"Life is Perfect for Living"... Says Who? Rausku's Grunge Provocation
Alright, buckle up, because Anthony Rausku’s “Life is Perfect for Living” isn’t your grandma’s Sunday afternoon singalong. Unless your grandma was really into dissecting the chewy, sometimes unsettling, bits of existence while headbanging to a ’90s-esque soundtrack. This album, this collection of nine sonic explorations, grabs you by the collar and asks, “Are you really living, or just… existing?”
The title track itself, “Life Is Perfect for Living,” feels almost sarcastically serene at first. It got to the point I even considered learning Japanese for a second there. It’s a melody wrapped around a razor blade, suggesting that “harmony” can include the clang of destruction as much as a gentle chord progression. It’s melodic grunge at its finest, a reminder. A raw and confronting melody.
Then there’s “Mistake,”, like finding a half-eaten sandwich in a velvet-lined box – unexpectedly poignant and slightly messy. The track’s a sonic depiction of a hamster wheel of bad decisions, specifically crafted for relationships I bet.
Rausku’s sound is certainly that of the 90’s grunge period.
“Life is Perfect for Living”… Says Who? Rausku’s Grunge Provocation
And “Pancake”? Well, this song lands like a cry for help heard through a distorted megaphone. Someone is not a huge fan of Pancakes, and if they are, maybe that’s why this album is so brilliant! It’s about being squashed, flattened, overlooked. A request and a statement to be heard. It’s a reminder that sometimes the loudest screams are the ones we don’t verbalize, but… express.
The whole album grapples with the messy, imperfect, utterly human experience. It’s like Rausku took all those uncomfortable truths we shove under the rug and wove them into a tapestry of feedback and raw emotion.
This isn’t easy listening. But, is life itself, ‘easy’?
“Life is Perfect for Living” reminds us that perhaps the beauty lies in the cracks. A sentiment well needed.
Lab Rat's "Rolling Loud": A Sonic Lab-yrinth We're Still Mapping
Lab Rat, the brainchild of Australian solo artist Dylan James, drops “Rolling Loud” onto our auditory plates, and it’s… a lot. Like finding a half-eaten burrito in a washing machine – unexpected, a little messy, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it. It’s alt-rock grunge rap, the musical equivalent of a Frankenstein’s monster stitched together with ripped denim and existential angst.
The single slams into you with the subtlety of a dropped anvil. It thumps and howls. “Rolling Loud” is supposedly about celebrating life to the fullest, embracing the chaos. The lyrics are clear, Dylan has made no attempt to create an air of mystic, he is telling it to us straight.
But wait! There’s also a strong and darker theme here. This celebration comes across like someone trying to convince themselves they’re having fun at a party they secretly hate. It’s the “drunk leading the blind,” as the song perfectly puts it – a swirling vortex of self-destructive behavior, fueled by, well, who knows what? Probably whatever’s on special at the metaphorical liquor store of the soul.
Lab Rat’s “Rolling Loud”: A Sonic Lab-yrinth We’re Still Mapping
It conjures, oddly, the feeling of watching a 19th-century factory worker stumble home after a 16-hour shift, only instead of coal dust, he’s covered in glitter and regret.
It seems we have some controlled and well executed confusion on our hands here.
The track makes no apology. Its purpose achieved? I don’t think so.
Musically, it’s the sonic representation of that feeling when you walk into a room and forget why you’re there. Except the room is on fire. And there’s a clown juggling chainsaws. A strangely familiar beat, not disimilar to a heart murmur.
So, is “Rolling Loud” a celebration or a cry for help? Perhaps, like Schrödinger’s cat, it’s both at the same time. Does life even make sense? Does this single? Ponder that while listening, repeat, optional.
Stacks of Sounds: Anthony Winters' 'Caviar Pancakes' Delivers
Anthony Winters, a Philly-rooted solo artist… “Caviar Pancakes.” The title alone sets my brain on a low simmer. What even is that? A breakfast for the bewildered billionaire? It’s Alt Pop, supposedly, but the concept feels like it was hatched during a fever dream after watching too many Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.
The central message isn’t exactly subtle, is it? Winters isn’t holding back. It’s an all-out ode to excess, a sonic champagne supernova. Money is no object. Luxury and pleasure are the North Star, the guiding (and blinding) lights. There is a sort of gleeful abandon that is almost…charming? That’s unexpected.
Musically, It bounces, it grooves. It’s not exactly a kitchen-sink drama sonically; there’s restraint here, thankfully. But this is where I can discuss the lyrics a bit deeper. It is an interesting thing to build such opulent and wild lyrics. In essence it acts as almost a form of world building in that respect.
Do you ever find yourself staring at a Jackson Pollock painting and wondering if a cat walked across it? That’s kind of how I felt halfway through this, a delightful bewilderment, followed immediately with the question “Wait does it kind bang?”
Stacks of Sounds: Anthony Winters’ ‘Caviar Pancakes’ Delivers
I’m left wondering if the sonic palette will hold its initial interest after the shock of its brazen theme washes away.
And that extravagance… It feels like that moment in history when everyone decided gold leaf on food was a good idea. Why? Who decided that? Was it boredom? Was it genius? Perhaps both.
Anthony Winters has thrown down a shimmering, slightly confusing gauntlet. He’s dared us to not just listen, but to question our own relationship with… well, everything, really. Are we entertained, offended, or just plain hungry?
“Caviar Pancakes” is not merely background music; you engage with it whether you want to, or not.
Styngray, that soulful crooner out of Chicago and Atlanta, just dropped “Be Mine,” and… well, it’s like finding a perfectly ripe avocado at the grocery store. You weren’t expecting it, but suddenly, your day is infinitely better. The single, dripping with Rap and soul, sprinkles in a dash of R&B that somehow feels both surprising and inevitable – like realizing your quiet coworker moonlights as a competitive hot dog eater.
The stated mission? To shove love and nostalgia back into the musical blender, churning out something we supposedly forgot we craved. Does it succeed? Yes, in the way that a perfectly brewed cup of tea succeeds on a rainy afternoon. Did I just compare R&B to tea? I believe I did. My train of thought is sponsored, at least today, by partial sentances.
Styngray’s “Be Mine”: Prepare to Be Stung by Love
It brings forth reflection about what love is and how is it understood?
Styngray isn’t just rehashing old sounds. There’s a modern edge, a subtle acknowledgement that we’re all perpetually distracted by, you know, everything. This awareness, it feels, bleeds into the production. A beat in particular has that familiar and expected cadence. And this makes a listener bop to. It makes a “heart”, or the very concept of a heart, skip too, I feel.
“Be Mine” does more than just aim for the heartstrings; it reaches for that tangled mess of memories and emotions most of us keep tucked away. This theme, Love’s Power, should almost, always, be left to those who have lived.
Maybe Styngray’s real triumph here isn’t in the sonic landscape itself, but in the quiet spaces.
Rewind and Repeat: Steven Browley's "Song for Lena" is Pure Nostalgia Tape
Steven Browley’s “Song for Lena” isn’t just another track dusting off the 90s; it’s like finding a mixtape your older sibling swore they’d destroyed, one filled with earnest melodies and a yearning that still prickles the skin. Leverkusen might not be the first place you’d expect a resurgence of angsty teen romance, but here we are.
Browley delivers a love song that feels both familiar and strangely… off-kilter. He’s tapped into that feeling of adolescent devotion, the kind where your entire existence pivots on the glance of another. The lyrics paint a picture of transformative love, someone being utterly changed by Lena, but there’s this undercurrent, a faint worry, like a cassette tape close to snapping. Does Lena even know the earthquake she’s caused? It’s this uncertainty, this hint of unrequited potential, that elevates it beyond simple teenage gush.
The 90s influence is clear – think Gin Blossoms meet a less cynical Weezer. The guitars have that jangly, slightly fuzzy edge that defined a generation, before autotune smoothed everything out. This song carries a certain charm that recalls the era when sharing music was so easy with a music distribution service such as Limewire. Which made me wonder, did Lena have access to Napster or was she still rocking a Discman? These are the important questions, people.
Rewind and Repeat: Steven Browley’s “Song for Lena” is Pure Nostalgia Tape
The message lands, not as a declaration shouted from a rooftop, but more like a handwritten note slipped into a locker. There’s a vulnerability there, an honesty that bypasses the usual pop sheen.
“Song for Lena” sticks in your head long after it stops playing. It’s also a reminder that love, in its purest and most awkward form, never truly goes out of style. Just like ripped jeans or a perfectly worn band t-shirt. Maybe Steven is onto something when he sings about Lena, I wouldn’t want to be without that experience.
What is it about these songs that so perfectly capture a moment, a feeling, that feels both utterly unique and universally understood? Perhaps that’s the real magic.
