Atwood Magazine is excited to share our Editor’s Picks column, written and curated by Editor-in-Chief Mitch Mosk. Every week, Mitch will share a collection of songs, albums, and artists who have caught his ears, eyes, and heart. There is so much incredible music out there just waiting to be heard, and all it takes from us is an open mind and a willingness to listen. Through our Editor’s Picks, we hope to shine a light on our own music discoveries and showcase a diverse array of new and recent releases.

This week’s Editor’s Picks features Stela Cole, Breagh Isabel, Debbii Dawson, aleksiah, Royel Otis, and Benson Boone!

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There’s nothing quite like that first night out after a breakup – the freedom, the adrenaline, the ache that still lingers under your skin. Stela Cole bottles that emotional rollercoaster into pure electricity on “Stereoqueen,” a seductive disco-pop triumph off her debut album I Die Where You Begin (independently released April 18th via her own Stelavision Records). Glistening guitars and glammed-up harmonies shimmer with heat as Cole reclaims her power on the dance floor, her voice pulsing with fire and ferocity. “Don’t try talkin’ to me / Tonight I’m gonna be the stereo queen,” she sings with conviction, every note soaked in strength and self-possession.

Don’t try talkin’ to me
Tonight I’m gonna be
the stereo queen
Dancing like it’s 1973, uh
Baby, I don’t need ya,
swear that I don’t need ya, no

Don’t try trippin’ my feet
Tonight I’m gonna be
the stereo queen
Dancing like you don’t
mean nothin’ to me
Baby, I don’t need ya,
swear that I don’t need ya, no

“This song is about the first night out after a breakup, and what rediscovering your sense of self can feel like,” Cole tells Atwood Magazine. “It’s exciting, upbeat and fun, while also hinting at the past and the nerves that come with being newly single and facing the world without the person you used to call home… whether they were good for you or not.” That tension gives “Stereoqueen” its emotional edge – a fearless, fiery anthem with a hint of fragility, dancing through the sting of memory and into a bold, unshakable now.

I,I wanna dance
(dancin’, dancin’, dancin’)
Wanna prance up on the mattress
Snow angels on the floor

And I put myself up in a trance
Performing like an actress
While you’re bangin’ down my door

Cole calls this the “empowering phase” in her debut album’s narrative arc – “the moment after you finally leave someone who has hurt you, and the adrenaline kicks in” and self-worth comes roaring back – or as she puts it, “You feel unstoppable.”

“Being a Stereoqueen means being strong and setting yourself free,” she says. “It’s having a wild night out with your friends, dancing to the classics, and forgetting all the bullshit that’s weighed you down in the past… For me, it’s about reclaiming my independence after a bad breakup where I lost who I was for a while.” There’s grit in that glory – and a whisper of doubt that lingers in the song’s bridge: “You might f* with me tomorrow, but tonight I’m in my feels.”

Don’t try talkin’ to me
Tonight I’m gonna be
the stereo queen
Dancing like it’s 1973, uh
Baby, I don’t need ya,
swear that I don’t need ya, no

Don’t try trippin’ my feet
Tonight I’m gonna be
the stereo queen
Dancing like you don’t
mean nothin’ to me
Baby, I don’t need ya,
swear that I don’t need ya, no

“Stereoqueen” is intoxicating, impassioned, an irresistible – a throwback fever dream that still feels thoroughly modern – and a standout moment on an album full of emotional extremes. As Cole puts it, I Die Where You Begin is her “home base as an artist,” and songs like this one remind us just how thrilling that foundation can sound when it’s built on liberation, honesty, and unfiltered joy.

If I’m being real,
I’ll cut you a deal
You might f* with me tomorrow,
but tonight I’m in my feels
And I feel, oh
Like breakin’ it down,
two, three, four

“There’s a song on this album for any and every emotion you are feeling,” Cole adds, smiling. “The human experience is a rollercoaster, and this album is a reminder of what it’s like to live, to love, to be broken, and to be changed.”

Stela Cole doesn’t just suffer through the pain – she leaves it in the dust. If “Stereoqueen” teaches us anything, it’s that sometimes, the best way to heal is to turn the volume up and dance your way back to yourself.

