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Shoegaze has always been about finding beauty in distortion, and Tropigloom leans into that tension with unflinching honesty. The Canadian indie project, created by musician Andrew Roy, delivers “ Disappear, ” a track that drifts between dreamy haze and gut-punch reality. At its core, “Disappear” is about masking pain with substances and the brutal clarity that follows when the high fades. It’s the sound of running from yourself, only to realize the spiral has already gone too far. Tropigloom captures that duality, escape and regret, numbness and fear, through a sonic palette of washed-out guitars, pulsing bass, and vocals that echo like ghosts in the room. It’s dark, cinematic, and uncomfortably human. The project itself is rooted in Roy’s own near-death experience, and the entire EP reflects on survival in reverse, looking at life’s fragility through shoegaze, dream pop, and post-punk textures. Fans of The Cure, Slowdive, and My Bloody Valentine will feel right at home, but Tropigloom doesn’t just recycle sounds from the past. This music feels alive, cracked open, and bleeding into the present. Andrew Roy is no stranger to stages or studios. As a session musician, he’s played in a slew of Toronto projects and toured as guitarist for Hannah Georgas during her For Evelyn release, alongside work with Etiquette, Off The International Radar, Praises, and Beliefs. But Tropigloom is where his voice lands unfiltered, a project that doesn’t shy away from the messy, haunting parts of human resilience. For Roy, the takeaway is simple: “We all have situations in our life that can really overwhelm us. Sometimes it’s easier to handle them when you know there’s someone else who has been through it too. You aren’t alone. Human resilience can be very powerful—you’re often stronger than you think.” With “Disappear” and the forthcoming EP, Tropigloom isn’t offering easy answers. Instead, it’s offering solidarity in the dark, a reminder that even in the noise and distortion, you’re not alone. “Disappear” wrestles with the cycle of masking pain and facing regret. When you were writing this track, was there a specific moment or experience that pushed you to put those feelings into words? I had a near-death experience at the end of 2023. I was on life support and in a coma for 2 weeks. I spent about 3 months overall in the hospital. The whole experience pulled me out of all the negative cycles that I had created for myself, allowing me to objectively reflect on them. Something that I struggled with prior to this experience. My outlet from a young age for expressing myself has always been through music, so I saw an opportunity to fully let go of things from the past by capturing them in the form of a song and releasing them. The EP Everything Now But In Reverse was born out of a near-death experience. How did that event shape not only the themes of this record but also the way you approach life and music now? It’s allowed me to reflect on things from the past without all the emotional baggage that used to be attached. It’s been like pressing the reset button on my life. I’m not immune to things affecting me now, but I do feel like there’s enough distance there that I can decide whether I want something to affect me or not. It’s been very freeing, and since it has been such a profound experience for me, I would like to try to create music that honors what I went through. Your sound blends shoegaze, post-punk, and dream pop, yet it feels distinctly modern. How do you walk the line between honoring influences like The Cure and Slowdive while carving out your own space? A big part of the creative process for me is when I listen to an artist's music, I think about what it is that I like about their sound in particular. I find the majority of the sounds that I enjoy come from bands like the ones mentioned, but there will also be random influences in there that maybe aren’t considered part of that genre. For me, it’s more about creating a sonic collage of sounds that I really like and that I feel match the emotional tone that I am going for. Whether it be a direct influence from the bands I like, or from a modern song that maybe doesn’t necessarily appeal to me as a whole, but has a certain element that I do like. I think it can be really beneficial to be open to all genres of music for this very reason. As a longtime session musician and touring guitarist, you’ve lived inside other artists’ visions. What’s been the biggest shift stepping into Tropigloom, where the stories and vulnerabilities are entirely your own? I think you said it right there. The stories and vulnerabilities are my own now. It’s up to me to figure out how to best bring them to life. Creating music instrumentally has always come naturally to me, but singing and telling a story, not so much. It’s still a work in progress, but I think the way I’m writing and the subjects that I’m singing about work well with a less refined voice. It’s honest. You’ve said this project is about reminding people they’re not alone in their struggles. What do you hope a listener going through their darkest night feels after pressing play on “Disappear”? Everyone has their own unique situations that they are going through. I think knowing that someone else has gone through something similar and is either still working through it or has made it past it can be very reassuring.

