No Ordinary ‘Partners’ - In Crime, They Declare: "I'll Never Find Another You"
Alright, let’s talk about “I’ll Never Find Another You” by Partners In Crime. These fellas from Toronto, Colin Whiteford (guitar and vocals), Doug Pegg (drums and vocals), Gene Falbo (bass guitar), and Terry Gadsden on keyboards, apparently go way back to grade school in Scarborough. I’ve often wondered if my old desk buddy, Barry, is making killer tunes these days – probably not, Barry’s forte was more paper airplanes than power chords.
This single, well, it’s a proclamation, isn’t it? Like a really enthusiastic Post-it note left on the fridge of someone you’re completely bonkers about. The core message rings loud and clear – this love, this person, totally unique. You get the feeling they looked around, maybe at a crowded coffee shop or on a jam-packed subway car, and thought, “Nah, no one else comes close.” It’s devotion painted with a quirky brushstroke of self-awareness, sort of like a cat trying to play a theremin. You’re immediately pulled into that feeling of, you know, like, finding the one, not a one, but the one that just… clicks, even if clicks isn’t exactly the right analogy for feelings of the heart, maybe. Or is it? Hmm…
No Ordinary ‘Partners’ – In Crime, They Declare: “I’ll Never Find Another You”
Musically, it’s like they pulled the best bits from that early 80’s pop-rock radio dial and gave it a modern polish. Hints of that New Wave energy are swirling around like lost balloons after a birthday party, but they manage to sound fresh, not dusty. It’s not some overly dramatic ballad, nor is it mindless bubblegum. It’s got heart, and a bit of a swagger, almost like someone telling a really great story in a slightly too loud, but charmingly enthusiastic way. It’s the musical equivalent of wearing odd socks and making it look intentional.
The whole track reminds me of a polaroid of a night at the local arcade: the vibrant, slightly grainy colors, the feeling of a simple moment somehow captured perfectly, even though time marches onward. These guys clearly found something special early on, like some kind of hidden code they share. But more like Morse code using a really funky bass line, if you catch my drift.
Ultimately, this single seems to argue that in a sea of many, sometimes we actually stumble across a genuine one-of-a-kind gem and what a marvel that is. It’s a sonic reminder that maybe, just maybe, we should all be a bit more vocal about those truly special connections we’re lucky enough to experience. Are these connections truly as rare as the lyrics profess? Or are they just hiding in plain sight? I’ll leave you to ponder that particular rabbit hole.
NYRE, a name that might conjure up images of a misplaced Scrabble tile, delivers something far more resonant than random letters with their new EP, “Avoidant.” It’s a four-track dive into the deep end of heartbreak, the kind that leaves you feeling like you’ve accidentally swallowed a handful of gravel and regret. I can’t help but think of those old grainy black and white photos, you know, the ones that make sadness look so…chic? Yes, like that, but audible.
The release doesn’t tiptoe; it jumps right in, flailing beautifully. First we are met with the uncomfortably raw “It Should Be You.” A declaration that smacks of possessive rage, and not the ‘hot’ kind you see in the movies but more like the kind of simmering internal monologue that would make a great bad dream. Then, “Joke’s on Me” shimmers in, feeling like that moment when you finally notice the puppet strings and realise the puppeteer was never on your side. Each note feels like an admission, like a quiet apology to some version of your past self. Is it dramatic? Absolutely. Necessary? Even more so. I recall the time my left sock just vanished and left its single right sock friend heartbroken, somehow these songs hit me the same way.
NYRE Asks the “Avoidant” Questions with New EP
“You Didn’t Mean It,” rises, from a puddle of self-pity into a defiant splash of independence. It’s that point where you begin to see yourself not as a broken piece, but a whole different puzzle entirely, and those past pieces no longer quite fit. We then get the unexpected jab of “Main Character”, which oddly feels like an old friend you catch at a bus stop and realize you never truly understood, behind the big grin and confident step, lies something sadder, something fragile. It’s the sound of wanting applause so badly, you almost forget why you were on the stage. Like watching someone trying to build a sandcastle in the rain.
NYRE Asks the “Avoidant” Questions with New EP
Musically, it’s cinematic pop, haunting, and full of those breathy, soulful vocals that make you feel both utterly exposed and strangely safe. This isn’t the kind of music you passively listen to; it’s a conversation – sometimes awkward, sometimes heartbreaking, but always profoundly human. It reminds me a little of what it must feel like to wake up in someone else’s dream. “Avoidant” is a journey, yes, but more than that, it’s a question mark that hangs in the air long after the last note has faded. A question I think we should all ponder.
Trick Shooter Social Club's "Television": Tuning into Love's Low-Lit Frequency
Trick Shooter Social Club’s “Television,” isn’t some shiny, manufactured anthem. It’s a scratched-up record, the kind you pull out after a long day where everything tasted like cardboard and feels the same kind of worn in and comfortable. This Chicago outfit, led by Larry Liss and Steve Simoncic, they’ve bottled that feeling into a song about quiet corners and the kind of love that grows between the couch cushions. The ones where the TV flickers not as background noise, but a shared silent world in itself.
You know how sometimes a faded photograph can say more than a textbook? That’s “Television.” It hums with a low-lit energy that feels less like a stadium show and more like leaning against a sun-baked wall, listening to the wind rustle in the dry leaves of an old maple. I keep thinking about a scene from a old black and white film, where two souls find a dance in the grey spaces between everyday chores. A shared laugh while hanging the laundry, that kind of thing, and not too dissimilar from how I once felt watching an old episode of Twilight Zone as a young child. Which, by the way, also has an undercurrent of unease, just like life I guess.
Trick Shooter Social Club’s “Television”: Tuning into Love’s Low-Lit Frequency
Trickshooter Social Club roots-rock that doesn’t shout, doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel; it simply rolls along, finding beauty in the ordinary. The comfort isn’t found in grand declarations, or promises made but in the tiny gestures of care, small acts, almost unspoken. These guys are crafting a sonic porch, inviting you in for a spell, not because they’re bursting with new ideas, but because their old ones hold so much real lived-in feeling. And I suppose, isn’t that what really makes us human. A love, that makes the hum of existence slightly less humdrum.
Ultimately, “Television,” makes you want to find the person closest to you, and just listen. And that’s, a fairly grand achievement in itself.
"Promise Me": Cat Cork's Indie Folk is Anything but Cat-atonic
Cat Cork, hailing from Woy Woy, just dropped “Promise Me,” a single that feels like finding a lost photo tucked in the back of an old book. It’s indie folk, yes, but not the type that’s content just being strummed on a porch. This one carries a weight, a quiet dread almost. It’s about the choices we make when fear gets a bit too loud; how sometimes, wanting to feel safe makes us shut the door on possibility itself.
Think of it as an inverse Mona Lisa, if you will – not a mysterious smile but a quiet reluctance captured in melody. It makes you wonder about all the paths not taken and the little acts of self-containment we quietly perform every day. It’s a song that could’ve been written during the Cold War, the sense of hiding just under the surface is strangely relevant to all the little hidden anxieties we navigate, especially these days.
“Promise Me”: Cat Cork’s Indie Folk is Anything but Cat-atonic
The music feels like a gently swaying tide, not crashing but persistent. This single isn’t about grand statements, but about that subtle ache in our bones, the almost-forgotten dream we’ve tucked away. It leaves you feeling a tad unsettled, in the best possible way, like you just overheard a conversation you weren’t meant to, or like noticing one singular missing tile in the Roman Baths. Which then gets you thinking… why do we fear to swim in the cold open water of our own potential?
It’s not a call to action so much as an invitation to ponder our own subtle surrenders. “Promise Me” gently pushes at our quiet self-censorship and makes you ask yourself – what am I putting into safe deposit for later? And, perhaps more crucially, will ‘later’ ever come?
From Pain to Power: Tahani's Journey Through "Psychological $uicide"
Tahani who is known for her stage name as Alyssa Hyndman is a wonderful talent who is deeply rooted In the quiet town of Coleford, nestled within England’s Forest of Dean, Tahani is creating music that refuses to look away from life’s darkest moments. Her upcoming single “Psychological $uicide,” draws from personal struggles to craft a powerful narrative about mental health and survival.
Blending emo rock roots with modern production, Tahani’s sound echoes influences like Evanescence and Linkin Park while carving its own path. The track opens with haunting piano before expanding into a textured landscape of distorted guitars and electronic elements, creating space for vocals that cut straight to the heart.
