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 hard life, Jay Som, Flyana Boss, John Muirhead, Lydia Luce, Hana Eid, Joanna Sternberg, James Keegan, Caswell, Little Dog Star, llevan, Madison Margot, BRNDA, Lauren Alex Hooper, DAMNAGE, Cactus Moon, The Avenues, Haytor, Gina Zo, SexyTadhg, Flores Blue, Bon Boy, Benny Morrell, & Sally Shapiro!
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:: onion – hard life ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
In retrospect, perhaps the fact that the much-beloved British band easy life got sued by a bloodthirsty multinational corporation, was forced to change their name six years into their career, and eventually rebranded as “hard life,” might tell you something about the resulting music.
And in point of fact, it does: onion, Murray Matravers and co.’s first album under their new moniker, is achingly intimate and brilliantly introspective – born in those quiet, candid, and vulnerable moments of reflection and reckoning where we stop and take stock of who we are, where we’re at, and how the hell we got here.
It’s a thought I’m sure Matravers has asked himself plenty of times over the past few years, and maybe – if we take the onion metaphor a little too literally, but also to its logical conclusion – that explains all the layers, the lyrical peeling back of himself, the beautifully raw and real emotions he expresses unapologetically throughout these incredibly intimate and revealing fourteen tracks. (The record is actually named after onion studio in Shirokane, Tokyo, where much of it was written.)
“This is the album I always wanted to make,” Matravers shared with Atwood Magazine earlier this year. “It’s raw and honest in a way that I’ve never been before. I also think the production and sonics of the album are pushing new boundaries for me – it feels exciting! I’m obsessed with the record – all my friends are sick of hearing it.”
“I made it for me,” he continued. “The music is braver than ever, and I feel like I’ve made something unique; I haven’t been in this space for a very long time, so it feels good to be back in a place where I’m creating purely with the intention of getting something out of my system – it’s freeing.”
“It’s a hard life, I can’t lie, it’s been a rush,” he confesses in opening track “tears.” Cheeky, witty, heartfelt, a wry wink and a warm nod – classic and fresh all at once. And honest: The road to hard life was as turbulent and fraught as one might imagine, with a traumatic breakup with a long-term partner serving as much of Matravers’ lyrical inspiration. “I spent a fortune on psychiatry, if you’re gonna kill me do it quietly,” he sings in “OGRE.” “The body keeps the score, don’t go asking for support, and even if you dare it’s unavailable,” he reflects in album standout “tele9raph hill,” going on to lament, “Who knew love would make for a hard life” – as brutally self-aware as ever.
“We, as a band, have been through so much the past couple years – lots of which I can’t go into detail about for legal reasons,” Matravers continued in that same interview. “That said, I think as individuals we have all come out of it with a new perspective and a rekindled appreciation for the project. We no longer take anything for granted.”
“Welcome to the new sonic era of hard life. If people find solace in the lyrics then great, or if it’s just the background music for a house party or BBQ, also great.”
The easy life-hard life road was paved in pain, but out of that came a bold, breathtakingly beautiful record – and a softer, faithful follow-up to MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE… Honest, heartfelt, and human to its core, onion does quite a lot in a half hour’s time – it’s a raw reset, a quiet triumph, and an emotional purge all at once. Now that Murray Matravers and hard life are back in the saddle and firmly on their feet, there’s no stopping this band from riding full speed into whatever the future holds.
Whether or not onion ends up being a new beginning or a final word, it stands tall on its own as a fearless and formidable body of work.
:: “Float” – Jay Som ft. Jim Adkins ::
David Diame, Kalamazoo, MI
Jay Som (Melina Duterte), after six years, graces the ears of indie music listeners everywhere with plans to unveil her fourth album, Belong, later this year. While it’s tempting to write Jay Som’s inactivity off as a break, Melina Duterte has been using that time wisely, masterminding your favorite indie rock and indie pop releases of the last few years (including appearances on the I Saw The TV Glow OST and production/engineering credits on boygenius’s The Record, Lucy Dacus’s Forever Is a Feeling, illuminati hotties’s Power, and several others). With her development as a jack-of-all-trades musician and producer, it was only a matter of time before Duterte brought her new skills to her solo project as Jay Som, and our first taste of the results was “Float.”
Instantly, it feels like Jay Som had never stopped, in ways that are both familiar and pretty new for Duterte. Recalling the sounds of her youth, “Float” brings in her bedroom pop-like sounds like sampler-fed vocals and marries them with the pop-punk and third wave emo she heard blaring out of the radio stations while growing up outside of San Francisco. The result is a truly dynamic song, filled with explosive hooks followed by quick breakdowns while traversing feedback-laden passages. It demonstrates a true step forward for Jay Som, as Duterte pulls in her production experience to use all sorts of tricks that feel familiar yet unique when applied to the context of her perennially strong songwriting. “Wasted / I’ll give you one more chance to run / Let’s pretend I’m not scared,” she declares.
