"Maria,” the new single from indie-pop band Similar Kind, successfully captures the enchanting yet endlessly frustrating emotional cocktail associated with deep infatuation. The band, originally formed in Norwalk, CT, released their debut EP Faces & Places last year. “Maria” is the first single to be released from their follow-up project. The song introduces itself with a few sustained synth chords and draws you in with an inviting palm-muted guitar lick. Singer Julia Breen’s hypnotic vocal first appears about 40 seconds in with the rhetorical question, “Maria, why can’t I breathe without ya?” and from that moment on the listener is fully enveloped into the track’s swirling world of desire. Billowing around the vocal is a dreamy instrumental haze that continues to build and morph throughout the song with flourishes from the keyboard, guitar and bass. "Maria" is grounded by a funky drum line that seems to effortlessly drive the music forward while leaving plenty of space for the other instruments to breathe. As the track progresses, the groove seeps into your body, and if you’re not careful you’ll find yourself dancing unabashedly around your bedroom before it ends.

Dan Croll’s latest drop Grand Plan is a quick six-track project, including the captivating song “Work." Subdued electronics and keys lead us into the British musician’s dreamy voice, which sings “Been a long day, been a long week / I can tell you’re tired from the way that you speak." The hi-fi collection of sounds accompanying his vocals is cool and calm, a perfect relaxer for the subject this track is addressing. Carefully crafted combinations of keys, strings and percussion seamlessly weave their way in and out of the soundscape as he sings, “Come and rest your head on the fine silk sheet." "Work" feels as silky as the sheet that he’s singing about, and the subtle complexities and changes throughout build a sense of calm optimism that will have us all asking, “Hey, do you have to go to work today?”

Ester’s “Not the Kind” is an unflinchingly honest song about seeing what’s right in front of you. “I’m not the kind that you’re thinking of…I’m not the kind that you’re dreaming of;” a series of clauses set the scene. Chicago band Ester’s lyrics are clear and concise. There are no double meanings to untangle or complex production to hide behind. They lay it all on the line. Heartbreak, rejection, conflicting notions of how and what to be in this world; Ester channels that emotion on Turn Around, their refreshingly introspective sophomore album. “You’re not the way to the mountaintop / Hate to say I’ve climbed enough...I’m not the kind that survives that stuff.” Insecurity can be empowering if it lets you move on. If you love Lucius and The Wild Reeds, you’ll probably like Ester too.

A warm, wandering guitar leads to Francesca Blanchard’s carefully parsed confessions on "Happy For You," from the singer and songwriter’s upcoming record, Make It Better. That same warmth ignites Blanchard’s white hot unease, born from conflicting feelings about the dissolution of a relationship, as the track treads emotionally wrought territory with a deft sense of purpose. These two words feel swiftly different—a quiet, tempered anger and ambivalent, cheerful instrumental stylings—but cumulatively, these choices illuminate the dynamics at the heart of the circumstance. Blanchard is both intuitively and musically aware of this conflict, and says the song recounts “trying to salvage the remaining pieces of a broken relationship while making as little noise as possible. It's a submission to grief, and there is something so fragile in that.”

Ela Minus’s new release, "they told us it was hard, but they were wrong" is an otherworldly escapade into a dancey multiverse of sound. She wastes no time getting under our skin with a persistent beat and a layered vocal echoing over it’s pitched-down mirror image. One can imagine Minus staring into the looking glass, a conjurer spinning planetary magic around her. Ambient sounds swirl around her as she speaks a simple truth: “Everyone told us it’s hard but they were wrong. When you love, you love it all, and nothing is impossible.” The layers grow in energy and complexity, a tapestry of synths swelling and stuttering over a four on the floor kick drum that won’t quit. It’s a tripped out victory dance and an explosive ode to love.

“Somehow,” a standout track from Hala’s Red Herring, is the pure distillation of only the best parts of the rock and roll ethos. It is sunglasses-and-leather-jacket cool, with none of the pretense. Singer-songwriter Ian Ruhala, who plays essentially every instrument on the album, plays the part of your friendly neighborhood Julian Casablancas, delivering a perfectly crafted pop song with a simplicity that feels effortless. Artists like Stef Chura and Anna Burch (for whom Ruhala played guitar on tour), among many others, set a high bar for Detroit’s vibrant indie rock community, but it is a community Hala slides into nicely. Though he retreated to the woods of Washington to record the album, he now broadcasts his Mid-Day Show sporting a sweater and his dulcet voice from his Detroit home, giving guitar lessons and music production tips from a safe distance. In the song’s music video, Ruhala and his ragtag bowling team narrowly defeat the bigger, meaner favorites, but even after all of the bad blood he reaches out to offer a handshake over a game well played. Ruhala is an underdog poised to break out, the hero of whatever story we need.

Relationships can be challenging, we know this. A partnership could have a pair of fantastic communicators, and somehow the whole thing can still unravel. Elah Hale, singer/songwriter, model & native New Yorker, at only 20-years-old, has her own story of disconnect to tell on the track “ITPA,” short for “in the party alone.” Apparently, after getting into it with a significant other, Hale went to a party to clear her mind. During the party, she came to certain realizations about the relationship. “You only miss me when you’re by yourself, I’m losing patience,” Hale sings with her tender, silky vocal, sharing a storyline that so many young lovers face. Hale’s cadence is fixed with a sense assurance that might confirm her desire to find a healthier affair. Despite it’s melancholic message, the smooth, alt-pop track is melodic magic that sounds like it could fit right into any party playlist. The beat is churning, steady and provides proper space for atmospheric textures and Hale’s vocal to be the track’s driving force. “I don’t know myself, I just can’t do it,” she sings. Hale’s honesty and lush confidence will get her to where she needs to be, and it’s likely a path that will be her own.