In a recent conversation with Tahani, she opens up about the deeply personal journey behind “Psychological $uicide,” her creative process, and how transforming pain into art has shaped her evolution as an artist.
There’s a raw intensity to “Psychological $uicide” that really grabs the listener. What inspired you to create this particular track? “Psychological $uicide” was inspired by my personal struggles with mental health, feeling overwhelmed and suicidal caused by internal turmoil and trauma that needed heeling . I wanted to capture the emotional intensity of that experience.
The title itself carries a lot of weight. Can you walk us through how you decided on it and what it represents to you?
The title represents the silent, internal battles many face. It acknowledges the painful struggle to find solace amidst chaos. For me, it symbolises intentional dissociation as a way to cope with suicidal thoughts instead of physically ending life my I mentally ended my life..
The production on this track feels very intentional. What was your vision when you were in the studio?
In the studio, I aimed to create an immersive, visceral experience. I experimented with distorted guitars, haunting melodies, and introspective lyrics to convey raw emotion. I wanted heavy, haunting, scratchy dark- like everything inside my head
Artists often use music as a way to process complex emotions. How did creating this song affect you personally? Crafting this song was therapeutic, allowing me to confront and process my emotions. It helped me find solace in vulnerability and I hope to now support others through dark times
Crafting this song was therapeutic, allowing me to confront and process my emotions
The lyrics seem to tell a deeper story. Which verse or line feels most significant to you? “Silent screams behind my eyes” resonates deeply. It encapsulates the feeling of being trapped in your thoughts and screaming on the inside while acting normal on the outside
Were there any unexpected moments during the recording process that ended up shaping the final version?
During recording, I stumbled upon an eerie guitar riff that intensified the song’s emotional impact. It became a pivotal element.
Has releasing such a personal song changed how you approach making music? Releasing “Psychological $uicide” has made me more authentic and fearless in my creativity. I now prioritise vulnerability, mental health and supporting others through turmoil.
What’s the next chapter for Tahani after this release?
Next, I’m exploring themes of hope and healing. My upcoming project hopes to be less intensive more fun. Every I write is from experience so whatever comes next it will have shaped my life previously
Alright, let’s talk about 808TSIE and their new single, “Dub Drive.” This isn’t a review in the stuffy sense, more like a… sonic snapshot, if that makes sense. Belgium, dub techno, a Tascam recorder – these words paint a picture, don’t they? Of someone hunched over hardware, maybe the kind of person who still knows how to use a rotary phone. I appreciate that sort of analog dedication in this age of endless software.
This track isn’t a sprint. More of a slow, deliberate walk along a concrete path in the rain – the kind of rain that soaks into your soul. A slow-motion urban echo. It’s made with love, you can feel it – the artist feeling that this was the 100%, absolutely yes sound they’ve been working towards. That’s precious.
You know, thinking about it, “Dub Drive” kind of reminds me of old telegram messages, if telegram messages were capable of conveying profound moods rather than urgent logistics. That sort of minimalist precision, the spaces between notes as potent as the notes themselves. There’s a texture here, too – like the faint static you sometimes hear between radio stations. An honest grain, not airbrushed.
808TSIE Takes the “Dub Drive” in Style
There’s a warmth, even though the sonic landscape might seem at first glance quite cold, but a real heart underneath the mechanical rhythms, you’re never left lost and wondering with “Dub Drive”, it guides you in a comforting manner. Korg Volcas, a Machine MK1, Roland MC808; tools used by 808TSIE and you get the feeling this gear is like an old friend that just keeps coming back with new stories, like a worn leather bag. It’s what’s inside that counts and in “Dub Drive” a great journey awaits. What if the best destinations are soundscapes? Think on that, will you?
Virtual Vision: Mila Hayes Redefines Pop with GRL PWR
Los Angeles-based virtual performer Mila Hayes, in collaboration with producer P. B. Kay, has launched her debut single “GRL PWR.” Released January 7, 2025, the track merges contemporary dance-pop with AI-enhanced production techniques, marking a significant step in digital entertainment innovation.
The single, produced across multiple studio locations, showcases the potential of combining artistic vision with emerging technology. Hayes delivers an energetic performance focused on female empowerment, weaving accessible pop melodies with contemporary themes of strength and unity.
As the virtual artist prepares to discuss her creative journey, influences, and future vision, “GRL PWR” serves as both an introduction to Hayes’s artistic persona and a glimpse into music’s evolving landscape.
What inspired you to write “GRL PWR”? Was there a specific moment or experience that sparked the idea? “GRL PWR” was inspired by the incredible energy of women supporting women. I was scrolling through fan messages one day and saw how many of them talked about finding strength in their friendships, in standing together, and in owning their power. That collective spirit lit a fire in me—I knew I had to write a song that captured that unstoppable vibe.
The title suggests empowerment—what message do you hope listeners take away from the song? I want listeners to feel invincible when they hear this song. It’s a reminder that you’re enough on your own, that your circle of friends is your fortress, and that love starts with self-love. It’s about breaking free from outdated expectations and standing tall in your truth.
Can you tell us about the creative process behind “GRL PWR”? How did the song come together, from writing to production? It started with that catchy instrumental hook—it just screamed confidence. From there, the lyrics flowed naturally, inspired by late-night talks with my fans and their stories. P.B. Kay and I worked together to build layers of vocals and beats that felt energetic, fun, and empowering. We wanted the production to reflect the message—bold and unapologetic.
The lyrics in “GRL PWR” are so impactful. Could you share your favorite line and why it resonates with you? “My favorite is: I’ve been alone but never lonely with my friends. It’s such a powerful statement about finding fulfillment in your own circle and realizing you don’t need external validation to feel complete.”
I’ve been alone but never lonely with my friends.
Does the song reflect personal experiences or broader societal themes? How do you balance both in your songwriting? It’s definitely a mix. Personally, I relate to the strength and freedom that comes from relying on a support system of people who truly get you. On a broader level, I wanted to tap into the larger conversation about empowerment and how women are redefining their roles in society.
Are there any specific musical influences that shaped the style or sound of this track? Definitely! I drew inspiration from pop powerhouses like Beyoncé and Lizzo, who balance infectious beats with empowering lyrics. There’s also a touch of 90s girl group energy in there—it’s playful, confident, and timeless.
How has your audience responded to “GRL PWR” so far? Any reactions that stood out to you? The response has been incredible! One fan told me she listens to it every morning to hype herself up for the day. Another said it reminded her of the bond she has with her closest friends. Hearing how this song is making people feel stronger is the ultimate reward.
What do you hope people feel when they hear “GRL PWR” for the first time? I hope they feel unstoppable. I want them to dance, to sing at the top of their lungs, and to feel proud of who they are. It’s a song for lifting yourself up and celebrating your power.
“GRL PWR” is a powerful statement. How does it connect to the themes in your other music? Empowerment, self-love, and connection are at the heart of everything I create. “GRL PWR” takes those themes and amplifies them—it’s louder, bolder, and even more unapologetic than some of my previous tracks.
Do you see this single as part of a larger project, like an upcoming album or EP? Absolutely. “GRL PWR” is a cornerstone of my upcoming EP, which explores themes of independence, resilience, and the many layers of empowerment. It’s all about embracing every part of who you are.
How do you view the song’s place in today’s music landscape, especially regarding its message of empowerment? I think “GRL PWR” is part of a growing wave of music that celebrates diversity, strength, and individuality. In a world where so many voices are fighting to be heard, it’s a rallying cry for those who refuse to be silenced.
How does “GRL PWR” reflect your personal journey or growth as an artist? This song is a testament to the confidence I’ve found in myself as an artist. It’s about trusting my voice, taking risks, and being fearless in sharing my truth with the world.
What do you want your listeners to know about you as an artist through this song? I want them to know that I’m here to create music that empowers and uplifts. I’m not just about catchy hooks—I’m about making people feel seen, heard, and unstoppable. “GRL PWR” is me saying: You’ve got this. You’re enough. Let’s conquer the world together.
Audra Watt Puts You Into The Mood With ‘Peppermint Condition’
Audra Watt’s “Peppermint Condition” hits that sweet spot between holiday cheer and raw honesty that we rarely get in Christmas music. Recording at Nashville’s Beaird Studios, Watt and her team have crafted something that feels both nostalgic and refreshingly real.
From the first notes of shimmering piano, there’s an intimacy here that pulls you in. When Watt’s gravelly voice enters, it carries the weight of someone who’s known both struggle and joy during the holiday season. The pedal steel weaves throughout, a gorgeous touch that grounds the song in its Nashville roots while bells and percussion keep things festive without becoming saccharine.