Don’t try talkin’ to me
Tonight I’m gonna be
the stereo queen
Dancing like it’s 1973, uh
Baby, I don’t need ya,
swear that I don’t need ya, no

Don’t try trippin’ my feet
Tonight I’m gonna be
the stereo queen
Dancing like you don’t
mean nothin’ to me
Baby, I don’t need ya,
swear that I don’t need ya, no

We don’t always choose our daydreams – sometimes they just appear, vivid and full of color, like a song already writing itself. “Carrie” arrived that way for Canadian singer/songwriter Breagh Isabel: A fleeting glimpse of a stranger in the park sparked a rush of imagination, blooming into a vibrant queer love song that feels like a summer crush come to life. Light and lustrous with ‘80s synths and pulsing beats, “Carrie” is playful and passionate, tender and electric – a fantasy you want to live in and a chorus you’re singing before the first spin is through.

I can’t stop thinking ’bout
I can’t stop thinking ’bout
Carrie
My favourite daydream
Lovin’ you is easy
wait ‘til you meet me
I can’t stop thinking bout
I can’t stop thinking ‘bout 
Carrie, Carrie

Written with Robyn Dell’Unto on a spring day in Nashville, “Carrie” captures the thrill of a story that hasn’t happened – and maybe never will. “Give you a name ‘cause I’ll never find out… Lovin’ you is easy, wait till you meet me,” Isabel sings, her voice gliding like a secret. “It’s a love song for someone you’ll never meet,” she shares. “I think it captures the way your mind can spiral into all the what-ifs of a relationship, before it starts and even when you know absolutely nothing about the person. The kind of love story that feels exciting because it’s not real.” Escapist, romantic, and totally irresistible, this is a crush anthem born to soundtrack Pride month and beyond.

Isabel and Dell’Unto bonded over a shared love of MUNA’s “crush” songs, and that influence is unmistakable: “Carrie” echoes the joy and abandon of tracks like “Silk Chiffon,” with big, buoyant beats, light-touch vocals, and a warm, summery shimmer that lifts the fantasy even higher. Yet while it pays homage, the song is pure Breagh Isabel, blending her crisp indie pop sensibilities with cinematic production and deeply personal storytelling.

Did you sleep at home all alone last night
How many others are dying to treat you right
Maybe I’m just looking for a fresh start, a new life
You look like someone I could love if that alright
Tonight I’ll fly to the foot of your bed
If I can’t have you I want nothing instead
Give you a name cause I’ll never find out

For Isabel, the joy of “Carrie” lies in its spontaneity – the freedom to follow a spark without overthinking it. “I hope listeners just have fun with this song,” she shares. “Not every song has to be deep or heavy – sometimes it’s just about chasing a vibe and letting yourself be a little playful with the process.” That lightweight sentiment pulses through every beat of “Carrie,” whose heat and heartbeat glow just beneath the glossy surface. It’s the kind of song that makes you want to dance and pine at once – a smoldering seduction dressed in sweat, sparkle, and synth.

Whether she’s writing for herself or others, Breagh Isabel makes music that comes from the heart – honest and story-driven, full of sparks. “Carrie” might be just a daydream, but it’s one you’ll find yourself returning to long after the final chorus fades. True to form, I can’t stop thinking ‘bout “Carrie.”

I can’t stop thinking bout
I can’t stop thinking bout
Carrie
My favourite daydream
Lovin’ you is easy,
wait ’til you meet me
I can’t stop thinking ‘bout
I can’t stop thinking ‘bout
Carrie, Carrie
Carrie, Carrie
If I can’t have you…
I can’t stop thinking about
I can’t stop thinking Carrie…

There’s a kind of magic that only Debbii Dawson can conjure – the kind that glitters under disco lights, shimmers with heartache, and rises in triumph like a sequin-streaked phoenix from the ashes. Her single “You Killed the Music” brings that dynamic to life: A dazzling eruption of sound and spirit, pairing cinematic synths with punchy drums, dramatic basslines, and Dawson’s signature flair for emotional grandeur. Part heartbreak, part rebirth, it’s the kind of full body anthem that makes you feel like the main character in your own coming-of-age movie – dancing in the ruins, glitter catching the light.

