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Persian American pop artist SHAB returns with a powerful statement in her new single and music video “Dance Til You’re Free.” Taken from her sophomore double album ONE SUITCASE , the track blends infectious EDM and pop influences with a deeper message of empowerment, freedom, and resilience. The video, premiering this Friday on YouTube, showcases striking choreography, dancers dressed in white to symbolize peace and purity, and a narrative that emphasizes individuality, women’s rights, and collective joy. Known for her electrifying performances across America and Europe, SHAB once again merges her artistry with activism, creating a release that is both a celebration of liberation and a call to embrace humanity without restriction. Dance Til You’re Free” is both a song and a visual statement. What inspired the concept behind the video? The concept for this video actually goes back to 2023, even before the song was fully finished. “Dance Til You’re Free” was one of the first songs I wrote where the title itself sparked the idea. Growing up in Tehran, my five sisters and I would often have impromptu dance parties at home. It was our way of finding joy and escaping the harsh reality of fundamentalist oppression and wartime trauma. Music and dance became essential outlets for maintaining our sanity and imagining a different world. That memory was so strong that I shared the video concept with my Creative Directors, Eli Sokhn and Richy Jackson, over a year before the song even existed. From the start, we wanted to show dance and music as a way to emotionally transcend oppression and negativity. In a way, the vision for the video existed before the sound of the song itself. You’ve been outspoken about women’s rights and human rights. How do those themes shape the music you create? I grew up in fundamentalist Iran, where misogyny and oppressive cultural norms were deeply ingrained. Even with my family trying to shield me, I couldn’t escape the messages that devalued women, independence, and femininity. Moving to the West required a complete shift in thinking. It took years to unlearn those restrictive beliefs and embrace freedom, equality, and self-expression. That journey now informs everything I create. I don’t engage in partisan politics, but I throw myself fully into the universal struggle for human rights, women’s empowerment, and personal liberty. The video’s choreography and symbolism are powerful. Can you walk us through your creative involvement in bringing that vision to life? From the beginning, we knew the video had to culminate with my dancers casting off their veils - a metaphor for shedding oppression and embracing independence. While the choreography evolved organically with our team, the symbolic ending was always the heart of the story. Initially, the video was going to be more overtly political, but for safety and broader accessibility, we kept it nuanced. The imagery still nods to my homeland, serving as a personal statement against the oppression of women everywhere, while keeping the focus on empowerment, freedom, and celebration. As someone who grew up as a refugee and built a life in the West, how does your personal journey influence songs like “Dance Til You’re Free”? My album ONE SUITCASE is a reflection of my journey—from fleeing fundamentalist persecution to fully embracing life in the West. Every track, including “Dance Til You’re Free,” is rooted in that transformation. It’s about resilience, freedom, and the joy of reclaiming your life after trauma. My experiences as a refugee shape not just the lyrics, but the emotion, energy, and spirit behind the music. ONE SUITCASE is a deeply personal album. How does this single fit into the larger story of the project? Every song on ONE SUITCASE comes from a personal story or reflection. “Dance Til You’re Free” expresses triumph over trauma and the journey toward personal fulfillment and liberation. At its core, it’s about life, liberty, and love—the essential things that drive me and, I hope, resonate with everyone who hears it.