As the song progresses, her voice grows stronger and more resolute, mirroring a journey toward renewed hope and festive cheer.One things that makes “Peppermint Condition” special is how much feelings into her song, this is something modern day music lacks,Her lower register adds a richness to lines about finding light in darker moments, while background harmonies float in like a warm embrace.
The clever wordplay of “Peppermint Condition” – playing off being in “mint condition” – works perfectly with the theme, and this being her reintroduction into the music scene makes the title hits you harder, all I can say is I am genuinely excited for her comeback.
You what, I think this is a fitting close to 2024, and with an EP and album promised for 2025, I’m genuinely excited to hear where she goes next, cant wait to hear from her again.
Is "No Daylight" Your Kind of Shade? Fiona Amaka's Latest
Fiona Amaka’s “No Daylight” arrives not as a burst of light, but as a slow, curious excavation of what’s left when the sun hides. It feels personal. Raw. Like eavesdropping on a conversation you shouldn’t be privy to. Which, good music often does, doesn’t it?
This isn’t about heartbreak neatly packaged and bow-tied. Instead, we’re thrust into the messy aftermath of shattered trust. A slow-burn where “thinking all the best” turns out to be, well, not. I swear I felt a weird, almost visceral urge to start knitting after that lyric landed. Maybe that’s because untangling yarn feels strangely similar to processing this particular type of disillusionment.
Is “No Daylight” Your Kind of Shade? Fiona Amaka’s Latest
The vocals are… insistent. A soul voice clawing for answers, wrapped in an indie rock embrace, kind of like how velvet can cushion hard edges. All that lovely layering makes you consider how fragile our perceptions can be. They do tend to crumble, just like sandcastles on a blustery afternoon, or perhaps, like the lost pages from a medieval bestiary. This song reminds me of the time I tried to teach a goldfish calculus, absolute, stunning confusion all around. I suspect that’s deliberate.
“No Daylight” doesn’t offer easy resolution or grand proclamations. What Fiona presents instead, are those awkward, jagged feelings we usually keep locked away under the couch. It asks you to face the complicated, the uncomfortable… the fact that sometimes the people we build pedestals for, will eventually make us sweep up the pieces. There’s a power in this honest unveiling of things. It hits differently. So, are we ready for it? The answer might well be buried somewhere in the echo of the last note.
Don't Let This One "Fade Away": Kent Owens Makes a Mark
Kent Owens, a name that sounds like it should be on a library card next to “Hemingway,” but instead it’s on the digital shelf next to my slightly messy playlist. This Cambridge-based creator of soundscapes – I’m resisting calling them songs, but…well – just released “Fade Away,” a single that feels like an open window after a long winter. It’s a soft rock hum with a pop-rock sheen. We’re talking about a lyrical tug-of-war here, aren’t we? On one side is a life of curated beige, on the other, the neon-drenched memory of vibrant mistakes.
The melody is like a familiar route you take on autopilot. But the words… those are a jarring detour. Owens isn’t gently suggesting a change of pace, no. It’s more like he’s grabbed the wheel mid-turn and shouted, “Look where we are!” It’s about that quiet hum of potential, that artistic volcano sleeping under the mundane, a thing like when they found Tutankhamun’s tomb… except this isn’t about relics, it’s about rebirth. Do you think Tut was an avid listener of synth pop during the construction of the pyramids? Something tells me the ancient world knew how to find the rhythm.
Don’t Let This One “Fade Away”: Kent Owens Makes a Mark
The overall effect? It’s oddly comforting. In a way, Owens’ regret is our hope. His lyrics paint vivid portraits of stagnation – the self-imposed walls of “what is” vs. “what could be.” He seems genuinely terrified but fueled by some kind of… determined bewilderment. The drums are solid, the guitars like gentle nudges forward. The layers aren’t overwhelming; they’re there to support a clear voice searching through the static of habit. Perhaps a song, after all. Perhaps just this one.
“Fade Away” doesn’t just ask for a fresh start, it demands one. It’s a polite panic attack set to a catchy tune and it is… something. And isn’t it that “something” that we’re really all looking for?
Aynaz's "To My Angel Friend": An Angel's Share of Emotion
Okay, let’s talk about Aynaz, shall we? They’ve dropped a single called “To My Angel Friend,” and it feels less like a tune and more like… a sudden breeze through a dusty attic window. You know, the kind where long-forgotten trinkets catch the light and make you blink? It’s a tribute, see, to a friend gone. A sort of musical memorial with Celtic undertones, woven in with threads of classical grace. It’s New Age, but not in the way the crystals in your aunt’s living room are New Age. This has grit, a palpable sorrow.
There’s a funny little tug-of-war between the somberness of loss and this odd, almost defiant, sense of…forward motion. Like those old daguerreotype photos, where the subject has a blurry edge, caught between being there and not being there. What if, just what if, ancient maps held musical notations? What kind of sounds would those cartographers have translated to their parchment? It’s the kind of thought that pops in when the music swells, taking you somewhere other than here.
Aynaz’s “To My Angel Friend”: An Angel’s Share of Emotion
Aynaz crafts an experience that explores a kind of resilience, like that single flower that somehow manages to break through concrete. It’s not some saccharine portrayal of overcoming pain, mind you. It feels, I don’t know, real. The Celtic influences ripple out like tiny waves on a shore, mixing with the classic sensibilities with a strange and lovely ease. Makes me think of tapestries, some thread worn thin with time, others bold and bright. A sort of emotional embroidery, if you will. Perhaps my socks will find a voice next? Who’s to say.
This single isn’t just sound; it’s a hand reaching through the dark. A shared moment of remembering, of being present with absence. It leaves you… different, maybe. And that’s something.
Beyond the Pale: Talk in Vain Takes Us to a "Distant Land"
Okay, let’s talk about Talk in Vain’s “Distant Land.” This isn’t your grandma’s rock and roll. It’s more like finding a hidden cassette tape under a loose floorboard—you know, the kind with that feeling of forbidden knowledge. The Swedish duo, Magnus Hellman (songwriter/production whiz) and Jessica Lindman (vocal powerhouse), have thrown a sonic punch. They clearly weren’t aiming for a gentle massage.
There’s this raw energy, a kind of caged animal bursting through the bars, that is… interesting. You’d expect pure aggression, but it’s more like controlled chaos, carefully arranged like a bookshelf that looks haphazard but is really meticulously organized. Is that the sound of escaping, or just smashing through something, maybe? There’s a weird joy in it, like realizing the alarm clock never rang when it should have.
Jessica Lindman
The single screams intensity and the need to dismantle any sense of easy listening predictability, as if they’re declaring musical independence from whatever might have felt safe and conventional. And that’s… brave. It reminds me of the time I tried to build a house out of LEGOs as a kid, but then accidentally built a tiny rocket instead. It made no sense, but felt absolutely vital at the time.
Magnus Hellman
Jessica’s vocals have this grit, this beautiful crack that just cuts through all the musical noise. It’s not polished or perfected, but genuine. You sense she’s truly in that “distant land” with you. The music swirls, dives, and soars. It’s a constant exploration. Did the Roman Empire know this kind of turbulent rhythm? Probably in their own way of battling and chariot races. Anyway, I’ve got my mind going into unexpected tunnels.
“Distant Land” leaves you kind of breathless. I’m left pondering: did we just witness a break from something or a breakthrough? Perhaps both. It sounds like an inner compass recalibrating, in a most beautiful and loud manner.
Casuccio's "Rockstar": Not About the Sparkle, All About the Grit
Anthony Casuccio’s “The Rockstar,” is, well, not what you expect, especially if you were picturing spandex and teased hair. It’s a raw, honest pour of musicality, almost like watching someone build a guitar from scratch right in front of you. He’s not pretending; this is what he does, he is music. That kind of dedication, you can feel it. It’s like catching a stray sunbeam through a dusty attic window – unexpected but potent. He’s clearly been chasing stage lights for a while. Not unlike I chase pigeons in the park sometimes, a fool’s errand perhaps, but full of raw feeling.
The track pulsates, not with a manufactured swagger, but with something closer to heart palpitations. Lyrics like, “Music is my escape,” resonate in the way an old photograph does, triggering a rush of personal memories. Suddenly I remember trying to learn a harmonica once, the bitter disappointment that followed. Then the guitar riff hits, it’s clear. This isn’t a vanity project; it’s a blood offering, a testament to thirty years in the trenches of the music biz. What does a good cup of tea and this single have in common? Both offer moments of clarity. It’s rock and roll for the soul, a weird, winding road toward… something genuine. He’s on fire with each pluck.