In a world obsessed with overnight clout, Domi Dow Jones is busy building a legacy. The Fredericksburg, Virginia native, born Deon White, has been grinding in the DMV scene for years, refining his voice as both an introspective storyteller and a sharp lyricist. Now, teamed with producer Black Ceasar, he’s dropped Growing Pains 2 , the second chapter in a trilogy that’s less about flexing and more about healing. Where the first Growing Pains laid the foundation, reflecting on trauma, ego, and identity, this sequel digs deeper into transformation. It’s raw, cinematic, and unfiltered, a self-help book disguised as a hip-hop/R&B record. Across 13 tracks, Domi wrestles with everything from generational wounds and fractured relationships to the chaos of hustle culture and the silence of self-discovery. Caesar’s production blurs boom bap grit, soulful textures, and modern edges, creating a sonic backdrop that feels equal parts confessional and victorious. The result isn’t just an album. It’s a guide for the messy middle of growth, the nights you question your purpose, the mornings after hard decisions, the in-between moments when survival itself feels like art. As Domi puts it: “Growing Pains is the soundtrack to the struggle we don’t post. It’s about what it costs to level up.” The visuals push the project even further. High-fashion champagne toasts in “Picking Cotton” meet the cinematic storytelling of “Sojourner Truth,” with direction from Rakim Jamir and New Heiiightz Media turning Growing Pains 2 into a full visual experience. It’s no surprise the project is making noise beyond the DMV. Recently featured on Cut Different TV, Domi Dow Jones and Black Ceasar are carving out space in New York’s scene while keeping their roots intact. Their sound channels legends like Nas, Kendrick, and J. Cole, but never imitates them. The duo’s authenticity is the point. At its core, Growing Pains 2 is for anyone who’s ever felt the weight of ambition and the ache of becoming. It doesn’t hand out easy answers; it hands you honesty. It’s therapy with a beat, gospel with a groove. And it cements Domi Dow Jones not just as an artist, but as a voice built to last. “Growing Pains 2” feels like a self-help manual in disguise. What was the hardest truth you had to face about yourself while creating this project, and did putting it into music change how you see it? The fear of being misunderstood as an artist is always the biggest challenge when creating. I had to overcome the fear of being myself and the shame of my journey. I approached every studio session on "Growing Pains 2" as a therapy session and found freedom in sharing my journey in a creative way. The therapeutic approach to the songwriting and recording process allowed me to make light of those hard truths through beats and rhymes, which always fulfill me. Your lyrics balance raw vulnerability with sharp confidence. How do you know when to let the pain speak versus when to let the bravado lead? The pain is always speaking, even in bravado; the key is to channel the pain into bravado. The greatest artists, athletes, and historical figures in general all experienced pain and channeled their pain into their craft and their purpose. You and Black Ceasar clearly have a unique chemistry. What’s the biggest creative clash you’ve had in the studio, and how did it shape the final sound of the album? Cease and I are both visionaries, so creative differences are inevitable; however, we've learned how to work with each other through role assignments. Our biggest clash was with the first Growing Pains album over what should make the album and what shouldn't. On "Growing Pains 2," we thoroughly communicated our intentions behind the songs and respected each other's vision to find common ground. Our vision was much more aligned sonically, creating "Growing Pains 2". We also trusted each other's expertise in our individual assignments more. The visuals for this project feel cinematic, almost like chapters in a film. When you’re writing, are you thinking in images and scenes, or do those visuals come later? When creating a project like "Growing Pains 2", visuals are never the focal point. Even when lots of visuals are anticipated, creating a project with this level of intimacy, it's best to let the songs be as genuine as possible and let the visuals be formulated around the music. “Growing Pains is the soundtrack to the struggle we don’t post.” What’s one struggle you’ve chosen not to share publicly until now, and how does it live inside this album? I've never publicly spoken about my experiences being incarcerated and how that period fueled the creation of this album. While I was in litigation, I was unable to post content, which ultimately hindered my career. I summed up those experiences and emotions during that period into this album.

Tennyson King has never been afraid to blur lines between genres, between worlds, between who he was told to be and who he’s becoming. His latest single, “ Most of My Days ,” is more than just folk with a twist. It’s a reckoning. A confession. A quiet roar from an artist finding his voice in a world that too often asks us to stay silent. The track opens with delicate Chinese strings woven through acoustic guitar, setting the tone for what feels like both a homecoming and a confrontation. It’s beautiful, haunting, and intentional. You can feel King peeling back the layers of identity, expectation, and fear, one chord at a time. His voice carries the weight of that journey: calm, aching, but grounded in truth. “Most of My Days” was born from watching the world burn, environmental collapse, social injustice, and the disconnection that comes with it all. Instead of turning away, King faced it head-on, channeling that heaviness into something human. The result is a song that doesn’t preach but pierces. It’s about the moments when speaking up feels impossible, yet staying silent feels worse. King doesn’t just acknowledge his heritage here; he embodies it. The Zhongruan strings don’t feel like a gimmick or a nod; they feel like blood memory. Each note pulses with reclamation, blending seamlessly with modern folk production that could sit comfortably next to Bon Iver or Ben Howard on a playlist. The production is stripped yet cinematic. The guitars hum like open space, the percussion breathes rather than pounds, and the ambient textures leave room for emotion to linger. You can tell this isn’t just music to Tennyson King, it’s medicine. “Most of My Days” feels like what happens when an artist stops performing and starts revealing. It’s vulnerable, rooted, and quietly rebellious, a reminder that sometimes, the softest voices carry the loudest truths. What inspired you to combine traditional Chinese instruments with Western folk elements on this track? This fusion has been something I’ve been dreaming of for a while now. I’ve been on a journey to reconnect with my Chinese heritage over the past years, and getting in touch with traditional Chinese music has been such a meaningful way for me to connect. I started learning a traditional instrument called the Zhongruan, which is a four-string lute-type instrument, about four years ago. Learning to play traditional music and writing folk songs with this instrument led to so many beautiful songs and ideas. I connected with more traditional Chinese musicians in Canada and Asia, performing and writing with them, which really inspired me to record with them. “Most of My Days” deals with speaking up about global injustices. Was there a specific moment that pushed you to write it? The genocide happening in Gaza and against the Palestinian people was a global injustice that sparked the urge for me to write this song. I was feeling powerless and felt like I couldn’t speak up. Reflecting on this feeling, it made me realize that oftentimes in my life, I give in to living in fear. Like the fear of feeling afraid to speak my truths when I was growing up, especially about my culture and who I was. How has reconnecting with your Chinese heritage shaped your new music? The reconnection with my heritage is one of the main reasons I’ve been writing with traditional Chinese instruments. It’s sparked new writing inspirations both sonically and lyrically. It’s allowed me to be proud of who I am and my heritage, and my new music is my way of sharing my culture with everyone. It’s been truly freeing creatively and healing for my own personal growth as a human to be able to express my cultural connection through music. The song has such a haunting, meditative quality. What was your creative process in capturing that energy? I brought this song to my producer, Dan Hosh, and we knew lyrically it had a positive message, but it talks about being in dark places. We wanted to represent that musically with dark tones yet have a lifting, calming quality about it as well. The arrangements of the Dizi (Chinese flute) and the Erhu (Chinese violin) really set the tone of that haunting sound throughout the verses. Long drawn notes with some dissonance. Then, in the chorus, the Guzheng (zither instrument) adds a beautiful, uplifting vibe of strings to the song. I think, naturally, traditional Chinese instruments can have quite a meditative quality to them, which is why they work so well with this song. What message do you hope listeners take away from “Most of My Days” and your upcoming album? I hope that people feel inspired to be confident in who they are and be unafraid to speak their truths without fear of judgment. I want people to embrace their cultures and heritage and be able to share that proudly with others. I also hope that listeners enjoy the culture that I am sharing, and it piques their interest in them to learn more about Chinese music and culture.