Rock titans  Three Days Grace  are back with a gut-punch of a track. Their latest single, “Kill Me Fast,” dropped July 25 and immediately set the tone for their upcoming album  Alienation , due out August 22 via RCA Records. A masterclass in emotional release, the track captures the agony of being stuck in limbo; caught between hope and heartbreak, begging for closure no matter how brutal it is. Original frontman  Adam Gontier , now back in the mix alongside  Matt Walst , doesn’t hold back. “It’s about ripping the band-aid off,” he says. “That moment when silence hurts more than the truth.” From the opening riff to the last scream,  “Kill Me Fast”  leans into the kind of unfiltered, cathartic rock the band helped define in the 2000s. Following chart-toppers  “Apologies”  and  “Mayday” , and the heavy-hitting album opener  “Dominate” , this new single adds another layer of vulnerability to  Alienation . If early singles are any indication, the album promises a tightrope walk between sonic rage and raw, emotional clarity. And it’s not just nostalgia—Three Days Grace is still breaking records. They just joined Spotify’s “Billions Club” with  “I Hate Everything About You” , proving their staying power in a constantly shifting genre. With 20 #1s on the Mediabase Active Rock chart and 19 #1s on Billboard’s Mainstream Rock chart, they aren’t just survivors; they’re icons. The band just wrapped a sold-out Canadian run and has massive European dates lined up for winter. With  Alienation , Three Days Grace is proving once again: they’re not done. Not even close. "Kill Me Fast” hits deep. Was there a specific personal moment or experience that inspired the lyrics? Kill me fast is definitely one of the deepest tracks on the record. It’s about just ripping the Band-Aid so that you can move on. Personally, I think we have all been through this kind of loss in different relationships in our lives. I think the fans will relate. This song still gives me goosebumps. How has the dynamic shifted with both Adam and Matt on vocals for this record? The new dynamic is amazing! It was pretty organic. I remember at one point when we were writing at Barry‘s studio in Indiana… Adam and Matt were playing rock, paper, scissors to see who would sing. The great thing about Adam and Matt is that their character are very similar, but their voices are somewhat different. Adam has that sultry rasp, and Matt has the smooth raw power. It’s been pretty amazing to sit back and watch it all go down. Alienation balances heavy rock with vulnerable themes. Was that contrast intentional from the start? Alienation definitely has all the flavours of 3DG. That wasn’t really the intent when we started…It just happened naturally. I think having the five of us together writing in person …instead of online through a screen… really brought out all the emotions that make this record special. What does joining the Spotify “Billions Club” with “I Hate Everything About You” mean to you two decades later? It is pretty surreal. Never thought when we were jamming in a small town of 1300 people that we would ever reach the billions club lol. It’s hard to believe that some of those songs are now considered classic rock. We are so grateful and humbled by it all. You’ve had insane longevity. What keeps the fire burning this far into your career? I think it all comes down to having fun.  We still really enjoy being together and don’t take ourselves too seriously. We have a blast on tour and love playing on stage and writing music together. We are definitely a band of brothers. Time has gone by really fast, and I think it’s because we can still sit down at the end of the day and have a good laugh with each other.

Seán Griffin kicks off his debut solo project with "People Are Mad," a hilariously honest and oddly comforting Celtic rock anthem for anyone trying to survive today's collective chaos. Known for fronting Irish punk staples The Ruffians, Griffin brings years of grit, soul, and stagecraft into a solo track that is just as wise as it is weird . Built around a shuffling rhythm and a bouncing banjo melody, "People Are Mad" is immediately infectious. The lyrics lean into absurdity with sharp wit, turning a phrase we've all mumbled into a kind of rallying cry. From birth to grave, Griffin suggests, people have always been a bit off, and there's something liberating in that idea. Griffin's voice is warm and familiar, grounded in storytelling tradition but laced with punk edge. The song doesn't try to save the world. Instead, it gives listeners a moment to laugh at it. And that might be even better. The production, shaped by Grammy winner Kenny Siegel and mixed by Paul Kolderie (Radiohead, Pixies), brings a polished yet playful energy to the track, while mastering from Greg Calbi ensures every detail lands just right. The accompanying music video effectively conveys the message. It's whimsical, weird, and delightfully self-aware. Filmed in Griffin's hometown of Kingston, New York, the video features him wandering through a Victorian cemetery, dancing during protests, and navigating the chaos on a shopping cart. His daughter's final gesture, offering daisies to the audience, feels like a wink to the inevitable: we're all pushing up daisies eventually, so why not enjoy the ride? "People Are Mad" proves that Griffin still has plenty to say, and he's saying it in a way only he can. The song is clever, catchy, and just irreverent enough to stick. It's not just a standout opener, it's an anthem for our wonderfully unhinged times. What sparked the idea for “People Are Mad,” and did you always know it would be the lead single? The idea came out of a conversation with a bandmate. We were texting, and I was telling him about