Fittingly, her pop-punk infused jam features the one and only Jim Adkins, himself a royal in alternative rock and pop-punk as the lead singer and guitarist of Jimmy Eat World. His harmony with Duterte completes the nostalgic core of the song, with his contributions undoubtably calling back to sounds from Clarity or Bleed American. With a stack of palm-muted guitars crashing loudly into the chorus, stacked countermelodies, and pounding punk drums, Duterte blends the abrasive with her hushed, personal voice, delivering a simple, extraordinarily important platitude: “Float, don’t fight.” Duterte wrote “Float” as a mantra of self-preservation, determined to acknowledge the unknown terrors of the world and deal with them by rallying up the past versions of herself to fall back on. And with Melina Duterte, her identities are very much in harmony – the acclaimed self-starting singer-songwriter, the ever-reliable producer, and the musical tinkerer just eager to share her art; they’re all here and accounted for on Jay Som’s new work.
:: “C*NT” – Flyana Boss ::
Brian Denney, Los Angeles, CA
Flyana Boss’s latest high-energy summer single “C*NT” is built for that walk – the one down the corridor past your boss’s desk, headphones in, chin up, serving just enough attitude to make the fluorescent office lights feel like runway spotlights. Following the viral success of 2023’s “You Wish,” the duo continues to deliver danceable, self-assured anthems – and their newest release, “C*NT,” hits that mark with precision.
When we asked Flyana Boss about the single they told us clearly, “It’s a song called ‘C*NT,’ and we wanted to say – you know, f*** serving c*nt, its time to be a c*nt. These b*tches don’t deserve your niceness! It’s an early 2000’s retro chic song with a nice beat. Think about Britney Spears, think about Nelly Furtado, think about Fergie Ferg, think about Kelis, think about the Pussy Cat Dolls.”
“C*NT” isn’t just a nod to early 2000s icons – it’s a reclamation, a rallying cry, and a reminder to take up space unapologetically. It’s Flyana Boss at their boldest, blending nostalgia with defiance in a track built to turn heads.
:: “Don’t Mind” – John Muirhead ::
Aileen Goos, Winnipeg, Manitoba
John Muirhead’s latest single “Don’t Mind” moves with the steady, chugging energy of a late-night drive with the weight of the past riding shotgun. The song leans into a strong, steady rhythm that keeps things moving with a subtle intensity, while Muirhead shifts gears between desperation and resignation. There’s a raw honesty in his delivery, especially when he sings, “Am I past my prime? / Did I cross state lines for you?” The emotional tension builds verse by verse, before kicking into a chorus that feels like a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
The hook – “So if you need me for one more night / I’ll supply the cheap wine” – is disarmingly simple, but it cuts deep. It’s about leaving the door open for someone who might never walk back through it, and learning to live with that kind of ache. Still, “Don’t Mind” never gives in to bitterness. It settles into the soft confusion of caring too much, where “I don’t mind at all” sounds like both a promise and a lie you’re telling yourself.
:: “Mammoth” – Lydia Luce ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
Lydia Luce’s “Mammoth” is a tender, windswept meditation on resilience – a dreamy indie folk hymn that climbs slowly, steadily, toward light. With close-miked vocals and hushed acoustic guitar plucks, it feels as intimate as a whispered prayer and as vast as the mountain that inspired it. “Felt my heartbeat in my fingertips,” she sings, and it lands like a shiver – a quiet, vulnerable moment of surrender that stays with you long after the song ends.
Written with Collin Pastore and Jake Finch, “Mammoth” was born from a memory – a strenuous hike up Mount Ritter in California over ten years ago – but it reverberates with the emotional weight of a larger journey: Luce’s healing from chronic pain and a long stretch of physical uncertainty. “I sweat it out on the first ascent,” she opens, “June lake passing to the left of us / Eyes down, better watch my step – I need to know how to trust myself.” The lyrics walk us through the climb and the metaphor it came to hold: recovery not as a straight path, but as a switchback-laced mountain – daunting, exhausting, and full of unexpected grace.
“‘Mammoth’ was written with Jake Finch and Collin Pastore, two incredible producers/songwriters,” Luce shares. “I loved writing this with them, we kept the guitar parts from the day we wrote it because they are so incredible! The music video was created with Jason Lee Denton and Aliegh Shields. We hiked over 30 miles on the Rocky Mountains with my husband Ryan assisting. It was an incredibly magical time in nature with buds. Grateful that we have this time capsule of a video to remember it.”
Produced with longtime collaborator Jordan Lehning, Mammoth (out October 31) marks Luce’s third full-length album and perhaps her most personal yet. Inspired by ambient textures and field recordings of the natural world, the record pulls us into a landscape of serenity and survival – one that honors pain without being defined by it. On “Mammoth,” you can hear the quiet: the pause between thoughts, the breath before the plunge. “When the water’s this cold, you gotta plunge right in / I close my eyes, you count down from 10.”
It’s a song about asking for help, about trusting someone – or something – to walk you through it. And in Luce’s hands, it becomes something restorative: A time capsule, yes, but also a lighthouse. A gentle reminder that peace isn’t passive – it’s something we earn, inch by inch, song by song.
