with artists from other countries.
This gives the song’s idea of relationship more meaning. The path of finding your place in the world and using suffering to fuel creativity is a lot like finding that spark with someone else.
Stories like this have meanings that go beyond the music itself. They offer stories of hope and change.
The lively, well-made Latin Urban music shows how versatile Mike Coner is and how good he is at catching a certain emotional moment.
It works well as a single, giving you an easy way to get into his sound while giving you a taste of the wider range of influences he uses.
Knowing about the artist’s own amazing journey makes the feeling of fresh connection even stronger on the track.
It makes you think about more than just the story in the song. It makes you think about the next part of Mike Coner’s own story.
This LA-based musician VANNGO, who spent a good chunk of time being an entrepreneur before the music really took hold is back.
“Heartbreaker USA” comes after “We’ll Rise LA!“, which was a song of strength born from the ashes of real fires.
If the first single was about picking up the pieces after life throws a Molotov cocktail at you, this new track feels like exploring the part of you that might have lit the match.
VANNGO himself says it’s about “the fires we start ourselves.” It’s a departure, a swerve into a different lane.
The beginning of “HEARTBREAKER USA” is hypnotic guitar work that makes you think of both the cramped despair of a dive bar and the wide, empty roads of the desert.
It is this duality that makes the track stand out, creating a mental world that feels both limited and limitless.
What VANNGO brings, though, is his own taste. There is a lot of knowledge in the brutal voice, and it is not just from music. It is from thirty years of working in business.
They are tired and angry at the same time. That sound comes from someone who has seen enough to know that polished stories are often lies. The track pulses, it pushes forward, a soundtrack for driving too fast with the windows down, chasing something or running from it – maybe both.
In terms of sound, the track is in interesting ground. For emotional realism, its simple production style keeps things real, while adding elements that feel both familiar and new.
Perhaps most compelling is how “HEARTBREAKER USA” functions as a map of internal contradiction. “We’ll Rise LA!” focused on disasters happening to other people, making VANNGO an instrument of resilience. This follow-up, on the other hand, looks at how reckless love can lead to self-immolation.
The track’s strong rhythm section gives it a forward motion that matches its emotional urgency. This is music for movement, flight, and maybe even freedom. But underneath all of this kinetic energy is a fragility that keeps the song from becoming just bluster.
VANNGO has found that hard-to-find balance between swagger and sensitivity that sets the best American rock bands apart, from Springsteen to the early Kings of Leon.
The Pacific Palisades fires were a catalyst, pushing VANNGO into the light. Now, he seems to be embracing the heat. “HEARTBREAKER USA” isn’t shy. It leans into its influences – grunge, alt-country, southern rock – but manages to feel current.
It’s like finding an old leather jacket that somehow fits perfectly right now. It avoids feeling like a throwback because the emotion feels raw, immediate. It’s the difference between remembering a feeling and feeling it.
What does it mean to survive yourself? The song seems to grapple with this. Resilience isn’t just about enduring external blows; it’s about exploring the internal space, the messy, beautiful, contradictory parts of being human.
The most obvious thing about “HEARTBREAKER USA” is VANNGO’s deep knowledge of rock music’s ability to stay true to itself over time.
VANNGO Unveils New Single “HEARTBREAKER USA”
After years of being quiet, this is the sound of an artist who has finally found his voice. As a result, the song is both strong on its own and a tantalising preview of the album that comes after it.
VANNGO does not want to follow short-lived fads. He want to achieve something more substantial and long-lasting.
It is music for people who are in the middle of things—the thinkers, the fighters, and the people who are making bad decisions at 2 AM under a buzzing streetlight.
People like it because it does not act like it knows everything. The right questions accompanied by a great song and a voice that sounds like it has seen a lot are enough sometimes.