a song I had just written that day, and in the context of that conversation, I said, “People Are Mad.” He said, “What a great title for a song.” I wrote it later that day. It was a phrase I was prone to muttering to myself at that time. I wasn’t sure it would be the lead single until the album was done, and everyone involved gravitated toward it being the opener. How did your years with The Ruffians influence your approach to this solo project? I was used to collaborating with people, so that felt fairly familiar. It was just with new people, which was a leap of faith. It worked out really well in the end. I couldn’t be more excited about this record. I try to trust the people I work with. I have ideas, but ultimately, I have always found people often bring something special to the table when they can listen and react as they see fit, without interfering too much. This has been my experience thus far, and it has worked. The video is playful and surreal. How did the visual concept come together? My life feels playful and surreal at times, so that makes sense—haha. I was trying to tie in with the idea of birth till death, and getting a bunch of daisies and going to the cemetery just fit the bill. I liked the idea of protestors holding signs saying, “We’re doomed,” and the shopping cart—well, that was by the park that day, so it just seemed right. We shot it all in a day, and it was very fun figuring it out as we went along. What was it like collaborating with legends like Kenny Siegel, Paul Kolderie, and Greg Calbi? It was an absolute pleasure. I had waited to do a solo record for so long that it was amazing to get to work with people whose work I admired and loved. There is a reason they are all so successful. If people take away one message from this song, what do you hope it is? That people are mad—haha—and that we are all in it together

Some artists polish their music until it’s lifeless. Shayla the Artist does the opposite. She leans into the mess, the flaws, the parts of life that don’t look perfect on Instagram. Her upcoming LP, Burnt Toast  (dropping August 22), takes that raw honesty and cooks it into something bold, resilient, and surprisingly nourishing. This isn’t just another R&B record; it’s a survival guide dressed up in grooves. The title Burnt Toast  might sound like a kitchen mishap, but Shayla makes it a metaphor for life itself. When you mess up, when plans fall apart, relationships sour, or life just serves you bullshit, you can either throw it away or scrape off the burnt parts and keep eating. That philosophy runs through every track on the album. It’s not about perfection. It’s about resilience, transformation, and finding joy in what remains. Musically, Shayla blends her signature R&B core with hip-hop grit and 90s nostalgia. For the first time, she unveils her rap chops, sliding seamlessly between honey-smooth melodies and sharp-edged bars. The result is a record that feels like a diary and a declaration at the same time. Burnt Toast  isn’t afraid of complexity. It dives straight into it. Across 10 tracks, Shayla explores the multi-layered realities of womanhood: confidence, heartbreak, healing, community, and the quiet strength that comes from picking yourself up again and again. Tracks like “Power” and “GOAT” radiate self-assurance, reclaiming space for women who are too often told to shrink themselves. On the flip side, “Avoidant” and “No Good” tap into the vulnerability of messy relationships and self-doubt, because empowerment without honesty is just another mask. And then there’s “Woman” (feat. Sorin Vibee), a standout collaboration that puts women at the center of the story, emphasizing connection and solidarity over competition. Shayla doesn’t just tell her own story; she amplifies others, proving that her art is as much about community as it is about self-expression. Fans who’ve been following Shayla since Sensitivity to Light  and Night Ride Home  will notice the evolution immediately. Where her earlier projects experimented with sound and vision, complete with short films to expand the storytelling, Burnt Toast  feels like an arrival. It’s sharper, braver, and unapologetically experimental. The closing track even swerves into house music, a bold pivot that hints at future directions. It’s Shayla saying: Don’t box me in. She’s building her artistry on her own terms, genre walls be damned. What makes Burnt Toast  hit harder is that it isn’t just art; it’s advocacy. Beyond her music, Shayla is passionate about women’s health, especially the safety and well-being of Black women in healthcare. That perspective bleeds into her songs, reminding listeners that music can be both personal expression and a rallying cry. It’s not activism packaged for clout. It’s a lived experience turned into art. “I want listeners to feel inspired to scrape off the burnt parts of their own lives and find joy in what remains, knowing that they are not alone in their struggle.” That’s the heart of Burnt Toast . It doesn’t sugarcoat the struggle, but it refuses to let the struggle be the whole story. The album celebrates survival, transformation, and the messy, imperfect beauty of growth. With Burnt Toast , Shayla the Artist proves she’s not just making music, she’s making a statement. She’s unafraid to be messy, unafraid to be real, and unafraid to evolve in public. The record is equal parts diary, manifesto, and groove-laden therapy session. It’s confident without being cocky. Vulnerable without being weak. Nostalgic without being stuck in the past. And above all, it’s necessary. The title Burnt Toast is such a vivid metaphor. What’s the most “burnt toast” moment in your life that shaped this record, and how did you flip it into art instead of letting it break you? It has to be my experience with pregnancy loss.  