:: “Bet” – Hana Eid ::
Nicolle Knapová, Czechia
Hana Eid’s newest single, “Bet,” is her first release since her 2024 EP I Exist Because You Say So, and it greets us with what Hana Eid fans have come to love about her sound. Eid’s raw and conversational voice is paired with almost country-rock vibes. She has said on her IG that “Bet” is about gambling, horse races, and putting your heart on the line – and somehow, it works. Written fully by her and produced by Josef Kuhn, “Bet” is the beginning of a new era for Hana Eid.
:: I’ve Got Me – Joanna Sternberg ::
Oliver Crook, Montreal
With its simplistic guitars, alluring piano, and deeply vulnerable lyrics, Joanna Sternberg’s I’ve Got Me is the gold standard for folk albums in the 2020s. This combo is beautiful and ever changing, creating a lush landscape for you to lay back in and truly get lost. What truly sets this album apart however, is Sternberg’s vocals: Nasally, intriguing and endlessly catchy, they are loaded with insecurities that match the lyrics content and themes. I’ve Got Me is an album that is endlessly relistenable, perfectly relatable, and one of the best of the decade so far.
:: “Feeling Grey (Teaching Our Teachers)” – James Keegan ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
James Keegan’s newest single, “Feeling Grey (Teaching Our Teachers),” is a striking introduction to his debut EP and an undeniable testament to his growth as both an artist and a storyteller. From the opening bars, the song pulses with a youthful urgency, blending shimmering indie-folk textures with a polished pop sensibility. The production, guided by the seasoned hand of Christian Best, is rich but restrained, allowing Keegan’s voice to shine with clarity and depth. His vocals move effortlessly between vulnerability and strength, wrapping around a central hook that’s as emotionally resonant as it is infectious. It’s the kind of track that invites repeat listens, each time revealing new lyrical nuances and subtle instrumental flourishes that speak to a mature, evolving artistry.
Offering an introspective reflection on the threshold between adolescence and adulthood, the storytelling captures the complex space with poignant imagery and refreshing honesty. The title “Feeling Grey (Teaching Our Teachers)” hints at the emotional ambiguity of growing up, where answers are elusive and roles begin to blur. Supported by members of Mick Flannery’s band, the instrumentation adds layers of warmth and melancholic beauty, underscoring the song’s themes of nostalgia and self-discovery. As the lead single for Teaching Our Teachers, it perfectly sets the tone for a debut project that promises emotional intelligence, sonic vibrancy, and a distinct voice in the folk-pop landscape.
:: “Final Call” – Caswell ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
Caswell’s latest single, “Final Call,” is a stunningly atmospheric offering that deepens her reputation as one of the UK’s most emotionally intelligent and sonically adventurous alt-pop artists. From the first few seconds, the track bathes the listener in a lush wash of synths and lo-fi textures, with a smoky, modulated bassline that grounds the ethereal elements in something tactile and pulsing. Her voice, both fragile and fearless, threads effortlessly through the dreamy soundscape, creating a feeling of weightless intimacy. There’s a cinematic elegance to the production, yet every note feels deeply personal. The subtle layering and restraint in the arrangement make space for Caswell’s vocals to shine with clarity and poise, elevating the track from a mere sonic experience to something meditative and soul-searching.
“Final Call” offers a fresh and unexpectedly comforting perspective on mortality, drawing from nature’s cycles to reframe death as a form of renewal rather than an end. It’s a quietly radical take, wrapped in sparkling pop sophistication, with Caswell’s signature introspective lyricism at the heart. Her curiosity about life, death, and the spaces in between plays out like a poetic whisper to the cosmos; gentle, curious, and wise beyond its genre. As a preview of her forthcoming debut album Break/Bleed/Bloom, this track reveals an artist confidently rooted in her own creative lane, one where alt-pop meets philosophy, and vulnerability is not just expressed but celebrated.
:: “It’s You” – Little Dog Star ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
Manchester-born, London-based indie artist Little Dog Star makes a dazzling entrance with her first single “It’s you,” a dreamy, glistening indie pop reverie dressed in alternative garb. Her voice is radiant, the guitars shimmer like city lights after rain, and the emotion – raw and unfiltered – pulses through every beat. It’s the kind of debut that stops you in your tracks, aches just a little, and still leaves you smiling by the final chorus. Equal parts charming and charged, “It’s you” is a love song, a homesick song, and a coming-of-age anthem wrapped into one.
Inspired by a moment of reflection and emotional recalibration, Little Dog Star (aka Isobel Steele) traces the challenges of starting over in a new city and the grounding power of love. “I first went into the studio with Manta Tatton and Jamie Stewart back in February,” she tells Atwood Magazine. “At the time I’d been listening to a lot of MOIO, Beabadoobee and The Japanese House and thinking a lot about my experience moving to London from Manchester and how hard it was at times. I often wondered how it was ever going to feel the way I wanted it to. Ultimately, the reason I pushed through that time, and remembered what I was here to do, was my girlfriend. Having something stable when everything else felt ever-changing was so necessary.”