You killled the music
Left me in ruins
Wrapped up in quiet
Poison with silence

You killed the music (ooh)
Made me feel foolish (ooh)
What am I fighting? (Ooh)
Major to minor (ooh)

For 29-year-old Dawson – who signed to legendary major RCA Records last year and subsequently released the EP How to Be Human to critical acclaim – “You Killed the Music” is a story of both pain and perseverance. “Like a lot of breakup songs, the story explains how someone hurt me and I got through it,” she tells Atwood Magazine. “In this particular situation, an individual tainted something so pure for me, my love for music. It got to the point where I couldn’t listen to the radio anymore, let alone write or sing, without feeling sad or angry.”

That hurt cuts deep, but it’s the act of rising up and reclaiming her love that gives this song its power. “You killed the music / Left me in ruins / Wrapped up in quiet / Poison with silence,” Dawson sings, her voice trembling with both grief and fire. And yet, what begins in silence doesn’t end there. “I closed the door / And changed all the chords / Then my feet start to move…”

“You Killed the Music” is a radiant embrace of joy and identity. “Now all these brand-new melodies keep falling off the tip of my tongue… I’m hearing symphonies, you really made me think I was done / But baby, you can’t stop me now,” Dawson rejoices in the song’s chorus, wholeheartedly in her element – and loving every minute of it. It’s a triumphant middle finger and a glistening, glittery catharsis wrapped into one – a reminder that the most powerful kind of healing often comes with a beat you can dance to.

I closed the door
And changed all the chords
Then my feet start to move
Now all these brand-new

Melodies keep falling off the tip of my tongue
Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha
I’m hearing symphonies,
you really made me think I was done
But baby, you can’t stop me now
Melodies keep falling off the tip of my tongue
Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha
I’m hearing symphonies,
you really made me think I was done
But baby, you can’t stop me now

“Every single word in this song is a direct reference to what I was going through,” Dawson shares. “I was having a really hard time, so the emotions are very real. I’m singing about music, but on a deeper level, this song is about any person or circumstance that sucks the life out of you, breaks your spirit, and steals your spark. And then the triumph felt when it doesn’t get the better of you.”

There’s a theatricality to Dawson’s style that feels both fresh and timeless – she’s ABBA reincarnate, a disco-pop dancing queen making feel-good, empowering, larger-than-life pop songs that feel simultaneously classic and contemporary, timeless and fresh. And with her song’s VHS-inspired music video, metallic go-go boots, and a heart on fire, she embodies the joy of liberation and the sweetness of survival. “Making this song was a cathartic experience for me,” she says. “My heart was so heavy when I went into the studio to write this track, and I left that night floating in the air with a smile on my face.”

You killed the music
Pulled my way through it
Now I’m playing all the songs
that I know you wouldn’t like
The day that you left,
oh, I came alive

I closed the door
Yeah, I cut the cords
Then my feet start to move
Now all these brand-new

Between her fearless performance and flawless delivery, Dawson clearly poured her full self into this song – and it shows. “I hope listeners feel empowered and discover resilience they didn’t know they had,” she adds. “For anyone going through something that is leaving you feeling broken, you’re going to be ok. You will be the person you were before again, but whoever or whatever is making you feel that way has got to go!”

There really is a magic to everything Debbii Dawson touches: From last year’s hit single “Happy World” to recent singles “Chemical Reaction” and “Gut Feelings,” her songs are invigorating, inspiring, and utterly intoxicating.

“I’m a weird girl who makes weird music for weird people,” Dawson grins. “Music gave me a place to belong, and I hope the songs I make can provide that to the world as well.”

This song does all that and whole lot more: With “You Killed the Music,” Debbii Dawson doesn’t just reclaim her spark – she ignites ours, too. She closed the door, cut the cords, and kept the beat – now we’re all dancing in her glow.