Casuccio’s “Rockstar”: Not About the Sparkle, All About the Grit
The song talks about practice, about putting everything on the line; that’s the thing, isn’t it? Every chord is a step toward something, even if it’s not perfectly planned. Like when you walk the beach and see one perfect shell, everything feels right for a moment. Maybe it’s the way Casuccio merges vulnerability with the roar of a guitar; you understand it on a gut level, which is often far more powerful than perfectly formed sentences. Casuccio seems to not want a pedestal, rather just a stage, just a release of pure sound and feeling, and you kinda want to watch that too. A kind of messy, beautiful symphony. So much noise contained in something simple.
Is it a rock anthem? Or a personal prayer? Maybe it’s both, a little chaotic and beautiful. And maybe the question itself is the whole point.
Prose-in Motion: Phidippus Paints Sonic Pictures with "Prazosin"
Phidippus’ “Prazosin,” the album, is a strange little thing. Not like finding a sock in the dryer that never had a match, but more like finding a tiny, perfectly formed city inside an acorn. It’s all electronic pulses and hums, built by Eric Salazar, with what feels like very specific, and also wonderfully messy, intention. Jeff Riteman and Alice Indiana pop in as guests, like extra sprinkles on already good ice cream, but it’s Salazar’s lonely voyage here, you understand?
The theme is, if you can call it that, navigating through the muck. Personal hardships. Picture yourself trying to assemble a complex Lego set, only to realize all the pieces are slightly… melted. It’s frustration, it’s acceptance, it’s that feeling you get right before the bass drop at a show.
These aren’t your club bangers. They thrum with something quieter, something akin to a lost Morse code message from a parallel universe. Think if the static on an old radio decided to have a meaningful conversation, about what, you’re not quite sure, but you feel it.
Prose-in Motion: Phidippus Paints Sonic Pictures with “Prazosin”
This isn’t Beethoven’s 5th Symphony; no grand overtures, just small pockets of noise, put together in patterns. Kinda like a pointillist painting but with sounds, I guess. The whole thing reminds me a bit of those early computer graphics you would see in the 80s. It wasn’t real, but it gave the sensation of something…else.
The real impact is how personal “Prazosin” feels without any sung lyrics or clearly articulated messages. How can an entire human emotional landscape come from blips and bleeps? Maybe it’s the same thing as seeing patterns in clouds. Anyway, there is a real soul within the whirring circuits. What does it mean? Perhaps it’s meant to make you think and feel, the same way an old photograph pulls you back in time, but instead of time you are pulled into someone’s world. What’s more personal than that?
Owen Young's "Three" EP: A Trio of Truths You'll Ponder Thrice.
Owen Young’s “Three” EP is like finding a worn, familiar photograph in an old box, only to discover the person in the picture is wearing a lampshade. It’s deeply personal, yet jarringly relevant to the world spinning outside my window. We are dealing with themes of impermanence, the kind that makes you check if the stove is off, twice, every time. You can tell he means it, too.
“Runnin’ Down The River” feels like a dusty lament echoing across generations; there’s a sense of those 60’s dreams of peace, love and understanding dissolving like sugar in tea, and replaced by the salty tang of reality. Then, you find comfort, a shared journey with friends. I’m strangely reminded of when I accidentally used fabric softener instead of laundry detergent, the confusing, fleeting scent of “wrongness.” Life.
Owen Young’s “Three” EP: A Trio of Truths You’ll Ponder Thrice.
Then, there’s “That Could Have Been You,” a stark observation about the folks often swept aside by society’s currents. It isn’t a finger-pointing exercise but a quiet acknowledgment of our shared vulnerability. Each verse is a mini-story with characters that could live next door. We find a man counting coins, victims of displacement and domestic violence, they live a reality many would rather ignore. It feels a bit like that time I tried to bake a cake without reading the recipe, a beautiful mess but with crucial lessons learned.
“Voices In The Dust” circles back to resilience, finding strength in the ‘voices,’ whether those of nature, ancestors, or just echoes from our own past. “Tomorrow in yesterday” is how my brain feels at times. I picture that strange sculpture garden that’s on the side of the highway. Nobody knows why it’s there, but it’s quietly profound.
Owen Young’s “Three” EP: A Trio of Truths You’ll Ponder Thrice.
“Three” isn’t just a collection of songs; it’s a raw, honest conversation. Young doesn’t have answers to life’s mess but the invitation to feel and contemplate them with him. How strange to think about all we hold in these few, precious years, like sand slipping through your fingers and forming shapes anew.
Adriana Spuria Sends Us "Away" - And We're Glad to Go!
Okay, here we go, let’s talk about Adriana Spuria’s “Away,” because sometimes a song lands not like a stone, but more like a strangely shaped, resonant pebble you find in a forgotten corner of your pocket.
It starts, well, I mean, not starts in the way a rocket launches. It’s softer than that, all gentle hums and guitar twangs, before Adriana’s voice drifts in, light as dandelion fluff on a breezy day. And then you get it – the ‘take me away’ plea. It’s repeated, sure, like a skipping record, but each time, it resonates a little differently. Maybe it’s about escaping bad leftovers from yesterday’s thoughts or perhaps a deep-seated urge to simply step outside one’s self. Like those weird moments when you are trying to find something in the fridge, but instead, you start organizing everything.
Adriana Spuria Sends Us “Away” – And We’re Glad to Go!
This single isn’t a story, per se; it’s more a feeling, an almost electric hum you get from standing too close to something… something powerful. A connection that’s both a comfort and a wild, untamed thing. Gae Capitano, Corrado Salemi, Biagio Martello, and Giovanni Maucieri provide the sonic scaffolding here; their work, while clearly important, feels less like individual building blocks, more like a shared landscape. One you are urged to go explore. Maybe I should have taken my hiking shoes for this, I mean, it was this powerful.
It’s got that satisfying blend of acoustic and electronics, with rock undertones—like putting on a favorite worn-in jacket you haven’t touched since last season. The vocals ride this wave like a tiny boat, at times feeling a bit like being on one of those rides at the fair, the ones that spin you ’round and around. There’s a definite pull to be had, a beckoning to the ‘away’ they are describing. What exactly is that place? Maybe it’s somewhere within each of us, waiting to be discovered.
Ultimately, “Away” doesn’t offer answers; it asks a better question: Where will you go? And perhaps more importantly, with whom?
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Attack the Sound’s new single “Favorite Things” reimagines the beloved Sound of Music standard with their distinctive genre-blending style. Recorded live in a single take at Blu 26 Studio, the track showcases the band’s natural energy and musical chemistry.
The song’s message resonates particularly well as the year draws to a close, inviting listeners to celebrate life’s positive moments. The recording process, from intense rehearsal discussions to the one-take studio performance, reflects the band’s dedication to their craft and artistic growth.
This Chicago-based indie pop group continues to build momentum, bringing fresh perspectives to familiar sounds while establishing their unique place in the music scene.
The result is an engaging piece that honors the original while charting new territory – a fitting introduction to a band worth watching.
The energy in “Favorite Things” is infectious. What’s the story behind how this track came together? This song came to be because we had been studying jazz standards to get tighter as a band. After listening to the Coltrane’s version I realized you can make any version you liked. I then started reworking it to make it more reflective of how we want to play music. This was all recorded live with one take. We also recorded Autumn Leaves but those files were lost.
What made you choose this song as your next single? Was there a moment when you knew this was the one? I choose this single because the year was coming to an end and this is the time we think back on what has happened and often are upset with what we didnt accomplish but going into 25 I wanted listeners to think of their favorite moments and not feel so bad.
I choose this single because the year was coming to an end and this is the time we think back on what has happened
The production has some interesting layers to it. What was the studio process like for this track? The studio process was hectic lol. The single was recorded live and on video at Blu 26 in Chicago so there were so many moving parts. Because we decided to play all at once, I had to do lots of coordination and conducting to keep all parts on point.
How did the band collaborate on writing “Favorite Things”? Was it different from your usual songwriting approach? With this being a cover the writing process was simple. We already knew the song from the Sound of Music and the Jazz version by Coltrane so we brought ideas to rehearsal. The biggest conflict was how to end it. We finally landed on a major key when throughout the song is in a minor key.
