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 Dancer, Adam Melchor & Mt. Joy, CMAT, Arcy Drive, Sydney Sprague, and Charlotte OC!
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“not nothing”
by DancerDynamic, dramatic, and utterly all-consuming, Dancer’s “not nothing” is an unapologetic and all-consuming eruption wrapped in some of the most anthemic indie rock I’ve heard in years. That same passion and hunger you feel from The Killers’ Hot Fuss and The Strokes’ Is This It – two truly undeniable classics – is present throughout Dancer’s bold and boisterous sophomore EP all my best friends (independently released April 11th), a “raw tribute to resilience and connection” that sees the Newcastle, Australia-based trio pouring their hearts and souls into a four breathtaking, irresistible, and undeniable barnburners.
I’m not nothing
I’m not anything at all like you
I’m not nothing
all the lies you said ain’t true
Take your vices
I don’t wanna try it
I’m a little bit excellent
Now you don’t get experience it
For Dancer’s frontman Chris Quinton, “not nothing” is both a personal mission statement and a ‘f* you’ kind of song – the musical release of tension and emotions that have been building up inside him and his bandmates for years.
“I grew up with an overwhelming narrative in my mind that I wasn’t worth anything,” he tells Atwood Magazine. “It’s a crippling and painful way to see yourself. This song came as my way of telling those voices to f* off; that they weren’t welcome and entirely not true. They were said by someone in my life who was in pain and who was just passing it on, making it easier to see their narrative as just that, a narrative. Yeah, it still hurts to think about, but I got a sick song – and I’m pretty proud to have written it.”
Quinton and his bandmates reach a sonic and emotional climax in the song’s feverish chorus, his words a sound rejection of past statements and a spirited embrace of his own inner truth.
You got me falling
You got me falling
But you don’t give a damn about it
You don’t give a damn about it
Burning bright from a heat deep within, “not nothing” is a passionate, invigorating, and empowering anthem – an inspiring song reminding us not just of our own potential, but also of our power – that we can reclaim and define our own narratives, and we shouldn’t let anyone make us think otherwise.
I’m not nothing
Been telling myself for years
Stop that feeling
That you made me so believe
You got me falling
You got me falling
But you don’t give a damn about it
Don’t give a damn about it
With all my best friends and “not nothing” in particular, Dancer have crafted a cathartic and captivating coming-of-age record – one that captures the messiness of growth, the weight of emotional scars, and the thrill of finally finding your voice. They’re loud, they’re raw, they’re relentless — and theirs is exactly the kind of fire indie rock was made for.
I can stand on my own two feet
No man on the mercy seat
Find spirit in sunrise
No misery to carry now
I can make my own high
Not living with your parasites
Not believing in your junk lies
I’m not nothing, nothing, nothing
“Room on Your Shoulder”
by Adam Melchor & Mt. JoyJust as Bob Dylan did with “Blowin’ in the Wind”; just as Joni Mitchell did with “Both Sides Now”; just as Tracy Chapman did with “Fast Car”; and just as Noah Kahan did with “Stick Season”; Adam Melchor has now done with “Room on Your Shoulder” – contributing his own timeless, heartfelt, and achingly beautiful entry to the great American folk tradition: A modern classic, steeped in tenderness and vulnerability, destined to endure, resonate, and be passed down from generation to generation.
I thought of going out,
now I just wanna stay in
I saw you leaving town with your friends
I thought I’d know by now
if you and me were meant
And if you thought about
giving this a go again
Is there room on your shoulder?
Released January 10th via R&R / Good Boy records and featuring Mt. Joy’s Matt Quinn and Sam Cooper, “Room on Your Shoulder” is Adam Melchor’s love letter to enduring friendship: An outstretched hand, a candid confession, and an honest plea for help and emotional support, all wrapped into one soul-baring, sweetly stirring serenade. The lead single off his forthcoming third studio album The Diary of Living (out May 2nd) finds the New Jersey-bred, Los Angeles-based singer/songwriter reaching deep into his emotional core, offering up a moment of raw, human connection. Melchor blends poetic lyricism with a warm, acoustic intimacy as he sings of being there for someone in their darkest hour — and of needing that same grace in return. With Matt Quinn’s delicate harmonies and Noah Conrad’s textured production, “Room on Your Shoulder” becomes more than a song: It’s a safe space, a sanctuary, and a testament to the quiet strength found in simply showing up for one another.