Pichierri Perfect Pitch: "Sperarci Due Eroi" Hits All the Right Notes
Francesca Pichierri’s “Sperarci Due Eroi” arrives not like a musical offering, but a fragile, precious thing unearthed from a well of deep feeling. This isn’t sonic wallpaper; it demands your attention, claws its way in, leaving you altered in some small, imperceptible way. Inspired by the fierce love that endures even as shadows lengthen – her mother’s journey, specifically – the single throbs with a particular kind of desperate hope. It’s that hope you cling to when the odds are, shall we say, statistically unfavorable. You know?
Think of it as if Emily Dickinson decided to front a rock band. Fragmented phrases paint emotional landscapes. Love, time, the human desire to leave a mark…it’s all there, swirling like dust motes in a sunbeam. It’s like trying to recall a beautiful dream, only snippets surface, imbued with immense power. Did you ever notice how specific shades of yellow can remind you of certain kinds of childhood grief? The synesthesia of feelings, that’s what Pichierri captures.
Genre-wise? Alt-pop, they say, seasoned with rock and electronic elements. Fine. But it’s the volcanic emotion beneath the surface, channeled through her potent vocals, that truly detonates. It doesn’t neatly fit anywhere, does it? Just like grief, it has messy boundaries, refuses to be categorized. It spills over.
Pichierri Perfect Pitch: “Sperarci Due Eroi” Hits All the Right Notes -: Photo credit: Dominic Thiel
There’s a defiant undercurrent, too. Like Picasso, she deconstructs sentiment, and rebuilds it in her own idiom. It’s in the way that electronic pulse mirrors a heartbeat. Each layered texture builds like the determination to celebrate those you love regardless of the unknown. A primal scream of affection delivered with the deft touch of a seasoned artisan. A reminder of a moment we keep searching for in ourselves.
Maybe the best love songs are born out of proximity to despair. I saw a crow trying to open a bag of chips once…what was I saying? Ah yes. Francesca Pichierri. Listen closely. “Sperarci Due Eroi” is a testament to a spirit unbreakable. Now, wasn’t it Lao Tzu who said, “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage?” Something to consider in these fractured times.
Into the Morpheusverse: The New Citizen Kane's Latest Saga.
“The Tales of Morpheus” by The New Citizen Kane… well, where to even begin? It’s not an album you just passively listen to while doing the dishes. No, this is a full-on aural experience, a 21-track expedition into the inner workings of a creative mind. And what a mind it is!
Hailing from London, this solo act bravely blends the digital pulse of electronic music with the vulnerable heart of indie pop, sprinkles of new wave’s cool detachment, and the smooth allure of nu disco, jazz, and even a whisper of bossa nova. It’s a sonic tapestry as intricately woven as… well, as intricate as trying to explain quantum physics to a goldfish.
The thematic core of the album revolves around anxiety, self-discovery, and personal growth. These aren’t just buzzwords thrown around to sound profound. The New Citizen Kane tackles them head-on, framing them as chapters in a life – presumably their own, but relatable enough to feel like segments of your own slightly messy, beautifully flawed narrative. Each track functions like a diary entry, raw and unfiltered. I briefly wondered if The New Citizen Kane had read my teenage journal, it hits that close to the bone.
The genre-bending is exhilarating. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on where the album is going, it veers off in an unexpected direction. Like encountering a zebra in a library. You wouldn’t expect it, but somehow, it makes perfect sense in the moment. And it strangely kind of fits in and elevates everything.
Into the Morpheusverse: The New Citizen Kane’s Latest Saga.
Sometimes I get the sense The New Citizen Kane, whoever they are, is speaking directly into my soul. Other times it just feels good and I lose myself into the song. It will catch you at different times with different moments and different sounds that you like. The music can go from head nodding to reflective tears that might happen. It’s a wild ride.
The courage of being personal and yet also being artistic, in a culture where everyone wants to create, but they don’t necessarily want to be bold to say things or reveal parts of them. So in that spirit and energy, this artist created this great piece.
“The Tales of Morpheus” isn’t just music; it’s a mirror reflecting our own inner journeys back at us, distorted, maybe, but undeniably truthful. What stories will you find in its reflection?
Pascal Grandjean Asks the Big Questions: Is "Karma Beyond Death" a Hit or Myth?
Pascal Grandjean’s “Karma Beyond Death” isn’t just another hard rock record, nor is it simply a rock pop jaunt. It’s more like a sprawling, philosophical conversation conducted at ear-splitting volume and then softened by quieter reflections. Imagine Pythagoras decided to pick up an electric guitar after contemplating the secrets of numbers – that’s kind of the vibe here.
Grandjean grapples with those eternal head-scratchers: Why are we here? What happens next? And does that new car really fill the existential void? Spoiler alert: probably not. He digs into reincarnation and karma, wrapping these concepts in a multi-genre sound, mixing genres and layering a hard rock backbone with classical moments. It’s ambitious, to say the least.
The whole project reminded me a bit of watching a science documentary while simultaneously scrolling through social media – that sense of “everything is connected, and I am possibly missing something important.” It’s that sense of almost catching a profound insight before your brain bounces onto the next shiny thing, like a chrome bumper gleaming.
Pascal Grandjean Asks the Big Questions: Is “Karma Beyond Death” a Hit or Myth?
It’s tempting to write it off as overly earnest, or even a little… odd. After all, aren’t guitars supposed to be about partying and teenage rebellion? But Grandjean pushes back, using these familiar sounds as a Trojan horse for weightier ideas. It’s kind of like learning about string theory through a catchy tune – you might not grasp it fully, but it gets the cogs turning. I will need some further reflections after listening to this Album!
The sheer scope of the album is remarkable. It is clear that the theme or message is about existential questions concerning our purpose beyond earthly wants and the nature of the soul. This album poses interesting and valuable thoughts to its listeners. I do think that I’ll go meditate. Is it a flawed masterpiece? Probably. But there’s an undeniable sincerity, a hunger for something more that resonates. Grandjean isn’t providing answers, but he’s definitely sparking a crucial debate, one worth hearing amid all the noise. It seems like you will go on thinking what your individual “Karma beyond death” could be.
"Necromantic": Twice Dark Buries You in Beats (But You'll Dig It)
Twice Dark’s “Necromantic” isn’t just goth-electro industrial; it’s an excavation. Josh Kreuzman, the spectral architect behind this project, doesn’t simply offer a song. He hands you a shovel and invites you to dig.
What do you unearth? Loss, unmistakably. Grief hangs in the air like mist on a cemetery. This single wrestles with mortality, the heavy lid of finality slamming shut, echoing against the cold stone. It makes you think about Pompei, about the moments frozen in time by sheer destructive force.
The haunting quality here is palpable. It’s the chilling notion of echoes continuing, a loop of pain refusing to be silenced. A figure, anchored to a grave, eyes hollow with unfulfilled desires, pulls you – metaphorically, hopefully – under. Are we all, in some way, tethered to something we can’t quite release? A broken promise, a faded dream?
The synth lines slither and scrape like coffin lids being dragged across the floor, surprisingly danceable still! A broken heart beats with programmed rhythm. Abandonment and isolation aren’t presented as abstract concepts; they’re tangible, heavy coats you’re forced to wear on a humid day.
“Necromantic”: Twice Dark Buries You in Beats (But You’ll Dig It)
Then there’s that contrasting push and pull between the cold and the warmth. A ghostly touch craving something it can never grasp again. Is it solace? Connection? Relevance? It is futile, yet eternally sought, in what has already been expunged. This recalls those dreams of reaching for something in the sky only for the item to dissolve into mere memory.
The production feels claustrophobic. Which is perfect. Kreuzman has sculpted something undeniably dark but also unexpectedly engaging, the aural equivalent of stumbling across an abandoned building and feeling drawn to explore. A scary haunted place.
“Necromantic” lingers. It’s the taste of iron after biting your tongue, the echo of a slammed door in an empty house, the uncomfortable reality of mortality reflected in the glass. This is not background music; this is an immersion into sound, a requiem for the living and the lost. It questions if one truly appreciates their life. And more poignantly, can that appreciation outlast the grief?
"Amor de Mi Vida": Track Dogs Unleash a Paw-erful Plea for Connection
Track Dogs’ “Amor de Mi Vida” arrives not with a bang, but with the quiet rustle of desperation and hope caught in a cultural crosswind. Think dusty roads meeting mariachi trumpets, a sonic tapestry woven by Garrett Wall, Dave Mooney, Howard Brown, and Robbie K. Jones. They’re not afraid to blur the lines, these Dogs, and thank goodness for that.
The core message? A primal scream disguised as a love song. It’s that yearning, the gut-wrenching “save me from myself” plea sung into the face of what might be salvation, or maybe just another echo chamber. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Staring into the abyss, hoping someone, anyone, will throw us a rope.
Musically, it’s a delicious gumbo of Folk, Americana, Roots, and a generous helping of Latino flair. I wasn’t expecting the lilting cadence to juxtapose so powerfully against the lyric’s heavier sentiment, yet the combination is pure magic. A peculiar yet sublime experience unfolds; a symphony of lighthearted harmony that speaks directly to dark subject matter. Is there any way to not feel the emotional weight of their performance?