“In the studio, the song came together in a few hours, and we had it basically finished by the end of the night. I wanted where I am from to shine through the music. It’s important to lean into what sets you apart rather than trying to blend in, sonically and lyrically. I remember playing it on loop for days after so when it came to finishing the song I tried to keep it as close to the original demo as possible, it had an energy that I didn’t want to lose.”
That energy lives in every second – from the soft swirl of the opening lines to the gut-punch refrain “Wait! wait! wait! wait! / Don’t leave me / Say you love me / ‘Cause I can’t be something without you.” It’s a song about holding on – to love, to purpose, to the reasons we stay when everything in us wants to run. You can hear the static of a phone call from a train platform, the tension of being torn between leaving and longing: “I called my mum / From a southeast station / Say I wanna be there / Told me take your time, dear.”
For anyone who’s left home, fallen hard, or simply needed something – or someone – to hold onto, “It’s you” hits where it hurts, then helps you through it. It’s the sound of a young artist finding her voice and letting it ring out, bright and bold and beautifully unafraid. Little Dog Star may be just beginning, but she’s already shining.
:: “Stuck on You” – Llevan, Dayvon, Nevi Outlyr ::
Ashley Littlefield, Southern California
Solo artist Llevan is a Long Beach and SoCal songwriter influenced by soundwaves, summer heat, and the ocean breeze, with his lived experiences shaping every beat he creates. His latest release, accompanied by a YouTube video for the single, “Stuck on You,” finds him collaborating with singer/songwriter and guitarist Dayvon, as well as R&B-inspired Nevi Outlyr, for a sun-drenched tune that sheds light on relationships. The video showcases his talent, aesthetic vision, and passion for summer charm and rhythm grooves.
The song welcomes listeners to feel the sand beneath their feet as Dayvon opens up the ska-reggae chord progression, setting the tone for an effortlessly cool ballad worth making a trip for. It’s a journey that takes you cruising down the California Interstate 405 for an ultimate relaxing experience, with a craving for an endless summer. Up next, Lleven, offers his vocal range to add texture to the tune’s organic chemistry. Changing lanes down the Pacific Coast Highway, Nevi Outlyr offers a change of vocal cadence with unique, creative vocals delivered in a rapped ballad. If you’re looking for a heated track with a taste of sunshine, search no further for an ultimate vibe that invites a light flare into the hearts and a golden state of mind. Kick up your feet and relax, and enjoy the sound waves!
:: “Fun” – Madison Margot ::
Chloe Robinson, California
After a breakup, it’s easy to find yourself dwelling on all the good recollections. The mistakes fade away, and all that remains is the beauty of what once was. Madison Margot’s indie pop song “Fun” captures the yearning to spend one last night with a former lover, revisiting the magic that was shared. Her music video perfectly depicts that romanticism with city lights at night and memories with an old flame.
Los Angeles native Margot is a pop singer-songwriter who weaves intimate, emotional narratives into sweeping, cinematic soundscapes. A fifth-generation Angeleno, she picked up the guitar and began writing songs at just eleven years old, using music as a way to process and share her life experiences. “Fun” is another heartfelt, highly relatable piece.
:: “Peach Pit” – BRNDA ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
BRNDA don’t ease you in – they throw you headfirst into the churn. “Peach Pit,” the lead single off the Washington, D.C. art punk outfit’s upcoming album Total Pain, is relentless: A fever dream of jagged guitars, roiling drums, hypnotic vocals, and raw, searing energy. It churns and churns and churns – until, suddenly, it erupts into a blistering solo that feels like the band’s final exhale. And then they do it all over again.
If Radiohead crashed a post-punk revival party and brought a new wave synth under their arm, it might sound something like this – angular, off-kilter, and deeply visceral. Leah Gage’s vocal delivery moves like a spotlight sweeping across a restless crowd, locking into lines like, “You want it…you have it…you hold it…you’re golden. You feel it…you fold it…unfold it…awoken,” and later, “You spend and you spend and pretend and pretend that they care that you’re reading August Wilson’s Fences,” with sly, sharp precision.
“What is the ‘Peach Pit?’ It’s filthy, old and not even real anymore, though some might remember it,” the band shares. “‘Peach Pit’ the song is old in two ways. Lyrically, it recalls experiences when just trying to fit in and exist was its own kind of pain. More specifically, it recalls days of youth, when it was easy to escape and erase pain. Musically, it is born from a years-old jam, given structure and meaning in the present. Sometimes, it can take time to discover what you have created and what you have destroyed, if you discover it at all.”
That sense of discovery – messy, self-aware, and a little sardonic – pulses through every moment of “Peach Pit.” Whether it’s the wild-eyed “boulevard of weak drips” or the dizzying chorus of biking, burning, nodding, dreaming, BRNDA hit the nerve and don’t let up. It’s absurdist, existential, and impossible to ignore.