Proof that the best things take time, Melchor reveals that this song has been seven years in the making – having started when he was on tour with Mt. Joy back in 2018. “‘Room on Your Shoulder’ is a song about friendship, longevity, and the true testament of the creative process – and it finally got finished this past year when I was recording The Diary of Living,” he smiles. “This song meant so much to me and so much to us that it really took a long time to get the production right. When I finally showed it to Noah Conrad, the producer of the album, he really knew what to do with it and stripped it back to its most basic form, which is basically just how it sounded the day we wrote it. Mt. Joy is one of the first bands that ever let me open for them on tour, and it really led to me loving the road life so much. So, this song is a really, really great reminder of how long good things can take.”
Tryna to save your colors
while the walls are caving in
Feels like growing gardens from cement
I’m just left to wonder
if you had some love to lend
And if you thought
about giving this a go again
Is there room on your shoulder?
Is there room on your shoulder?
I don’t know how to get there,
but I know what I want
Is there room on your shoulder?
Both intimately personal and universally enduring, “Room on Your Shoulder” captures both the brutal lows and euphoric highs of our shared human condition. Thematically, Melchor and Mt. Joy reckon with feelings of heartache, nostalgia, grief, and yearning, exploring familiar pangs of loneliness and longing, and how we so naturally turn to our loved ones in our darkest moments. It also captures the warmth of having those folks nearby, and what it means on a visceral level to have that kind of deep love and emotional light in our lives. Melchor’s gentle lilt meets Matt Quinn’s raspier grit in a delicate harmony that feels like a conversation between old friends – bruised but not broken, vulnerable yet full of love.
“It has taken many twists and turns, but the entire time the song still remained near and dear to our hearts,” Melchor tells Atwood Magazine. “This song is meant to be a song about forgiveness and a future past the pain you feel in the present. It also turned out to be an ode to camaraderie and friendship, and how the chapters of our lives do not have to define the chapters ahead.”
“The lyrics in the bridge are, ‘you were always by my side from LA to NJ,’ and both of these places have given me the rest of the world. I love NJ, I love LA, and I love the community that it’s given me.”
I find it hard to fall asleep when no one out here gets mе
‘Cause you were always by my sidе from L.A. to New Jersey
And if you thought about giving this a go again
If you thought about giving this a go again
The latest addition to the pantheon of classic folk songs, “Room on Your Shoulder” aches inside and out in the sweetest and warmest of ways. It’s breathtaking summation of the human experience; the kind of song that reminds us we’re not alone — that even in our heaviest moments, there’s always room for connection, compassion, and hope. Next time you need someone, all you need to do is ask, “Is there room on your shoulder?”
Is there room on your shoulder?
Is there room on your shoulder?
I don’t know how to get there,
but I know what I want
Is there room on your shoulder?
Is there room on your shoulder?
Tell me what you need
“Running/Planning”
by CMATA radiant unraveling wrapped in shimmer and strife, CMAT’s “Running/Planning” aches with the weight of expectation and the desperation to feel enough. It’s the sound of someone caught mid-sprint, trying to keep up with a life they never consciously chose — an electrifying, emotionally-charged anthem that confronts the pressures of societal conformity, especially as they affect women. Gliding on glistening synths and steady, hypnotic beats, the Irish singer/songwriter (and longtime Atwood favorite!) turns personal turmoil into something strangely euphoric: A lament disguised as a sweet singalong, a reckoning dressed in glitter.
“‘Running/Planning’ is about having to chase your own tail to be good enough to exist,” CMAT explains. “It’s an abstracted view of societal pressure on women – specifically through a relationship lens: You start dating someone, you get engaged, you get married, you have kids, etc. etc. etc… everything has to follow this linear pattern.”
That push-pull dynamic is written all over the song, especially in its mesmerizingly cyclical, repeating chorus – a deliberate nod to the relentless feedback loop of societal norms. The track doesn’t just question the “standard” path laid out for women (date, marry, have children); it exposes the emotional toll of deviating from that script, and how quickly love, autonomy, and even family support can feel conditional the moment you step off course.