“Amor de Mi Vida”: Track Dogs Unleash a Paw-erful Plea for Connection
This reminds me, completely out of left field, of that time I tried to build a birdhouse out of popsicle sticks. Utter failure. The construction mirrored my chaotic emotional state; everything leaned precariously. In contrast, this tune feels structurally sound even as the content admits weakness and longing. An emotional dichotomy.
And that’s precisely what makes “Amor de Mi Vida” so resonant. It’s messy. It’s beautiful. The type of rawness we attempt to mask in everyday existence. It’s a glimpse into vulnerability painted on a sonic landscape. It’s about handing the map to your life to somebody else and saying “Navigate, please.”
Track Dogs have delivered something profoundly human in this single. A quiet revolution against the self-sufficiency we are told to constantly pursue, exposing a deep, universal want of true human connection and reliance on one another. Does it feel almost too revealing?
Perhaps that’s the point. It’s the acknowledgement that, sometimes, we truly need to be saved. And that asking for that help, however terrifying, might just be the bravest thing we ever do. A compelling testament to the beauty in vulnerability, echoing long after the final chord fades.
After a seven-year hiatus, The Davenports return with their fifth studio album, You Could’ve Just Said That, a self-produced, introspective, and melodically rich collection of songs. Led by Scott Klass, the band continues to evolve, blending indie pop, folk, and garage rock influences into an intimate exploration of communication—its successes, failures, and all the awkward spaces in between.
Klass, the sole constant in The Davenports’ ever-changing lineup, played nearly every instrument on the album, save for the collaboration-heavy “Annabellas of the World,” which enlists They Might Be Giants’ Danny Weinkauf and Look Park’s Chris Collingwood. His DIY approach lends the album a raw authenticity, balancing polished production with a personal, living-room-recording charm.
From the outset, You Could’ve Just Said That grabs listeners with “When Everything’s Over,” a groove-driven opener that sets the thematic tone: lighthearted melodies contrast introspective, often bittersweet lyrics. Klass masterfully crafts everyday vignettes into lyrical reflections, giving voice to unspoken thoughts and social missteps with wit and sincerity.
The album’s title track and “I Am Lying” form a complementary pair,
The album’s title track and “I Am Lying” form a complementary pair, dissecting the struggle of honest communication from different angles. The former embraces grungy folk to express frustration over emotional barriers, while the latter, softened by honeyed harmonies, captures the internal battle of someone afraid to say what they really mean. Elsewhere, “When I Tell You That I’m Sorry” questions the emptiness of apologies in modern discourse, propelled by a swelling piano-and-guitar arrangement.
Klass’s storytelling ability shines in “If You Put Me Next to Patti,” which captures the anxiety of running into an ex at a party, and “I’m Not Going to Bother You,” an introspective monologue from someone feeling emotionally sidelined. Meanwhile, “We’re Talking About You” injects a funky, upbeat groove into the album, while “Full-Length Mirror” leans into bluesy melancholia.
The closing track, “We Know We Want To,” leaves a lasting impression. Klass’s voice, stripped of pretense, delivers a poignant reflection on missed connections and diverging emotions. It’s a fitting conclusion to an album that thrives on its ability to find beauty and meaning in life’s smallest, most fleeting moments.
For longtime fans, You Could’ve Just Said That is The Davenports at their most refined and self-assured. For new listeners, it’s an accessible yet thought-provoking introduction to Klass’s knack for blending sharp lyricism with infectious melodies. The album isn’t just about communication—it invites us to listen a little more closely to the words we say, the ones we don’t, and the ones we wish we had
KARMA's "SIS (She's Something)" Gets the Amapiano Treatment
Memphis R&B trio KARMA brings fresh energy to their empowering anthem with the Amapiano remix of “SIS (She’s Something).” This new version marries their signature harmonies with the distinctive South African genre’s deep basslines and infectious rhythms.
The remix transforms their celebration of women’s strength into a dance-ready experience without losing the original’s powerful message. KARMA’s vocals weave seamlessly through the Amapiano production, creating an irresistible blend of soul and groove.
By choosing to remix their track in the Amapiano style, KARMA taps into a vibrant musical movement that originated in South Africa. The result is a cross-cultural collaboration that feels both fresh and natural, expanding their sound while maintaining their authentic R&B roots.
“SIS (She’s Something)” Amapiano remix showcases KARMA’s evolution as artists and their ability to reinvent their music while staying true to their message of empowerment. The track stands as both a testament to their versatility and an invitation to the dance floor.
Jacob and the Starry Eyed Shadows: Hope, Grit, and “The Last One”
The boundary between chapters and endings remains uncertain so Jacob and the Starry Eyed Shadows demonstrate this in their latest single ‘The Last One’. This song combines themes of ending with themes of perseverance while telling a story about embracing unpredictable change.
The band recorded ‘The Last One’ at singer Jacob’s personal studio where they achieved their musical transformation. The single ‘The Last One’ blends delicate acoustic elements with electric guitar layers to build a production that attracts listeners. The band plans to release this as their first single which shows their new musical direction through the fusion of indie rock authenticity with pop-punk energy and folk sensibilities.
We will have a thorough discussion with Jacob to discover the complete narrative that led to ‘The Last One.’ This article examines the song’s emotional heart alongside recording techniques which reveals how this breakthrough shapes both Jacob and the Starry Eyed Shadows. Our discussion will feature his thoughts about their creative future because the band works to expand their musical frontiers.
The title “The Last One” carries a sense of finality. What story or emotion were you trying to capture with this track?
The song is about hope I guess. So, although the lyrics convey a sense of finality, it’s only for this one battle in the life of the protagonist’s. The story will continue one way or another. So, although one thing comes to an end, it all goes on regardless.
Your band name “Jacob and the Starry Eyed Shadows” has an ethereal quality to it. How does this new track reflect that dreamy essence? I suppose that’s true. No one has ever said that before, and I never really thought about it that way. I probably wouldn’t describe my music that way, but it’s probably a fair reflection of the name. It’s a long title, so I also use the acronym JatSES (pronounced Yat-ses), but it still hasn’t caught on. This one is slightly more acoustic and has more of a folky feel in the verses than a lot of my recent releases, so I suppose in that way it’s slightly more dreamy or ethereal.
Sometimes song meanings evolve during the creative process. Did “The Last One” end up where you initially thought it would? Yeah, the meaning of the song landed where it started. That’s what I tend to focus on during the writing process. I’ll start with an idea, a theme, or concept and begin writing around it. The process takes me on that journey and the gaps get filled in, but the meaning always stays the same. Often melodies, feelings, and textures turn our quite differently than I intended, but the meaning is the one thing that anchors me throughout I guess.
Artists frequently talk about that “magic moment” during recording when everything clicks. Was there such a moment with this song? Yeah, I was experimenting a lot with layering different electric lead guitars. You hear them individually throughout, but on the chorus they are layered on top of each other with slight differences, which gives the track a nice texture and width I think. That helped to finalise the direction it was going in and anchor that feeling and meaning we were talking about earlier. I think it helped bring all those ideas together.
Yeah, I was experimenting a lot with layering different electric lead guitars.
Every band has their own unique writing process. How did “The Last One” come together from initial concept to final recording? I tend to always work the same. I start with an idea, feeling, concept, or sometimes a specific story, and then come up with a chord progression. I always write on an acoustic first. So once the melody is finished and I have a rough idea of where it will lead, I start recording. I’ll record the acoustic guitar first along with a click track, and then add the drums and bass, then add electric guitars and synth’s etc if required.
I just layer it up gradually until it feels complete, and then start recording the lyrics. More often than not, I finish writing the lyrics whilst I’m recording them. So that I can adapt them once I know the sound the song is going for. Melodies often change as well. So, I might have an idea for a chorus melody, but then record two or three different versions and decide which one to keep in later.
After this I might take stuff out or add it until it all feels right. So the acoustic guitar for example, although it’s where it all starts and the anchor that drives the song forward, it often gets taken out completely depending on the direction I end up going on. But not on this track, it stays on this one.
Music often captures specific moments in time. What was happening in your life while creating this track? I think life is often about adapting, evolving and finding new and better ways to move forward. So, there was no specific thing happening as such that influenced it. It was just a moment of reflection and a hopeful song that ended up coming out of it. It’s about next steps and moving on.
Looking back at the recording sessions, was there a particular challenge you had to overcome to get the sound just right? No challenges with this one. There often is, but this one was actually pleasantly straightforward once I began layering the lead guitars and capturing the feel of the song as I wanted.
Sometimes certain lyrics feel especially personal. Is there a line in “The Last One” that holds special meaning for you? “I won’t be the last one. I won’t be the answer, if the light goes.” I guess it’s that letting go of things you can’t control and accepting the things you can do nothing about. Which isn’t always easy.
Band names often have great stories behind them. How does your name’s meaning connect to the themes in this track? My Mum always played soul and motown music when I was a kid, and so I just always loved those band names, you know, like ‘Diana Ross and the Supreme’s, ‘Martha Reeve’s and the Vandellas’. That kind of thing. So, it was just a play on that really, and also wanting something a bit different.