NYC’s own Lorena Mercedes  is back, and she’s not playing nice. Her new single “ Pieces ” is pure heat, a Pop-R&B confession that flips heartbreak into desire and pain into power. It’s that late-night, lights-down-low kind of track that makes you remember what self-worth feels like. Recorded at the iconic Quad Studios (yeah, that Quad, Mariah, Cardi, the greats), “Pieces” is Lorena’s statement piece, bold, confident, and dripping in feminine energy. Produced by Alex Houton, the track pulls from her Hip-Hop and R&B roots but glows with modern Pop polish. From the jump, it’s smooth, sultry, and self-assured, like the soundtrack to your best revenge era. What started as a heartbreak ballad evolved into something far more dangerous. “There’s raw emotion, love, lust, desire… paired with a melody that makes you want to pounce on the dance floor, or on a lover,” Lorena laughs. But “Pieces” isn’t just sex appeal; it’s about taking back your power, demanding more, and refusing to settle for crumbs. “We don’t want scraps, we want it all,” she declares, and you can feel that energy in every note. Vocally, Mercedes glides between smooth vulnerability and sharp confidence, flexing precision and control learned under vocal coach Max Lawrence (yep, son of Don Lawrence, who trained Whitney and Gaga). But make no mistake, Lorena’s not imitating anyone. Her tone is all her own: fearless, fluid, and full of intent. After pulling inspo straight from the 2025 MTV VMAs, seeing her idols rehearse up close, Lorena hit the studio hungry. “Pieces” is the result: a sonic glow-up for anyone rediscovering their power, pleasure, and self-respect. Her message? Simple. “Go for what you want. Don’t accept anything less. Feel sexy. Feel seen. Feel heard. Life’s too short to wait.” “Pieces” began as a heartbreak ballad but evolved into a sensual anthem. What shifted in your creative process to make that transformation?    As a singer-songwriter, you naturally start to write about your real-life experiences. I was dating this guy I was really into & there was always this sense of me never being fully let in. I started to write as if I were talking to him, begging and pleading, expressing my craving for more love and attention. I've had a disastrous love life, so writing heartbreak ballads comes easy to me. On this journey of growth & self-love, I started to view myself differently. I'm powerful, intelligent, sexy, and fun! I know what I want & what I have to offer. I'm no longer begging, I am claiming!  The seductive, sensual vibe with scatto strings is purposeful. It's meant to make you feel ready to pounce on whatever it is you desire. You recorded at the legendary Quad Studios. How did being in that space influence your energy and performance? In all honesty, I was so nervous! I hadn't recorded in a professional studio in years, and it definitely affected my confidence. But once I got there and saw the walls covered with plaques from some amazing artists, I felt "this could be me." "The only one in charge of my success and happiness is me. The only person feeling these nerves is me." I definitely still feel this track could have been even more powerful with some added vocals, but hey, as an artist, you always look back and see things you could've done differently. The only thing to do is accept, give yourself your credit & be even better next time. How has working with vocal coach Max Lawrence changed your sound or confidence as an artist?                                            Life-changing. Absolutely blessed to have found him. I've had numerous vocal coaches & though they have taught me the basics, Max really dives into the talent as an individual. I've always felt I had this fire in my belly and never knew how to access it. He explains technique in a way that's tailored to the specific artist. He pulled all these buttery tones & belts I've been trying to access for years. It honestly made me wanna re-record every song I've ever released! Breathing has always been an issue for me as a wordy songwriter, which added to my fear of the stage. All gone. After just a few months of one-on-one sessions with him, I'm practicing some covers of songs my little 5-year-old self dreamed of singing, and doing it effortlessly. You’ve been open about facing self-doubt and rebuilding your career. What moment made you realize you were ready to come back stronger?  The ache in my heart that never left. It's true what they say, you really love something when it's all you think about. I look back at when I was making music and realized I haven't really ever been as happy as I was all those years ago. I take the subway to and from work with headphones in and just daydream of me being on stage. Ever since I started putting myself out there again, these wonderful things have been happening. The wonderful people I keep meeting, helping, and pushing me along the way. The final straw was definitely watching the artists at the VMAs behind the scenes. Everything that goes into it, the energy, I want it all. Most artists start just like me. It's not just about talent but persistence and allowing yourself to fail. No one knows what you're capable of until you SHOW them. You tell fans to “feel sexy, feel seen, feel heard.” What does that mantra mean to you personally?                                           Being a "heartbreak" artist was a real-life phase of life I went through. Not just romantically, but with my passion. I was living with a broken heart & it really made me feel worthless. I was sick of living in that state, and something had to change. I'm the type of person to uplift those around me with inspirational talks & I wasn't even taking my own advice. I know we can all relate to those creepy little, insecure whispers. Insecurities are normal, but internal. Just like you made them for yourself, you can take them away just as fast. You're not alone. Everything you want is already out there waiting for you. Go for it. "Feel sexy, feel seen, feel heard." Eight billion people in the world, and you were born unique for a reason.