“That narrow path that everyone is supposed to be on… the minute you get outside of that, it gets incredibly stressful,” CMAT confesses. “I don’t know anyone who is like, ‘Yeah, love this!’”
CMAT (aka Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson) is no stranger to tackling hard topics head-on; her critically acclaimed sophomore album Crazymad, For Me found her unpacking a massive, life-changing breakup six years after the fact, bringing perspective, critique, and pure passion to songs filled with raw, unflinching emotion.
“Crazymad, For Me isn’t so much CMAT’s revenge, as it is her cathartic, all-consuming eruption,” we wrote at the time. “An intoxicating, impassioned musical release channeling years’ worth of pent-up emotions and raw, physical tension and turmoil into one spellbinding, cinematic enterprise, going on to praise the record as charming, churning, and charged.
Released March 25th via CMATBABY / AWAL, “Running/Planning” is the lead single off CMAT’s forthcoming third album, EURO-COUNTRY (out August 29th) – which she calls her most important record to date.
We feel that weight in this song, too: What makes “Running/Planning” so powerful isn’t just its message – it’s how CMAT delivers it. Her vocals soar with vulnerability and defiance, gliding over pulsing rhythms as she captures both the pressure to perform and the quiet sorrow of not fitting in. It’s a song full of movement and melancholy, tension and tenderness – all coexisting in the same breathless, beautiful space. For anyone who’s ever questioned their worth, resisted expectations, or struggled with the quiet guilt of choosing their own path, “Running/Planning” is a stunning, validating anthem of resistance.
“The Itch”
by Arcy DriveArcy Drive bottle lightning on their new single “The Itch,” a radiant and roaring indie rock anthem pulsing with youthful restlessness and hard-won perspective. From the jangling guitars to the steady, driving beat, every inch of this song shimmers with urgency and warmth – the sound of wide-eyed twenty-somethings learning to live with uncertainty, to laugh through the growing pains, and to lean into the chaos with hearts wide open. It’s infectious in every sense of the word, carried by bright tones, irresistible energy, and guitarist/vocalist Nick Mateyunas’ raw, passionate vocals that crackle with emotion.
Stone man days like a rolling wave
It goes on and cannot break
It′s a fat stone to be skipping
With one foot in the quicksand
Well all his friends got the itch as well
Some lost, some cannot tell, well, well
We’re too young to be working
And too old to be bitching
Released March 7th, “The Itch” is the fifth single taken off Arcy Drive’s forthcoming debut album The Pit (out April 18th via AWAL). Following previous releases like “Oak Tree (Daydream),” “Time Shrinks,” and “Wicked Styley,” “The Itch” finds the Northport, Long Island-based indie rock band at their most unapologetic, uncompromising, and unrelenting.
“Of the songs that made the album, ‘The Itch’ has without a doubt had the longest journey,” Mateyunas tells Atwood Magazine. “The song always embodied the energy of people in their early 20s. I wrote the first verse/pre-chorus when I was 21 years old, nearing graduation and still feeling insecure about becoming an adult/starting a career.”
He continues, “The lines ‘Too young to be working, and too old to be bitching,’ I really liked at the time. They highlighted these thoughts of uncertainty in a cool blue collar sort of way. It also rolls into the pre-chorus well with the lines, ‘And there ain’t no use in knowing what to do or when, because we’ll never know how, and we’ll never not care,’ admitting and accepting these feelings of insecurity in a naïve and carefree way. I liked what the verse had to say and the direction of the song in general. In addition, the music was brash and carried a youthfulness that I thought really complimented the lyrics. But something was still missing. The chorus needed to sum up the feeling of the song, but it didn’t come.”
That missing piece would take years to arrive. “It took me another year to finally write the second verse,” Mateyunas says. “I always knew that it needed a real-life experience that would give the song some truth and vulnerability. I decided to pick out a specific moment from our first tour. It’s a funny little story of the band sneaking into a hotel and eating the continental breakfast. We were young and really at the peak of our youthful rascalyness. I love the lift it gives and think it really gives the song weight.”