As the opening track of Total Pain (out September 12 via Crafted Sounds), “Peach Pit” sets the tone for a record that revels in contradiction – one that’s playful and pained, clever and cathartic.
“We didn’t need to call the album Total Pain,” the band says. “We could have called it something like More Songs about World Building and Food. But when we thought about the songs and listened to them all together one after the other, we couldn’t help but detect a little bit of sadness, especially compared to [our last LP] Do You Like Salt? Like that album, where not every song is food-explicit, not every song on Total Pain is pained, or about pain. But pain infuses the album.”
BRNDA aren’t just here to entertain; they’re here to interrogate. And if their first swing is any indication, Total Pain is going to hit hard – and feel good doing it.
:: Too Much And Not Enough, Vol. 1 – Lauren Alex Hooper ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
Lauren Alex Hooper’s Too Much And Not Enough, Vol. 1 is a fearless, achingly intimate EP that cuts straight to the core of what it means to live as an autistic woman in a world that rarely stops to listen. With crystalline production and poetic, searingly honest lyricism, Hooper doesn’t just write songs, she builds emotional landscapes. Whether she’s unraveling the suffocating act of masking in “Armour” or tracing the dissonance of trying to connect in “Eye to Eye,” each track pulses with vulnerability and strength in equal measure. Her voice, both literally and figuratively, trembles with clarity, not demanding understanding, but inviting it, on her terms.
What makes this EP so vital isn’t just its sonic beauty, though the sweeping textures and alt-pop arrangements are undeniably compelling; it’s that it matters. “The Loneliest Whale” offers a poignant metaphor for neurodivergent isolation, but then flips it into something redemptive: community through shared truth. “Overexposed” shimmers with a bittersweet intensity, laying bare the overwhelming flood of sensory input, while “Last One Standing” is a quietly triumphant ode to identity and self-worth, delivered with the conviction of someone who’s fought to be seen. Too Much And Not Enough, Vol. 1 isn’t just an EP; it’s a landmark in representation, deeply personal, musically rich, and emotionally resonant.
:: “Wild In The Streets” – DAMNAGE ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
DAMNAGE’s cover of “Wild In The Streets” isn’t just a revival, it’s a declaration. Featuring the legendary Greg Hetson (Circle Jerks, Bad Religion), the track bridges generations of punk with remarkable authenticity and electrifying urgency. While the original holds a sacred place in the genre’s canon, DAMNAGE approach it with reverence and rebellion, delivering a version that feels both deeply rooted and fiercely current. From the moment the guitars kick in, it’s clear this isn’t about mimicry, it’s about channelling the spirit that made the song iconic in the first place.
The recording process itself, captured live in just a few hours at Hetson’s studio, adds a layer of raw magic that you can hear in every breath, every downstroke. There are no studio tricks here. What you hear is a band firing on all cylinders, face to face with their hero, sweating through the song they’ve closed shows with for years. That urgency translates directly to the listener. It’s not just high energy, it’s emotionally charged, built on real connection, shared history, and a desire to honour punk’s past while giving it fresh legs.
What makes this version so compelling is that it doesn’t just revisit a classic; it reframes it. There’s a sense of purpose behind every note, driven by the band’s own story: three seasoned musicians from wildly different backgrounds, bonded by a love for the music that shaped them. DAMNAGE don’t just play punk, they embody its contradictions: chaotic yet controlled, nostalgic yet forward-looking, raw yet precise. In reimagining “Wild In The Streets,” they’ve crafted more than a great cover. They’ve added a new chapter to their legacy.
:: “Anytime” – Cactus Moon ::
Josh Weiner, Washington DC
“Anytime” marks the official debut single for Cactus Moon, but they’re quick to establish that they’ve no neophytes when it comes to producing quality music. The opening guitar riff, provided by Freeman DeJongh, immediately impresses, as do the lush vocals of Chelsea Smith that arrive moments afterwards. The Boise, Idaho-based duo’s penmanship make a positive impression as well, with Smith singing meaningful and compassionate lyrics such as: “Anytime that the moon looks at you sideways, anytime you need me, I am running, running back to you.” As she explains, the duo’s inaugural artistic statement is meant to evoke “… running in circles for someone, and slowly losing your self-respect trying to meet all their demands…. The song takes place moments before you draw the line and finally decide to never go back again.”
Given that this is their first-ever single, it’ll be great for them to follow through with further showcases of their impressive individual music skills, as well as their collective creative chemistry as a duo. Luckily, we won’t have to wait long for them to deliver on that: their debut album, Day For Night, is due this coming August, and that’ll be worth “running, running” over to check out as well, no doubt!
:: “Insomniac” – The Avenues ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
The Avenues channel frustration, burnout, and longing into pure sonic fire on their new single “Insomniac” – an exhilarating, urgent, and anxious anthem of life’s wear and tear. Evoking bands like Arctic Monkeys, Pulp, and The Fratellis, the Hull-based post-punk band erupt with alt-rock laced fire and fury, unleashing a cathartic cataclysm of seductive, searing, sweltering sound. It’s infectious, unapologetic, and kinetically charged – a spellbinding display of youthful, vigorous, and hungry indie rock at its finest.
