Every Friday, Atwood Magazine’s staff share what they’ve been listening to that week – a song, an album, an artist – whatever’s been having an impact on them, in the moment.
This week’s weekly roundup features music by The Head and the Heart, Cloth, Olivia Reid, Aaron Taylor, Burry, Andy Tongren, Abbie Callahan, Asha Mclean, Rei, Sleep Token, Adventure Lost, Wynona, Kevian Kraemer, Michael Isaak, Mel Denisse, Sid Dorey, L’objectif, Tough Cookie, Loren Heat, Sports Team, Brandes, Kindelan, Marsha Swanson, and Tash Blake!
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:: Aperture – The Head and the Heart ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
Open your ears, open your eyes, open your heart, and take it all in: The good, the bad, the joy, the ache, the love – everything this incredible life has to offer. I will have many more words to say about The Head and the Heart’s sixth studio album over time, but what I will say for now is this: Fifteen years into their storied career, the band’s folk-laced music continues to be as fresh and fun as it is free-spirited and philosophically profound. Released on May 9th via Verve Forecast, Aperture is “an invitation to wake up in the present moment recognizing that it is all we have, in all its contradictions of beauty and pain, joy and despair, unfathomable vastness and impermanence,” per band member Matty Gervais. In practice, that translates to rich, warm harmonies, radiant melodies, thought-provoking lyrics, invigorating instrumentals, and instantly memorable singalongs – all delivered with the passion and seasoned strength of professionals who, despite their years of doing this, continue to find inspiration in themselves and in their everyday.
What’s perhaps most striking about Aperture is its range: While songs like “After the Setting Sun,” “Time With My Sins,” and “Arrow” unpack intimate reflections on identity, purpose, and life’s greater meaning through a familiar, sun-kissed sound, The Head and the Heart spend a great deal of this record trying on new clothes – both musical and topical. The urgent and emotionally charged “Cop Car” is an obvious standout: Jonathan Russell’s voice is at its rawest as he sings from the back of a police cruiser, angry and scared, unsure of his present and fearful for his future: “I’m riding in a cop car tonight, looking outside as the blinks go by, wondering how we gonna die.” Not only do The Head and the Heart bring a flicker of humanity and empathy to those whom society so often turns a blind eye, but they do so with grace, tact, charm, angst, and a beautiful middle finger to the boys in blue.
But that’s far from Aperture‘s only bright spot: From the lush, hypnotic, and heartrending “Pool Break” and the euphoric, life-affirming “Jubilee” to the feel-good reverie “Fire Escape” (a truly classic THATH tune) and the hopeful “Beg, Steal, Borrow,” The Head and the Heart’s sixth studio album proves to be a meaningful, memorable, altogether moving ray of light in 2025’s musical landscape.
“For me, Aperture represents the choice we all must make between resigning ourselves to darkness, or letting the light in and recognizing our own agency to do so,” Matty Gervais shares. “It feels relevant to the times, in that we’re literally choosing between authoritarianism vs. democracy. Ignorance vs. enlightenment on a macro scale, and complacency/cynicism vs. hope, empathy and perseverance on the micro scale. To me, it sums up a lot of what each of these songs is grappling with in some form and what we’ve collectively gone through as a band. It’s about choosing hope again and again, no matter how many times it may feel that you have lost it.”
True to their name once again, The Head and the Heart have used both their heads and their hearts to create one of this year’s best albums – an electrifying, exhilarating folk rock journey into our shared humanity that meets the present moment with passion, tenacity, vulnerability, and above all else, hope.
:: Pink Silence – Cloth ::
Will Yarbrough, Philadelphia, PA
For working in such a loosely defined field as indie rock, Cloth are especially tight-knit. Heck, the Glasgow duo are even cut from the same genetic fabric. Since childhood, Rachael and Paul Swinton have been chipping away at a style of minimalism that’s as soft as it is stark. But while colored by loss, Pink Silence expands their twin horizon in all directions.
When it comes to recording material, Cloth remain pretty sparing. Paul picks at his guitar like a freshly grown scab. Rachael couldn’t sing any closer to the mic without whispering in your ear, though her voice continues to trail off into the distance as if half-remembering a dream. The pair haven’t lost their preference for the iPhone’s unmatched compression either, but after getting shortlisted for Scotland’s biggest music prize, returning producer Ali Chant encouraged them to loosen their self-imposed restraint. Pink Silence flaunts spiffier tempos alongside more subtle textures while inviting outside perspective from two elder statesmen.
Unsurprisingly, it’s Canadian composer and violinist Owen Pallet who adds the most to Cloth’s palette. His carefully arranged strings simmer beneath “Burn” with the high, lonesome whistle of a tea kettle during some ungodly time of night. “I could be a hero working in the dark hours.” Though trying to stay tough, Rachael’s deep sigh already betrays exhaustion.