I always envisioned myself as a mom, but I never anticipated the challenges I would face along the way.  That journey brought a whirlwind of emotions, heartbreak, confusion, and vulnerability.  As an artist, I often hesitate to share this part of my story.  I get caught up in my head, wondering if anyone really wants to hear about loss and grief.  It doesn’t feel “sexy” or glamorous; it’s raw and heavy.  But I’ve come to realize that there’s power in vulnerability.  Instead of letting this experience break me, I channeled that pain into my music. Writing became a way for me to process my feelings and connect with others who might be going through something similar.  I’ve learned that sharing these moments, no matter how difficult, can resonate deeply.  It’s not just about the highs; It’s about embracing the full spectrum of human experience.  Through my art, I have created a space for healing, both for myself and listeners. This album is your boldest yet. You’re singing, rapping, experimenting with house beats. Was there a moment in the studio when you realized, “Yeah, I’m not holding back anymore”? Yes!  It is my boldest yet! (Laugh) This album represents a turning point for me.  There were many moments in the studio when I thought, “I’m not holding back.”  I realized I didn’t want to play it safe or stick strictly to what people expect from me.  While R&B is at the core of who I am and what I love, I wanted to push those boundaries a bit. I experimented with singing and rapping, and it felt fresh and exciting.  It was important for me to stay true to my style while also going for it in a way that felt authentic.  I want my music to reflect growth and evolution, and this album embodies that.  I want listeners to feel the energy and passion behind each track, and maybe even find something new to connect with. You spotlight other women on this record, like Sorin Vibee on “Woman.” Why was collaboration with other female voices so important for this project, and what did those sessions feel like? Collaboration with other female voices was incredibly important for this project.  My experience creating with women is distinctly different, and I’ll be honest—it’s often challenging.  Women are layered emotionally, and we tend to pour our whole selves into our artistry.  I really push those I work with to dig deep, and I had to go back and forth a few times with Sorin Vibee on her verse for “Woman.”  I knew she was capable of so much more, and I wanted to bring that power out of her for this anthem.  She’s a phenomenal artist and poet, and I felt that intensity just waiting to be unleashed.  And she absolutely delivered! Then there’s my song “No Time” with Nomvula.  Oh my gosh! She sings with such passion, heart, and cultural richness.  When I first heard her part (which is in the Zulu language, Nomvula is from South Africa),  I cried.  You can feel every note and word in your chest.  Whether you understand the language or not, you can feel it!!  It’s a beautiful testament to how women can connect and uplift each other through music. This album isn’t just about showcasing my voice; it’s about celebrating the incredible power that comes when women come together in artistry. Special shoutout to all the other female artists who contributed to this project: Kai Crawford, Makeda Bullock-Floyd, and Arianne DeLeon, who provided fire background vocals, and Diana Chow for engineering some studio sessions. Your music has always carried layers of vulnerability, but on this album, it feels matched with even more confidence. How do you balance showing strength without hiding the cracks? I appreciate that observation!  Balancing strength and vulnerability is a delicate dance for me.  On this album, I aimed to embrace both sides of that spectrum.  I’ve always believed that true strength lies in being open about our cracks and imperfections, our burnt edges (laugh).  They’re part of what makes us human, and acknowledging them allows for deeper connections with listeners. This time around, I felt more confident in my voice and story.  I wanted to show that it’s okay to be strong while still being vulnerable.  It’s about owning those “cracks” and not letting them define me.  Instead, they become a part of my narrative, adding depth to my music.  I’ve learned that sharing my struggles can actually amplify my strength, and that balance creates a more authentic experience for everyone involved.  It’s a celebration of resilience, and I hope it resonates with listeners who may be navigating their own journeys. Beyond the music, you’ve been outspoken about advocating for Black women’s health. How do you see your artistry and activism fueling each other, and do you think R&B is ready for more artists to get real about issues like that? Advocating for Black women’s health is incredibly important to me, and I see my artistry and activism as deeply intertwined.  My music serves as a platform to bring awareness to these issues, and I believe that art can spark conversations and inspire change.  When I create, I’m not just expressing my personal experiences; I’m also amplifying the voices of those who may not have the same platform. R&B has always been about storytelling and emotional truth, and I think it’s absolutely ready for more artists to get real about important issues like health equity.  There’s a rich history of addressing social matters in music, and I feel a responsibility to continue that legacy.  By sharing my journey and advocating for awareness, I hope to inspire others to do the same.  It’s a bout breaking down the stigma and encouraging conversations that can lead to healing and empowerment for Black women.