Chicago’s own Kidd Conez is back with a track that blends the sensual and the supernatural, a song that proves once again why he’s becoming one of the most magnetic voices in modern Pop, R&B, and Hip-Hop. His new single, Freak For Love , produced by Emeri Devante and J. Bristol and released through Ahdasee Records, is not just a song but an immersive journey into desire, intimacy, and self-expression. From the opening notes, Freak For Love refuses to stay in one lane. The beat pulses with Hip-Hop swagger, the melodies soar with Pop accessibility, and the vocal delivery dives deep into R&B smoothness. Layered guitars by Jesse Szabo bring a sultry texture, while the sleek mix from Luke Chapters and pristine mastering by Dave Huffman (of the legendary Chris Athens Mastering House) elevate the track to undeniable polish. It’s music that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant, a testament to Conez’s ability to bridge genres while keeping the energy authentic. “ Freak For Love is a journey of sensual and cosmic proportions,” Conez explains. “It’s about transcending the art of courting and exploring the realms of sexual provocativeness.” That cosmic vibe is no accident; the single feels designed to transport listeners somewhere beyond the ordinary, a reminder that intimacy can be both physical and otherworldly. Kidd Conez is more than just an artist; he’s a cultural force. With roots in Chicago and a reputation as a cannabis culture figure, Conez has carved a lane where lifestyle and artistry collide. He’s performed alongside legends like Afro Man, Lil Baby, LaRussel, and Tech N9ne, and has built collaborations with leading lifestyle brands including RAW Rolling Papers and Leaf Magazine. That synergy between music and culture has helped him become a fixture at major festivals and a trusted voice in communities where authenticity and good energy reign supreme. The rollout of Freak For Love even stretched beyond music, with a limited-run “Freak For Love” seltzer collaboration with Mindscape Fermentations, which promptly sold out. The success of the launch reflects the multifaceted way Conez connects with his audience: not just through sound, but through experiences, storytelling, and lifestyle branding. For Conez, this release isn’t just about showing off his genre-bending chops — it’s an invitation. “I hope people take away the courage to find their own ‘Freak For Love,’ whatever or wherever that means to them,” he says. It’s a message that resonates beyond the studio, aligning with his larger philosophy of living unapologetically, seeking connection, and embracing freedom. With Freak For Love , Kidd Conez delivers more than a single. He’s building a world where music, lifestyle, and love intertwine, and he’s inviting everyone to step inside.

When you think of tattoo artistry in the Pacific Northwest, you probably imagine rain-drenched city streets, cozy studios, and a crowd of creatives chasing inspiration through the fog. But among Seattle’s growing scene of high-caliber tattooers, one name has started to dominate the conversation: Owen Paulls . Originally from the South Coast of England, Paulls has quietly and now not so quietly become one of the most sought-after realism artists in the United States. His signature black and grey work feels almost alive, blending the technical precision of European fine art with a distinctly modern, cinematic edge. It’s the kind of tattooing that makes you double-take, not because it’s flashy, but because it feels real. After over a decade in the craft, Paulls’ momentum is undeniable. His waitlist stretches for months, his DMs are flooded with international clients willing to fly out for a session, and his name has become synonymous with clean, emotion-driven realism. What separates him from most, though, is the influence of classical European painting. His shading and blending techniques echo Renaissance sensibilities, chiaroscuro, texture, and light, but reimagined through the lens of 21st-century skin. “Tattooing is storytelling through texture,” Paulls says. “It’s the one art form where realism literally becomes part of someone’s body, their identity.” Before tattooing full-time, Paulls lived another kind of creative life. For nearly 19 years, he was a professional musician, touring across Europe and North America and performing for massive crowds, including four summers on the Vans Warped Tour. The discipline, travel, and performance instincts from that chapter all bleed into his tattoo work now, an artist’s obsession with craft paired with a musician’s hunger to connect. Paulls has taken his art worldwide, tattooing across Italy, Canada, and the U.S., and winning awards at elite conventions like the Evergreen Invitational and the Winnipeg Tattoo Convention, where he snagged Best of Day two years in a row. His artistry has been spotlighted by tattoo brands like Empire Inks, FYT Cartridges, and Ghostline App, as well as media like Inked Magazine and Global Tattoo Mag. When he isn’t booked solid in his Bellevue studio, you’ll find him traveling for guest spots, conventions, and seminars where he breaks down the science of black and grey tattooing for other artists. Outside the tattoo chair, he continues to paint oil portraits inspired by the same European masters who shaped his visual language, bridging centuries of artistry with one steady hand. As 2025 approaches, Paulls is setting his sights even higher, expanding his reach across North America and beyond. For him, tattooing isn’t just a job; it’s a lifelong evolution. “I’m always chasing realism,” he says, “but it’s not just about what’s real on skin. It’s about what feels real to the person wearing it.”