The narrative thread behind Cloth’s third album also cuts two ways. Pink Silence invokes either dusk or dawn, depending on your frame of mind. Most of these songs grapple with fading friendships, but “Burn” reaches a different boiling point. “I want to know how far I’ll take it.” While Paul continues to improve as an exacting lyricist, his OCD can drive him to burnout. Halfway finished, the song nearly gives out, reduced to ashes that crackle like brushfire, only to build itself back up again, each layer returning stronger than before. Live and digital drums rub against brittle acoustics and an electric guitar tone that’s as crisp as a struck match. As its wordless coda tapers off, strings swell with the familiar warmth of the sun cresting over the next hill.
:: “Space to Roam” – Olivia Reid ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
“Space to Roam” by Olivia Reid feels less like a song and more like a breath you didn’t know you were holding. From the first note, it drapes over you like early morning mist — quiet, reflective, and completely immersive. Reid’s voice isn’t here to dazzle in a conventional sense; it’s here to disarm, to invite you inward. There’s something profoundly moving about her restraint — the way she trusts simplicity over spectacle, letting every lyric land softly, yet with undeniable weight. It’s a masterclass in emotional minimalism, where silence speaks volumes and melody becomes meditation.
What makes this track linger is its subtle bravery. Written in the stillness of the Polish countryside, “Space to Roam” offers the kind of emotional refuge so many of us long for — not just physical space, but psychic stillness. Reid captures the ache of modern uncertainty without ever losing her grip on hope. Her voice, equal parts warmth and whisper, carries the track like a lantern through fog. And while the acoustic textures and gentle tempo draw from the indie-folk playbook, there’s a timeless quality here that transcends genre. It’s introspective without being isolating, soft without fading — the kind of song that stays with you long after the last note.
:: “Without Ya” – Aaron Taylor ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
The ache of absence rears its ugly head in Aaron Taylor’s “Without Ya!” – a seductive song that born from distance, longing, love’s all too real withdrawal symptoms. The latest single off the South London-based singer/songwriter and producer’s upcoming EP Yours Always is as sweet and smooth as it is sentimental – an homage to being together with the one you love the most, propelled by the earnest, emotionally charged, self-explanatory refrain, “Don’t wanna live without ya.”
I get withdrawals
All the symptoms
When we’re apart
I’spose I froze
When Cupid’s arrows
Found my heart
Don’t wanna live without ya
“‘Without Ya’ is the result of a demo I began back in 2022,” Taylor tells Atwood Magazine. “It’s a song about wanting someone to remain in your life and how happy they make you, and I wanted to reflect this with the upbeat and positive sound of the music.”
Embracing intimacy head-on, “Without Ya!” embodies much of what Yours Always is all about – connection. “Sometimes it explores the absence of connection, marked by either yearning or dismissal; at other times, it is a request for a deeper, more meaningful bond,” Taylor explains. “A central theme is purpose – a reminder that each of us has one and needs to fulfill it. I imagine Yours Always as a collection of letters or voice messages that the listener becomes privy to, rather than the intended direct audience.”
A smoldering, soul-stirring confessional, “Without Ya!” is the kind of song that hurts so good. Through baring his own heavy heart and aching soul, Aaron Taylor reminds us what live is all about: Finding that special someone who completes us, and riding life’s highs and lows together.
I can’t live alone
Don’t wanna go on my own
I need you bad
You’re the beat of my heart
You’re the end to my start
You’re all I have
Don’t wanna live without ya
:: “Peaches” – Burry ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
With “Peaches,” Burry peels back the skin of pop and serves up a sun-drunk anthem ripe with shimmer and soul, each beat a pulse of freedom, each lyric a breath of truth. This radiant offering from Halifax’s boldest voice blooms with glossy indie-pop fusion, but it’s the heart beneath the gloss that lingers: the echo of joy, the ache of longing, the roar of a life fully lived. Burry’s fearless honesty, a lighthouse for the unseen, glows in every note, making “Peaches” a radiant call to revel in the messy beauty of becoming.
:: “So Good” – Andy Tongren ::
Chloe Robinson, California
Indie pop meets folk rock artist Andy Tongren has crafted a colorful and carefree track, “So Good,” and it is, as the title states. The infectious guitar strums and endearing vocals make for the ideal feel-good listen. Imaginative lines like “If we get too high / And slip off cloud nine accidentally / Sippin’ sunshine, soak it all up,” display the piece’s sunny, blissful nature. The video has that exact vibe. From lying on the grass and walking on the beach to playing baseball and arcade games, it reminds us all to step outside and live a little. The song and visuals are all about being worry-free, and they will have you saying “hakuna matata.”
Tongren, best known as the frontman of Young Rising Sons, is an optimist who breathes positivity. “I really do try and find the silver lining any way I can. At my core, I feel like there’s nothing else I can do,” admits the Brooklyn-based singer/songwriter. For Tongren, music has always been about connection – it’s the human element, raw emotion, shared stories, and the bond between artist and audience. Born in Ohio and cutting his teeth along the New York–New Jersey circuit, he has obtained a loyal fan base that relates strongly to his message.