Some of your best ideas probably come at random times. Where were you when the initial concept for this song hit? I was lying in bed listening to a Jazz playlist I made of Miles Davis, John Coltrane and Chet Baker. The music started to take me on a trip, even though I was sober. As I started to teleport into the comso of sound I kinda unlocked ideas I never had before.
What’s been the biggest change in how you approach making music compared to when you first started? The biggest change is, I try everything. I look to do what services the song rather than what I want to do. I used to be more stubborn and have so much control over the smallest details. Its ok to let someone else help and take charge sometimes.
What do you hope fans take away from this track when they first hear it? I want fans to take away that we tried something different, experimented with sound and had fun doing so.
If someone’s discovering Attack the Sound for the first time through “Favorite Things,” what would you want them to know about the band? I’d want them to know they just found their new favorite Indie Pop Band and we are pushing boundaries in music to stay different not relevant.
Want 99 Problems? Frank Richman's "99 Fire" Ain't One.
It’s like discovering a rogue disco ball hidden in a forgotten record store, except instead of dusty surfaces, it’s polished chrome reflecting pure, unadulterated energy. We know absolutely nothing about Frank, and honestly? I think I prefer it that way. This track drops, a single, not some bloated album-behemoth, and suddenly the walls are sweating. Fun, like a sticky summer afternoon where you forget the world exists for a few delicious moments.
This “99 Fire” concept isn’t subtle; it’s a full-on conflagration, that slow-burn you get from laughing with your best friends while some unexpected, amazing song explodes from someone’s beat-up speakers. Remember the first time you rode a bike without training wheels? Yes, that feels similar. You’re coasting, the wind’s in your face, but the feeling’s more significant than just an outdoor activity. This funk machine Richman cooked up is pure, raw joy—and it’s catchy like a mosquito on a summer night.
Want 99 Problems? Frank Richman’s “99 Fire” Ain’t One.
There’s a ‘risin’ and risin’ bit repeated throughout, a kind of relentless mantra of escalation, which is exactly what a solid party does, right? A build-up, like when a tiny seed starts growing out of seemingly nothing, slowly unfurling, becoming everything. I wonder if Richman even considers these botanical parallels? He probably wouldn’t give me a straight answer, the cryptic fox.
I thought about early industrial music while listening; the raw, unrefined power, but instead of grinding metal, this is like, well, the opposite. Polished chrome energy. What does any of it mean? Is there some secret societal commentary here, some hidden code embedded in the groove? Maybe it’s not that deep, maybe Frank simply felt something, and created something as honest and electrifying as what we’re experiencing now. It doesn’t matter, not really.
“99 Fire,” then. A flicker in the dark? A fleeting summer, a brief, wonderful heatwave of absolute fun? Either way, it burned bright. And that’s all that counts, truly.
From Twang to Truth: Anton Commissaris Unveils "Said, I'm Sorry"
Anton Commissaris. Just the name rolls around in my mouth like a lost piece of candy. “Said, I’m Sorry.” A title so straightforward it’s almost a dare. You’d think, wouldn’t you, that saying sorry is easy? But it’s never just a quick dip of the chin, is it? This single plumbs the murkier depths of that little phrase, a confession whispered into the dust motes swirling around an empty bar.
This isn’t a polished, sparkly kind of sorry, the type you might use to avoid an awkward silence. No. This one feels like a man staring down his mistakes, illuminated by a single, dim bulb hanging over his head. Commissaris’s voice, gravel and tenderness coexisting, embodies that perfectly. Country, yes, the sound wraps itself around the bones like a comfortable but slightly threadbare quilt. There’s an echo of past heartbreaks, the twang resonating with a truth that can be uncomfortable, like accidentally biting into a lemon with no sugar.
From Twang to Truth: Anton Commissaris Unveils “Said, I’m Sorry”
He lays it all bare: the lying, the disappearing act, the hurt left smoldering in his wake. It’s funny how honesty can be both incredibly fragile and fiercely powerful at the same time, kind of like glass being used for armor. He’s not looking for forgiveness necessarily; he’s just facing the music, the discordant melody of his actions. Have you ever seen a really good magic show where the illusion isn’t so much hidden, but revealed and amplified in some unexpected way? This track is like that. Raw. Simple. Honest.
Why are we so captivated by the confessions of flawed people? Maybe it’s the hope, or perhaps just the curiosity. Perhaps, “Said, I’m Sorry” is about the complicated ballet of apologies; a dance where vulnerability leads and truth tries its best to keep up. It asks more than it tells, ultimately leaving you a bit… pensive. What are you sorry for today?
A Soulful Ode to First Love: Jim Scaparotti’s "Starry Night" Shines Bright
Jim Scaparotti has taken his thirty years of songwriting experience and crafted something truly special with the latest single from his project, TINMAN Project. “Starry Night” is a song that blends Americana with blues rock in a way that speaks directly to the heart.
From the very first guitar strum, this track pulls listeners into a world of groovy rhythms and nostalgic imagery, offering a sonic journey reminiscent of first love under starlit skies. Inspired by Van Gogh’s iconic painting and Scaparotti’s own experience of a first kiss, Starry Night showcases not just stellar instrumentation but a deep emotional connection.
The carefully crafted production, featuring contributions from skilled musicians like Steve Ferrone and Lynn Arthur Nichols, elevates the track’s soulful vibe, making it a timeless piece that feels both nostalgic and fresh.
Whether you’re a fan of Americana, blues rock, or simply beautiful storytelling through music, “Starry Night” is sure to be a fixture in your playlist.
‘Are You Down': Kevin Blaze's Bold Statement on Modern Relationships
Kevin Blaze is cooking something special from his studio in Luxembourg with his latest single ‘Are You Down.’ It’s the kind of track that makes you question why we ever put music in boxes; an artist who has Pop, House, Latin and Afro-Pop and is breathing new life into it all.
‘Are You Down’ is about something we all know too well: love in the age of read receipts and notification alerts. Blaze tells you how something as small as a text or call can bring back to life a relationship that has become too far apart. His vocals glide along the beat, that line between reflection and celebration felt effortlessly.
‘Are You Down’ is about something we all know too well: love in the age of read receipts and notification alerts.
Blaze really flexes his creative muscles in production. The track gets underway with atmospheric risers, before the track fuses Afro pop rhythms and Latin grooves, with Eastern mysticism ever so subtly creeping in. And it’s far from Blaze’s Hip-Hop producing days, which is exactly what makes it special; Blaze isn’t afraid to push boundaries.
‘Are You Down’ is one of those rare tracks that works anywhere; whether you’re losing yourself at a festival, in a club, or just sitting on your own thoughts. That’s what happens when an artist stops worrying about genres and focuses on feelings.
And this isn’t just another single, this is Kevin Blaze telling us where music can get when you throw away the rulebook. He’s just getting started, and from the sound of things, it sounds like he’s just getting started.
From Chaos to Grace: Nocko Discusses His Musical and Personal Journey
Some artists write about life – Nocko lived it. In his latest single “Owe My Life”, he opens up about his journey from the edge to enlightenment, and it hits different. This isn’t just another track – it’s the final piece of his upcoming album Label Me, and you can feel the weight of every word.
When Nocko sings “I owe my life—after everything I did, I say that’s a fair price,” he’s laying it all on the line. There’s no sugar-coating here – just raw truth about transformation and the power of faith. From a life that used to make headlines for all the wrong reasons, he’s emerged with a story of hope that speaks to anyone who thinks it might be too late to change.
Behind the boards, Nocko’s fingerprints are on every aspect of this track. From the soaring choir opening to the layered beats that follow, he’s crafting every element himself – producing, writing, performing, and engineering the whole package.
We had a convo with Nocko to dig deeper into what drove him to create such a personal piece. What unfolds is more than just another artist interview – it’s a conversation about redemption, faith, and the power of starting over, no matter where you’ve been.
Listen to Owe My Life
What inspired you to create “Owe My Life”? Is there a specific personal story or experience that shaped the song?
I was inspired to write Owe My Life through my relationship with Jesus that grew during my time at Brigeport Correctional Center.
The title “Owe My Life” feels deeply emotional. What does it mean to you personally? The title Owe My Life means, after everything I’ve experienced, getting shot point blank with a .45 in the chest with no mark or wound to show, being in multiple car and motorcycle accidents where body bags were sent to the scene instead of ambulances and many many other instances of my life being spared for a greater purpose, I truly Owe My Life to God and telling as many people as would listen of His miraculous, life changing and life saving power.
