“Pieces” is the second single from indie rock band Tenderheart Bitches (THB), the musical project of DIY-inspired musician, lyricist and experimental classical composer JL Marlor. While their debut single “Blood Orange” was a slow—but oh-so-satisfying—burn, “Pieces” comes flaming hot out of the gate, with tight guitar riffs and pointed percussion setting the pace for the “body dysmorphia bop of the summer.” With lyrics inspired by a lifetime of struggling with body image and perception, “Pieces” is an anthem of self-love and self-acceptance sung from a place of earnest and hopeful longing. JL has spoken openly and extensively about her own journey, as well as about the problematic stances on bodies perpetuated by society and popular culture. If “Pieces” is any indication, THB has arrived on the indie rock scene with something serious to say while finding a fun way to say it (the music video, which is more than worth watching, features glitter, balloons, drunken stumbling to the fridge and some fantastic cinematic work from an all-queer team of creatives). Catchy beyond belief, this song will have you tapping your feet and wanting to dance and smash the heteronormative patriarchy all at once. It will also probably get stuck in your head for at least a few days, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Photo by Benite de Wit.

"Calling all fans of Ben Folds and Nick Cave! Finn Andrews' “Wide Winged Bird” will satisfy all of your soulful, folky, British dreams. The production on this one is just so, so lush; harmonies that somehow sound soft and sparse at the same time, strings that you can feel the bow dragging ever-so-lightly over, bass that thumps faintly, keeping the subtle swing of the song...I wish I’d been in the room when this was recorded. Each lyric feels like a watercolor; “When you kissed my lips, they were cold like mine.” Expertly balancing an aesthetic equally at home in Sons of Anarchy or in a heart-string tugging movie like About Time, “Wide Winged Bird” will make you FEEL. “At the end of the day, across a moonless sky, comes a wide-winged bird, sent to close my eyes.” Oof! Well done, Finn Andrews. While you're at it, check out the whole new EP and his previous album, One Piece at a Time—standout songs include "Love, What Can I Do?", "One by the Venom", and "Al Pacino / Rise and Fall."

On “But There’s Still the Moon,” Chicago singer-songwriter Tasha clings to that which is stable and consistent within a world where not much is anymore. As her first single since 2018, the track reveals a Tasha with her guard down, looking forward and looking up. Through warm synths and laid back guitar she confesses “The truth is all these rhymes / Barely hold me together / But I still try / To bare it through the bad weather / Winter’s harsh sting / So unforgiving.” Yet, even throughout the turmoil surrounding her, Tasha finds hope from up above. As almost an exhale full of relief, she reminds herself of that which she can always count on, “But there’s still the moon / And I still really love the color blue.” The artist's sense of hope comes to a culmination within a towering chorus—one so sweet and vulnerable that you can’t help but feel the optimistic glow radiating from each word as she commits to bettering her future self under the watchful eye of the man on the moon.

"Not Much" is a compelling, semi-abstract art piece. The track opens with a flirtatious walking bassline followed closely by jazzy chords that hook your interest right away. Next, you are introduced to Kim Tillman’s spellbinding voice. The first (and only) verse provides the closest thing to concrete imagery the song possesses—a hazy half-remembered conversation left unfinished. The lyrics start to swirl around themselves as Tillman's voice dances through your ears in dizzying vocal layers. It’s as though you are tumbling through space yet never quite hit the ground. You end up suspended in a realization; it’s a thought caught somewhere between disturbing and liberating. Willing and able are two entirely different things, aren’t they?

With its infections beat and more-than catchy lyrics, Pigeon John’s new track “They Don’t Make Em Like Me” is impossible not to love. The song’s energetic jive functions as an ode to misfits, rebels and creatives alike. It celebrates one’s possession of authentic charisma, a trait that in our digital age, seems remarkably scarce. “They Don’t Make Em Like Me” pays homage to early 2000s jams like Junior Senior’s “Move Your Feet”  and “The Bad Touch” by Bloodhound Gang with its irresistible techno-funk rhythms and syncopated vocals. This anthem is equally suited as a precursor to a night out on the town, or as the soundtrack to a socially isolated dance party.