Still, the chorus didn’t click until they were in the studio. “It actually took me until the studio to finally find the right chorus for the song. And I remember having a smile while recording the song because it’s almost as if I’m talking to my younger self from the verses,” he reflects. “The lines ‘Don’t act confused, I stand by you’ is a way of me telling my younger self to relax and that it’s all going to be okay… kind of lol. The chorus still holds the feeling of uncertainty and insecurities because at 24 I still don’t know what I’m doing. But now that I’m older I have a bit more perspective and left the chorus with ‘We’re happy as hell’ to indicate that naivety is bliss.”
And there ain′t no use
In knowing what to do or when
‘Cause we’ll never know how
And we’ll never not care
Started weirding me out
Are we really all there?
But don′t act confuse, I stand by you
Tossing our youth, and we′ll never not care
Never not scared, but we’re happy as hell
In the end, “The Itch” is a coming-of-age anthem built on truth, tension, and time. From Mateyunas’ emotionally raw vocals to the band’s sun-soaked, full-throttle instrumentation, Arcy Drive strike a powerful chord between chaos and clarity – capturing what it feels like to not have the answers, but to keep going anyway. It’s a reminder that we grow in the mess, and sometimes, it takes a few years – and maybe a stolen hotel breakfast – to realize you’re doing just fine.
A rained out show and a borrowed van
Off to a cheap hotel
We got stoned just to sneak in
They left fruit in the kitchen
And all my friends got the itch as well
Take, take, to please yourself
It′s a fat stone to be skipping
With one foot as we kick
‘Cause we’ll never know how
And we′ll never not care
Started weirding me out
Are we really all there?
But don’t act confused, I stand by you
Tossing our youth, and we′ll never not care
Never not scared, but we’re happy as hell
“Fair Field”
by Sydney SpragueA disorienting fever dream soaked in vulnerability, anxiety, and warped reality, Sydney Sprague’s “Fair Field” captures the surreal, spiraling chaos of a bad trip in a hotel room — and the emotional fallout that lingers long after the high fades. Set to a backdrop of distorted guitars and frenetic rhythms, the Arizona singer/songwriter’s latest release is a raw, unfiltered reckoning with mental health, overstimulation, and life on the road. Equal parts playful and panic-inducing, “Fair Field” sounds like spiraling out — in real time.
Too high at the fair field
Going fast as f* on a ferris wheel
It’s a long way down to the parking lot
There’s a voice in my head, and it never stops
Know I lost time on a long drive
Now I got too much, and I can’t decide
If I’m too turned up in the plot twist
And what if we kissed?
At the free continental breakfast
Could I face up to the consequences?
“I wrote ‘Fair Field’ last summer after a full-blown panic attack on tour, triggered by an edible in a hotel room in Hays, Kansas,” Sprague shares. “The song carries this underlying tension—almost playful, but also unsettling—that originally captured the chaos of life on the road. Lately, though, it feels like a reflection of the world at large, everything unraveling in real time.”
That sense of unraveling is palpable from the jump: “I’m too high at the fair field / going fast as f* on a ferris wheel,” Sprague sings, launching listeners into a disjointed, hallucinatory headspace where every thought spirals, and even the mundane — a continental breakfast, a passing motorcade — takes on surreal significance. The tension between humor and horror pulses throughout the track, making it as entertaining as it is existentially crushing.
I pull up twenty minutes late
Stuck in gridlock behind the motorcade
Least I’m lucky enough that there’s someone to blame
Guess the presidеnts in town for presidents’ day
Now that that’s done, and all out of thе way
I can sit in this chair, and think about your face
It’ll probably pass in a couple of days
But I won’t ever know
If you ever felt the way that I did
I should probably die of embarrassment
You won’t ever felt the way that I did
I think I’m gonna cry
Sprague recorded “Fair Field” at home alongside her band — Chuck Morriss, Sébastien Deramat, and Matt Storto. Following a split from Rude Records, the track marks her first fully independent release. “Reclaiming full creative control has been incredibly freeing,” she says. “It’s all about making music I love, on my own terms, and just having fun with it again.”