But yeah, with the name, and my music in general, nostalgia has always played a big part. I guess there’s a lot of longing for an older sound and style that I grew up with, and finding ways to blend them all together.
Artists usually draw inspiration from unexpected places. Was there something surprising that influenced this song?
Not really. Like I said, it was just one of those reflective moments, but nothing surprising from my point of view.
Looking ahead, how does “The Last One” represent where Jacob and the Starry Eyed Shadows is heading musically? I guess, I’m always gonna stick to my pop-punk and indie/alt rock roots, but it does have a slightly more acoustic sound than a lot of recent releases. So maybe that’s a clue of things to come in terms of blending those ideas and sounds more often.
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The sibling duo Honneus have released something special with their new single “Slowly,” crafting an indie alt-pop/rock sound that strikes a deep emotional chord. Sisters Ellie and Olivia Honneus, at 14 and 13, bring a musical maturity that transcends their years.
“Slowly” weaves together dreamy guitar melodies with intimate vocals, painting a picture of emotional distraction – those moments spent with others while your heart is somewhere else entirely. Ellie’s lyrics come through with raw honesty, delivered with a simple hope: “I hope it speaks to you.”
Together, the sisters create something that feels both deeply personal and instantly relatable. Their harmonies flow naturally, backed by layers of delicate guitar work and thoughtful bass lines that pull you into their world. With their debut EP on the horizon in early 2025, “Slowly” feels like just the beginning of what these young artists have to share.
Breaking the Cycle: Laura Sea on Mental Health and Music
The artist Laura Sea who has gathered strong industry attention through her debut album “Transformations” which she released in 2024. The debut album “Transformations” led Laura Sea to produce her new release “Six Feet Under”. The song represents an anthemic pop-punk ballad which continues the strength of her previous releases.
The piano intro of “Six Feet Under” introduces guitar elements that establish a path for the song. The song combines piano melodies with standard pop-punk guitar rhythms and powerful drum beats. The musical composition creates an ear-catching atmosphere with somber and melancholic and mood-inducing elements. The song describes the experience of getting trapped within repetitive routines alongside experiencing psychological decline.
The feeling of being trapped in a routine with no idea about future directions marks this state. This song uses its lyrics to describe the depressive feelings that come with being in a mental illness while explaining the experience of hitting rock bottom. The song guides listeners about methods to overcome these emotional states and progress forward with their lives. Despite its poignant nature this song delivers a bittersweet musical experience that creates a mood of sadness but ends with a positive uplifting feeling.
The Canadian pianist Laura Sea hails from Milton Ontario where she performs pop-punk music. Laura Sea creates memorable music through the combination of meaningful lyrics and catchy riffs with her melodic piano additions. Her clear honest voice activates every line of her powerful songs. Through her songs Laura explores themes related to mental health and toughness and personal development.
The artist Laura expresses strong enthusiasm for her upcoming album. During the last three years I dedicated my time to writing while exploring my musical direction. The album release brings me excitement because I want everyone to experience it”! The first album by Laura represents a solid foundation for building her position within the pop-punk music world. Listeners will not be disappointed.
What inspired the creation of “Six Feet Under”? Is there a personal story behind it? This song comes from my own experiences with depression. It’s about feeling stuck in a poor mental state and going through the monotony of everyday life. It’s about feeling in a rut and not knowing where you’re headed and what lays ahead. This song talks a lot about mental health and is about what it feels like when you’re at a low point.
The title suggests something deep and intense—how would you describe the emotions or themes of the song?
The themes in the song are mental health and depression. It displays feelings of detachment, melancholy, and boredom.
Does the song delve into darker or more vulnerable aspects of life? What message do you hope it conveys? Although the song starts with describing what depression feels like, the bridge offers a hopeful message in that nothing lasts forever. I hope it offers guidance to how to overcome these feelings and how to move forward.
What was your goal with “Six Feet Under”—to tell a story, evoke emotions, or share a specific message? My goal was to evoke strong emotions from people who can relate to ever feeling like you’re down and out. I also wanted to share a message of hope to give them a way to pull themselves up.
My goal was to evoke strong emotions from people who can relate to ever feeling like you’re down and out.
Did the concept of “Six Feet Under” evolve as you worked on it, or did you have a clear vision from the start? The concept started out vaguely related to mental health, but began to relate more to depression as I started writing. As the process progressed, the theme took shape more clearly.
Are there any lyrics or moments in the song that feel particularly meaningful or personal to you? I feel like the bridge is the most meaningful part to me personally. “I’ll hold on for one more day, ‘til this feeling goes away” is a sort of mantra for me to get through tough times.
Did you experiment with any unique sounds, instruments, or techniques in the production process?
I really enjoyed writing a more prominent piano part for this song. My producer helped me write complimenting guitars for the song.
Is there a specific part of the song—like the chorus or a particular instrumental section—that stands out as your favorite?
I like how the intro turned out, with the piano leading into the guitar. The guitar solo was also a great addition by my producer. He translated it nicely from piano to guitar.
Do you think this song allows fans to see a different side of you as an artist?
It’s no secret that I write about mental health in some songs, but I think this is the first time that I’ve been really transparent with my own feelings.
If someone listens to this song for the first time, what do you hope they feel or think?
I hope listeners feel understood because they find the lyrics relatable. I think everyone has, at one point or another, felt stuck in a cycle of doing the same things everyday. I believe we all know this feeling whether or not we have struggled with depression.
What does “Six Feet Under” represent to you personally? Does it mark a new chapter in your artistry?
This song is highly representative of my own experiences with mental health. It dives deeper into my own personal feelings, and I get right into the heart of the matter. It’s not too different from my previous releases, like “Certified Anti-depressant”, but it marks a new musical chapter because of the darker undertones, more present piano, and it’s anthemic ballad theme.
What’s next for Laura Sea after “Six Feet Under”? Are there more projects or surprises on the horizon?
I am currently working on a couple of tracks, one of which will be released as a single. This is all leading up to the release of my second album later this year! I hope to complete it by late 2025.
If you could dedicate “Six Feet Under” to one person, moment, or feeling, what would it be and why?
This is a hard one, but I think I would dedicate this to everyone who is in the daily grind, just trying to get to the next day. I know how hard it can be to find something other than your daily obligations to look forward to. Everyone deserves to have a bright spot that makes their lives worth living.
What do you hope your listeners remember most about “Six Feet Under” long afterthey hear it?
I hope listeners remember it as a bittersweet ballad that offers a sorrowful mood but ends by leaving you feeling hopeful and uplifted.
$ Mac’s latest EP “4rm Losses 2 Leisures” offers an uncut and short package of Southern Hip Hop authenticity through its 10-minute playing time. This 10-minute EP delivers four raw tracks containing nothing but authentic substance that feels like lightning struck. This project resists any attempt to make nice through its bars taken from freestyle greatness and its heavy-hitting 808 drums. It’s here to make noise.
The short runtime of this EP delivers absolute value in every moment that passes. Through his four tracks consisting of “Icewood,” “$>Fame,” “Blockhot,” and “Gettn$,” $ Mac produced music that reaches both personal and global listeners. The project tracks your journey of waiting until your rise through a true belief in yourself because there were no conference calls involved according to $ Mac.
We conducted an interview with $ Mac to investigate the unapologetic Dirty South energy story and understand how this journey transformed from losses into leisures.
The journey from losses to leisure is one many can relate to. What specific experiences shaped the narrative of this track?
This project is a captured moment of my life experiences compressed into four tracks, so if anyone has ever struggled or had to rely on their self and has done so authentically and genuinely without looking towards trying to follow the crowd or be something they are not then they would love every minute of this project lol it’s only about 10 minutes of
Ones time.
Your artist name “$ Mac” carries its own weight. How does it connect to the message in “4rm losses 2 leisures”?
It connects perfectly because the tape 4rm losses 2 leisures paints the picture of why $Mac is who he is.
There’s often a defining moment when artists know they have to tell a particular story. What was that moment for this track?
The whole project is a defining moment that tells a story. This project is like a captured moment in time
Artists sometimes talk about songs writing themselves. How did “4rm losses 2 leisures” come together? Was it a quick process or did it evolve over time?
The project came together organically of course I wouldn’t have it any other way and it wasn’t a quick process because I’m a strong believer in taking one’s time to create a project of quality. A product that in turn can stand the test of time.
The title has a distinct stylization. What made you choose to write it as “4rm losses 2 leisures” rather than the conventional spelling?
Really just trying to be different. Sometimes you stand out more from your style or stylization
Many artists say their most impactful music comes from their hardest times. How much of your personal struggle went into this track?
A lot of my music comes from struggles of my life so I can say most of my music comes from real life experience.
Was there a specific line or verse in this song that you feel best captures its essence?
Yes it would have to be the second verse of the 4th track Gettn$ it is deeply seeded in truth
Music can be both therapeutic and revealing. What did you learn about yourself while creating this track?
