Australian artist Alex Lahey's "Unspoken History" prettily describes holding onto a relationship despite its troubled past. It can be hard to detangle yourself from people who have become essential characters in your life, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like it is worth the trouble. Even if the relationships are proving to be more detrimental than uplifting. The echo of the piano adds a softness to the track that we don't often hear from Lahey as strings come in to fill the space in-between. It is full of softness with very little dead space as she sings, “We couldn't play the roles we were assigned / wasn't any space with everything on your mind.” She managed to make a light and airy song with a gloomy message—leaving someone behind when you aren’t completely ready to let go of all the good that came with knowing that person. It’s sad, but her intonation and the brightness of the arrangement makes it a hopeful sadness. It’s sparse compared to the rest of her discography, but it hits just as hard. "Unspoken History" is the third and final single off Lahey’s sophomore LP The Best of Luck Club released via Dead Oceans on May 18th.

Dinner Party alum Bedouine croons a lovely ode to the place she lives in “Echo Park.” It’s the third single from her upcoming album Birds of a Killjoy, and it’s just as soft and dreamy as its predecessors. An ephemeral opening synth introduces Bedouine’s soothing vocal, and her signature 60s folk influence is immediately apparent. Complimented by the light flitter of the acoustic guitar and cozy snare drum, the hazy arrangement settles over you like soft morning sunshine. You feel the way Azniv Korkejian, the voice behind Bedouine, feels about Echo Park. “While my love's away at work / I'll bob and weave through the styled streets of Sunset Boulevard / Where everybody's avant-garde.” No stranger to wandering, Bedouine was born in Syria, raised in Saudi Arabia, Boston, and Houston, and finally settled in Los Angeles. “Echo Park” is one of many places she has called home, which makes her decision to write the song that much more meaningful. “Long as my rent don’t climb / I’ll be living in Echo Park.” Beduoine’s sophomore album, Birdsong of a Killjoy, is set to be released June 21 via Spacebomb Records.

The perfect balance of brash and beautiful, raw and refined, “Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole,” the latest cover by Buzzsession alum, Your Smith, is an acoustic catharsis—an ode to those who refuse to apologize for taking up space any longer. This song—originally written and performed by Martha Wainwright—explores the raw emotion and ever-present frustration of womanhood in a poignant and relatable way. “I wish, I wish / I was born a man / so I could learn how to stand / up for myself”. Fiery vocals and repeated expletives build up a stream of emotion that overflows into a space not often occupied by female artists, effectively making this song every bit as socially rebellious as the women it speaks to. “I will not pretend / I will not put on a smile / I will not say I’m alright for you / whoever you are” are words that feel like a love letter to every woman who has ever been made to feel less than she is.

Existence in the current digital oligarchy—this era in which a faceless social collective constantly yells at us to fulfill myriad, shallow but ultimately meaningless expectations—has left us, collectively, overwhelmed. No one, it seems, is happy with themselves, or anyone else. And if they are, you probably won’t hear about it online. FKA twigs is a heartbreaking example of this social paradox—her relationship with Robert Pattinson was, by all accounts, terrorized by hordes of online trolls who felt she wasn’t good enough for him. In “Cellophane,” her first song in three years, twigs anguishes over flooding pressure from people who want to see her and her lover’s relationship crumble. Her attempts to push back are futile. “And I don’t want to have to share our love,” she sings in the song’s lone verse. “I try but I get overwhelmed / All wrapped up in cellophane, the feelings that we had.” The first single off her upcoming record feels like a gut-punch—it’s a song that leaves you, like twigs, gasping for oxygen, for a space to breathe again.

What is there left to say about The National that hasn’t yet been said a dozen times over? For fans of The National, though, who doesn’t want to hear it again? In “Hairpin Turns,” the Dessner brothers meticulously craft one of their signature soundscapes, this time on piano and guitar, orchestrating the band to pull arrangements out from under the listener. The Devendorf brothers make up the warped backbone of the song, Bryan innovating unconventional patterns on the drums and bassist Scott foregoing the four strings altogether in exchange for a swelling sub-bass synthesizer. Berninger, in his unmistakeable voice in its unmistakable rhythm with his unmistakable wordplay still delivers a touching chorus, not letting the artistry of it all detract from the beauty of lines like, “What are we going through, you and me? Every other house on the street’s burning.” He is helped out this time by Gail Ann Dorsey, long-time David Bowi bassist and short-time Tears For Fears band member, who contributes vocals to the track, somehow deeper and more time-worn than Berninger. It’s not a ludicrous claim to call The National the most consistent band in alternative rock (although hardcore Spoon fans may disagree)—their first three records show immense promise in retrospect with gems like “All the Wine” and “Mr. November.” As a result, the four-album run since 2007’s Boxer has been nothing short of stellar, showing the natural growth of a band that never seems to grow out of its prime. The National has been presenting singles from their eighth album, I Am Easy to Find, due out May 17th, in a way that feels somehow less revolutionary, less loud and less like a statement than another indie stalwart’s recent effort, Vampire Weekend’s Father of the Bride, but by no means less great.