:: “Yo-Yo” – Abbie Callahan ::
Chloe Robinson, California
Romances can be long-lived, while others are fast and fleeting. Abbie Callahan examines the nature of passing flings and their wild ride of ups and downs in her latest single, aptly titled “Yo-Yo.” The tangy sonics and intoxicating country vocals make for a definite must-listen track. Abbie shares, “I wrote ‘Yo-Yo’ about an 8-day situationship, and I’m glad I at least got something good out of that whole experience. It’s light and fun-sounding but lyrically dark and pretty sad, honestly.”
Rooted in Americana, classic country, and pop, Callahan infuses the genre with a sound that feels both new and nostalgic. Her distinctive tone, rich with lyrical honesty, draws listeners in with emotional intensity. Abbie’s songwriting is fearless and personal, shaped by real-life experiences and an unwavering sense of identity. Taking inspiration from legends like Linda Ronstadt and Don Williams, along with modern artists such as Sierra Ferrell, Billy Strings, and Leon Bridges, Abbie Callahan is forging a path that blends vulnerability with boldness. In “Yo-Yo,” she doesn’t just appear—she takes command, transforming heartache into something powerfully resounding.
:: “Yoga” – Asha Maclean ::
Grace Holtzclaw, Los Angeles, CA
Asha Maclean’s “Yoga” is a free-spirited and euphoric R&B earworm that chronicles a new relationship that keeps her on her toes. Maclean’s background growing up in New York City lends itself to the self-assured, polished tracks she’s putting out at present. “Yoga” puts a modern twist on her 90’s R&B influences guided by an infectious hook and gripping beats that stay stuck in your head.
“Yoga” mesmerizes with sprightly notes of electric guitar, prismatic percussion, and warm, inviting vocals that pull you deeper into the track. She sings, “Stand tall like a tree / You fly like a butterfly / When you’re with me.” Drawing inspiration from different yoga poses that bring out the magic of a chemistry-based connection, Maclean muses on the thrilling yet confusing nature of a budding romance.
Paired with an exhilarating music video to match, the visuals for “Yoga” will have you hooked just like the song. Maclean takes the reins by demonstrating the yoga poses she sings about over a captivating dance routine. “Yoga,” just like the practice itself, is meant to stimulate your mind and your body all at once.
:: “Heaven” – Rei ::
Danny Vagnoni, Philadelphia
Rei is perhaps the most exciting solo guitarist I’ve discovered in quite some time, and “Heaven” showcases her musical vocabulary beautifully. As well it should – in interviews, she discusses how, traveling between Japan, the US, and France early in her life, she felt fluent in music before any other language.
“Heaven” foregrounds Rei’s original and soulful guitar playing. The track starts out with a lush minor blues intro where Rei sings, mournfully, “Have you ever seen Heaven?” After her last, “Being with you is almost Heaven,” she leaps immediately into a ripping guitar solo. It is here that I must emphasize how creative and dynamic Rei’s guitar work is. There are practically no loops in the entirety of the song; if you wanted to transcribe her playing, you would have to take the song bar for bar and write out every note without repeats. Rei is constantly improvising, whether in the verse or chorus or bridge, under her own lyrics.
You might think that kind of playing would draw away from the vocals. In fact, that dynamism adds to her compositions. Rei has plenty of technical talent, but where her guitar playing really shines is in its ability to compliment her fervid vocals. True to form, her playing is lyrical in itself, weaving and bobbing with her vocals and the beats of the song. There is often something thrilling about the way musicians can take genres invented elsewhere and, unconstrained by charts or convention, create an idiosyncratic synthesis that is deeply original and personal. So it is with J-rock, and “Heaven” hits all of those markers and more, for me. Give Rei a listen. She is one of rock’s torch bearers for the 2020s. That’s a called shot you can hold me to.
:: Even in Arcadia – Sleep Token ::
Will Yarbrough, Philadelphia, PA
You have to feel bad for Selena Gomez. The former Disney Channel starlet turned makeup mogul is one of the wealthiest musicians in the world. So imagine the collective gasp of horror when her new album with fiancé/über producer Benny Blanco was blocked from the Number One spot on iTunes by some anonymous dude in a cape.
To be fair, Sleep Token didn’t come out of nowhere. Masked singer Vessel and drumming sidekick II have led European festival goers in horns-raising service for almost a decade, though it wasn’t until two years ago that this British invasion crossed over on our side of the pond. Now with the arrival of their hotly anticipated fourth longplayer, continued chart dominance seems inevitable. While scarred by the trappings of fame, Even in Arcadia bears the mark of a pop star.
Even though this is their first offering since signing with a major label, Sleep Token haven’t lost their mystique. Even in Arcadia was teased in bite-sized chunks during a masterful digital marketing campaign. Fans raced to solve encrypted websites, QR merch codes and Instagram ciphers, a local weather forecast.
I’m already pushing past Mitch’s word count and haven’t even addressed what Even in Arcadia actually sounds like, but the surrounding smoke mirrors the game of cat and mouse that the album plays with Sleep Token’s massive audience. Practically every song starts the same; a stripped-down guitar or keyboard melody is generously applied with Auto-Tuned falsetto curlicues before slipping like the zeitgeist between other trends. Tropical house blooms into a pristinely produced bouquet of blast beats and Meshuggah-lite chuggery. Midwest emo crushes on prog-metal before falling for a trap beat that’s sleazy enough to get a rise out of Future in the strip club.
