With unassuming confidence, Brooklyn-born Staten Island-raised R&B artist Justy advocates for self-acceptance on the smooth jazz-hop single "Cool." While the production channels golden age hip-hop, Justy's vocals waft smoothly over the beat as she quips, "Money in the air, money in the air / I don't really care, I don't fucking care." She has this way of sounding both laid-back and indulgent in herself with these nonchalant lyrics. They're simple truths I wish I knew when I was eighteen, constantly remolding myself into what I thought people wanted. I'm taken with Justy's choice to sample Eartha Kitt, not in song, but rather in the form of a 1982 interview in which she scoffed at the thought of having to compromise who she is for a man. 

Nothing matters, when you really think about it; what time of day is best to post on Instagram, what people will say about my next quarantine hair color (I've been through four already), whether I'm too much of this or not enough of that. "If I gave you the world, no it still wouldn't matter," Justy sings, a reminder that you can't please everyone, and that approval you think you need isn't the answer. Take it from both me and Justy: there's nothing sexier than knowing and loving yourself.

September 21 welcomed the first day of autumn and a brand new album from the Seattle-based folkies, Fleet Foxes. “Sunblind,” the second cut off of Shore, is a bright and lush eulogy of influences and contemporaries. Throughout the track, frontman Robin Pecknold names off around nineteen artists that have both had an effect on Pecknold’s life and have passed away at a young age. Though the song deals with death, it never comes across as mournful, at least not in a traditional sense. Pecknold vows to carry on the legacy of Elliott Smith, Arthur Russell and a handful of others through his own music, celebrating and honoring by creating music under their influence. Instrumentally, “Sunblind” reflects the same idea, rising to a crescendo under sunny guitars and warm vocals. Fleet Foxes are a great band, and “Sunblind” finds the ensemble squinting to the heavens as they cite some of the sources of their success. Photo by Emily Johnston.

There’s a special kind of innocence tied to the tumultuous journey of an immature love. From the spirited beginnings that paint our worlds crimson red all the way through to the disillusioned end, an immature love is often one that we cannot forget. The Hong Kong native cehryl simulates these mercurial highs and lows in her charming release “superbloom.” The lo-fi bedroom pop track is minimal in nature yet speaks volumes of its own in such a short amount of time. Utilizing story-like lyricism to guide the song in a poetic fashion, and a youthful soundscape to maintain a sense of innocence, cehryl unfolds a good-natured love that is not quite yet able to bloom. In the words of the young creative, “['superbloom'] is about the death of immature love.” The song sees itself as the artist’s third 2020 release following "Hide n Seek / Moon Eyes” and a “Together Lonely” remix with Tim Atlas. Although “superbloom” is much shorter than the former tracks, it’s definitely one you’ll find yourself listening to on a loop!

Nashville-based R&B/soul singer-songwriter Shannon Lauren Callihan delivers a romantic groove that is sweet and sultry in its proclamations. “Love You Right” is a track that is full of sweet-somethings, one of my favorite lines being, “I don't need no shiny things / Just want the joy your smile brings / It's in the way you look at me.” Reminiscent of the modern sounds of Natalie Prass and Tom Misch, while infusing elements of classic soul, Callihan is an artist you can listen to and satisfy any mood. Smooth vocals mixed alongside funky bass and an air of vinyl crackle creates a sound that could be described as both modern and timeless. A multi-instrumentalist known for her guitar playing, Callihan started releasing singles in 2019 and shows no sign of slowing down. Working with Nashville producer Jude Smith, she is focused on putting out more music and solidifying her place in the world of neo soul. Photo by Sydney Conrad.

Jamila Woods’ Toni Morrison–inspired “SULA (Hardcover)” has a sensual groove, and revolves around what it means for her to be in her own body. She rejects the notion that women should be submissive when it comes to their sexuality, stating “I don’t wanna make no babies / I don’t need a man to save me” in a sharp, searing tone. “Freedom and triumph, they weren’t meant for me / Girls of my color find something else to be / I’m better / I’m better,” she then sings effortlessly over the rollicking beat. As an empowered Black woman, she reflects on the boxes Black women have been forced into for centuries, and in turn creates a sonic oasis where she can feel comfortable being herself without having to worry about society’s pressures closing in on her. A fascinating exploration of the erotic and the unique kind of intimacy that one can only have with themselves, “SULA (Hardcover)” is a moving anthem of self-love and bodily autonomy. Listen on Bandcamp or wherever you stream.

From Norwegian singer/songwriter Juni Habel comes “Run Dry,” a delivery, as if from nature, made of an honest emotional outpour through instrument and voice. On her second single, not only does she sing with ethereal character, but she uses her voice intuitively to welcome her listeners into a romantically trying experience. Over gorgeous guitar arpeggiation, she sings with confessional spirit that longs for a response greater than the one she has been given thus far. Habel’s storytelling abilities are governed by her ability to express corresponding feelings through melodic interpretation, and her images of human interaction are painfully accessible. It is clear that she is in touch with something beyond us—perhaps beneath us. Photo by Andrea Hovik.

Faye Webster’s latest single “Better Distractions” further cements her laid-back sound, which comes together to be an unexpected combination of R&B, classic country and indie rock. “Got two friends that I could see, but they got two jobs and a baby / I just wanna see you,” Webster croons longingly over slide guitar, a bassline that is hard not to sway along to and delicate keys that brighten up the track. The verses are breathless sentences of boredom and yearning that swell into a singular message as she repeats, “Will you? Will you? Will you? Will you? Will you? Will you be with me?” The accompanying video furthers the dreamy and detached feeling of the song as Webster seemingly floats through her day singing deadpan into the camera. This hazy dissociative quality is somewhat of a through line in Webster’s work, and it pairs well with her distinctive vocals that are impossibly both pleading and detached. Photo by Brandon McClain.