After a year of introspection, Max Edwards has reemerged with “ Don’t Walk Away ,” and it was worth the wait. The Whistler-born singer, songwriter, and producer steps back into the spotlight with a sound that feels cleaner, brighter, and more self-assured than ever. It’s not just a comeback; it’s a creative reset that shows exactly what happens when an artist stops chasing trends and starts trusting their instincts. From the first few seconds, “Don’t Walk Away” hits like a sunrise through fog. The production feels crisp and spacious, wrapping around Max’s emotive vocals with synth lines that shimmer like fresh snow on a mountain peak, a fitting nod to his Whistler roots. His voice carries that perfect blend of vulnerability and resolve, like he’s singing to someone on the edge of leaving but also to the version of himself that almost gave up. The track’s groove sits somewhere between indie pop and alt-electronic, evoking artists like Troye Sivan, Dayglow, or early Lauv, but with a distinctly West Coast ease. The lyrics don’t overcomplicate things; instead, they tap into that universal moment of wanting someone to stay, even when the world feels like it’s spinning too fast. You can hear the year of creative experimentation in every layer. There’s confidence in the way Max plays with tempo, letting silence hang just long enough to make you lean in. The chorus bursts with energy but never loses its intimacy. It’s modern, emotional, and catchy in a way that lingers long after the song fades. It’s the kind of track you put on repeat without realizing it’s become your weekend soundtrack. “Don’t Walk Away” also signals the start of a new era for Max Edwards, with more music on the way this fall. His upcoming EP promises to push this sound even further, adventurous and playful, while staying grounded in raw emotion. If this single is any indication, Max isn’t just back; he’s better. “Don’t Walk Away” feels like the moment an artist stops searching for approval and starts owning their sound. For listeners craving something honest yet euphoric, this is it.

Los Angeles-based indie duo II steps into bold new territory with their latest single, “ Found A Home .” Blending the emotional resonance of Pop Rock with the sleek atmosphere of Synth Pop, the track serves as a poignant reflection on love, belonging, and the fragile spaces in between. Formed by Claudio Parrone Jr. and Mauricio Guerrero Jr., II has built its identity on minimalist storytelling and emotional honesty. “Found A Home” crystallizes that vision, offering listeners an intimate yet cinematic journey. Inspired by the old-world concept of genius as a spirit that chooses when and where to land, the duo reimagines the myth through the lens of love. What if love, like genius, is a fleeting presence that only stays if it feels safe? The track explores this question through sweeping soundscapes and deeply vulnerable lyricism. Musically, “Found A Home” is lush and deliberate. The duo layers atmospheric synths with soaring guitar work, building toward a cinematic guitar solo that captures both euphoria and fragility. Vocally, the performance balances quiet vulnerability with undeniable power, a delivery that feels both personal and universal. It is a song that could soundtrack a late-night drive, a first dance, or the quiet moment of realizing love may not last forever. “Found A Home” is also the opening chapter of II’s upcoming project, House On Fire. The larger body of work will chart the arc of a relationship from passion to collapse. The next single, “Burn It Down,” leans into the toxicity and codependency that often follow such intense beginnings, while later chapters navigate heartbreak and moving on. Collectively, the project reveals the bittersweet truth behind the phrase “they get on like a house on fire.” For fans of The 1975, James Blake, or Tears for Fears, II offers something rare: music that does not just tell a story, but listens to its listeners in return. With “Found A Home,” the duo sets the stage for a body of work that is equal parts intimate, cinematic, and unafraid of emotional depth. "Found A Home" uses the myth of genius as a metaphor for love. How did this concept first come to you? Claudio: This old myth of "genius" being something accompanying the person, rather than something that exists within the person, really intrigued me. So much so that I actually believe that to be true. After considerable deliberation with myself and others, I decided to present a new topic to the class. What if love were this way? What if the reason none of us can agree on what love is is because it legitimately IS different for each of us? What if the reason why certain people have such a hard time finding it is that it doesn't want to be found? What if love needs time alone? What if it only goes where it's needed? This idea swept me up in a whirlwind for a bit. I then took it a step further and asked, What if love finds its way back to you? Would it remember you? After all of its traveling and all of its new stories, how could it? Then, if it did, what would you do differently to keep it around? I tend to spend a considerable amount of time thinking about these hyper-romantic ideas. It's a hobby of mine. Mauricio: I remember the day when Claudio came to me with the idea for "Found a Home". We went into the studio because he was like, "Dude, I have this awesome idea," And he just started going off… He painted this picture about Love, how it was something that we are obsessed with finding as a society. We're looking for "the ONE" for the perfect person to "complete us" and that if we just FIND them, then everything will be well; that all will be resolved and we will never feel sadness, pain, or insufficiency ever again… But that's not how love works, is it? No, Love is a beautiful entity that finds you in different seasons, comes in and out of your life, hoping to see if you are ready for it to stay with you. Now, often we aren't ready, and that's why it has to go. Often, we mistake other things for Love, or we misconstrue Love for something it isn't. When I tell you this, HIT, man, it really hit. Because it's true. Love needs to grow and develop just like you do. Love needs time alone to become the best version of itself, just like you do. So, hopefully, by the next time you meet, Love can find a home in you, and you in it. Your music leans heavily on minimalism and atmosphere. How do you decide what to leave out versus what to layer in? Claudio: I think a painter would probably answer this the same way. Not every painting needs to be busy. Nor does it need to include every color on the spectrum. This first track, "Found A Home," definitely has some space to it. I like to include space in the sonic element of the song if I want the listener to engage more deeply with the lyrics. The lyrics in this song are very conversational, which could lead the listener to assume that I'm talking to a person. I never write things with the hope or expectation that people will interpret them in a certain way. However, I do try to allow the songs to breathe, and sometimes that also gives the listener permission to focus on other aspects of the song.  