From the first line – “24-hour news plastered on the screen / and 24 opinions a second in my pocket” – the song barrels forward with a relentless energy, pushing against the weight of constant information, expectation, and despair. “All I ever asked for was a life I wanted to live / and to be happier than this / but with all this noise I can barely even sleep,” Tom Foston cries out, his voice burning with urgency. It’s a modern crisis anthem wrapped in a soaring, seething indie-punk package.
24-hour news plastered on the screen
And 24 opinions a second in my pocket
My boss’s smart watch is a doomsday clock
I think I’m calling in sick today, I know it
The proof is yet to be seen
Is the truth such a malleable thing?
They’ll never get their fingers clean
If we remember where they’ve been
“The track was inspired by a couple of things,” Foston shares. “Firstly, the weight of pressure I was feeling to constantly be active in fighting for what I believed in – it’s just not enough these days to simply agree with a viewpoint. The politics of the future seem so fragile, that as young people we need to put in the work to ensure things like the preservation of democracy are upheld. I also thought it was worth saying how difficult it is to manage all of this stuff, while simply trying to get by in an economic climate where we’re earning just enough to keep going for the next month or so, amidst a mental health crisis that demands time out from all the stress. Secondly, it was the blending of social media with news, and how this punctures the time we try & spend socialising – at least online – so you can never truly escape the despair of the modern world.”
So don’t turn off don’t let them get away with it
But I can’t go on like this
All I ever asked for was a life I wanted to live
And to be happier than this
But with all this noise I can barely even sleep
That tension surges through every second of “Insomniac,” a song that refuses to look away and dares to admit what so many of us feel: “Maybe I’m just pretending to be better than I really am / I don’t know because lately I can’t hear my own empathy.” Produced by Embrace’s Mickey Dale, the track blends searing post-punk guitars with massive indie rock choruses, offering catharsis without pretending to fix anything.
Active since 2019, The Avenues have always made music for the moment – songs about growing up too fast, feeling too much, and searching for something more – but “Insomniac” might be their most arresting release yet. It doesn’t offer answers, but it gives us something even rarer: Solidarity. And a damn good excuse to scream.
:: “Be Somebody” – Haytor ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
Haytor’s “Be Somebody” is a euphoric indie-rock anthem that crackles with energy, vulnerability, and a fearless desire to break free. From its ambient electronic intro to the explosive rush of guitars and punchy percussion, the track is a masterclass in dynamic build-up and emotional release. Frontman Austin Robison’s urgent vocals cut through the bright, hook-laden soundscape, delivering a raw yet uplifting message for anyone who’s ever felt lost in the noise of expectation. Channeling the glossy confidence of The 1975 with a distinctly personal edge, “Be Somebody” is as introspective as it is stadium-ready, equal parts confession and celebration. It’s the kind of track that demands to be screamed back in a sweaty crowd, capturing the chaos of figuring life out while dancing through the doubt.
:: “Dirty Habits” – Gina Zo ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
Philadelphia-born, LA-based singer/songwriter Gina Zo’s debut solo single “Dirty Habits” is the kind of song that makes your heart race and your lips curl into a smile at the same time – a dreamy, dramatic, and delicious dose of indie pop that’s as catchy as it is confessional. With sprightly synths, soulful vocals, and a chorus that swells like heat rising off asphalt, “Dirty Habits” is a sweltering seduction full of light and life, love and lust – and it’s absolutely enchanting.
Woke up in a sweat
Dreams are dripping wet
Haven’t met him yet
But I plan on it
A hero in my mind
Settled for what’s mine
Which is nothing at all
No man breaking down these walls
Produced by Grammy winners Justin Miller (Jazmine Sullivan, Zach Bryan) and Tim Sonnefeld (Usher), the track captures the tension between fantasy and reality, between the rush of infatuation and the ache of longing. “The phone rings / I let ‘em have it / I can’t breathe / It’s a dirty habit,” Gina sings, her voice climbing with urgency as the rhythm pulses beneath her. It’s a confession masked as a daydream, a fantasy spun from silk sheets and sleepless nights.
“Dirty Habits is all about the tension between your dreams and reality,” Zo shares. “Capturing the thrill of chasing after something that may never quite measure up — but doing it with a sexy smile and a beat you can’t resist. The music video combines the stereotypical pillow party male dream and my favorite night out activity: Dancing with the girls.”
Please don’t call
Don’t wake me up from this dream
It’s a true tear
A nightmare
Keep me fast asleep
Don’t you dare open up my eyes
Let me feed my mind
I don’t want to see the light
That blend of empowerment and vulnerability is Gina Zo’s calling card. A former The Voice contestant and rock band Velvet Rouge’s frontwoman, Zo steps into the spotlight on her own terms here – boldly bisexual, unapologetically feminine, and fiercely in control. Her lyrics walk the line between sultry and sweet, with a wink that says she knows exactly what she’s doing. “I’ve made up my mind / A true love’s golden stitch / Pucker up your lips / Cause I’m worth the risk.”