Rock & Roll is supposed to be dangerous. Somewhere along the way, a lot of bands forgot that. But Los Angeles misfits André Miguel & The Moment are here to drag it back from the grave, tequila bottle in hand, with their debut album Profound/Profane . A Prayer for the Damned (and the Saved) The record is exactly what the title promises: a warped sermon on the sacred and the profane, honoring rock’s greatest ghosts while setting their icons on fire for fun. It’s a eulogy and a celebration, a contradiction wrapped in sweat and feedback. Imagine Sly & The Family Stone and The Cramps sharing a sticky dive-bar stage while James Brown screams down from heaven (or hell) to keep the energy up. That’s the vibe. Recorded in Glassell Park at Psychedelic Thriftstore Recordings with LA legend Joel Jerome, Profound/Profane isn’t polished, it’s alive. The lineup is stacked: drums from Li’Ane Newson, bass from Isabel Dobrev, lead guitar by Mikael Ravn, plus a rotating cast of LA players who clearly showed up ready to bleed. Vocals from Jackie Bonsignore and Natalie Luna twist around André Miguel’s unhinged delivery, creating this dangerous cocktail of harmony and raw nerve. Miguel himself calls it “a New Testament for American popular music,” and yeah, it’s theatrical as hell. The band isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel; they’re slapping chrome spinning rims on it, blasting it down Sunset Blvd, and running over anyone who gets in the way. It’s degenerate, it’s holy, it’s messy, and it’s fun. When asked what people should take away from this record, Miguel doesn’t talk about art or legacy. He says: “I hope people take away the money from their mother’s purse. I hope they take away cheap beer from their local supermarket. I hope they take away my virginity.” That’s the energy. No preaching, no posturing, just pure rock & roll blasphemy. Profound/Profane isn’t an album you politely nod along to, it’s one you shout with, sweat through, and stumble home after. It’s both a tribute and a middle finger to everything rock once was, and everything it still can be when a band isn’t afraid to get weird, loud, and a little sacrilegious.

Photo by: Kool Shooters Let’s face it, when you’re scrolling through TikTok, binge-watching YouTube vlogs, or catching a teaser for the next indie game, you’re hearing music that wasn’t just picked for vibes. It was picked to avoid a takedown. Welcome to the era where royalty-free music isn’t just a legal safety net, it’s the heartbeat of creator culture. Gone are the days when background music was an afterthought. Today, music is central to storytelling across every social platform. But as creators hustle to build content at warp speed, they need tracks that are legal, accessible, and ready to go. That’s where royalty-free and creator-licensed tracks come in, and why they're dominating everything from TikTok trends to cinematic trailers. From Viral Sounds to Brand-Safe Bangers If you’ve ever had a video muted or pulled down because of a copyright claim, you know the struggle. Major label tracks might get the clicks, but they’re risky, especially when your content is monetized or distributed across multiple platforms. Royalty-free music sidesteps the drama. No middlemen. No delayed claims. Just clean, licensed sound that creators can plug into anything, from 15-second TikToks to full-length documentaries. But it’s not just about safety. It’s about style. Platforms like Artlist, Epidemic Sound, and Musicbed aren’t cranking out elevator music. They’re curating legit tracks that feel current, emotional, cinematic, and vibe-heavy. The kind of songs that elevate  your content instead of just filling the silence. In fact, many of the royalty-free songs trending on TikTok  or Reels are made for  creators. Think moody trap beats for gaming edits, lo-fi cuts for cozy vlogs, or high-energy anthems for brand spots. The production quality is often indistinguishable from commercial releases—and that’s exactly the point. Meet the New Sync Stars: Creators In traditional media, music licensing, called “sync” in industry lingo, was mostly the domain of film studios and ad agencies. But now? Every creator with a phone is a potential sync artist. That shift has flipped the industry. Suddenly, a royalty-free track dropped by an independent artist can be heard by millions in a matter of days. And that exposure? It pays off. Artists on platforms like Artlist or Soundstripe often earn per download, placement, or stream—and many are racking up serious attention when their music goes viral in user-generated content. We’re in a moment where creators and musicians  are forming a symbiotic ecosystem. Creators need tracks. Musicians want reach. And royalty-free platforms are the bridge. From TikTok Edits to Netflix Trailers The line between creator content and “professional” production is blurring fast. It’s not just vloggers using royalty-free tracks anymore. Indie filmmakers, podcast producers, startup ad teams, and yes, even game developers are turning to curated libraries to soundtrack their work. Why? Because it’s fast, legal, and high-quality. A 30-second trailer needs a hooky score. A cinematic short film needs texture. A brand launch video needs emotional punch. Royalty-free platforms deliver all of that, often with search filters like mood, genre, tempo, and theme. Some even offer tools powered by AI that match music to your footage or narrative beats. What used to require a licensing agent and a hefty sync budget can now be done in 20 minutes and a few clicks. That’s game-changing for creators who are scaling content on tight timelines. H ow Do I Know It’s Really Safe? Great question. One of the most common creator concerns is how to ensure the stock music they use is copyright-free. Here’s the quick checklist: Use reputable platforms Stick with well-known licensing libraries like Artlist, Epidemic Sound, AudioJungle, or PremiumBeat. These