But even as she finds freedom in creation, “Fair Field” doesn’t shy away from discomfort. It’s a brutally honest depiction of anxiety and dissociation — and how those moments can be just as funny and absurd as they are terrifying. For longtime fans of Sprague’s emotionally sharp indie rock, this song is both a continuation and a reset: Bold, bleak, and undeniably human.
“God, We Tried”
by Charlotte OCCharlotte OC’s “God, We Tried” is heartbreak in slow motion – a smoldering, soul-stirring breakup anthem that lingers in the ruins of a love that was never going to last. Equal parts vulnerable and self-aware, the track finds the British singer/songwriter (née Charlotte Mary O’Connor) owning her grief, her messiness, and the undeniable beauty of trying, even when the end feels inevitable. “God, we tried, didn’t we? Nothing lasts forever, especially you and me… We just need to bleed,” she sings in the haunting, slow-burning chorus — her voice aching with equal parts pain, grace, and resignation.
I made a scene at the party
I drank too much
You said we’ll talk in the morning
We didn’t touch
If I don’t laugh
I’ll probably cry
Who’s gonna run your bath tonight?
Released March 19th via Embassy of Music, “God, We Tried” is the first we’ve heard from Charlotte OC properly in nearly five years, since the release of her sophomore album Here Comes Trouble in 2021. “I started writing this song the day after a failed relationship,” she tells Atwood Magazine. “A relationship I got into straight into after my dad’s death in hopes to fill a void.”
What followed was one of her most unfiltered and freeing creative sessions to date.
“I’d never arrived at the studio slightly tipsy before, but that day was the first time I did so in front of Dimi my producer and Val, whom I had never met before,” she recalls. “Overall, it was quite embarrassing, and for someone who overthinks everything… at that moment… I just didn’t give a shit about how tragic I was being.”
That raw, unguarded energy pulses through every note of “God, We Tried,” from the hushed piano lines to the aching vocal harmonies. It’s a song of surrender – not to defeat, but to the truth. This holds especially true in the track’s brutal, emotionally charged chorus:
God, we tried
Didn’t we?
Nothing lasts forever
Especially you and me
They say time is all we need
I’m sick of hearing it’s a healer
We just need to bleed
From the soul-shaking cries of “God, we tried” to the aching acceptance of “we just need to bleed,” O’Connor’s words are heavy, weighted down by emotional turmoil – dark storm clouds that have yet to clear up. Her passionate voice trembles, hot and heavy on the mic as she spills her guts.
Going back to that studio session, O’Connor recalls how readily the music and lyrics poured out of her.
“I played the idea I had, which was the verse and chorus melody, and as I was doing so, the lyrics appeared. I just allowed the song to happen,” she says. “It was perhaps the most enjoyable writing experience I’ve had, and for someone like me who can get too accustomed to co-writing, which often leads me to second-guess my ideas, I didn’t question anything at all.”
There’s a striking confidence that comes through in the song’s simplicity — a quiet reclaiming of voice and vulnerability that transcends the heartbreak at its core.
“If anything, I’m proud of myself,” she reflects. “This song reminded me that I can actually write. It also made it clear how impossible it was for anyone to be with me at this time in my life, hence the title ‘God, We Tried.’”
Oh, I have a mouth like a sailor
That’s my insecurities shining through
You said you thought that I was mental
But you saw me and I saw you
And now we brush our teeth
We say goodnight
But something isn’t right
God, we tried
Didn’t we?
Nothing lasts forever
Especially you and me
They say time is all we need
I’m sick of hearing time’s a healer
We just need to bleed
More than a breakup song, “God, We Tried” is a reflection of grief, healing, and self-acceptance — a quietly powerful reminder that even in our most broken states, there’s strength in honesty. “It also made it clear how impossible it was for anyone to be with me at this time in my life,” she adds, “hence the title ‘God, We Tried.’”
If this is truly the beginning of Charlotte OC’s next chapter, then we’ll be here — at the ready, hearts and ears open, to receive every aching page of her songbook as it unfolds in real time.
And now we brush our teeth
For the final time
‘Cause something isn’t right
God, we tried
Didn’t we?
Nothing lasts forever
Especially you and me
They say time is all we need
I’m sick of hearing time’s a healer
We just need to bleed
— — — —
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