Melodies keep falling off the tip of my tongue
Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha
I’m hearing symphonies,
you really made me think I was done
But baby, you can’t stop me now

Melodies keep falling off the tip of my tongue
Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha
I’m hearing symphonies
You really made me think I was done
But baby, you can’t stop me now

Validation is a hell of a drug – and aleksiah chases that high with fire and finesse on “The Hit.” A bold, glistening standout off her new EP Cry About It (out July 11^th via Chugg Music and Stellar Trigger), this song hits like a jolt to the system: All pulsing beats, sparkling synths, and emotionally raw vocals that ache and soar in equal measure. Think MUNA meets Lily Allen, with a touch of 2010s recession-pop – all wrapped around a voice that pulls you in and doesn’t let go.

I got the help I need
I know the grass is green
I don’t think I’ll ever be,
be enough for you
Hung up on jealousy
Stuck on a melody
Finding the missing piece
inside my bedroom
I want the same as you
At least I think I do
I know that I’m bound to lose
this match between us
A lock and a couple keys
Harness and heavy leash
Makin’ it hard to leave

“Oh, it’s the hit that cuts me to my core / When the writing’s on the wall / Maybe this’ll be my downfall…” the Adelaide-based singer/songwriter belts, her voice simmering with self-awareness and desperation. Written alone in a hotel room, “The Hit” is about the pressure to create something great – to be great – and the rush of validation that comes with it. “I had just listened to one of my favorite songs, ‘Love Song’ by Sara Bareilles, and I loved how it could be seen from two points of view, feeling pressured to make a hit song and a relationship, so I wanted to try my hand at the same thing,” aleksiah tells Atwood Magazine.

Now it, it’s up to me
It’s a thousand degrees
And every second, every minute,
it gets harder to breathe
When I don’t feel the rush
When the words are not enough
When I’m lookin’ at the page
and I’m pretendin’ that it’s love

Oh, it’s the hit that cuts me to my core
When the writing’s on the wall
Maybe this’ll be my downfall
Baby, it’s the hit that gets me through the night
Leaves me thinkin’ that I’m fine
In the mornin’ I’ll be all yours
Baby, it’s ooh, way you look at me
Tell me it’s destiny, “we could make history”
Oh baby, it’s the hit that cuts me to the core
Leaves me dyin’ on the floor
Maybe this’ll be my downfall, downfall

“The song is about feeling unworthy, and having that external (but mostly internal) pressure on you to do well. But then you could spin the story and read it like a song about a toxic relationship, and that ‘the hit’ is the validation you get from being with someone, and how it’s almost like a drug.”

That duality is the heart of “The Hit” – a dance between craving and collapse, between ambition and unraveling. “For me it’s about putting so much pressure on myself to do well. I’ve always been a person that puts a lot of pride and a lot of belief in the things I do, which I swear is going to kill me in the end,” aleksiah says wryly. “Don’t feel the rush / And the words are not enough / Like I’m lookin’ at a river and pretendin’ it’s a flood.” She’s chasing perfection, even when it hurts – capturing in song the catharsis that comes from finally admitting how much it takes out of you.

“It may not sound like a completely personal song, but the situation the song speaks about is incredibly close to my chest.”

Lackin’ the empathy
Honest and hellish we
Naturally disagree and can’t escape it
Knowin’ you’re bad for me
Fight it like gravity
You make it so hard to leave

Now it, it’s up to me
It’s so hard to believe
There’s nothin’ left to make a mess of
Guess I’m runnin’ out of steam, ’cause I
Don’t feel the rush
And the words are not enough
Like I’m lookin’ at a river
and pretendin’ it’s a flood

“The Hit” marks a shift on Cry About It, falling on the EP’s B-side and signaling a sonic and emotional evolution. “The last two songs I wrote for the EP were ‘Clothes Off’ and ‘The Hit,’ which are a lot more poppy and at this point in time, I’m really resonating with that sound,” she explains. “I think ‘The Hit’ really fits in with the second half of the EP.” Inspired by writers like Sara Bareilles and her own childhood love of “depressing songs with fun pop beats,” aleksiah makes music that feels both deeply personal and universally felt – for “people that take themselves a little too seriously, but wish they didn’t (me).”

“I hope listeners know they’re not alone if they’re a perfectionist,” she shares. “They’re not crazy for trying their hardest… and if people in their life tell them to ‘chill out,’ don’t listen to them.”

