I’m sitting here listening to a ghost rise from my speakers while my body responds physically to the familiar sound of distortion pedals; with every whine of guitar, an old tremor of hormonal angst climbs up the ribcage to my heart while my arms slowly and rigidly begin crossing themselves. Before I know it, 15-year-old me is huffing and puffing at the door, and she’s back with a vengeance. I spent my teens like a lot of isolated kids do, scribbling in my journal, rolling my eyes at anything that moved and crushing on boys and girls who looked straight through me. The only method of keeping the unpalatable world at bay was the pair of headphones secured tightly around my ears blasting the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, BRMC and The Killers on heavy rotation. That is to say, in a time before kids my age had any sense of self beyond malaise and wretchedness, we had early 2000s indie. 

“Impossible Weight,” the title track off of Deep Sea Diver’s forthcoming October album, embodies that era. It’s The White Stripes meets Sleater-Kinney, meets a cool glass of water with a cruel and jagged lip, meets a hole I want to crawl into headfirst, partly because of nostalgia, and partly because I'm so glad you can still find it somewhere. Frontwoman Jessica Dobson’s vocals prick like needles alongside the jaunty four-on-the-floor drumline. They dance through the verses, pushing the sound up and out towards the epic. A meek wail of guitar is layered in and around the chorus right before Our Lady Sharon Van Etten enters, her steady rich voice ringing out and grounding us against the bouncing instrumentals. The two singers move together in harmony before the music strips down once more, this time to only Van Etten’s low murmur—then the layers build back up again into a thunderous bridge. There’s something about the way that she draws out the last vowel in the line, “So I’ll just let you down now,” that creeps me out and electrifies me at the same time. Kind of like looking back at how formative music from a certain timeframe can be to a generation, how it accompanied us during that period and therefore shaped us as well. Yes, it’s true time (and therapy) heals all, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t run to preorder the LP from my local record shop immediately after listening. Photo by Matt Wignall.

LA’s Worn-Tin (aka Warner Hiatt) is having a prolific year. “Bitter” is a part of his third separate release this year, an EP titled Summer Mixtape. He continues on with his sunny California psychedelic-pop. It's the stuff you want to listen to while biking to the beach to drink some beers with your friends. “Bitter” is a love song for people who like their romances to have a bit of an edge. Hiatt blends humor into his lackadaisical guitar stylings with clever lines like, “I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed / she says I ain’t the hardest thing in the bed.” It’s good music that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Worn-Tin will have you smiling, tapping your foot, chuckling and dreaming of summer as the seasons begin to change.

Sorcha Richardson has been releasing a tantalizing trail of singles leading up to her debut album. Her new track “Honey” is the latest breadcrumb dropped. “Honey” continues Richardson’s trend of meditations on love and rejection that she explores in her previous tracks, but it may be the most chilling song of the bunch. Eerie piano keys set a moody, melancholic tone right off the bat and are soon joined by Richardson’s vocals, soft and tender and crestfallen. The track is striking in its simplicity and evocative in the moments it recalls. “I watched you move around the room / you’re more magnetic than the moon,” she sings a voice equal parts lonely and piercing. The entire song sounds like a sigh, up to and including the accusatory chorus line, “Honey, what the hell d’you to me?” Richardson’s singles have displayed the range of her skill and style and this latest track establishes an ability to create something immersive out of something so quiet.

The Japanese House is the moniker of London-based singer-songwriter Amber Bain. If you are familiar with her writing style, you know that she has an uncanny ability to make indie electronica feel warm and welcoming. That's precisely the texture we encounter in her most recent single, "Something Has To Change." It's much more pop-oriented than her most recent record Good At Falling, which, track for track, feels more like a film score than an album. Bain's voice is subtle and soft but manages to carry a world of emotional meaning. Some of her lyrics are so concise that they feel more like journalism than poetry: "And it's the same girl who's giving you hell / And it's the same face / Your heart keeps breaking in the same place." This indelible quality makes her a whip-smart songwriter. As a listener, you know that the words she's chosen were meticulously procured for this track: they were thought about, loved and woven into the song.

Dream-pop act No Vacation revives its signature nostalgic sound with the warm and vibrant “Days.” The track was released along with the announcement of a new EP, called Phasing, which premieres October 18 via Topshelf Records. The atmospheric surf-rock drums and wavy, bright guitar tones provide an inviting opener with a breezy, bopping beat. Reminiscent of Beach Fossils, the instrumentation is lush and vivid with a crystal-clear production style. It builds to a nearly 2-minute long jam session packed with full, rich sounds and a shredding guitar solo, epitomizing the track’s carefree late-summer feel. But all of that may as well be background noise to singer Sab Mai’s dreamy vocals. Delicate and subdued, Mai’s voice melts into the song with velvety-smooth movement and ease; you’ll want to hang onto every lingering word. “Days” is a cool, beachy jam with a fun, bopping beat you’ll want to listen to again and again.