Can you walk us through the creative process behind the song? How did it evolve from an idea to a finished track? Each of my songs start differently. Owe My Life started with me laying down the music, choir first. Next I added layers of kick, snare and hats then 808 bass. After days of tweaking, adding and removing musical elements, I wrote the lyrics to the hook “why we rin like a secret to ask for forgiveness, when the whole world know good n well that we did it…” I then wrote the singing part of the 2nd verse “to justify it I was doing it for my family…”. Next I wrote the first verse followed days later by the 2nd verse. The original title of this song was “My Life – Fair Price” which I changed, after the entire song was completed, to Owe My Life.
Were there any challenges or unexpected moments during the production of “Owe My Life”? All of my songs usually take a week to complete from start to finish, listening, changing sounds, lyrics etc., this one was no exception. The only unexpected moment was changing the title from the original registered title of My Life – Fair Price to Owe My Life.
The only unexpected moment was changing the title from the original registered title of My Life – Fair Price to Owe My Life.
Were there any artists, genres, or personal influences that helped shape the sound of this single? No one specific element comes to mind shaping the sound of this single. This was the last song of my forthcoming album Label Me so, I wanted to keep the sound and content of the song true to the rest of the album by offering hope through faith and resilience, regardless of the circumstances.
The lyrics seem to carry a powerful message. What do you hope listeners will take away from this track? I pray that all who listen will understand that with God, anything possible. I’m living proof that one is not defined by their experiences but by what they learned from them. As I said in the song, I was charged with 13 felonies and have since been granted an absolute pardon, wiping my record completely clean. Nothing but the grace of God.
Did you work with any producers or collaborators on this track? If so, how did they contribute to its creation?
I’ve been blessed to be able to produce, write, perform, engineer, mix and master my own music. Skills I’ve picked up down through the years working with various professionals in the music industry
What has been the most memorable feedback you’ve received about the song so far? The most memorable feedback has been several individuals identifying with the lyrics and life changing power of God.
How do you hope “Owe My Life” will resonate with your audience, both new and long-time fans? I hope and pray that my entire audience will see that nothing is TOO bad for them to climb out of it, especially if they do as I did/do which is keeping God first always.
Is “Owe My Life” part of a larger project, like an EP or album, or is it a standalone single? As stated previously, Owe My Life was the last song recorded as part of a 20 song album entitled “Label Me” which is set to be released withing the next few months.
If you could describe “Owe My Life” in three words, what would they be? Art expressing life
What can fans look forward to from Nocko in the near future? Everyone can look forward to Nocko being transparent and honest in every song, which if they close their eyes, they’ll be able to view the movie with their ears.
Immortality with a Wink: Dallin’s Whimsical “Friday Night Fangs”
Imagine waking up with a killer organ riff in your head – that’s exactly how Dallin’s latest track “Friday Night Fangs” was born. This Salem, MA artist dropped the single and it’s exactly as wild as you’d expect from someone who throws classical, death metal, jazz, and pop into a musical blender.
The song tells the tale of two vampires and their demonic choir, playfully poking fun at those brooding, self-important supernatural characters we all know too well. But what makes it really special is how Dallin somehow makes this chaos work – every element, from the dream-inspired organ riff to the high-energy production, clicks into place.
Working from his home studio, Dallin teamed up with Jason Bruns (of LA’s Bruns & Bache jazz orchestra) for mixing, finding that sweet spot between polished and quirky. The result? A track that manages to be both silly and sophisticated, with jazz rhythms dancing alongside death metal edges and pop hooks.
Sometimes the best ideas hit at the worst times – like when you’re stuck at work – and that’s just how Dallin rolls. His chaotic creative process shines through in every note of *”Friday Night Fangs”*, creating something that’s equal parts headbanger and comedy show.
This isn’t just another single – it’s an invitation to let loose and embrace the weird. For anyone tired of music that takes itself too seriously, “Friday Night Fangs” is your ticket to a more entertaining world.
Coming Home (I.M.U)”: TATE SEDAR’s Nostalgic Ode to Love and Belonging
At Musicarenagh we get the chance to listen to fresh and entertaining music every day but there are times that a song pulls at your heartstrings, and one this is TATE SEDAR’s “Coming Home (I.M.U)”. Avid followers of Musicarenagh wouldn’t find this a surprise because Tate Sedar has proved his prowess in music composition and lyricism.
For 2024’s send off, TATE SEDAR delivers something special with “Coming Home (I.M.U)”, a progressive house track that really hits right in the feels. Coming in at December 6, it’s a great mix of what got us into festival anthems in the first place, but it packs in some new ground with his post EDM sound.
It’s not another dance track. Right from the start with the first note, “Coming Home” envelopes you in waves of emotion, from soaring melodies to 80s chords and unexpected touches of strings and mandolin. The kind of song that makes sense when you know, as you do after learning about SEDAR’s journey from San Francisco to Los Angeles, that the track’s visual elements are lifted from the historic Angelino Heights victorians of Los Angeles.
The numbers do the talking: 5.7 million streams and EDM.com giving him their seal of approval, SEDAR has evidently hit a nerve. Fans of his previous hit *”Emotions”* may recognize his style, but you’re able to innovate within progressive house while keeping that dance floor energy alive in *”Coming Home”*..
The special thing about this track is that it’s got a little bit of both with a little bit of nostalgia and a little bit of innovation because it weaves acoustic warmth into electronic beats. In many ways a homecoming, this is both a homecoming for SEDAR’s artistic journey as well as a homecoming for any soul that ever yearned for connection on the dance floor.
Holiday Nostalgia at Its Finest: Carlos Ucedda’s Stunning Garden of Letters
Carlos Ucedda’s latest release, Garden of Letters, is a shimmering time capsule that transports listeners straight into the heart of the 80s and 90s. This heartwarming holiday collection combines the magic of festive nostalgia with the emotional depth of fleeting love and rekindled friendships, creating a sonic experience that feels both timeless and deeply personal.
From the first note, Ucedda’s meticulous craftsmanship shines through. The melodies are lush and evocative, echoing the warmth and melancholy of holiday seasons past. The songs don’t just play—they narrate. Each note feels like a love letter to moments that define the festive spirit: bittersweet reunions, cherished connections, and the quiet reflection of winter nights.
Each note feels like a love letter to moments that define the festive spirit:
What sets Garden of Letters apart is its ability to balance contemporary polish with a retro soul. Ucedda’s careful layering of sounds—glittering synths, gentle percussion, and heartfelt vocals—creates a dreamscape that invites listeners to lose themselves in memory and emotion. It’s a celebration of not just the holidays but of the relationships that make them meaningful, even if they’re fleeting.
In a world that often rushes through the seasons, Garden of Letters reminds us to pause and savor the bittersweet beauty of nostalgia. For anyone longing for music that feels like a warm hug from decades gone by, this is a must-listen. Carlos Ucedda has truly captured the essence of holiday magic in a way that lingers long after the final note fades.
"Wolves, Waves, and Wild Folk: Nobody’s Wolf Child on Their Enchanting New EP"
Picture a windswept coastline in South East England, where folk music meets cinematic imagination. This is where Nobody’s Wolf Child calls home, crafting stories that blur the line between reality and maritime legend.
Their latest EP, “Erbsa’s Songs of the Sea”, feels like stumbling upon an ancient sailor’s diary – except instead of ink and paper, these tales are told through haunting melodies and atmospheric soundscapes. Five tracks, each one a window into the world of Erbsa, a she-wolf whose heart beats in rhythm with the ocean tides.
There’s something almost otherworldly about how Nobody’s Wolf Child captures the essence of the sea – from the gentle whisper of waves to the raw power of a storm. It’s the kind of music that makes you smell salt in the air and feel spray on your face, even if you’re miles from the coast.
I had the chance to have a chat with the creative force behind these maritime chronicles to understand how *Erbsa’s Songs of the Sea* came to be. What followed was a fascinating conversation about trust, artistic vision, and finding inspiration in the endless dance between land and sea. Let’s dive into the story behind this remarkable EP.
The title “Erbsa’s Songs of the Sea” is quite evocative. Can you share the narrative or inspiration behind this unique composition? Erbsa the wolf was called to the sea, the EP is a small collection of songs she heard and tales she told on her return.