“For me, I think it was a big release to get a weight of pressure and perfectionism off of my chest.”

It might be about the weight of expectation, but “The Hit” is a release – explosive, exhilarating, and unforgettable. aleksiah doesn’t buckle under pressure; rather, she breaks the cycle and turns her pain into pop gold.

Oh, it’s the hit that cuts me to my core
When the writing’s on the wall
Maybe this’ll be my downfall
Baby, it’s the hit that gets me through the night
Leaves me thinkin’ that I’m fine
In the mornin’ I’ll be all yours
Baby, it’s ooh, way you look at me
Tell me it’s destiny, “we could make history”
Oh baby, it’s the hit that cuts me to the core
Leaves me dyin’ on the floor
Maybe this’ll be my downfall, downfall

Don’t you complainin’
to anybody else, body else, no
Oh honey, you brought
this on yourself, on yourself, oh

“It’s a song about a girl.” That’s all Royel Otis had to say about “moody,” and hell, maybe that’s all they needed to say. The Australian duo’s frustration-fueled song is a dizzying blend of exasperation and exhilaration – a gloriously messy, tongue-in-cheek indie rock anthem that hits like a late-night meltdown with a side of eyeliner smudged just right. It’s raw, it’s catchy, it’s wry and wide-eyed all at once – and it’s now a bonafide hit, recently landing the #1 spot on the Billboard Adult Alternative Airplay chart!

I got good intentions, she don’t see them at all
She’d rather mention that I missed her call
I’m in the dog house again
Staring at the wall, wall, wall

She’s always givin’ it to me
Late nights, she always accusin’
Last time, she said she would kill me
My girl’s a bitch when she’s moody
But she’s my everything, she’s all that I need
Sometimes more than I want, want, want

Co-written with GRAMMY-winner Amy Allen and produced by Blake Slatkin, “moody” is one heck of a fever dream. It taps into that chaotic, obsessive, impossible-to-win kind of relationship – the kind that makes you feel like you’re spiraling, even as you’re grinning through the chaos. “She’s always givin’ it to me / Late nights, she always accusin’ / Last time, she said she would kill me / My girl’s a bitch when she’s moody,” Royel Maddell sings, before undercutting the whole thing with a deadpan shrug: “But she’s my everything, she’s all that I need / Sometimes more than I want.”

There’s a wink behind the weariness, a smirk beneath the self-loathing. That’s the Royel Otis sweet spot – undeniably and irresistibly catchy, just self-aware enough to sting, and impossible not to sing along to. “moody” sounds like a lost ‘90s alt-rock gem filtered through 2025’s lo-fi lens – all jangle, pulse, and punch. It’s both a throwback and a statement: These guys know exactly what they’re doing, and they’re having a blast doing it.

Questions are loaded, her face says a lot
She’s cryptically coated, she’s home when I’m not
It’s just big emotions, it’s not jealousy
Most days of the week

She’s always givin’ it to me
Late nights, she always accusin’
Last time, she said she would kill me
My girl’s a bitch when she’s moody
But she’s my everything, she’s all that I need
Sometimes more than I want, want, want

That sense of controlled chaos has defined Royel Otis’ rise over the past two years – from buzzy covers (“Murder on the Dancefloor,” “Linger”) to breakout originals to sold-out headline tours and now, a much-anticipated sophomore album. hickey, out August 22^nd via OURNESS / Capitol Records, promises more of what Royel Maddell and Otis Pavlovic do best: Loud, clever, emotionally unruly songs that stick to your skin. “moody” is just the beginning – a warning shot to look out for all that’s to come.

And while it should go without saying: Don’t use this song as an excuse to call your loved one a you-know-what. But do turn it up, scream it out, and revel in the beautiful chaos of wanting someone a little too much. Royel Otis have written the summer’s sharpest, snarkiest love song – and they’ve never sounded more in control of the spiral.

True to its name, “moody” is f*ing moody in the best possible way – and it’s a worthy anthem to earn Royel Otis their very first #1.