platforms vet their catalogs and clearly outline usage rights. Read the license Seriously. Every platform offers different tiers—some for personal use, others for commercial content. Make sure the license covers your intended platform (YouTube, client projects, ads, etc.). Keep your receipts  Always download or screenshot your license agreements and proof of purchase. If a Content ID claim ever happens, you’ll want to appeal with documentation. Watch for “royalty-free” vs. “copyright free”  Despite how it sounds, royalty-free doesn’t mean the music has no copyright. It means you’ve paid (or subscribed) for the right to use it without ongoing royalties. Total “copyright-free” music usually falls into the public domain or Creative Commons. Platforms like Artlist make this simple by offering all-in-one licensing that’s global, perpetual, and covers everything from YouTube to film festivals. And yes, they also provide access to copyright free music , but always within the bounds of clearly defined licensing terms. Not Just Filler—Sound As Storytelling What makes royalty-free tracks so powerful in creator culture isn’t just legality. It’s how well they work . A perfect drop can hit like a punchline. A cinematic swell can make a $300 camera feel like a Hollywood rig. A lo-fi loop can set the entire mood of a “day in the life” edit. Creators aren’t using music just to fill space. They’re using it to drive emotion, build brand identity , and tell their stories. And royalty-free tracks—curated with creators in mind—make that not only possible, but seamless. You’re not compromising by skipping chart-toppers. You’re building your own sound. Final Thoughts We’re living in a content boom. TikTok edits, Reels, trailers, vlogs, pitch decks, every piece of digital media now needs music that enhances the story while staying on the right side of copyright. Royalty-free and creator-licensed music has gone from niche to necessary. It’s not just background noise, it’s the unsung hero of modern media. And in this fast-moving digital space, it’s clear: the soundtrack of the internet belongs to the creators who know how to use it smartly. So whether you're laying down a score for your next vlog, crafting a brand teaser, or cutting a cinematic montage, don't sleep on the power of the right royalty-free track. It might just be the thing that takes your content from “scroll past” to “send me that song.” Stay loud. Stay legal. And stay creative.

Something is haunting, delicate, and quietly powerful about RVE’s  debut EP Howlin’ . The Argentina-meets-Ireland duo has stepped fully into their sound with this project, blending pixie-like indie folk, melancholy alt pop textures, and emotional storytelling that does not rely on volume or theatrics to leave a mark. Instead, Howlin’  lingers in the air like smoke, drawing you in with its quiet intensity. Recorded and produced entirely at home, the EP feels deeply personal, like a diary cracked open by accident. Each song carries the weight of unspoken letters, layered with melancholic guitar lines, ambient percussion, understated synths, and the ethereal voice of Rae. Her vocals hover somewhere between reality and daydream, guiding listeners through a soundscape that feels both meditative and charged with emotion. The production, though subtle, adds a sense of intimacy that could only be achieved in a self-made space. The centerpiece of the EP is the title track “Wolves.”  Here, the duo captures the essence of the record: confronting the fears that howl in the silence and choosing to respond instead of retreat. They describe the track as “the moment we hear the wolves of fear and doubt start howling, and we choose to howl back instead of run.” It is an anthem for resilience whispered rather than shouted, and its strength lies in that restraint. Across the EP, Howlin’  carries a stillness that is never empty. Instead, it feels intentional, as though each song belongs to a ritual of emotional release. The shared tempo and atmosphere unify the record into a singular emotional experience. It is not the kind of music that fades quietly into the background. It demands presence. It asks you to feel, to process, and to sit with yourself. With its sad folk charm, indie eccentricities, and tender honesty, Howlin’  offers healing for anyone navigating grief, heartbreak, or anxiety. RVE proves that quiet art can still leave a loud impact. Their previous single “Fool”  already earned Spotify editorial placement and began building their fanbase across the UK and Ireland. Howlin’ confirms they are an act ready to resonate on a much larger scale. This is not just a debut. It is a statement of intent, whispered but unforgettable. "Howlin'" explores vulnerability, grief, and growth. What was the first song that unlocked the concept for the EP, and did you know right away what kind of story you were telling? I think it all  accidentally started with "wolves." That track cracked something open for us. We'd recorded it as a demo, but then Summer consumed us, and we forgot about it. Almost a year later, we opened up the session, and something just clicked—and I was so happy and loved everything about it, which is rare because I am SO critical about everything and sometimes cannot get past things for months, little bits no one would notice. I guess like most artists.  