It’s the tension between desire and delusion that makes “Dirty Habits” so captivating – a fantasy you don’t want to wake up from, even when you know it’s not real. Zo leans into the contradiction, blurring the lines between dreaming and denial, between control and craving. The chorus becomes her release valve – a place where all that emotion spills over in a swirl of breathless, compulsive confession:
The phone rings, I let ’em have it
I can’t breathe, it’s a dirty habit
My hands shake ‘cause I wish I had it
The one now, the one now
The phone rings, I let ’em have it
The bed creaks, it’s a dirty habit
My brain bleeds ‘cause I wish I had it
The one now, the one now
“Dirty Habits” may be the dream girl’s summer anthem, but it’s also a declaration – of pleasure, of power, of presence. It’s Gina Zo breaking free, stepping out, and spinning her own seductive kind of spell. And once you’re under it, good luck getting out.
:: “My Parade” – SexyTadhg ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
SexyTadhg’s “My Parade” bursts forth as a euphoric declaration of queer joy, rage, and resilience, an electrifying anthem that feels both intensely personal and universally galvanizing. Fusing pounding disco-rock production with anthemic hooks and razor-sharp lyricism, the track radiates defiance and freedom in equal measure, urging listeners to march boldly in their truth. It’s a love letter to queer Ireland, a shout of solidarity, and a fearless challenge to the status quo, all delivered with SexyTadhg’s signature theatrical flair and unmatched vocal conviction.
:: “Trampolining” – Flores Blue ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
Flores Blue’s “Trampolining” hits like a memory you didn’t realize you’d been carrying – raw, nostalgic, and devastatingly tender. Her voice barely rises above a whisper, but it carries so much weight: That of growing up, drifting apart, and holding on to a version of yourself that no longer fits. It’s the sound of late summer evenings and lost friendships, a gentle giant of hard feeling – fragile, delicate, and enchantingly expressive.
We were trampolining,
the wood chip doesn’t jump far from the trunk
Your father was always so tough
You didn’t mean it,
I knew I couldn’t beat you to the punch
Now I’m punch drunk and out of luck
We sat across from the park
Just a tree and a house was enough
There’s something instantly reminiscent of early Phoebe Bridgers in “Trampolining,” in the way it aches inside and out with the raw intimacy of a soul on fire. “What if I am growing up not knowing what I want or what I was?” Emma Sampson (aka Flores Blue) asks, and it’s a question that echoes long after the track fades out. Taken off her sophomore EP Treehouse, the song moves like a dream – soft and swaying, full of suspended chords and unsaid things – yet its emotional gravity is unmissable.
What if I am growing up
not knowing what I want
or what I was
Friendly fires turn to blame
now it won’t be the same,
never again
“Treehouse epitomises my experience of growing up as a working-class female in a small town,” Sampson shares. “There wasn’t much to do, so building friendships and using our imaginations was the best way to pass time. Treehouse is about these people and the impact they had on me. In the final track, ‘Words,’ there is an audible degree of rage which I felt a lot – especially as a teenager. I often felt as though I didn’t have a voice, and now with my music, I try to use it and express the things that I couldn’t before.”
With lyrics like “Friendly fires turn to blame / Now it won’t be the same, never again,” “Trampolining” captures a precise kind of growing pain: The quiet devastation of watching something innocent shift irreversibly, of seeing the cracks in the memories you once romanticized. It’s wistful without being naive, wise without being jaded – a song that breathes deeply and exhales truth.
“Trampolining” showcases Flores Blue’s arresting talent for world-building through whispered vulnerability and vivid lyricism. Like a faded photo tucked between pages of an old notebook, it lingers – a bittersweet portrait of youth, loss, and everything that still stings.
:: “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” – Bon Boy ::
Danielle Holian, Galway, Ireland
Bon Boy crashes through the gate with a blistering, booze-fueled reinterpretation of Bob Seger’s “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” that’s equal parts tribute and total reinvention. Far from a straightforward cover, the track stomps with garage-punk ferocity and vintage rock swagger. It’s a sonic shot of adrenaline that feels born in a smoky dive bar, mixed in a busted van, and unleashed with the unapologetic confidence of someone who’s danced on more than one sticky barroom floor.
Accompanied by a lawless, guerrilla-shot music video filmed across Los Angeles, reportedly fueled entirely by Coors Light and zero permits, Bon Boy proves that chaos and charisma still have a place in rock ‘n’ roll. With desert grit, punk spirit, and a full-throttle attitude, this version of “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” doesn’t just revisit a classic; it sets it on fire and hands you the extinguisher with a smirk. In a music landscape full of polish, Bon Boy reminds us that sometimes, the mess is where the magic lives.