If you’re already skeptical of Sleep Token, then I have bad news; there’s no resisting Even in Arcadia. Whether assuming the form of a bop or headbanger, the album is simply too good at pummeling pleasure receptors with candy-coated hooks. Heck, I’d be shocked if it didn’t debut atop the charts.
After all, in true star-crossed fashion, Sleep Token are now openly wrestling with fans over their toxic relationship. “Damocles” is haunted by perceived threats to the group’s throne. But it’s also the rare moment where their guard drops. “Who will I be when the empire falls?” Vessel wonders, laid bare over golden grand piano, before power ballad pyrotechnics bring down the house. Battle-vested gatekeepers and pop purists will still try and cut them down, but once again, behind Even in Arcadia, Sleep Token reveal they’re the ones pulling all the strings.
:: “Istanbul” – Adventure Lost ::
Danny Vagnoni, Philadelphia
I had the pleasure of seeing Adventure Lost not once, but twice in quick succession early this year. I first saw them at a dingy but reliable dive in always-charming New Hope, PA – John and Peter’s – then at the outstanding World Cafe Live, one of my favorite venues in Philadelphia, owned and operated as a non-profit organization by UPenn.
Their opening song, “Istanbul” begins with a frantic guitar riff torn from the Australian Psychedelic Rock scene. Fuzzed-out vocals over chopped up guitar riffs follow before the song drifts off into a fitful reverie, with singer Jack Faracchio lamenting, “finally, my war is done/but I don’t feel I’ve won.” He’s right–the war is far from over, and it’s straight back into psychedelic frenzy. There’s a clear bevy of influences here, all contorted into something thrilling and novel. I’ve already noted the aggressive Aussie psych influences, but there’s a storybook quality to their lyricism that is very much Beatles-esque, a solo section that feels like shoegaze-lite, and a definite math-rock awareness of time and rhythm.
Adventure Lost’s stage presence is electrifying, amplified all the more by the intimate venues I saw them in. In a few songs, their keyboardist (a new addition to their lineup, not yet credited on a recorded album) switches to flute; paired with wall-of-sound psychedelic guitar, the rooms became a veritable flood of cubensis ambiance. There was also a huge crowd pleaser in the form of an original cover of “The Chain” by Fleetwood Mac. If you find yourself in Philly or the surrounding area, go see them–if not, be sure to indulge online.
:: “Flowers to Arrows” – Wynona ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
“How does it feel turning flowers to arrows?” Oof, what a question. Wynona’s Natalie Woodward sings hot and heavy on the mic in “Flowers to Arrows,” the band’s first (and to date, only) single of 2025. Her sweet, gentle voice aches with tension and despair as, alongside her bandmate and co-songwriter Richard Willats, she laments those members of our society who co-opt, twist, and contort things to fit their preferred ideology, mold, and messaging. It’s a dynamic and emotional take on Wynona’s signature, nineties/naughties-inspired “mum-jean rock” sound; while the band continue to glisten and glow, the depth of this track’s subject matter is never lost on artist or listener.
Suddenly I’m overcome with emotion
Hang me out onto the line
The weather’s cold,
and it’s always been a constant
Under grey cloud state of mind
I keep inside, though its true to believe it
I wonder what’s your infatuation
I see it all for what it is under the asphalt
What a place to call me out
“‘Flowers to Arrows’ started from a guitar riff Rich was playing while we were between houses just after the pandemic. All our studio gear was packed away, so we set up a makeshift studio and recorded demo ideas using phones and laptop mics,” Wynona tell Atwood Magazine. “Natalie wrote the vocal melody to mimic and dance around the guitars. We sat on the demo for years until it caught the ear of our guitarist/producer Adam Hailstone, who took over the project and added layers of sonic flourishes that really brought the song to life.”
“We tracked, produced, and mixed the song ourselves, and it marks our first release of 2025. It’s a jangly throwback to Britpop, centered on the idea that some people can take beautiful things in art, film, music, and culture (flowers), and twist them into symbols for their pointed, hurtful ideologies (arrows).”
How does it feel
Turning flowers to arrows?
How does it feel
Turning flowers to arrows?
For me, the most obvious example of “flowers to arrows” is a politician co-opting songs without artists’ permission or consent, and using unauthorized pieces of music to drive their messaging home – “YMCA” blaring over the loudspeakers at Tr*mp rallies come to mind. Interpretation is okay – art is so often a means of self-expression, and the way the artist intends their work to be consumed may not always be aligned with how it ends up being interpreted – but weaponizing art to meet your own agenda and your own ends is pure propagandizing. While Wynona’s latest single remains as sugary as their best work, “Flowers to Arrows” also unveils a sinister truth about consumption – and it’s a message we’d best take to heart moving forward.