I learned that I’m very gifted when it comes to painting the picture on a record without spilling any lies or untrue facts, which goes back to the organicness of staying true to one’s essence.
Artists often hide deeper meanings in their work. Are there any subtle messages in “4rm losses 2 leisures” that you want listeners to discover?
Yes the subtle message in this project is have faith in oneself and one’s ability. It’s called staying down until you come up. no matter what show up and persevere through it all.
Looking back at your journey, what advice would you give to someone going through their own transition from losses to leisures?
The only advice I could give to them. It is keep their head up keep pushing forward, no matter what persevere through it. All don’t give up the creator gave you the vision so that you can see it through. He didn’t put it in your heart in your mind for no reason and he gave you the calling even if no one else got the call it wasn’t a conference call.
Faith, Fire, and Music: Constant Change on Resilience and Hope
Fresh from Paradise Point Recording Studio in Pensacola, FL, Constant Change “Dawn” brings us “We Gonna Make It” – a track that hits differently. The song comes alive with soaring horns and guitar work that gets under your skin, all while carrying a message about pushing through when times get tough. It’s the kind of song that matches the artist’s name perfectly – speaking to how we all have to adapt and keep moving forward.
Constant Change knows a thing or two about life’s ups and downs. After writing hits for others and then watching a major record deal slip away, this song feels like it comes from a real place. When the Los Angeles fires hit, the lyrics took on new meaning, offering a musical hand to hold for anyone dealing with loss.
The track showcases Constant Change’s ability to weave together Gospel, R&B, Jazz Pop, and even some Reggae vibes without losing their signature sound. And there’s more where that came from – they’re planning to drop two new tracks every month throughout 2025, keeping that inspiration flowing.
Your artist name, Constant Change “Dawn”, suggests a sense of transformation and new beginnings. How does this theme reflect in your latest single “We Gonna Make It”? Constant Change is a name that I chose for myself in 1997. Having gone through a devastating loss and disappointment during that time, the name defined for me what I could expect from life. My world fell apart when I lost a major record deal w Elektra Records. It wasn’t until years later that I learned how to find a firm foundation to stand on despite all of the unpredictable and uncertainty life can bring.
Can you walk us through the inspiration behind this track? What personal or artistic experiences led you to create this song?
I had the song finished about 3 months before the Los Angeles fires started. All of the sorrow and loss of property and home inspired me to change some of the lyrics to speak to the tragedy in the hopes that it may bring comfort to those devastated by the catastrophic event.
I had the song finished about 3 months before the Los Angeles fires started.
“We Gonna Make It” seems to carry a message of hope and perseverance. What do you want listeners to take away from the song?
I want listeners to feel exactly that… hopeful and inspired to persevere. I want them to find comfort in Christ Jesus, not because everything will be easy to manage but because His peace through the toughest times is real. I want them to feel the joy that hope can bring even though everything around them is gone and the future looks hopeless. I want them to believe that they will somehow make it.
How does this single differ from your previous musical work? What new artistic directions are you exploring?
There is a bit of Reggae in this tune. I don’t write Reggae music typically but more R&B, Gospel, and Jazz Pop. I found a few guitar parts that I used in production and a created a bouncy groove that combines several of these genres.
The music industry can be challenging. How has your journey as an artist shaped the narrative of this particular track?
I love this question. I have a deep faith in Christ Jesus. My musical journey has been filled with bright moments of splendor and success, having written for several recording artists, to times of great disappointment and drought. Some seasons are dark and I feel like I’m wandering around without a compass, but I always feel in prayer connected to God, who I believe is guiding my steps. This relationship enables me to feel confident in my future and His purpose.
How do you balance maintaining your unique artistic identity while also creating music that connects with a broader audience?
hmmmm, I guess I don’t worry about trying to appeal to a broader audience if it means sacrificing the identity I feel is truly me.
Beyond this single, what can fans expect from you in the upcoming months? Are there plans for an album or more music releases?
In 2025, I am on schedule to release 2 songs per month. The 1st and 15th of each month.
How do you hope this song will resonate with your listeners, especially in the context of current social or personal challenges?
I hope they feel inspired to look past the difficult moments and press on when giving up seems the easier thing to do. Especially for those in LA right now facing the fires and folks in North Carolina too who went through hurricane Helene and all of the other folks who feel displaced or traumatized.
Can you share a bit about your musical background and how it has contributed to the style of “We Gonna Make It”?
I grew up in Pentacostal churches and Gospel music is a big influence. Gospel music has so much soul and is a mix of blues, and R&B and classical, and country. These along w other great artists, like Dave Grusin, Earth Wind & Fire, Quincy Jones and so many others have influenced my writing. It all has made a deep impression that’s hard to define, but somehow it all works to inspire me.
Memory, Melody, and Meaning: The Story Behind ‘Secrets’
I recently made a discovery of a band called “The Northern Light” who connects vintage rock landmarks with modern sonic trends. The US-based trio Northern Light taps into Neil Young, RUSH, and Dinosaur Jr.’s musical wells to create their three-piece rock compositions while distinctly modernizing classic rock. Since their breakthrough hit “Waiting For The Flood” the band moved onward by avoiding musical limitations.
Their recently released “Secrets” demonstrates their musical growth. This track recorded between Seattle’s Temple of the Trees and Orbit Radio delivers think-filled melodies from dreamy guitars that envelop listeners. Frontman David Pollon created this special song while writing at Lake Huron during a journey home when silent moments expressed deep meanings.
We talked to the entire band including singer David Pollon who plays guitar and bass player Carl Larsson who plays synths along with drummer Kip Rondorf about “Secrets” and the changes happening within The Northern Light.
“Secrets” is a compelling title—what inspired the creation of this track? TNL: Most of the words for the track were written during a family visit in the summer of 2022 to a town on the shore of Lake Huron in Southwestern Ontario Canada. Parts of my (David Pollon’s) extended family have lived in this area for many generations and shores of the lake have a lot of meaning for my own family too.
I felt deeply that the great depths of the lake and even the stones of the beaches that surround it echo with the stories of generations current and past, including secrets that will never be revealed.
What is the central theme or story behind “Secrets”? TNL: The central story is that if you walk along the beach and if you listen carefully and quietly enough, you’ll be able to hear and feel the stories of generations past.
Does the song explore personal experiences, or is it based on more universal ideas? TNL: Both personal and universal. I’ve been returning to this same area every summer since the late 1980s. But the same idea could apply to any place on Earth where families have put down deep roots over the generations.
How would you describe the emotional tone of the track? TNL: Wistful, dreamy but not regretful.
What message or feeling do you hope listeners take away from “Secrets”? TNL: Telling the truth can be difficult, don’t wait until it’s too late to retrieve truth from the depths of obscurity.
Can you walk us through the songwriting process for “Secrets”? Was it a solo effort or collaborative? TNL: The song developed over time, longer than most of our songs. The first version of the song was drafted by David with music on ukulele. The verses appeared in complete form early on. We moved the music over to the full band and recorded demos but the demos just didn’t feel right…didn’t capture the necessary emotions of wistfulness and hope.
During a rehearsal we came up with some new riffs and somehow these were perfect for the mood we wanted. The lyrics came over and we were able to finish the choruses. Some songs are born complete and some take a meandering path. This is a rare one for us where we chose to walk away from an existing song structure and be ready to wait for music that served the words properly.
Some songs are born complete and some take a meandering path.
Did the lyrics or melody come first when creating this song? TNL: Our best songs always have the words come first.
Were there any surprising moments of inspiration during the process? TNL: Since the original music was written on the ukulele, I tried to carry some of the voicings of the uke over to electric guitar. I capo’d a 6-string guitar at the 5th fret and was able to use ukulele chord voicings. So the chords should sound unusual to guitarists who are used to standard tuning.
Did you experiment with any unique sounds, instruments, or production techniques for “Secrets”? TNL: We recorded Secrets at Temple of the Trees studio near Seattle. The studio is housed in a beautiful building which is reminiscent of a Romanesque churche and we are always inspired to record there. Otherwise, the song was recorded in a very live manner with very few overdubs.
How long did it take to finalize the song from concept to completion? TNL: 2 years, from the original lyrical inspiration and song structure outline while traveling to final recording in October of 2024. That said, our songs are never completed, they are constantly changing as we perform them. Songs from our first record in 2019 are dramatically different, usually heavier sounding, from the recorded versions.
What does “Secrets” mean to you personally, and does it carry a deeper significance? TNL: The song doesn’t glorify Secrets, in fact carrying secrets along with you…whether on your personal journey or over generations is a heavy weight. It’s best to not let this sort of burden keep you from living your best life.
Will “Secrets” be part of a larger project, like an album or EP? TNL: We are releasing a series of singles in 2024 and throughout 2025, we expect to collect all of these into a new album in early 2026.
Looking back on your career, how does this song showcase your growth as an artist? TNL: The song shows growth because as a band we’re becoming willing to wait for songs to fully speak to us and to not rush them. In the past, I’ve always brought fully conceived songs to the band and this was our most collaborative effort yet.