It came from a moment where I couldn't avoid what I was feeling anymore—stuff like guilt, fear, and self-doubt. Writing it felt like I was finally naming something that had been sitting inside me for a long time. After that, the rest of the project just started to unfold on its own. I didn't plan out a storyline or anything, but as each song came, this narrative of vulnerability, loss, and healing started to come through—and that's what ended up shaping the whole EP. The track "Wolves" is so powerful in how it addresses fear. What are your personal "wolves," and how do you push back when they start to howl? "Wolves" became a metaphor for fear — not just the fear that creeps in when things go quiet, but the kind that lives inside your patterns. For me, the "wolves" are the silly things I always seem to do in self-sabotage: the things I do even when I know they're hurting me, or the people around me. It's that feeling of being stuck in cycles I feel I know but can't seem to break. The internal voices — anxiety, guilt, the fear of not being enough — tend to get loud in those moments. I've learned not to fight them with force, but to face them with honesty and softness. Writing this song was a way of naming those parts of myself, of learning how to live with them without letting them take over. You produce and record everything at home — how does that DIY approach shape the intimacy of your sound? I feel  privileged and grateful that we can create music on our  own time and in our own space.  Being at home, comfortable in familiar surroundings, is a more intimate experience. I suppose it brings a softer feel and sound to the end product. That and I guess we're both a bit old school in taste. We love the rust, the crackle of an old record, ad lib things - those imperfect, unique moments in sound rather than a grand polish.  That said, it's not always easy. Being home can take effort to get into the right headspace. But when things happen organically, when we allow the process to unfold without force, it feels like magic.  There's a meditative, steady tempo across the whole EP. Was that a creative choice or something that just revealed itself naturally during the process?  That's such a cool observation! I love that. A few people have mentioned something similar, but no, it wasn't intentional. It happened naturally based on where my head was at when I wrote the songs. I was honestly going through a lot—struggling and doing a lot of emotional processing and exploring—so the songs all came from that space. The guitar was kind of my comfort and way of soothing myself, so they ended up being quite sad. Then I met Juani, and once the drums came in, everything shifted. They brought a whole new energy and gave the songs a different feel. A new chapter of exploring!  For listeners who are going through tough emotional seasons, what do you hope they walk away with after listening to this project? Oh wow, that's a big one!  I guess... I hope people feel connected when they hear it. I hope that they don't feel alone, and that it brings them a sense of comfort or an embrace when they are struggling. I hope they love it—and that it soothes them, the way it's soothed me somehow!

Cincinnati’s own Yung Mosh  isn't here to play nice; they’re here to blow the speakers out. Their latest single “Facetime”  is a full-throttle mix of trap swagger, metal fury, and arena-ready hooks that refuse to quit. It’s chaotic, cathartic, and dangerously fun—the kind of track that makes you want to kick down the walls and scream your lungs out. “Facetime” throws everything at you, razor-edged riffs, skull-rattling trap beats, and massive singalong choruses that hit like a freight train. It’s messy in all the best ways, proving Yung Mosh’s self-described “kitchen sink” approach works. Think $uicideboy$ meets Attila with a touch of Fire From the Gods, but even wilder. Lyrically, this is pure vengeance fuel. Vocalist Wesley Merritt (aka Yung Mosh) frames the song as a brutal goodbye to abusers, an anthem for taking your power back and serving up long-overdue payback. It’s raw, unapologetic, and dripping with vindication. Born out of the ashes of Merritt’s previous project The World I Knew, Yung Mosh has been carving out a lane of their own for the past five years. Their reputation? High-energy shows, genre-smashing unpredictability, and a total refusal to take themselves too seriously. They’re not here for the rules, they’re here for the mosh pit. If you like your music aggressive, unhinged, and just plain fun, “Facetime” is the anthem you didn’t know you needed. It’s proof that Yung Mosh isn’t just blending genres, they’re detonating them

Some songs are sugar-coated clichés about love. Meïa Santiago’s new single “ Love is a Rose ” isn’t one of them. Instead, the Spanish-born, NYC-based artist cuts straight to the bone of what love really feels like, messy, beautiful, fragile, and worth every damn thorn. Inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem The Gift, “Love is a Rose” dives into the paradox of passion and patience, how love can burn you alive one minute and cradle you the next. Santiago sings about the way time strips away illusions, yet never erases the urgency of connection. It’s not your typical “fairy-tale happily-ever-after.” It’s a grown-up take on love, laced with both tenderness and bite. This isn’t just a solo effort. Santiago brought in serious firepower for this track. Morris Hayes, yes, Prince’s legendary right-hand man, produced it, marking their third creative collab. Kip Blackshire (Prince’s background vocalist) added vocal depth, while Santiago’s brother Jordi I. Santiago layered in guitar lines that give the track its grounding pulse. Co-writer Clare Steffen and mixer/master engineer Ignacio Lecumberri also flexed their skills to make sure every note blooms to its fullest. What makes “Love is a Rose” stand out isn’t just Santiago’s smooth blend of pop, jazz, and soul; it’s the emotional honesty behind it. She doesn’t dodge the dark parts of love. Instead, she leans in, reminding us that even when love gets messy, it’s still worth holding onto. The chorus line, “the mystery unfolds,” perfectly sums it up: love is wild, unpredictable, and endlessly fascinating. If you’re tired of surface-level love songs, “Love is a Rose” will feel like a wake-up call. It’s lush, it’s layered, and it’s real. Santiago doesn’t just give you a track to hum along to; she hands you a reminder that love, with all its risks, is still the most human thing we’ve got.

