Cute. Charming. A bit whimsical. Saturday morning cartoons and eating cereal. All of these associations come to mind when listening to Channel 1’s upbeat key groove “The Breaks.” The track opens with a quick flitting drum machine rimshot and quickly launches itself into earworm territory. Grooving bass conjures memories of being ten years old and absolutely having a ball digging ambient online game music as deep into the psyche of your parents as your own. Densely layered with sparkly synth timbres and vocal effects that sound like teleporting through a tunnel, it’s an adventure complete with its own sound effects. It’s so infused with humor and catchy riffs that the lyric center of the song remains somewhat elusive. Until, that is, you do some mild internet detective work and pull up the lyrics on Bandcamp. Despite the somewhat goofy exoskeleton, the core of the song is about being alone, and the juxtaposition of extreme discomfort and extreme relief that comes with it. Through our lives, we’re constantly constructing and reconstructing our self-concept. Who we are and what we do are critical pillars of that self-definition. It’s generally a good thing, and relatively accurate. However, it’s also easy to get wrapped into a cloak of definitions of who you are in relation to other people. Who you’re trying to be like, who you’re not trying to be like, who you’re in a relationship with, who you’re related to on your father’s side. What you do for living, what you do for fun, what your favorite kind of music is. It goes on and on. It can be pretty comfortable and easy to spit out to strangers at parties. However, when one of those things goes missing or changes? It’s an unwelcome dose of exposure that leaves you feeling vulnerable. But a break like that also allows you the opportunity to remake yourself in the image of a fresh canvas, ready to create something new.

With their newest single, “Silver,” self-described "dark mountain pop" duo Misty Mtn just released a song that could reasonably be interpreted as an ode to a tryst with a werewolf. It’s a pretty on brand move for the Brooklynites-via Montana and LA, to be honest. With its full-moon over pine trees cover art, sizzling trap hats and lyrics like “but if you don’t say I love you / blame it on the moon,” the song is, at the very least, an homage to the innate sensuality and strength of night. The most well-executed, spooky mood setters in "Silver" are the legato hums that weave in and out of the chorus line. It’s all very spectral and magical and perfect for warm night walks through the park.

The words “once upon a time” invite you into “Wasted,” a genre-bending track full of lush, warped soundscapes that flow through a breezy, laid-back melody. The song clocks in at just over two and a half minutes, bops to an odd time signature, and has an undeniably mathy influence, yet is completely immersive. The intricate production of the arrangement is nicely complemented by the easy-going tempo and Old Cob’s smooth vocals—allowing you to acknowledge the weirdly wonderful synths without losing the beat. The vocal layering effect, reminiscent of Dr. Dog, adds a pleasing layer of warmth to the more technical sonic elements. At the heart of “Wasted” are the carefree banjo strums. Old Cob’s decision to add a banjo to a song flush with spacey synths is a good metaphor for the song itself: strange, but exactly right.

Rising indie-pop artist Trafton’s newest single, “Winter Blues (Demo),” is a hauntingly beautiful rumination on toxic relationships and seasonal depression. Bathed in hazy reverb, the arrangement is deeply and effectively atmospheric. Delicate piano notes tug at your heartstrings while Trafton’s wistful vocal guides you through a snowy landscape. His lyrics are a lullaby packed with soothing imagery and sung next to a warm fire: “Deep in the dark as the light snow flurries / my body warm your vision blurry / want more baby don’t you worry.” Born and raised in the northeast, Trafton is no stranger to bleak, chilly winters, and “Winter Blues (Demo)” is a vivid, emotional portrait of the season. It’s the softest track Trafton has released thus far. Marked as a “demo” to single out its raw, stripped power, this track proves that sometimes quiet songs speak the loudest.

Okay Kaya turns Cher’s soaring anthem “Believe” into a quietly contemplative bedroom-pop track with her newest release. Unlike the dancey pop ballad, this cover finds its strength in stillness and emotion making it feel like a whole new entity. The steady bassline drives the song as quietly ethereal synths come in to fill in the gaps. This pared-down version allows you to focus on the heart-wrenching yet valiant lyrics as Kaya emphasizes the melancholic undertone of the song. The King Krule collaborator has a way of uncovering the core of a song and highlighting it in her own unique way. This cover highlights the inherent sadness of the track without losing the hopefulness of the original. Okay Kaya took something powerful and overwhelmingly popular and was able to push aside all previous conceptions to make something that's completely her own. She reinvented the anthem while still honoring the original. This is the Norwegian-born, New York-based artist's first release under Indiana-based label Jagjaguwar and the follow up to her debut album, Both.

On "Pullstring," LA singer-songwriter Lauren Ruth Ward colors her usual glittering approach to Americana in watery pastels. A buzzy, lush guitar arrangement provides a soft cushion for the emotive rasp of Ward’s voice as she reconciles with the weight of the expectations that others have projected onto her. The soft percussion falls like footsteps in the forest, reverberant and felt most viscerally in your chest. Nuance is second nature to Ward. She weighs sentiment alongside reality, describing how we reflect what we know onto the ones we come to love. "What you see / it don’t come from me / your reality pulls my strings," as Ward sings the melody with a hint of tension and sadness, her voice is affected with ease.