As far as atmosphere goes, when Mauricio and I started this project, we decided that we wanted it to carry the nostalgia of the 80s. We remember how things make us feel. I credit the fact that we still listen to so much music from that decade to the feelings it evoked. Mauricio: As a producer, I feel like each song is like its own mini planet. And an album is like a solar system. So in a way every song is different, but orbiting the same sun. So, when Claudio and I started this project, we were both kids who grew up listening to all kinds of music, but gravitated to that sonic universe of the '80s. We were two sad boys (lol) who wanted to channel our feelings into these songs and create something that soothed our souls, and hopefully, others' as well. So we approached this from a place of nostalgia, as if we wanted things to turn out differently than they did, but knowing that was impossible. So what did we do? We listened to a wide range of music, including Tears for Fears, The Police, Hall & Oates, Prince, and Michael Jackson, among others. Our approach was simple: How can we capture the nostalgia we feel for music from that era, while still adding our modern touch to these sounds? So we played! In the creative phase, we played like kids in a sandbox, anything cool or anything that sounded sick went in, and we had FUN. Then, when it came time to trim, we were scientists, cutting guitars, vocals, and removing synths that we absolutely loved, but which didn't serve the song. "House On Fire" tells a story across four chapters. Why did you choose to frame the project like a narrative? Claudio: To speak plainly, I think music is slowly but surely making its way back to being album-oriented. The "single" era was a lot of fun. But people want an experience. Myself included. I've always loved the albums that take me for a ride from start to finish. Albums like Dark Side of the Moon, Welcome to the Black Parade, good kid, m.A.A.d city, Man on the Moon... In this case, Mauricio and I had gone through similar situations within a year of each other. This led to both of us sort of looking at one another like, "We gotta tell this story right?" It wouldn't be right to pretend that what happened to us wasn't reminiscent of an old Hollywood romance. Thus, House On Fire was born. Mauricio: Growing up, my parents would tell me bedtime stories of famous musicians as heroes and heroines, and I would eat it up. The Beatles, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, Phil Collins, Tears for Fears, and many others were my superheroes. As I grew up, their albums started becoming more meaningful because I would realize that each album was like a snapshot into the lives of who they were in that moment. For example, "Rumors" by Fleetwood Mac, you can hear the tension and pain between Steve Nicks and Lindsay Buckingham as they navigated their breakup, while also being part of a band that had to see each other every day. That's what we tried to accomplish with "House on Fire" in a 4 chapter novella. We wanted to paint a picture of the cycle of Love coming, settling in, and then finally leaving. A cycle everyone who has ever loved someone is all too familiar with. How do you want listeners to feel after experiencing "Found A Home" and the full project? Claudio: I'd love it if they left "Found A Home" feeling woefully optimistic. I want them to be sad in a way that encourages them to move forward. I feel like we view sadness as a bad thing, something unnatural, or something that has to stop us in our tracks.  "Just pause for a bit and feel it. Acknowledge it." Why is sadness so heavy that we can't carry it while we advance? Grief is one of the most human experiences we have. So, to answer your question more plainly: I hope they leave a little sad but excited for the future. Mauricio:   I hope when people listen to "Found a Home" that they feel a little bit of sadness, but a LOT of hope. "Found a Home" and the rest of "House on Fire" tell a sad story that many people are familiar with —a story that many have lived through, but guess what? You're still here, you're still growing, and even though it feels like it's the end of the world, you're still kicking. I hope that when people listen to this project, they are transported to those moments, both good and bad, and that it inspires them to look forward and see that what comes ahead is always so much better. What do you think is missing in the way love and relationships are usually portrayed in modern pop music? Claudio: I think that we lean too heavily into the "love is pain" or the "love is immense sacrifice" or my favorite, "I'd die for you". What this does is subliminally tell us that if the person pursuing you isn't willing to change their entire life around or make significant sacrifices for you, they may not truly love you. That idea is so unhealthy. I think music needs more honesty. More raw vulnerability. Music is very open — but open isn't vulnerable. Show me how much it hurts that they took you for granted. Walk me through the recovery of a toxic relationship, and don't skip the messy parts. Be honest. Be complex. Be human. More humanity in pop music would be nice. Mauricio: One of my closest friends said, "90% of songs are about two things: falling in love or falling out of love — the difference is how you say it." I think modern pop music tends to focus on the big feelings. But what I'm missing is the YEARNING we used to hear… those iconic lyrics that would leave you with your jaw on the floor. Like Paul McCartney's "Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time, Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you…" Or Paul Simon's devastating "She comes back to tell me she's gone, As if I didn't know that, As if I didn't know my own bed." That's what's missing — depth without being inaccessible. That's what we hope to give people with this EP.