Your artist name “Nobody’s Wolf Child” suggests a sense of independence and wildness. How does this identity connect with the themes explored in this EP? Well the sea is as wild and untamed as it comes and we do particularly love the wild Atlantic way over here at wolf headquarters. It just has something about it, that rugged coastline relentlessly battered by this cold unforgiving body of stormy waters. The topography, the creatures, the people of those coastlines mirror that wildness.
What specific maritime or emotional landscape were you exploring when you created “Erbsa’s Songs of the Sea”? That mystical reverence the sea evokes. So much folklore so many stories, so many ghosts. The sea has it’s own orchestra so for a writer, it’s a case of listening more than anything.
The sea has it’s own orchestra so for a writer, it’s a case of listening more than anything.
Can you walk us through the creative process of developing the tracks? Were there any particular experiences or memories that influenced the creation? There is always experience if I don’t feel or haven’t felt something I cant pretend to feel something, there is no acting. None of the songs are written for the sake of it, they are all creatures that demand their release.
The title implies a storytelling element. Is “Erbsa” a specific character or metaphorical representation? What’s the story behind the name? As touched on in question 1 Erbsa is a wolf like spirit. She’s one of a pack of 9.
You can see her beautifully depicted in the ‘Selkie’ music video which is the single from the EP. It’s an amazing video featuring the incredible work of Anya Boz, who created exactly what I had in my head. It was a very successful meeting of minds.
How does this single reflect your broader musical journey and artistic evolution? I think it reflects my roots, in the folk scene and how my love and appreciation for that genre has evolved, along with my understanding of it and myself.
What genre or musical styles are you experimenting with in this EP? In terms of genre, a song is always just what it tells you it’s going to be. I can sit down with the aim of writing a rock song and something entirely different will pop out.
When it comes to production then yes you can experiment with moulding the colour and the cinema scape but you mustn’t be too heavy handed and turn it into something it’s not because then you will kill it.
Did you collaborate with any other musicians or producers in bringing the EP to life? Although I have big dreams on that front, I’m not a natural collaborator… I’m like a territorial dragon with her special gems and it’s very very hard to trust someone with one’s ‘shinies’ but in the lap of Matt Parisi my producer I have placed all of the trust. The sound of NWC is Matt and I working as artist and producer with a collaborative approach. Matt is now also one of my shiny things kept under the mountain and no one else can have it.
For listeners who might be new to your music, how would you describe the essence of “Erbsa’s Songs of the Sea”?
Cinematic folk, on a lonely enchanted sea rock …. Something like that
What do you hope listeners will feel or imagine when they hear this EP? When you fall in love with the sea it stays with you, even when you are far away and I hope to bring those kept far from the sea, a little closer for a while.
Are there any specific musical or literary influences that shaped this particular piece? Nothing more than the tales of the sea folk which are vast and rich like the wild Atlantic waters
Flannel Feelings: Apryll Aileen Wraps Christmas With “Under My Tree”
Okay, let’s tumble into Apryll Aileen’s “Under My Tree,” shall we? It’s not your grandma’s sleigh-bell jingler, not by a long shot. Aileen, this classically-trained pianist, decides to cloak herself in a Christmas-themed R&B haze, like wrapping a finely-made watch in soft flannel. It’s the kind of thing that makes you tilt your head.
The song feels like staring at a snow globe, the tiny figures moving in a melancholic waltz. The core is simple: longing. A kind of deep ache for that certain person when the fairy lights are twinkling, and everyone else is getting a hug except you. Aileen paints with a gentle hand, not in bold strokes, but the feeling sneaks in. There’s that odd moment where I felt a kinship with a single dandelion in winter – unexpected, I know, but music has that strange power, hasn’t it? It doesn’t scream “Merry Christmas!”, it mutters it like a shared secret.
Flannel Feelings: Apryll Aileen Wraps Christmas With “Under My Tree”
There is, dare I say, a lovely sort of loneliness woven in here. It’s not depressing. It’s… present. Like the quiet between raindrops or the feeling of an empty train car. Love, the song suggests, isn’t found under the glittering bows; it’s the greatest, most needed gift itself. Sometimes that makes all the difference. It’s also a little odd, isn’t it? The way a single feeling, this specific ache, can make sense of a season often stuffed with a different kind of merriment. Reminds me of that time I tried to build a Lego castle, only to find I only had wheels. Random, I know, but this song feels random in the same, slightly beautiful way.
“Under My Tree” asks, perhaps unknowingly, what the true shape of longing looks like. It hints, it meanders. It’s a feeling translated, a whispered longing in a major key, and now you’re left wondering if love, in all its messy splendor, might be the true miracle of the season after all.
Owen Young Walks the "Town Line": Soul on the Line.
Owen Young? A fine arts and law graduate, turned songwriter… in Haldimand County, no less. That’s a plot twist worthy of a good, old black and white film reel. His EP, “Town Line,” is like walking into a slightly dusty antique shop – you’re not quite sure what you’ll find, but there’s a quiet hum of history hanging in the air.
Eight songs, it says here. Eight little portals into Southern Ontario life, past bumping against present, a gentle reminder of what’s built into the very soil beneath our shoes. You can almost smell the fields, taste the late-summer air. I keep thinking of those old Polaroid photos – the ones where the colours have faded but the memories remain crisp. There’s a familiarity, not of specific experience but a shared human condition, like that sudden moment you realize you know the smell of the ocean even though you’ve been hundreds of miles inland.
Owen Young Walks the “Town Line”: Soul on the Line.
Owen’s male vocals don’t push, don’t demand. They’re more like… an invitation. To sit a spell on a porch swing, perhaps, and ponder things, or simply look at the clouds drift by, a celestial ballet always in performance, always new, even though the dance floor of the sky is the same.
There’s an unspoken narrative between the lines – you feel it rather than hear it – it’s not like looking at art it feels like getting a very clear mental picture – somehow.
This isn’t just some folk record; it’s an invitation to pause. A moment pulled from time. A quiet conversation in a loud world. And what is all our rushing anyway?
He seems to be asking us: what is the rush to?
“Town Line”, makes you think. About your own corner of the world. About things, really. Things. It does it so gently, too. I’ll bet he can cook a pretty good pie.
Haag the Huge: A Monumental Leap in Instrumental Rock
Since 2011, there’s a band shaking things up in Tehran’s vibrant underground music scene. Haag, a group that began channeling Pink Floyd and soon made their own special instrumental rock niche.
After making waves with their debut album *Buoyancy*, they’re back with something that’s been brewing for seven long years: *Haag the Huge*. The EP’s name is taken from a Persian word meaning ‘spore’ – an appropriate name for a band with a penchant for explosive creative growth. Trust me, growth is what you are going to hear in every note of this record.
We sat down with Amirhossein Rezaei, the mastermind behind Haag to find out exactly what went into their latest work. Whether it’s pushing the limits of recording techniques or interweaving complex philosophical ideas into pure sound, Haag is showing you don’t need lyrics to tell an important story.
If you’re ready to learn how an instrumental rock band from Iran is challenging the status quo? Amirhossein has some stories to tell, and let’s dive into *Haag the Huge* – it’s been quite a journey getting here.
“Haag, welcome! For those unfamiliar with your work, could you give us a brief introduction to your sound and artistic journey? We are a band formed in Tehran. In 2011 autumn, we started by performing Pink Floyd’s top songs on the stage of Farabi Hall at the Tehran University of Art. Then we decided to record our own music in a studio and it was how our debut album Buoyancy was born. The first idea we had was resurrecting the original style and sound of rock which had faded out in the first and second decades of the 21st century.
We collaborated with different artists and musicians and experienced a lot, from the studio stage to the live performances. Sub-genres are not accurate in describing what we do, but as they say usually some of our works can be placed under the title of progressive rock, some under post-rock and some under alternative rock.
Your new EP is titled “Haag the Huge.” That’s quite a bold title! What’s the story behind it? What feeling or message are you trying to convey with it? In Persian (Farsi) Haag means “spore”, and according to this, Haag the Huge refers to a huge spore; when a spore grows, it explodes somehow and turns into a big mushroom or something like that, since, we have worked on this project about seven years, it was like when a tiny spore waits until it can explode and turn into something huge. It might sound a bit expressive, but only such an expressive title can express what we did.
It might sound a bit expressive, but only such an expressive title can express what we did.
“Haag the Huge” feels like a statement. What inspired the creation of this particular EP? What was the creative spark that ignited it? The lack of “Haag the Huge” made us create it. We dare say we have played and recorded what never was recorded before. Yes, it’s some statement against the common perception of instrumental rock that says it must be boring or says rock music needs great lyrics to be ear-catching. We have been musicians for years and as you know, musicians need something impressive to play, there are a lot of great pieces of music out there, but there were not our ideas in them; something was missing, and we created the missing piece of music.