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The music from Al Kenizo comes from two opposite musical spheres – sentimental piano melodies that strike deep emotions while deep house rhythms drive your body to dance. Through his latest single “Find My Own Way” the Australian musician reveals how he transformed difficult situations into a thing of beauty. The recording took place in what nobody would suspect – the bathroom became his creative sanctuary.
The way Harnes made his music occupies the same level of fascination as his musical production. When he began performing in Sydney’s club venues Al developed a strong desire to produce his own musical creations.
You will detect elements from Ludovico Einaudi’s emotional melodies mingling with Chicane’s electronic synthesis though you hear a completely fresh composition from him. Since making music he has expanded his artistic expression to include painting alongside his musical compositions while trying out unique ways to fully express his inner ideas.
Our interview with Al focused on his song “Find My Own Way” and music’s power to transform us while exploring his upcoming plans.
Can you tell us about your musical journey so far, and what inspired you to become an artist? I started a Dj in sydney but soon found it boring and felt like i wanted to create, With so many ideas in my head and no musical training, i was eager to create
What’s the story behind your stage name, “Al Kenizo”? Its my name, officially.
How does your latest single, “Find My Own Way,” reflect your personal experiences and growth as an artist? It’s incredible that what comes out of you when you are in the lows of life, you connect to higher levels out of desperation. This track still makes me tear but it makes me strong.
This track still makes me tear but makes me sttrong.
What’s the meaning and message behind “Find My Own Way”? What do you hope listeners take away from the song? Wherever you are in life, we have to look inside, connect with ourselves and find what your soul needs and go with it.
How does “Find My Own Way” differ from your previous releases, and what new styles or sounds can fans expect from you? I see and hear my progress when a track is finished, the melody and emotions are all there and im not effected by trends
Who are some of your biggest musical influences, and how have they shaped your sound? Ludivico Einaudi, Chicane, world music.
Are there any genres or collaborations you’re interested in exploring in the future? Wow that is something that seems unreal to me and still a fantasy but SIA
What’s next for Al Kenizo? Can you share any upcoming tour dates, releases, or projects you’re working on? There are already a few other tracks I released this year, and I have no clue what else is in store, its the magic, isnt it?
How do you see your music evolving in the next year, and what goals do you have for your career? I just want to continue making and creating; all i wish i could live on that, I never wanted to be rich just have enough for the basics in life and make music forever.
What’s your favorite way to spend time when you’re not making music? Recently, i found painting as a source of mind healing, i didn’t know i could paint so well and create a perfect home so I’m happy inside
Grunge Meets Country: Cam Alan Talks Another Love Like Mine
To discover what occurs when grunge mixes with country music you need to listen to Cam Alan. On January 13th he released his new single “Another Love Like Mine” which seamlessly merges raw rock guitar lines with emotional southern vocal delivery.
From his home base in Clarksville the musician Cam demonstrates an ability to transform genuine feelings into unforgettable musical compositions. When he began testing a “rock twist” sound the music evolved into an authentic depiction of how it feels to give everything to someone who does not reciprocate. There’s this line in the song that hits particularly hard: I read the signs and discovered the truth about everything. All people who’ve experienced those emotions will instantly understand his message.
During our interview we spoke with Cam about his hit single “Another Love Like Mine” and explored what drives him as an artist while he shared his upcoming plans for his music career.
How would you describe the theme or story of the song? The theme of this songs is essentially recognizing that sometimes it feels like you always give more than you receive.
What emotions or message do you hope listeners take away from this track? I hope people can relate to this, and maybe it will help open eyes to ones who take certain loved ones for granted, to be a little more appreciative.
Did the creation of this song challenge you in any new ways artistically? If so, how? Yes, I was testing a little different rock approach with this song, and I think it turned out great.
The title “Another Love Like Mine” is quite intriguing—what does it mean to you, and why did you choose it? The title to me is an expression that the kind of love that I have seems to be a rare find. I think the world could use more genuine and deep love and connection.
I think the world could use more genuine and deep love and connection.
Did you experiment with any new sounds, styles, or techniques in this release? I did experiment with a little more rock twist on this track
Is there a specific moment or lyric in the song that feels especially meaningful to you? “I’ve learned the writing on the walls, ain’t ever really lied at all”
is probably my favorite line. Sometime we live in our heads and try to talk ourselves out of our own emotions, even when we know the subjective facts are staring us in the face. We sometimes regret to acknowledge them for what they are.
What made you decide this was the right time to release this track? I have been on a writing frenzy lately and this song really hit me in the feels and I knew I had to make this one a good track and push it out.
Are there any other projects or upcoming releases we should look forward to after this? Yes, I am currently recording an albums worth of new tracks that I will be releasing over the next several months.
If you could dedicate “Another Love Like Mine” to one person or group, who would it be and why? It would be to the person who loves with everything they have, and to never regret being that type of lover, and to never change the way that you love, regardless of whether it gets you the chewed up end of the stick each time. There is great pride in being an honorable person with a sound moral compass.
Let’s talk about Feature Debonaire’s “Borghini Nights.” This isn’t your usual Sunday morning coffee rap. Nope. This is more like that unexpected espresso you find in a hidden alleyway – sharp, strong, and it wakes you right up. Feature Debonaire, a UK rapper, seems to have this thing for old-school US vibes mixed with the urgency of new-school ambition, a kind of time travel where the destination is very much the present.
The lyrical threads weaving through this track? It’s not just Lamborghinis and swagger. It’s a bizarre blend, like finding a Shakespearean quote tucked into a graffitied wall. He’s got that London street energy down, the hustle, the need to project an unshakeable image. But it’s less a gangster flick and more like watching a chess match played on a busy London pavement. Where does it all fit? Ah, the perplexing nature of life.
The message of global unity sits comfortably, like an old, worn leather glove – juxtaposed with all the bravado. How do these worlds collide without explosion? I’m not sure I understand, but it sounds intriguing. What connects a dream car with a global anthem, you ask? Perhaps it’s that both represent power and a kind of freedom, albeit on different scales.
Think about the brushstrokes in a Van Gogh, all frantic and vibrant, or maybe those oddly calming geometrical patterns in a Moroccan tile… you can find fragments of this artful strangeness within “Borghini Nights”. I am being too much? Perhaps, it doesn’t really matter in the face of true creation, of art trying to say something that feels significant. What are we if not a mass of perplexing connections waiting to be uncovered.
The beats are steady, grounding the track despite the lyricism’s swirling depths, which keeps this boat afloat. You’d expect a song about car status to be full of, well, ‘obviousness,’ but this feels a little smarter than that, which is refreshing. This is where perplexity meets artistic intent. Feature Debonaire makes this odd combination work; and you find yourself on board this interesting journey. This whole thing… it leaves you with a strange quietude that doesn’t seem quite like silence, but something akin to wonder. Is it any good? Honestly, who knows for sure? But isn’t that life?
Del'Noire: Picking Scabs & Planting Sunrise Seeds with "Tyler Down."
Del’Noire, the solo act of Matyascorvinus, isn’t handing you a neatly wrapped package of sounds with “Tyler Down.” Instead, it’s more like finding a worn map tucked inside a book you forgot you owned. This single, a purely instrumental affair, wrestles with the echoes of trauma. Not your kind of predictable musical trauma either. No cheesy lightning strikes. No predictable sad violin. Here it is a melancholic yet hopeful journey carved out on piano and electronic beats.
It hits you in unexpected places, like remembering a dream while riding a busy bus – something slightly off-kilter yet vividly real. We’re not getting lyrical confessions here. Instead, Matyascorvinus builds a story with notes and rhythms. He picks at melodies like an old scab, yet somehow manages to find something almost, well, bright, underneath. The story takes twists. Suddenly you think about art deco architecture with clean sharp lines, then quickly snaps into a danceable beat as if wanting to get up and go. Isn’t life like that sometimes, jarringly alternating between extremes? Maybe we’re all just clumsy dances between sharp corners and swirling skies.
“Tyler Down” is inspired by the 13 Reasons Why character, which is surprisingly not mentioned that directly, actually. Instead it’s implied, a feeling you get, not a story that’s spelled out. And there it hits. The raw vulnerability of a teenage tragedy is transmuted into sonic architecture with surprising hopefulness, a sort of defiant glow, a testament to getting up in the morning even after life has thrown its weight around. You almost imagine sunlight refracting on the surface of an industrial window.
Del’Noire: Picking Scabs & Planting Sunrise Seeds with “Tyler Down.”
The energy within this song almost feels like its own unique form of movement, a peculiar kind of dance. One that wouldn’t look out of place in an empty theatre or on the quietest streets you know. It makes you question how music can carry weight so profound yet never utter a word.
So, is it healing, is it dancing, is it contemplation? “Tyler Down,” in the hands of Del’Noire, exists in that fuzzy space in between, the in between places that make us humans. It is more of a reminder that even in the quietest moments of darkness, there is the chance for an unexpected sunrise, isn’t that the best we can ask for?