Passing Phrase doesn't just play with sound. They bury it, warp it, and let it resurface covered in tape hiss and emotional weight. Their latest single, " Waterbound ," is a study in texture, a lo-fi soundscape that feels more like a memory than a song. The Los Angeles-based trio consists of Alex Opazo, D.W. Strickler, and OkKen. Two-thirds of the group come from the underground punk band Torched Eyes, and while this new project dials down the aggression, it still carries that same raw spirit. "Waterbound" strips away polish and leaves you with something bruised, intimate, and hypnotic. The track opens with a low hum, like a machine trying to come back to life. Soon, fragments of guitar start to creep in, fragile and barely formed. Percussion is subtle and off-kilter, drifting in and out like the tide. There is no clear hook or chorus. Instead, "Waterbound" lets itself breathe, pulling you slowly into its strange orbit. What makes Passing Phrase stand out is its use of real instruments and obsolete recording gear. The tape hiss is not an aesthetic filter. It's the sound of their process. You can hear the imperfections, the wobbles, the clicks. These aren't mistakes. They are part of the language. This isn't music for the background. It demands stillness and attention. The more you listen, the more you notice the way certain tones bend slightly out of tune, or how melodies vanish and reappear like ghost signals. It's meditative but uneasy. Beautiful, but frayed around the edges. "Waterbound" feels like finding a dusty cassette in an attic that somehow knows exactly how you feel. It's lo-fi, but full of depth. Quiet, but never passive. For fans of experimental noise, down-tempo meditations, or just the sound of something real, this track is a quiet triumph. What was the original spark behind "Waterbound," and how did it take shape creatively? Alex: I just wanted to make something dark and electronic that brought out a certain unhinged vibe.  Dylan: We originally discussed creating an atmospheric vibe. We also wanted to make the listening experience feel as if you're listening to an old Walkman.      Why do you choose to work with analog gear and obsolete equipment in an age of digital ease? Alex: I think for a lot of people, doing things digitally is easier, but for me, this was the easiest approach. I'm no master producer by any means.  Dylan: There is a unique sound with analog gear and obsolete equipment. It's these little imperfections and sounds that create an identity that is authentic and non-artificial. How do you view the relationship between imperfection and emotion in your music? Alex: I think for all music, the imperfections are what make it unique to the person making it. It comes through in ours.  Dylan: Imperfections in this track come from improvisation. For example, certain tape noise would come through on certain deliveries of vocal lines that helped create emphasis to the plea of the lyrics. This came from experimenting in the recording process.  How has your background in punk influenced your current experimental approach? Alex: Punk music definitely helped me with the idea of not caring what people think and making the kind of music I'd want to hear. F*** everyone else.  Dylan: In songwriting, it keeps things exciting and upbeat. It has allowed us to be more carefree of expectations.  What kind of headspace do you hope listeners enter when they hear Passing Phrase? Alex: It's simple music for simple people who are just trying to forget about life but also embrace its f***ed-upness. But honestly, I just hope they find happiness in it or discover some meaning that they can apply to their lives.  Dylan: I hope it takes them to a visual place that is dark with hints of hope. The lyrics contrast the dark tone of the track, but I hope more interpretations are found.