How does “Haag the Huge” differ from your previous work? What kind of evolution do you think it shows in your artistry? Each album has its own atmosphere and feelings from an overall point of view, so, we’d rather compare them from the technical and practical aspects. Haag the Huge in comparison with Buoyancy, was a far better-sounding album in terms of recording, mixing and mastering quality. We have tried some outstanding techniques in recording and mixing to reach something unheard. Guitars, bass, drums, synthesizers and organs all were grown in terms of the lines of the music and also from the aspects of sounding quality and richness. We improved ourselves and our skills practically and were going to deliver something that deserves such a bold title. But as I mentioned, Buoyancy has its own feelings that cannot be achieved easily.
Can you talk about your writing process for this EP? Do you typically start with a melody, a lyric, or something else entirely? Obviously, there are no lyrics. Some interesting theme pops to my mind – even a theme on the drum kit – and often it takes a long time to grow and become a short piece of music. Once the idea is completed we gather together and make it a longer piece. Sometimes the guitarist or the organ player suggests a melody according to the main theme, sometimes I myself write the whole lines even the organs and guitars. It varies from track to track.
Are there any specific tracks on the EP that you’re particularly excited for listeners to hear? If so, why? Of course not! We prefer the whole album to be listened to carefully. We had a single release called Glows in Blue before the complete EP release, but it doesn’t mean we want people to listen to Glows in Blue more than the others. An album as you mentioned is like a statement, so you cannot listen to a specific track and leave the others, just as you cannot read only one paragraph of a full article.
Are there any lyrical themes or recurring messages that you explore throughout “Haag the Huge”? It’s only music composed with musical language. There is no message or poetic concept in it; as Hans Christian Andersen says: “where words fail, music speaks.”
What was the most challenging aspect of creating this EP, and how did you overcome it?
Making happen the sounds we had in mind. Sometimes you play your melody on an instrument and it offers you the sound and you accept it. But some other times, you have a special sound in mind and you need to offer it to the instruments; it’s just the challenge, you cannot talk to them and ask them to sound as you wish. You need to try different instruments, effects and equipment until you can hear with your ear what you had abstractly in mind.
What do you hope listeners take away from “Haag the Huge”? What kind of impact do you hope it has? As I mentioned, there is no message, and there is no impact to be described with words. When we release the music it is not up to us any longer, it’s up to the listeners and how they listen to the music. Listening is not just a mechanical action, the quality of listening depends on all previous songs one has listened to, and all their experience in a lifetime. It’s some kind of dialogism; I create my text and leave it to the audience. The only impact I hope it has is giving the listeners a new vision of instrumental rock music.
What’s next for Haag? Are there any upcoming projects or collaborations you can tell us about? Yes, we have previously collaborated on a feature film project called The Tortoise and the Snail which is going to be screened soon. I have composed the score and also a single track for the ending credits which will be released as a new single by Haag.
Finally, is there anything else you’d like to share with our audience about “Haag the Huge” or your journey as an artist? I just like to say our business is some kind of devotion. We are hidden behind our music because it’s not just a personal feeling, and we’re not trying to attract people’s attention to our real personalities. We always have tried to convert personal issues into impersonal issues.
We work on instrumentals so people all around the world can make the connection and gain something musical. It’s obviously not easy to do so in a world full of “Attractions”. It takes time, takes life, takes energy and money; moreover, some freedom without boundaries is needed to achieve what we’re looking for.
Answers by: Amirhossein Rezaei
FREE/MAN’s ‘Watchtower’: An Acoustic Anthem of Healing and Hope"
London-based singer-songwriter Charlie Freeman, known artistically as FREE/MAN, invites listeners into a reflective and deeply personal experience with his latest release, “Watchtower.” A highlight from his debut album Truth—soon to be reissued—this track bridges the artist’s past and future as he prepares for his upcoming 2025 album, Gift in the Shadows.
At its heart, “Watchtower” is a meditation on self-awareness, spirituality, and resilience. Freeman’s soulful voice serves as the emotional anchor, carrying a quiet intensity that draws the listener in. There’s a raw honesty in his delivery, as he navigates themes of truth, connection, and overcoming adversity.
The instrumentation perfectly complements Freeman’s emotive vocals. Stripped-back acoustic guitars provide a timeless foundation, while the poignant harmonica lines add an aching beauty to the arrangement. Together, these elements create a soundscape that feels intimate yet expansive, accessible yet profound.
Lyrically, Freeman delves deep into universal struggles, transforming pain into strength. His words resonate with an authenticity born of lived experience, particularly his journey of using music as a means of coping during his father’s illness. This sense of catharsis is palpable throughout “Watchtower,” making it not just a song, but a shared emotional journey.
The production maintains a delicate balance between clarity and texture. The track avoids over-engineering, instead embracing a warm, organic quality that echoes the roots of Americana and folk rock. The harmonies, acoustic guitar solo, and subtle percussion interweave seamlessly, creating a dynamic yet cohesive sound.
“Watchtower” also teases Freeman’s broader vision as an artist. His dual approach—melding meditative introspection with anthemic energy—is on full display, offering a glimpse into the connective and transformative experiences he aims to cultivate in his live performances.
Beyond the music, Freeman’s influence extends into his work as a community leader and studio owner, where he fosters new talent through initiatives like the Freedom Music Prize. This dedication to nurturing others is woven into the DNA of his music, amplifying its impact and reach.
In “Watchtower,” FREE/MAN captures the profound dualities of life: suffering and solace, vulnerability and strength, introspection and connection. It’s a track that transcends genres, speaking to the human experience with a depth and sincerity that lingers long after the music fades.
As Freeman gears up for his global tour and the release of Gift in the Shadows, “Watchtower” stands as a powerful testament to his artistry—a must-listen for anyone seeking music that speaks to the soul.
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Listen to Watchtower below
https://open.spotify.com/track/724eZXkeVBMNunAEF4BPZG?si=NVDsNjK0SWeYAI2kLrIzzQ
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London-based singer-songwriter Charlie Freeman, known artistically as FREE/MAN, invites listeners into a reflective and deeply personal experience with his latest release, “Watchtower.” A highlight from his debut album Truth—soon to be reissued—this track bridges the artist’s past and future as he prepares for his upcoming 2025 album, Gift in the Shadows.
At its heart, “Watchtower” is a meditation on self-awareness, spirituality, and resilience. Freeman’s soulful voice serves as the emotional anchor, carrying a quiet intensity that draws the listener in. There’s a raw honesty in his delivery, as he navigates themes of truth, connection, and overcoming adversity.
The instrumentation perfectly complements Freeman’s emotive vocals. Stripped-back acoustic guitars provide a timeless foundation, while the poignant harmonica lines add an aching beauty to the arrangement. Together, these elements create a soundscape that feels intimate yet expansive, accessible yet profound.
Lyrically, Freeman delves deep into universal struggles, transforming pain into strength. His words resonate with an authenticity born of lived experience, particularly his journey of using music as a means of coping during his father’s illness. This sense of catharsis is palpable throughout “Watchtower,” making it not just a song, but a shared emotional journey.
His words resonate with an authenticity born of lived experience, particularly his journey of using music as a means of coping during his father’s illness.
The production maintains a delicate balance between clarity and texture. The track avoids over-engineering, instead embracing a warm, organic quality that echoes the roots of Americana and folk rock. The harmonies, acoustic guitar solo, and subtle percussion interweave seamlessly, creating a dynamic yet cohesive sound.
“Watchtower” also teases Freeman’s broader vision as an artist. His dual approach—melding meditative introspection with anthemic energy—is on full display, offering a glimpse into the connective and transformative experiences he aims to cultivate in his live performances.
Beyond the music, Freeman’s influence extends into his work as a community leader and studio owner, where he fosters new talent through initiatives like the Freedom Music Prize. This dedication to nurturing others is woven into the DNA of his music, amplifying its impact and reach.
In “Watchtower,” FREE/MAN captures the profound dualities of life: suffering and solace, vulnerability and strength, introspection and connection. It’s a track that transcends genres, speaking to the human experience with a depth and sincerity that lingers long after the music fades.
As Freeman gears up for his global tour and the release of Gift in the Shadows, “Watchtower” stands as a powerful testament to his artistry—a must-listen for anyone seeking music that speaks to the soul.