Owen Young's "Painted Flowers": Blooming Where the Heart is Thrown
Owen Young, a mind steeped in the harmonies of law and fine art, unfurls “These Painted Flowers,” an EP blooming with the thorny beauty of the heart after the pandemic. It’s Americana, but not the porch swing kind—more like the kind where you stumble on a forgotten well, and peer in, seeing your reflection ripple back at you with new, confusing angles.
Seven tracks. Seven stops along a winding road. You have “It Seems So Simple,” where love begins as a child’s drawing of a sun, only to find the contours shift and the colors smudge as we experience the full range of intimacy. Suddenly it’s not all simple. But then there is an echo within those changes, and a beautiful simplicity is uncovered. “If I Drove Down,” on the other hand, feels like standing in an empty house you used to share, each room whispering the absence of someone who is simply not returning, the paint now chipping away. It’s the static on a long-distance phone line, the echo of a laugh you can’t quite place, a raw longing. Then we jump into, “Keepin’ Bad Company”, which features guest artist, Tia McGraff. This track pulls in with gritty vocals as we’re reminded some loves aren’t picnics on the green, they are slow car crashes and neither party knows how to put it in park, just the slide into dangerous territory, seemingly helpless to do otherwise.
Owen Young’s “Painted Flowers”: Blooming Where the Heart is Thrown
Then, a reminder to breathe, and feel what is right before us now, “Lightning Don’t Strike Twice” acts as a gentle push reminding us to see the faces we love in the light that exists, fleeting as it may be. “These Painted Flowers”, which lends its title to the EP, is all gentle resignation and a kind of bittersweet acceptance. The act of moving on from those that we can’t quite figure out, those that aren’t ours. Then, to turn on its heels we take an ancient route in “Wayfaring Stranger (Traditional)” with guest vocals from Beaux Young. A journey for the soul now, reaching back to the songs that have come before us as we imagine a greater crossing beyond our current understanding of place, and life. It all rounds out, finally, with “Epilogue,” a reflective piece, picking up the threads, the discarded petals. A strange mix of homecoming and beginning to go, finally moving, maybe for the first time?
Musically, it’s familiar, but Owen Young doesn’t settle for just “familiar”. It’s in the way the acoustic guitar bends under the weight of his reflections; it is in the cadence of his lyrics as he struggles through this emotional landscape that we suddenly connect to these feelings that we may not have had the space to feel ourselves. It’s all beautifully messy and relatable, like the experience of stumbling onto an amazing thrift store painting that you’ve simply got to bring home with you, no matter what the colour scheme in your home.
The truth about life seems to exist in the space between these tracks; in the spaces of regret, acceptance, forgiveness, and the eternal journey towards grace, always moving.
Samantha Mora's "Luto": A Heartfelt Loot for Your Soul.
Samantha Mora’s “Luto” arrived like a half-remembered dream, a wisp of smoke curling from a candle just extinguished. It’s not a song to shout from rooftops; it’s something you feel in the space between your breaths. Her voice is so smooth, a rich velvet you could lose yourself in. You’d almost think it could just glide across the cumbia rhythms like a hummingbird over a desert bloom, a strange, yet natural pairing.
Mora isn’t afraid of the messy stuff, the kind that stains the corners of our minds. “Luto”, meaning grief, is right there in the title, a declaration. It’s about acknowledging those feelings, the ones that feel too heavy to carry but are just as vital as laughter, you see? It’s a concept that feels like trying to explain why we sometimes prefer rain over sunshine, or why Van Gogh decided to go all swirling paint in his masterpiece. The music carries a certain warmth, a deep emotional current, and a danceable rhythm – it is strangely calming amidst its sadness.
She dances with sorrow, twirls it around her finger like a bright ribbon. This isn’t just a wallowing piece; it’s an acceptance. A beautiful tapestry woven with the thread of loss and a golden shimmer of joy. A celebration, perhaps of all the pieces that make our lives full and real and complex. Did you know that some ancient cultures believed tears could actually help in the cultivation of plants, helping to nourish them? Interesting, right? It does makes one wonder if grief has its own subtle way to nourish our growth.
Samantha Mora’s “Luto”: A Heartfelt Loot for Your Soul.
The way the pop mix with the cumbia influences feels wonderfully…off kilter and entirely appropriate all at once. It’s like a beautiful conversation between two different generations meeting for the first time, finally understanding each other. It makes you contemplate how joy and sorrow are merely different flavors in the banquet of life. “Luto” doesn’t resolve neatly, instead it lingers. It makes you think about what stays when everything changes, and how even those ‘heavy’ emotions are what help us know the true light. It is an offering to just feel everything.
“Luto” is an invitation to step into those deeper, murkier waters and discover their hidden beauty. It leaves one questioning how it can be so simple, yet incredibly profound, leaving me ponder that we often mistake pain for lack of beauty.
Dave Clark's "America": No Stars, Just Stripes of Hardship
“America” from Dave Clark drops like a chipped ceramic mug onto a linoleum floor, not exactly a bang but you feel the thud. It’s not about sparkly flag-waving; that much is clear from the first plucky guitar notes. It’s a story woven in threadbare folk chords and tinged with the static hum of some plugged-in grief.
There’s a man in this track, though you never quite see him. More like catching his shadow flitting behind a ripped curtain. This fella comes to that much-mythologized promised land and finds, well, that it’s mostly weeds and cracked pavement underfoot. Poverty, that’s a blunt instrument they wield here. Exploitation? He learns it the hard way. You can almost hear the bones grinding as Clark’s voice details the soul’s slow erosion, an architectural dismantling. Reminds me, oddly enough, of that abandoned concrete blockhouse I stumbled upon in the woods a few years back— once full of promise, now crumbling with rot. You wouldn’t expect that connection from a music review, would ya?
Dave Clark’s “America”: No Stars, Just Stripes of Hardship
The electronics that creep in aren’t a flashy disco ball, oh no. More like the faint flickering of faulty neon, a sickly yellow illuminating the man’s descent. He chases escape down a rabbit hole of addiction; a hole, you feel, he never really had a fighting chance of not falling into. It’s not preachy; more observational, like a quiet eavesdropper jotting notes in a rain-soaked notebook. The beat though – something tribal and insistent lurking beneath. It’s a slow, grim drum, reminding me of that pulse I swear I can hear through my pillow at night – when it’s quiet, really quiet – not sure what it is, probably just life… anyway.
The ‘American Dream’, Dave’s song suggests, is more like a twisted carnival mirror. And, to be frank, there are plenty of broken-down sideshow attractions lying about. No confetti, no bright lights here. Only the hollow echo of a life lost, or never truly found, within a construct that sounds so beautiful on paper. It’s a harsh tune, yes, but beautiful for its unyielding honesty. That’s a real kick, finding something raw like that these days.
This single lands like a question mark. Heavy. Uncomfortable. And utterly vital in its way.
Gus Defelice. The name itself feels like a well-oiled machine – intricate, precise, and humming with a purpose I’m not entirely sure I grasp. “Starlight,” a lone single in a world of albums and playlists, pulses like a freshly discovered constellation. You know, the kind where they announce the official findings and then all the maps start printing with the new location…except this constellation moves in its own damn sky.
There’s no throat singing here, no wailing heartbreak. Just metal. Progressive metal, they say. Which to me sounds a lot like math equations gone wild and somehow grown into something unexpectedly gorgeous. It’s like watching a clock work backwards, gears and all. “Starlight” tackles transformation, they tell me. Resilience. Like those ancient trees that grow sideways on cliffs. I’m picturing one now, clutching to the edge of something, branches twisting defiantly against the wind… and it makes complete sense in this strange, clanging kind of way. But also, are you thinking about how crazy time zones are too, suddenly?
This is pure instrumental fire, mind you. No voices muddling the message. Just Gus’s fingers on frets, creating a soundscape where complex layers intertwine like the patterns in a really good Persian rug – only this rug would probably eat your socks. You can feel the pivotal moments they speak of, those life shifters, echoing in every run and every powerful beat. It’s the sound of a chrysalis turning into something other, something shiny and new, perhaps with a couple extra legs that they forgot to mention in the science textbook.
Gus Defelice Illuminates with “Starlight”
I’m wondering now if the dinosaurs even cared about stars. They were too busy… well, being dinosaurs I guess. But then I bet they had their moments of transformation, too, back when that meteor showed up uninvited for lunch. What if all of existence just kept repeating in its own way, same recipe but slightly altered on each turn? Maybe “Starlight” is just reminding us how to move through all this wild change; like dancing through a maze… blindfolded.
It’s not something you hear; it’s something you feel… a pulse against your own. A moment, expanded. And when it’s over you are… different, subtly, in the way that happens when someone really sees you for just a second. Then it’s gone, echoing into its own starlit void.
Tickled Pink: Mardi's "Glitter Revolution" is No Circus Act!
Mardi Tickle’s “Glitter Revolution” EP is like finding a forgotten box of sparklers in the back of your mind, just when you thought all the fizz had gone flat. This Finland-based artist has brewed up something delightfully chaotic – a three-song burst that somehow manages to be both a heartfelt therapy session and a dance-floor riot. It’s a curious concoction, this disco-infused pop-rock, as if ABBA and Queen decided to throw a party with a philosophy professor and, inexplicably, a clown.