For Dead Freedom , music isn’t just art, it’s survival. The country-rock-blues artist with a folk-metal twist has lived enough lives for three people, carrying the scars of depression, PTSD, ADHD, anxiety, and a troubled past. But rather than letting it all swallow him, he’s turned it into fuel, building a career on honesty, grit, and a refusal to quit. His new album,  NOMAD ,  is the clearest reflection of that fight yet, an unflinching, acoustic-driven collection written to confront demons, document survival, and share light with those still searching for it. Dead Freedom’s journey is as unconventional as it is inspiring. After hitting rock bottom, he converted his Honda CR-V into a camper van and embraced life as a nomad, healing through the road and the music he carried with him. That mission, turning scars into stories, led him from busking in the streets to supporting acts like Toploader, John Newman, Puddle of Mudd, and Lynyrd Skynyrd guitarist Mike Estes. Now, with three albums and an EP already under his belt, NOMAD represents both the rawest and most personal work of his catalog. Recorded live and acoustic, the album thrives on its lack of polish. Each track plays like a diary entry cracked open, the stories behind them often as gripping as the music itself. On “Dopamine,” Dead Freedom lays bare the daily battle of depression and ADHD, searching for sparks of light in a heavy fog. “Bad Blood” reflects on growing up misdiagnosed and misunderstood in the ‘80s and ‘90s, when kids with ADHD were written off as “problem children.” With “Heroin Rose,” he chronicles a toxic, lightning-bolt romance that burned fast and left scars, while “The Request” takes a sly, tongue-in-cheek jab at overplayed crowd demands like “Wonderwall.” But the heart of NOMAD beats loudest in its deeply personal moments. “Paige’s Song” is written for his daughter, who bravely opened up to him about her own struggles with self-worth at twelve years old. “Led Me To You,” “Better Part of Me,” and “Days Gone” weave together chapters of toxic relationships, domestic abuse, alcoholism, and the eventual discovery of a love worth surviving for, even if that love came too late. “What Did I Do Wrong” cuts to the core of childhood abuse and the lifelong echoes of being made to feel unwanted, while “My Wretched Shoes” reflects the burnout of working 90-hour weeks as a chef, realizing life had to be about more than clocking in and breaking down. Elsewhere, Dead Freedom taps into the bigger world. “The Eve of War,” written on February 24, 2023, confronts the tragedy of global conflict and its toll on innocence. “Light of the Dawn,” the closer, feels like a hymn, absolute devotion to someone caught in their own storm, paired with the reminder that strength ultimately lies within. It’s also the track Dead Freedom hopes will find a home in Taylor Sheridan’s Yellowstone , a show that shares his mix of grit and hope. “I honestly write these songs as therapy for myself,” Dead Freedom shares. “I’m not looking to please everyone, just to give a voice to those who need it in a dark place where they feel alone, to know that they aren’t. We’re all human, we all struggle, and it’s alright to need help sometimes. We can heal, it just takes time, and a change of perspective to want to continue.” NOMAD is more than an album. It’s a document of resilience, a soundtrack for anyone who’s been pushed to the edge but found a reason to keep going. Dead Freedom doesn’t romanticize struggle; he names it, sings it, and turns it into proof that even in the darkest chapters, music can still light the way forward. NOMAD feels like it was ripped straight from your own diary; raw, vulnerable, and unfiltered. What moment made you realize this collection of songs had to come together as an album instead of just staying as personal stories? Originally, it was meant to be three, six-track EPs called: Heathen, Nomad, and Origins! I'd already put out the Heathen EP in the originally planned format, but I had these (Originally 13) tracks, which were going to make up the other two EPs but I'd already been playing these songs at gigs, and the production just felt like it fit so well together and told more of a story, you know? And then in very short succession just before I was due to announce the release I wrote the last three songs "Moth To Your Flame", "Hoodoo Queen" and "The Light of The Dawn" and it sealed the deal for me it was like yeah this is an entire project this needs to be an album because like you say it kind of had that straight from the diary feel!! Tracks like “Bad Blood” and “Dopamine” tackle mental health in brutally honest ways. Was it difficult to put those struggles into words, knowing how close to home they hit? In all honesty, the tracks kind of beat themselves out of me, like the real struggle was coming to terms with what I was feeling, what I'd been burying for so long! Writing them kind of helped free that up and gave me a way to reflect on those issues in a healthier way!  You’ve lived as a full-time nomad, converted your CRV into a camper, and taken your music everywhere from the streets to stadiums. How did that lifestyle shape the sound and spirit of NOMAD? I think at the point that I started recording I'd been on the road for a couple of months at that point and I was already feeling much healthier and happier in myself like there was such a positive impact on my state of mind and my attitude, like before I struck out on the road I'd have put it off and put it off and hidden away more it's where I was, I was in this dark pit that living on the road saved me from! So when I turned up to record with Tom, we found the sound that I get live on stage and were just like, yeah, this is the one, and we smashed out a sixteen-track album in two days! When i was stuck in the house I'd have never dreamed that I'd accomplish that! And it's because of that change that these bigger opportunities have presented themselves, just through sort of fighting my demons, being true to myself, and saying I ain't giving in and plowing into the work headlong, that's been the real game changer, I think! “Paige’s Song” is one of the most personal tracks on the record, written for your daughter. What was it like turning such an emotional moment into music, and did writing it change your perspective as both a father and an artist? Yeah, as a father, you never expect not to notice your kid going through something like what she was going through! So when that happened, I was first and foremost proud as hell of her, like it takes so much guts to open up like that!! But it also gave me the push I needed to sort of pull myself up and realize that things have been tough, sure, but I needed to stop letting old wounds take my focus because it was clouding the ability to look after those who needed me! So it kind of gave me this new perspective to start fighting my demons more! Diving deeper but in a healthier way, a sort of thing that impacted my relationships with others, especially my daughter! But also how I open up as an artist and talk about things on stage!  Looking back at everything you’ve survived—PTSD, depression, toxic relationships, burnout. What’s the one message you want people to carry with them after listening to NOMAD from start to finish? Id say the one message that I'd want people to take from it is, that we all have these moments in our lives where we feel cut off alone, where we struggle and get stuck in our battles with the dark, because Life is hard man, it really is but through writing this album, putting the struggle out there, performing it live I came to realise that these struggles are more common than we think!! And though it's okay to feel stuck and not okay, better days will come; it's hard work, but you can do it. You can make something beautiful, whether it's art, music, film, stories, or even more importantly, just a sense of belonging within your own life. You are capable even when you think you're not! And when you think you're all alone and no one understands, that's the best time to call out for help, so in short, despite all my ramblings!!! YOU ARE NOT ALONE!! YOU CAN DO THIS!"