:: “Better Off Alone” – Benny Morrell ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
Benny Morrell wears his heart on his sleeve in “Better Off Alone,” an expressive anthem full of a heavy heart’s raw ache. It’s charming, churning, enchanting, and brutally honest – the musical manifestation of an emotional upheaval we’ve all felt at some point in time. The Melbourne artist channels devastation into beauty through a magnificent vocal performance that sits front and center in the song’s cinematic, reverb-drenched mix. Produced by Harry Charles (King Princess, Tate McRae, dv4d), the track balances grandeur and intimacy, wrapping Benny’s inner dialogue in lush alt-pop textures that swell and shimmer like a rising tide.
I took a swig of my pride, or what′s left of it
‘Cause I don′t have much fight left in me
You say you hate how I jug my defensiveness
And each time I’m here losin’ my feet
I paid the prize for all my own mixed messages
The door slams each time you leave
I tried to talk, but my words won′t make sense of it
I′m so sick of causin’ you grief
“There ain’t no comfort in this silence, baby / Just tryna tell you what I’m hidin’ lately,” he sings, his voice breaking through the stillness with quiet desperation. Every line feels like it’s been lived. From the haunting piano lines to the turbulent synthscape, the track aches with longing for connection and relief – a moment of catharsis carved from self-doubt and vulnerability.
There ain′t no comfort in this silence, baby
Just tryna tell you what I’m hidin′ lately
Head full of sirens, oh, it drives me crazy
What will it take for you to kill the noise?
Oh, can you hear through the walls
that I’ve built ′round my soul
‘Cause I can’t let them go?
Just let me know
If I′m better off alone
“‘Better Off Alone’ explores the challenge of overcoming one’s own obstacles,” Morrell shares. “It delves into the internal struggles that many introverts face, especially during moments when they feel silenced. The track also highlights the desire to hold onto someone who can alleviate mental strain, quiet the turmoil, and ease life’s challenges. It raises the poignant question of what it truly takes to open up without any barriers to stop yourself from self-destruction or implosion along the way.”
That tension builds throughout the song, peaking in a chorus that doesn’t so much explode as it unravels: “Oh, can you hear through the walls that I’ve built ‘round my soul / ’Cause I can’t let them go / Just let me know if I’m better off alone.” It’s not just a cry for help – it’s a confrontation of everything we try to hide, a confession spoken out loud when the silence becomes too loud to bear.
As the lead single off his forthcoming EP All That’s Left, “Better Off Alone” marks a bold new chapter for Benny Morrell – one rooted in storytelling, vulnerability, and emotional precision. With over 70 million global streams to date and an evolving sound that blends alt-pop polish with singer/songwriter soul, Morrell continues to carve out a space that feels both personal and profound. If this track is any indication, All That’s Left won’t just be an album – it’ll be a beautiful reckoning.
:: “The Other Days” – Sally Shapiro ::
Mitch Mosk, Beacon, New York
As intense as it is irresistible, Sally Shapiro’s “The Other Days” is a dynamic and intoxicating synth-pop gem with a sweaty, seductive beat that would make Robyn do a double take. Co-mixed with Johnny Jewel and opening the duo’s album Ready to Live a Lie, the song hits like a late-night whisper in a crowded room – drenched in nostalgia, longing, and the kind of melancholy you can dance to.
oh yes, of course i know that this is nothing more
i know you said it all so many times before
maybe i felt a change coming closer and asked you
i know i should keep my feelings inside and not tell you
but all the other days
so bitterweet when i lied to you
and think about the other days
i made-believe and i smiled at you
i’m complaining no longer
because it makes me feel stronger
in a way, it makes it easy to handle
The Swedish Italo disco/synthpop duo – comprised of producer Johan Agebjörn and an anonymous vocalist who performs under the ‘Sally Shapiro’ moniker – have long excelled at turning heartbreak into a slow-motion dream. Here, they sound more wounded and wistful than ever. “All the other days / So bittersweet when I lied to you / I made-believe and I smiled at you,” Shapiro sings, her voice soft and aching over glistening synths and pulsing percussion. It’s a breakup song dressed as a memory, shimmering in regret and rose-colored romance.
you said you always will be
just right here for me
now all i feel is
hopelessness and jealousy
she said how far would you go,
you said i would never date her
i saw you wrote her a note,
a few lines on a paper
“Johnny Jewel said he thought there was something nostalgic about the track,” Agebjörn shares. “He sent me a bunch of home video material from the 1960s and said, ‘Try cutting some of this together,’ which I did. Then he did some minor editing and post-processing and added typography etc. Somehow we thought the video material suited the nostalgic/sentimental feel of the song.”
That vintage visual pairing only deepens the emotional gravity of “The Other Days,” which feels like a postcard from the past you were never meant to read. It’s a love letter with tear stains and a smudge of glitter, soft to the touch but sharp at the edges. As the duo prepares to release Ready To Live A Lie – their darkest album yet – “The Other Days” stands as both a thesis and an invitation: to revisit the past, to relive what hurt, and to find the beauty in what once was.
but all the other days
so bitterweet when i lied to you
and think about the other days
i made-believe and i smiled at you
i’m complaining no longer
because it makes me feel stronger
in a way, it makes it easy to handle
and now i’m crying no longer
as they say,
what doesn’t kill makes you stronger
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