Making her eyes rolls
On her backside, so
Being alone at home
But I can’t let it go
No, I can’t let it go

She’s always givin’ it to me
Late nights, she always accusin’
Last time, she said she would kill me
My girl’s a bitch when she’s—
She’s always givin’ it to me
Late nights, she always accusin’
Last time, she said she would kill me
My girl’s a bitch when she’s moody
But she’s my everything, she’s all that I need
Sometimes more than I want, want, want

Benson Boone isn’t just evolving; he’s ascending. “Mystical Magical” finds the Grammy-nominated hitmaker shedding his heart-on-sleeve, brooding balladeer image and stepping fully into the spotlight as a flamboyant, feverish pop star. The song is dramatic, cinematic, and over-the-top in all the right ways – a wild, whirling anthem that brings together Bowie’s glam, Freddie’s flamboyance, and Boone’s own breathless bravado. From the first note, it’s clear: His sophomore album American Heart marks a bold new chapter, and “Mystical Magical” is its glittering gateway.

There’s nothing colder than your shoulder
When you’re dragging me along
like you do, like you do
And then you switch up with no warnin’
And you kiss me like you want it,
how rude, how rude

But I kinda like it anyways
I don’t mind if this is gonna take a million days
I know you’ll come around to me eventually
If you sit back, relax,
and join my company, my company

Boone has always known how to stir emotion, but this time, he’s doing it in sequins and smoke. “Moonbeam ice cream, taking off your blue jeans / Dancing at the movies, ‘cause it feels so mystical, magical, oh, baby, ‘cause once you know, once you know…” he croons, throwing caution – and clarity – to the wind. The lyrics don’t need to make sense; they just need to feel right. “Idk wtf moonbeam ice cream is but it felt right,” he joked online. “Leave me alone.” And yet somehow, that phrase captures the entire spirit of the song – chaotic, sensual, euphoric, and completely unconcerned with being understood.

Once you know what my love’s gonna feel like
Nothing else will feel right, you can feel like
Moonbeam ice cream, taking off your blue jeans
Dancing at the movies, ’cause it feels so

Mystical, magical
Oh, baby, ’cause once you know, once you know
My love is so mystical, magical
Oh, baby, ’cause once you know, once you know

There’s no holding back here – not in the music, and certainly not onstage. An acrobat in both music and real life, Boone is performing like a man possessed: Leaping, flipping, dancing through desire with athletic grace and theatrical fire. Fresh off his electrifying American Music Awards and Saturday Night Live performances (complete with backflips off Jimmy Fallon’s desk), Boone is now fully leaning into spectacle. “Mystical Magical” isn’t just a song – it’s a showstopper. A dizzying, high-drama ride of desire and self-assured seduction, delivered with poise, polish, and a whole lot of sweaty, steamy, glitter-slicked confidence.

My little hard-to-get baby
I wanna give you the world
Not saying you gotta chase me
But I wouldn’t mind it
If you gave me just a little bit
Of something we can work it with
But all you do is push me out (Ha)

But I like it anyways
‘Cause I think I’m getting closer to you every day
I know you’ll come around to me eventually
Just sit back, relax, and join my company
Oh, baby, trust me

If “Beautiful Things” was Boone’s breakout torch song, this is his glam-pop rebirth. He’s not just singing about emotion – he’s embodying it. Wailing. Spinning. Teasing. Tempting. “Once you know what my love’s gonna feel like / Nothing else will feel right,” he sings, and for a moment, you believe him. Because this song doesn’t just want to impress you – it wants to swallow you whole.

With “Mystical Magical,” Benson Boone takes a leap and sticks the landing – hard. It’s bold, it’s bombastic, and it’s unlike anything else on the charts right now. Pop music needs artists willing to be this extra – and Boone’s just getting started. If this is what moonbeam ice cream tastes like, I’ll take two scoops and a stadium tour.

Once you know what my love’s gonna feel like
Nothing else will feel right, you can feel like
Moonbeam ice cream, taking off your blue jeans
Dancing at the movies, ’cause it feels so

Mystical, magical
Oh, baby, ’cause once you know, once you know
My love is so mystical, magical
Oh, baby, ’cause once you know, once you know

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