I see the change from my materiality
Dripping down in front of me
What a place to be
I know it’s strange to let the rain
fall through the window
Spilling onto my bed
In a world where we could co-deliver
You leave me building conversations
I’ve never been the kind to miss the amber warnings
These edges I keep catching on
How does it feel
Turning flowers to arrows
How does it feel
Turning flowers to arrows
:: “Rearview” – Kevian Kraemer ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
Rose-colored glasses get their very own rallying cry in Kevian Kraemer’s “Rearview,” a soaring and spirited anthem basking in the other side’s greener pastures and nostalgia’s brighter hues. Released April 25th via Atlantic Records, the third single off the New Jersey-born artist’s upcoming Jersey or Mars EP is an energetic, invigorating indie pop revelry complete with rip-roaring vocals, driving drums, introspective lyrics, and exhilarating guitars.
“‘Rearview’ to me is my take on the saying ‘the grass is always greener on the other side,’” Kraemer tells Atwood Magazine. “I wrote ‘Rearview’ around a time where I went through a rough breakup and was coming to terms with what the relationship meant to me. While there were some really amazing times, I realized that the overall relationship was bringing me down and that life was actually much brighter on the other side. The line ‘your chapstick and my keychain’ serves as a reminder of the good parts of a relationship while continuing to move on and embrace change.”
Clarity isn’t always available to us in the present, often through no fault of our own. Only through hindsight and actively stepping out of our own shoes can we truly hope to see things for what they are – and in this song’s case, it’s that retrospective perspective that opens Kraemer up to both the good and the bad.
To his credit, he’s right: Things do look better when you’re checking the rearview. So how do we correct for this and improve our current vision? That’s the topic of another song… but for now, I’m happy to get lost in the bright, bold enery of “Rearview.”
:: “Wrong Version of Me” – Michael Isaak ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
Michael Isaak’s latest single, “Wrong Version of Me,” marks a deeply personal and triumphant return, following his contemplative comeback track “Say Too Much.” Written during a pivotal moment in Isaak’s life – his bold move to New York – the song pulses with vulnerability and strength as it explores themes of selfhood, transformation, and the fear of losing oneself. Isaak’s introspective lyrics resonate powerfully, delivering a kind of emotional clarity that feels both raw and relatable. His voice, steady and expressive, rides a wave of rich, live instrumentation, a testament to the seamless chemistry with his band.
With Will Martinez and Charlie Hickey’s dual guitars sparking with nuance and Matt TC Lucas driving the energy on drums, the track delivers an indie-rock sound that feels at once grounded and soaring. Produced by Hickey and Tyler Graham, the track is textured, immediate, and alive – underscoring Isaak’s promise to remain true to himself in the face of change. “Wrong Version of Me” doesn’t just mark another release – it cements Michael Isaak as a voice of sincerity and creative courage in a landscape that often asks artists to compromise. Ready or not, Isaak’s evolution is here – and it’s unflinchingly authentic.
:: “Like a Fiend” – Mel Denisse ::
Chloe Robinson, California
In “Like a Fiend,” Mel Denisse creates a song that explores what it’s like to be trapped in a tug-of-war between conflicting emotions. Shifting from joy to despair, strength to vulnerability, this creature experiences a disturbing emotional instability that feels like a whirlwind of mania. The dark and daring piece showcases an innovative, atmospheric backdrop that pairs perfectly with her haunting vocals. The ominous air of this track captivates the listener the whole way through.
Mel Denisse is an artist-producer known for blending gritty guitar textures with unconventional pop sounds. She first picked up her dad’s acoustic guitar at age ten, spent her teenage years crafting demos on pirated software, and by eighteen had joined a Myspace-era tour through sheer hustle. You sense those same blood, sweat, and tears in this single.
:: Middle Seat – Sid Dorey ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
Sid Dorey, who first gained traction with viral snippets and poignant lyric videos, has grown into an artist who can command both a stage and a phone screen. But with their sophomore EP Middle Seat, they’ve taken that influence and deepened it. The EP doesn’t just sound good — it feels vital.
Few artists manage to blend theatrical roots with emotional immediacy quite like Sid Dorey. Middle Seat is a statement of survival, community, and conscious growth wrapped in lush melodies and razor-sharp lyricism. The beautifully bruised collection of songs that captures the uneasy magic of coming into your own. With five tracks that weave through themes of grief, identity, and the yearning for belonging, Dorey transforms discomfort into art. From the gut-wrenching confessions of “Cannibal” to the spiritual reckoning of “What Comes With Heaven,” each song is a carefully carved piece of emotional truth. Their voice — equal parts tender and trembling — carries the weight of lived experience, while their lyrics hit like pages from a journal you were never meant to read but can’t put down.
What makes Middle Seat stand out is its sense of presence. There’s no filter here, no clever veil of metaphor to hide behind — just honesty that lands like a quiet storm. Dorey, a queer artist unafraid to speak to the complexities of love, loss, and survival, invites listeners not just to feel something, but to feel seen. The EP’s title track, a softly defiant closer, perfectly sums up the project’s mission: finding comfort in the uncomfortable, and holding onto hope when it would be easier to let go. In a genre that too often polishes its pain, Sid Dorey reminds us that the middle seat, though cramped, can be the place where we truly learn to stay.
