There’s a heartbreaking scene somewhere in the middle of (500) Days of Summer that follows Joseph Gordon-Levitt through two parallel parties, one labeled “expectation,” the other “reality.” In one version of the party, he’s the charming hero he wants to be, but in the latter, his jokes don’t land and he is reminded just how over his relationship is. When going well, it’s hard not to see the different parts of relationships as one, but faltering relationships often have two very different sides, a phenomenon played out by Fake Dad in their new single, “Can U B My Home?” Like a dreamy, polite version of Gotye’s inescapable “Somebody That I Used To Know,” the track features one lonely, heartsick mess (“Sometimes it feels like you hold / The better half of me”), as well as the breaker-upper wearing 20-20 hindsight goggles (“Everybody’s asking if you need help / But there’s no shame in trying to do it yourself / Just take my masterpieces off of your shelf”). The letdown itself is gentle in a way that reminds us that a breakup isn’t necessarily malicious, and the production of the track, with its ethereal piano chords and hip-hop-influenced beat, places Fake Dad squarely in the world of a genre-bending band like Glass Animals, but it was clearly of the utmost importance to make it all seem effortless. With the song’s feel-good summer vibes, it would be easy enough to forget its subject matter entirely. Fake Dad says it right there in the band bio, their mission statement reading loud and clear: “They want you to know that everything is going to be okay.”

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.