First up, “Circus Called Life,” spins a tale of self-discovery amid a delightfully messy metaphor. Life as a circus? It’s not just whimsical; it’s eerily accurate. All those precarious acts, the wild swings of emotion, the clowns who are sometimes…you. It’s that wobbly feeling you get standing on a carousel; you might fall off but the air smells sweet. This track throws a lifeline amidst the chaos, not a promise of smooth sailing, but a bright, neon compass point toward hope.
Then, we stumble into “Guilty Sinner,” which swings hard the other way into dark territory, confronting religious guilt and that ever-present fear of hellfire and brimstone. It feels strangely… necessary. It’s like Mardi is digging up the heavy, rusty bits we try to leave buried under layers of cheer. This one doesn’t let you escape the disquiet. This song might remind one of a renaissance portrait. All stern glances and dramatic shading, but the person stares directly at you daring you to look away. You probably shouldn’t look but it’s also hard to avoid.
Tickled Pink: Mardi’s “Glitter Revolution” is No Circus Act!
But then, just as you’re about to settle into the gloom, bam! “Glitter Revolution” explodes onto the scene like a piñata at a funeral. Here, the EP’s theme blooms – find that inner sparkle and embrace the joyful chaos. There’s a rebellious energy bubbling under the surface of this one. It is not about raging against the machine, more about throwing confetti in its gears while giggling. Think less Che Guevara and more Lady Gaga at a bake sale. Is it self-acceptance, individual expression or just a good excuse to get sparkly and move? Probably all of the above, to be honest.
The thing is, Mardi Tickle isn’t handing out answers. She’s holding up a mirror and saying “look, this is a mess, but it’s our mess. And it’s glorious”. It’s not a coherent map, more of a scattering of stars. This EP is less a destination, and more like a wonderfully discombobulating kaleidoscope – look at it, enjoy the colours, but don’t expect it to ever be completely static.
Blofeld Sands: People-ing the Gaps in Our Hearts (and Playlists)
Okay, let’s talk about Blofeld Sands, straight out of Brighton with a debut single, ‘People.’ That’s the title, folks, not a directive. I mean, it kind of is, though, isn’t it? When I first hit play, it wasn’t the jangly guitars or the precisely placed drum fills that snagged my ear, but that singular word echoing in the verses: “loving people”. A simple phrase, right? Almost kindergarten. But, listen longer and it’s as if a thousand tiny hands are passing you warm cups of tea in the middle of a blizzard.
They’re singing about love, not the hearts-and-flowers kind, but the grit-in-your-teeth, hold-on-tight, ‘we’re-gonna-get-through-this’ love. Which, if you think about it, is exactly how the British always get through… everything. This feeling, this hopeful defiance in the face of whatever this crazy thing we call existence keeps throwing, it really gets under your skin, yeah? Not like a bad splinter. More like a perfectly formed memory. It’s a curious thing to achieve with just a few repeated words and infectious guitar chords. Makes you wonder if they know something we don’t.
Sometimes, my brain throws up random things – like did you know that the oldest map of the world didn’t even consider Europe to be “a thing.” It’s funny how the world keeps changing, keeps redrawing itself – kind of like hope, right? Always there to try and fill in the gaps. This song does that – fills gaps you didn’t even know you had. Blofeld Sands, by the sounds of this track, want to plant little seeds of goodness where the hard stuff took over.
Blofeld Sands: People-ing the Gaps in Our Hearts (and Playlists)
There’s a particular simplicity to their approach; a refreshing, not-trying-too-hard-cool, if that makes sense. It’s a comfortable sort of sound, the kind that feels like driving with the windows down on a long, open road that leads… somewhere? Maybe nowhere, I don’t know. I feel like this music would work just as well in a bustling indie club in Camden as it would playing softly in the background at a rainy afternoon picnic in the park. A lot of music aims for this type of emotional depth, but so often, the sincerity gets lost somewhere in the mix. Not here though.
‘People’ is less a statement, more a quiet observation. Like a friend looking you square in the eye, and saying: ‘we’ll be alright, I reckon.” Maybe that’s all the world needs right now. A small nudge, a reminder that, underneath the chaos, it’s all about, well, ‘loving people’. Doesn’t sound too bad when you say it like that, eh?
CLICK HERE to pre-save the song. The single will be out on 3rd Feb 2025.
Reaven Rocks the Boat with "Something To Remember" - Get Carried Away!
Reaven’s latest offering, “Something To Remember,” barrels in like a sunbeam after a week of rain, a potent shot of pop-rock that dares you to feel something. It’s a single, a little burst of focused energy rather than a sprawling landscape, and it gets straight to the point, doesn’t waste time building up to anything, because there is so much to embrace today, that a single song must seize this time. Think less carefully choreographed dance routine, and more spontaneous jumping into a puddle with your boots on.
The core of it? Empowerment, no holding back, grab-life-by-the-collar kind of stuff. They’re practically yelling – in a perfectly melodic, radio-friendly way – that you’ve got the power to shape things. I was once told by a guy wearing two different coloured socks, that our lives are the result of the decisions we made yesterday, which in turn makes sense. The lyrics, you know, about seizing the moment – feel a bit like reading a really good fortune cookie, not just generic positivity, but that specific “oh, I needed to hear that” feeling. It’s that nudge you find, written in your own handwriting on a scrap of paper and stuffed into your old denim jacket. It is there and ready. The band seems to understand that the right message at the right time is a lot like finally finding that lost earring you’ve been looking for, that seems so important.
Musically, Reaven is what they have always been known to be, with the catchy guitar riffs, synths and infectious melodies. It is comfortable and familiar while simultaneously pushing at a sonic border that sounds like your favorite worn tee shirt and not just any tee shirt. They’ve found a space between the punch of rock and the hooks of pop, making a sound that sticks to you without being annoyingly cloying. This reminds me of those abstract paintings where colours aren’t blended but still compliment each other by their presence. It does take effort to craft that seemingly effortless sound. What can be more important to hear.
Reaven Rocks the Boat with “Something To Remember” – Get Carried Away!
You might think “Oh, another anthem about ‘living your best life’.” And you wouldn’t be wrong; but, here’s the thing: there’s an urgency to it, an earnestness, like someone has finally grabbed that emergency phone in the wall to remind us that something truly important might just be passing us by and its our turn now. It is the very definition of proactive action, not waiting and instead living. The main idea comes from that powerful internal place to move forward with gusto.
“Something To Remember” does not feel like a quick trend grab but like a genuine call to make our mark while we can. It encourages, nudges and invites one to be present. And sometimes, that’s what makes a song worth remembering.
My Head Isn't Empty, It's Full of Seishin Takeno's "Echoes"
Seishin Takeno‘s “Echoes,” a sonic postcard from Kanagawa. Nine instrumental pieces, I’ve been told. Not nine songs, mind you – more like nine shaded windows into a particular kind of quiet. This isn’t music that yells; it leans in, like a friend confiding a secret you half-hear on a summer porch. Immediately, you’re not so much listening as remembering. Or maybe anticipating. It feels oddly familiar even the first time through.
The references to “hallow,” “Lonnex,” and “my head is empty” make a certain sort of hazy sense; there’s a similar feel, a vulnerability, that hums underneath. And that comparison to Joe Hisaishi, the maestro behind the Studio Ghibli scores? Well, I get it. You can almost see fireflies, little winking blips of light trapped by warm, night-thick air. Funny, that feeling. It’s sort of like reading a poem… maybe, one that’s written not in words but in the creak of old wood and the rustle of unseen leaves. Or maybe, those old films that seemed to be made with one eye closed and no explanation in site.
These aren’t dramatic, sweeping orchestral pieces. Think… a slow zoom, perhaps, focusing on the dust motes dancing in a single ray of light. It’s a collection, not a performance. More of a mood than a narrative. I’ve never actually seen a moth trap, but these soundscapes have somehow conjured up their vague, flickering light. You begin to feel as though you’ve been invited into a secret that Takeno, on some level, seems unaware of – or just uninterested in divulging directly. I had toast this morning.
My Head Isn’t Empty, It’s Full of Seishin Takeno’s “Echoes”
It isn’t challenging; it’s comforting. It doesn’t ask much. You put it on, and the world shifts its palette. There’s a distinct nostalgia at play, a longing for a quietness I can’t quite place – did we lose it? Or just mislay it in our haste to get somewhere else? Maybe that’s the point – to be nowhere, to just listen and feel. To see, in that slightly dimmed way, with an inner light of sorts. I think I saw a dandelion go up into the sky once. It looked like something out of a cartoon. I also once saw two pigeons fighting over a sandwich; nature’s funny sometimes.
Ultimately, “Echoes” becomes a kind of gentle permission slip, an allowance to pause. A silent challenge to remember…what? I can’t tell you, you have to hear it yourself.