:: “Goth Kids” – L’objectif ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
The fever burns bold and bright in L’objectif’s first single of the year. Dramatic, dynamic, and achingly unapologetic, “Goth Kids” is a charged and churning indie rock reckoning full of fire and fury: “This whole world’s full of conflict, I don’t know how to steal the prize,” frontman Saul Kane sings hot-on-the-mic, his voice aching and intense from the jump. “This whole room’s full of goth kids, I thought I was one – turns out they’re too nice.” So begins a roaring, larger-than-life anthem for all the ‘emo kids’ who never really outgrew the ‘phase’: Who are still searching for their place in the chaos, trying to understand where they fit into life’s big, instructionless puzzle.
they left the planet in their rockets
I would’ve gone but they missed out my invite
but for the weekend i’m sorted
still figuring out how to get you by my side
yeah nothing makes me feel as quite alright
As the band explains, “Goth Kids” has been a true labor of love – a song they kept tweaking, and never gave up on until they got it “right.”
“[This] is the longest amount of time we’ve spent on a song – we’ve been working on it for over a year,” Kane tells Atwood Magazine. “We never could seem to move on from it. In the end after losing a bit of our sanity, we made something, that to us, felt like an authentic reflection of the band.”
“Lyrically it’s a song that almost wrote itself,” he continues. “I don’t want to overthink the music anymore; it just felt natural, although if it is about anything, I suppose it’s about figuring out how you fit into the world. It’s a pretty important song to us and has brought us through into a new chapter for the band.”
look out baby see what god sent
he packaged it so nicely in a bow
And set the world into conflict
see we pride ourselves on knowledge we don’t know
figured it out after a bong hit
and went off spouting bullshit
to his girl
and in the end we have to forfeit
but nothing makes me feel as quite alright
yeah nothing makes me feel as quite alright
yeah nothing makes me feel as quite alright
If this is what the next ‘era’ of L’objectif is going to look and sound like, then sign me up: As savage and searing as it is sonically stunning, “Goth Kids” is the kind of unflinching, cinematic barn-burner that hits hard and leaves a lasting mark on the ears and the soul. It’s some of the hardest music we’ve heard from the Leeds band, and it truly is them at their best – achingly emotive, infectiously energetic, and utterly uncompromising.
this whole room’s full of goth kids…
this whole room’s full of goth kids
But nothing makes me feel as quite alright
This whole room’s full of goth kids
but nothing makes me feel as quite alright
this whole rooms full of goth kids
but nothing makes me feel as quite alright
this whole rooms full of goth kids
:: “Happiness” – Tough Cookie ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
“But happiness is whatever you make of it.” Tough Cookie’s second-ever single poses an interesting point: We’re all chasing something – that much we can surely agree on – but won’t that ‘something’ change from person to person? Who are we to lay judgment on another’s version of love, or joy, or happiness? Who are we to decide which causes are right and just, and which causes are wrong or reprehensible? So much in life is subjective, and on “Happiness,” Tough Cookie take a hard, unflinching and unfiltered look at the world, reckoning with that great pursuit and the lengths some will go to get their high.
Because at some point, each of us has to ask: What does happiness actually look like, how can we get there, and what is it worth?
It must be hard to change.
Sarah says to let it go,
quit selling dope.
The rashes on your skin
are creeping up in small talk
amongst your friends
But happiness is
whatever you make of it.
Released April 24th via Gravity Records / Capitol Records UK, “Happiness” is an intimate, all-consuming, and emotionally charged alt-rock fever dream. The follow-up to February’s debut single “Emory” finds Tough Cookie – the London-based band of August Tse, Daniel Hvorostovsky, Jess Ayres, and Gavin Sullivan – in a moment of raw reflection and upheaval. Whereas “happiness” itself feels intensely personal (as August Tse sings, “happiness is whatever you make of it”), the track’s hard-hitting chorus attempts to unpack and even understand the very nature of that pursuit – an endless chase that never seems to end in well in ‘real’ life. “Open up my eyes, show me something real,” an amped-up Tse implores over roaring guitars and churning drums. “Oh my God! It must be so good to feel absolutely nothing.”
It must be kind of fun
living in a woozy world
letting rumours do the rounds.
The doctor says
a habit will just rot your head
But happiness is
whatever you make of it.
Open up my eyes, show me something real.
Oh my God! It must be so good to feel absolutely nothing.
I don’t need a shrink ‘cause this feels like the real thing.
Oh my God! It must be so good to feel absolutely nothing.
“When Dan and I started writing the instrumental, we already had that guitar melody for the verse, and we ended up building the whole arrangement around it,” Tse tells Atwood Magazine. “Some of the lyrics came together as we went, and it felt like the music needed a shift in gear to match the song’s narrative. We wanted the structure and movement of the track to mirror the unpredictable, often chaotic nature of life in the pursuit of happiness.”
You’re selling kids a dream
of Armageddon fantasy and entropy
Hungry for a break
Where have the days of happiness gone?
You’ve been self-aware for far too long to still be here
In songs and stories, fables and fairytales, there’s a ‘happily ever after’ – but that doesn’t exist here in the wild. We lose our childhood innocence once we inevitably realize that truth… that every high is temporary, every sweet moment temporary. And yet, that is what so many people live for; the moments that make all the rest of it worth our while. Is it a fair exchange? Is it the right thing to do? Tough Cookie don’t have all the answers, but they might agree that life, just like their very band, is one tough cookie.
