Rachel Bochner’s latest single, “Pick Me Up,” details how toxic love can be when we use its addictive powers to fill a glaring void in our own lives, to distract us from our loneliness. Bochner is NYC-based and you can hear the city’s influence in her sound; the cyclical and mesmerizing electric riff and steady drums frame its view like a yellowing Polaroid frame—the driving bass like the hum of taxis and traffic. Whether it's in NYC or elsewhere, most of us have endured the lyrical story that Bochner is narrating. Imagine yourself wandering the city on an early winter evening; it’s already dark by the time you walk alone to the subway, passing and peering into warm, golden windows where you see friends having dinner and two lovers on a date. You look down at your phone—no messages—and hasten your speed to dissolve once again into the darkness, obscured only by neon “open” signs on bodegas' doors and red traffic lights reflecting in the puddles on the ground. It’s here that loneliness bites even harder than the cold air, as the world seemingly spins magnificently around us for everyone else yet we wander home with no plans, no purpose. The only thing that shatters this sinking melancholy: your phone lights up and it’s the person who’s made a mosaic of your heart, despite you denying with each new crack in the glass that you’ll never let them do it again. The pull of better judgement loses out to having company for the sake of it—for the promise of whatever small adventure awaits with them as opposed to your empty apartment, and you give in (“I know it isn’t good for me / But whеn I’m down / And need a pick me up / Can you pick me up”). “Pick Me Up” is the tonic for this ennui, like a note from a friend telling us that we can do better, and that when you’re in a sparkling, skyscraped city, loneliness is often just a mirage. Bochner’s full EP, 2AM, is out in January.

Belgian indie group Pale Grey’s single, “Seasons” off of their new album, Waves is the perfect complement to a quiet fall afternoon. It starts off with a simple beat and some garage-like synths that quickly fill up the track with a feeling of longing. Though it sits at just over two minutes, the song packs an emotional punch with minimal production. It asks the question of whether or not you can go on when the one you love passes away, and in that contemplation is where the song shines.

Indie favorites JR JR, formerly known as Dale Earnhardt JR JR, have returned to the scene with new music after their self-titled LP back in 2015. The new single, “Clean Up” offers a look at the mind of someone coming to terms with their addictions and indulgences. The duo uses a throbbing bass line, simple plucked guitar and harmonies to illustrate the conflict that happens when one willfully chooses something that is bad for them. “Clean Up” brings JR JR to a more provocative realm, and one that we are excited to see more of in the upcoming album.

Henry Jamison is a storyteller at heart. It may be in his blood — his father, a classical composer, and his mother, an English professor — but Jamison is a writer and artist in his own right, evidenced by his debut album The Wilds (released October 27th). Beyond writing, recording and arranging the album all on his own, Jamison has a special ability to bring each track to life. Take his song, “The Wilds”: it’s instrumentally rich without being overbearing, letting Jamison’s narrative whisk you away. “The Wilds” sounds like an old-time American love story - unassuming and familiar, but nevertheless, still surprising.

Los Angeles genre-bending artist Moses Sumney released his gorgeous and ethereal debut album Aromanticism into the world this September. Sumney has made a big impression on artists like Solange and Sufjan Stevens for good reason. His infusion of soul and folk come together on this album in a way that leaves us begging for more. A prime example of this heavenly blend is found on the third song of the album, “Plastic.” A previous version of the song can be heard on the first season of Issa Rae’s HBO series, Insecure. This new version serves as one of the more simplistic songs on the album, featuring just a fingerpicked electric guitar, a synth and Sumney’s captivating voice. The hook of the song repeats the line “my wings are made of plastic,” each time sung in a slightly different way than it was before, continuing to imbue the phrase with new meaning. This song of vulnerability, self-awareness and secret-spilling is the kind that you can leave on repeat and get lost in for hours.