While “They Don’t Make Em Like Me” is unforgettable on its own, the track’s accompanying music video—directed & animated by Andrew Colin Beck and produced by The Wild Honey Pie—makes it stand out even more. Featuring typewriters, floppy disks, polaroids and cassettes, it is sure to spark feelings of glimmering nostalgia.

Raquel Rodriguez has gifted us with sage advice in the most soothing way with her latest single, “Nobody Else.” This song is a love letter to self-care. It’s the perfect anthem for today’s trying times, as Raquel encourages her listeners to nurture their mental health. She has an everlasting gift for articulating the authentic human experience and transforming her lyrics into soulful hip-swaying jams. Sam Brawner’s production is clean, thoughtful and supportive of the track’s message. The drums hit home with funk flare and hints of 80s drum machine, which is a staple of the Blue Dream Studio sound. This track is the beginning of a cathartic new chapter for Raquel Rodriguez, as she prepares to release her next full album. Raquel is an artist who shows up for her community. During COVID times she has been a consistent source of strength and optimism, hosting high-quality live streams, and providing Q&A conversations with her collaborators. “Nobody Else” is a promising glimpse at what will be a heartfelt album full of hits.

If human beings have mating rituals, they are even more convoluted than those of bowerbirds; but in a way, their complexity is what makes them so adorable. Katy Kirby’s song “Tap Twice” is about this ritual—or, as she puts it herself, “the process of silently negotiating with someone what you might mean to each other.” There is something so poignant and on-the-nose about that framing. In the early days of a new relationship, it really does feel like a negotiation. Before you can begin to fill the delicate scaffolding of possibility with sturdy things like trust and mutual understanding, you have to fill it with tiny questions and wait for the tiny answers. The questions, of course, can take many forms: maybe you bravely assert you like a particular movie or band in hopes of unearthing a shared interest; or perhaps, like Kirby, you quietly leave a bag of oranges as “an offering” in the person’s bedroom. As the ritual goes on, you often get a little braver with your gestures, too, and Kirby smartly mirrors this effect over the course of the track with instrumental layering and sheer volume. Before you know it, what began as a few cute riffs of why-not-try has turned into a full-on jam session of real emotional investment. And the time it took to get there feels just as short and sweet.

Charlie Wilde’s new release, “For You #3,” burns with slow catharsis and submerged introspection. Wilde’s quiet and vitriolic voice is more than complimentary to his mournful lyrics, which despite their understated deliverance, loom with curious and haunting urgency. The track is teaming with bassy and phlegmatic guitar riffs that give way to faded reverb, which, despite the song's forward momentum, always seem to linger in the background. Perhaps these impassioned sonics, much like the thoughts of the speaker, never disappear entirely. 

"For You #3"'s innovation becomes increasingly noticeable as it nears its conclusion. The suffocated emotion of the entire track suddenly emerges in the coda, which employs vocal and instrumental crescendos and introduces a string of final enigmatic lyrics: you’re no one / you’re someone / you’re no one / you’re someone.

“Innocent," the latest single from LA-based artist Teenage Priest, transports me to the early days of young love. The incessant guitar riff I find myself humming along to sounds like the nervous, excited energy that comes along with first getting to know someone. Taylor Van Ginkel is the name behind Teenage Priest and the female voice that accompanies him is that of his girlfriend, Erin Kim. The playful nature of their two voices evoke a feeling of infatuation, which makes it almost impossible to stop from smiling as they confess, “You make me feel so innocent / Even if I wasn't right / You make me feel so innocent / Being with you all the time.” This track helps to affirm my belief that the honeymoon phase really can be more than just a passing phase with the right person.