But I guess happiness is
whatever you make of it.
Call in sick tomorrow
Make my bed another day
:: “2009” – Loren Heat ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
Loren Heat’s latest single, “2009,” is a dazzling, high-energy triumph that confirms their rising star status in the pop landscape. Building on the emotional depth of their debut EP Scarlet Haze, Heat effortlessly merges nostalgic dance-pop vibes with modern flair, delivering a track that feels both timeless and thrillingly fresh. With Chad Rodgers’ sleek production setting the stage, “2009” bursts to life through shimmering synths and a euphoric chorus that demands repeat listens. Heat’s vocals are a standout – bold, emotive, and utterly magnetic – perfectly capturing the track’s themes of longing and electric passion. This is pop music at its most irresistible.
:: “Maybe When We’re 30” – Sports Team ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
Cambridge indie rock band Sports Team seem to gently vacillate between quiet resolve and existential unease in “Maybe When We’re 30,” and while I’m all for it – who doesn’t like some inner conflict, left unsettled? – I’d be lying to say that, as a 32-year-old myself, the song doesn’t send a shiver down my spine every single time I hear it.
And it’s not because I myself have “settled down” in what I like to think of as a rather unique version of “suburbia” – a small, upstate mountain town with a bustling, mile-long main street filled with arts and culture, shops and restaurants – and here I go trying to justify my lifestyle again! To whom, exactly, am I writing, and why do I care?
Your brother said that we should get real jobs
And pay our way like everybody else
Well maybe we could buy a house
And we could have a kid
And spend our days on Facebook
Such happy days on Facebook
And share Daily Mail stories
about David Beckham’s kids
with pithy little insults
Such pissy little insults
If it’s what you need
It works for me
We’ll write bitter little letters
To the council ‘bout the bins
And sign them from the neighbors
You’ll sign them from the neighbours
And when they come a knockin’
I’ll pretend that you’re not in
You know i’ve never liked the neighbours
I’ve never liked the neighbours
And they don’t like me
Musically, “Maybe When We’re 30” is unapologetically and relentlessly tense. Raw energy builds and builds throughout its four and a half minutes as frontman Alex Rice ruminates on “big life” questions, singing an ode to the “traditional path” – getting married, buying a house, having a kid, a dog, maybe an HOA, “date nights,” gossiping about the neighbors… the whole shebang, if you will. Structured like a letter written to a loved one, the song starts with musings about life in one’s 30s, before addressing one’s 70s and 80s in later verses. Some might interpret all these lyrics as one big dig, but as the band’s lyricist Rob Knaggs has shared, it’s actually incredibly sincere – he’s not playing for laughs, even if you, the reader, are about to get a big kick out of what comes next.
Maybe when we’re 30
baby we can get a dog
And once a year we’ll go out
and we’ll watch The War on Drugs
If it’s what you need
It works for me
“It’s a song for Brooklyn Beckham,” Knaggs tells Atwood Magazine.
That’s the hook, of course. The truth is deeper, and a shade darker, too.
“When you start off in a band you feel like Slurms Mackenzie (the Futurama party slug),” he adds. “You can’t believe it’s your job to travel around the world and drink beer and make music with your friends. And then one morning you look around, and all your friends are getting married, and you think, ‘maybe all I really want is to grow old, and get a dog, and write horrible things about Brooklyn Beckham on Facebook, and go on cruises, and have petty disputes with my neighbours about whether the council recycles cardboard.’”
Euphoria is fleeting, and the grass always looks greener – so what do you do? How do you figure it all out? For starters, you do what Sports Team have done, and you start asking yourself what true happiness means for you. Maybe it is the dog, the house, yada yada. Maybe it’s a life on the road. I’m sure there are plenty of in-between examples as well that aren’t coming to mind right now. The point is, dreaming of what might make you happy is a great first step toward achieving your own little version of heaven on earth.
For me, happiness means living every day alongside the person I love – the person who can make lounging on the couch all day feel as satisfying as exploring a new city, or seeing a favorite band, or dining at a cool restaurant. And when I hear the lyric, “If it’s what you need, it works for me,” all I really hear is love: The kind of love that really does make every day worth living, no matter where you are in the world.
Taken off Sports Team’s upcoming third studio album Boys These Days (out May 23rd via Distiller Records / Bright Antenna), “Maybe When We’re 30” is a powerhouse of feeling – and perhaps I’m projecting here, but it’ll get you talking.
:: The Distance Between Dreams – Brandes ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
In his debut album The Distance Between Dreams, Brandes – an artistic alter ego of former Labour MP and acclaimed author Peter Bradley – ushers in a deeply reflective body of work that strikes with emotional rawness and an unwavering sense of history. At its core, the album feels like a reclamation of personal and collective memory. The name Brandes, borrowed from Bradley’s Jewish heritage lost during the Holocaust, is both a tribute and a vehicle for storytelling. The album’s stark, poignant lyrics are delivered with a sense of honesty and vulnerability that bridges past and present, exploring themes of love, loss, and identity through a unique blend of folk, indie-rock, and world music influences.