Dan Conway doesn’t just write songs; he writes promises. The Long Island-based singer-songwriter delivers “Wildflower,” a track born from the quiet chaos of 3 a.m. anxiety and the clarity that comes from unconditional love. Written for his daughter, the song is part lullaby, part life lesson, and part self-discovery, wrapped in acoustic pop warmth that feels as intimate as a late-night talk at the kitchen table. The story behind “Wildflower” is painfully real. After a failed marriage, sleepless nights, and the sudden weight of fatherhood, Dan woke up drenched in sweat with a melody stuck in his head. Instead of letting it fade, he poured his heart into a piece of music that became the anchor for an entire album dedicated to his daughter. It’s a promise that no matter what life throws at him, he’ll always be there, guiding, teaching, and growing alongside her. But “Wildflower” isn’t just for her; it’s for him too. When Dan sings, “As you go tumbling, stumbling down, fumbling I found, I’m found,”  it lands like both a confession and a revelation. It’s an acknowledgment that watching his daughter grow has forced him to grow as well. The song captures that delicate balance of love and accountability, the way loss, responsibility, and self-reflection can strip you bare and rebuild you stronger. Musically, Dan keeps things stripped to the essentials: his voice and his guitar. And honestly, that’s all you need. His sound lives in the sweet spot between pop and acoustic storytelling, catchy enough to hum along to but deep enough to linger in your chest. It’s music that fits just as naturally at a family gathering as it does in those quiet moments when you’re alone with your thoughts. At its core, “Wildflower” is about positivity, resilience, and staying true to your values as you pass them on to the next generation. Dan Conway isn’t just writing songs; he’s crafting a blueprint for growth, love, and authenticity. “Wildflower” reminds us that the most powerful songs don’t need big production or star features. They just need the truth. And Dan Conway delivers it straight from the heart. "Wildflower" was born out of a 3 a.m. moment of anxiety and inspiration. Can you take us back to that night and explain how the song first came together in your head? Most songwriting comes from a feeling and a lyrical theme. Wildflower began with a feeling, the need to give my daughter the lifelong gift of personal songs and music. No matter where she is, if there is a place to stream music, she can hear her song; the song her daddy wrote just for her. When I wrote "Wildflower," I picked up my guitar and let my hands guide me. The structure of the song was dictated by those moments where I explored the guitar and experimented with how it would support the vocals and lyrics. This song spilled out of me as I focused the lyrical content around inner growth, confidence, and authenticity. All the magic she needs is already in her; she just needs to remember to go out there and make something of her life. "I was born into this world with no rules, only follow the trees toward the big, big blue." These are the first words that I sang, and I never looked back. I want her to remember to grow and never let anyone or anything hold her back. You've said this project is dedicated to your daughter. How has becoming a father changed not only your perspective on life but also the way you approach songwriting? Having purpose is the single most important asset you can have. When my daughter was born, my purpose and reason for being changed and grew. As parents, we are not only responsible for saying the right things to our children but also for demonstrating them. I want my daughter to see the love and joy I have for songwriting because it is my passion. I want her to see that it is important to have passions and a creative outlet. The joy of creating music stems from playing acoustic guitar and singing. This style of writing, which I call the "dance" between guitar and voice, is how I do most of my writing. Previous music projects I recorded were a piece of me, but not the core of who I am as a songwriter. To have this style of music available to her is very important. The lyric "As you go tumbling, stumbling down, fumbling I found, I'm found" feels deeply personal. What did writing those words teach you about yourself in that moment? Close your eyes and imagine watching your child experience the world for the first time. Being a parent, you also experience life again in a new way. The child-parent relationship is inherently similar, as both parents and their children engage in something new. These lyrics are personal, as a similar phonetic sequence was found in a book my daughter and I have read together since she was very young. This book, which we first borrowed from the library, is now a copy at home. Adding a personal experience like this lends power to the words, especially when performing them. This gives the lyrics more weight. Being her guidance and support while she is learning life lessons is a reminder of my values; in this way, I am "found." Your music balances simplicity, just your voice and guitar, with really heavy emotional themes. Why do you feel that stripped-down style is the best vehicle for your message? I often hear older generations say how contemporary music is just noise, and the message of the song is lost. People who have inspired me musically and speak of previous eras of music often discuss how the 1960s and 1970s impacted their lives through the artists' lyrical focus. Music is a great opportunity to connect with others. If the listener hears what you have to say, they can really feel what you are saying. Have you ever sung a song and felt like the writer understands your life or understands what this chapter of life is all about? I want the audience to sing my words and feel my message. "Wildflower" carries both positivity and accountability. What do you hope listeners who may not share your exact story still take away when they hear it? I think that with the bullying and negativity constantly swarming the internet, it is essential for people to feel special and seen. Sing "I'm a wildflower, I don't answer to anyone, I listen to the breeze, I found me a place to be free." What does that feel like? Be authentic. Be fearless. Find your voice. Be confident. It is not only a message of nurturing a mindset at a young age, but it could also be a reminder for many to be themselves or grow into the person they want to be.