Opening with the heart-wrenching “Please Don’t Call,” the album immediately sets its introspective tone, capturing the painful disintegration of a relationship with a delicate balance of sparse instrumentation and powerful, confessional lyrics. From there, the journey expands, taking the listener through the aching autobiographical “Like A Dagger” to the politically-charged “From The Higher Ground,” which resonates like a modern-day protest anthem. Each track feels meticulously crafted, whether it’s the haunting folk melodies or the electric energy that creeps into the album’s more anthemic moments. What makes The Distance Between Dreams so compelling is Brandes’s ability to fuse personal narratives with larger, universal themes, creating an album that is both introspective and expansive.
The album’s standout moment is undoubtedly “Song for Mordecai,” an emotionally rich and cinematic track inspired by George Eliot’s “Daniel Deronda.” Featuring a fusion of Middle Eastern instruments like the oud and nafiri, the song reflects on Jewish identity and history while exploring timeless themes of spiritual awakening, resilience, and the struggle for freedom. It’s a strikingly ambitious piece that anchors the album’s thematic exploration of cultural memory, while also offering a sense of hope amid the weight of history. The Distance Between Dreams reflects on the human condition, delivered through the lens of personal history and artistic expression. Brandes has created something rare: a work that demands attention, resonates deeply, and lingers long after the music fades.
:: “Drowning the Killer” – Kindelan ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
Yorkshire singer/songwriter Kindelan has returned with a stunning burst of cinematic softness: “Drowning the Killer” owes as much to its rich, harmonic depth, as it does to the quieter spaces in-between. Built on a tender finger-picked acoustic guitar, the song – Kindelan’s first since 2023’s EP you can reach me if you try – tells a tale of intimacy and aching through lush, spellbinding, soul-stirring artistry. Kindelan’s voice feels like pure gold, and like that rare metal, it shines bold and bright no matter the situation – naked, or accompanied by a dramatic pool of harmonizing accompaniment.
“While the world sat quiet back in 2021, my good friend Liv and I sat on zoom writing songs,” Kindelan tells Atwood Magazine. “After listening to Adrian Lenker on repeat, I detuned my guitar so each string droned over one of their songs. I explored the new shapes and sounds within this unfamiliar tuning and found the ominous chord progression which then became the backdrop for our story that unfolded line by line.”
“We ended up writing a tale of two people, bound by their toxic connection, who are just as bad for one another – so bad, that they’re perfect for each other.”
While there is an undeniable aching, darkness, and bittersweet beauty at this song’s core, “Drowning the Killer” ultimately glows – driven by Kindelan’s own spectacular talent and inner light. She’ll send shivers down the spine, and yet even as she does, one can’t help but smile.
:: “Like an Angel” – Marsha Swanson ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
Marsha Swanson’s “Like an Angel” is a masterful blend of sound and vision accompanied by a music video that deepens its emotional gravity. Reimagined from her “Near Life Experience” album, the track has been reborn with a lush string section and live instrumentation that cradle Swanson’s haunting vocals in cinematic warmth. Her delivery is tender and introspective, carrying the weight of love, memory, and loss with graceful restraint. Directed by award-winning animator Sam Chegini, the video unfolds like a dream with its rich symbolism and ethereal imagery mirroring the song’s quiet exploration of grief, spiritual connection, and the lingering presence of those we’ve lost.
What makes “Like an Angel” so striking is its unspoken power with the way it lingers long after the final note fades. Chegini’s visual storytelling is both abstract and deeply human, blurring the line between fantasy and memory, while Swanson’s voice serves as a gentle guide through it all. Together, they’ve created a piece that feels timeless with a soft but soul-stirring meditation on the invisible threads that connect us. In a world full of noise, “Like an Angel” is a rare moment of stillness that speaks volumes.
:: “Poster Girl” – Tash Blake ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
Tash Blake’s “Poster Girl,” the title track from her striking new EP, is a razor-sharp commentary on fame wrapped in a dark, seductive pop package. Equal parts confessional and confrontational, the track peels back the glittering façade of celebrity to reveal the emotional cost lurking underneath. From the first beat, “Poster Girl” pulses with urgency – its synth-laced production and cinematic tension mirroring the chaos of a life constantly under the spotlight. Tash’s vocals are electric: sultry, commanding, and laced with just enough vulnerability to make every line hit harder.
But this isn’t just another pop track about the pressures of the industry – this is Tash Blake redefining what it means to be a modern pop provocateur. With “Poster Girl,” she challenges the listener to question the archetypes we’ve glamorized for decades. It’s a bold rejection of perfection, of people-pleasing, of playing the part. Instead, Tash leans into the messiness – the lust, the confusion, the fury – and turns it into an anthem for anyone who’s ever felt like they were performing a version of themselves for approval. Unapologetically raw and artistically fearless, “Poster Girl” doesn’t just introduce Tash Blake’s vision – it cements her as a voice to watch in the new era of pop rebellion.
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