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Divergent aren’t here to play it safe, they’re here to play it loud. Their latest single, “Not Until It’s Right,” feels like the kind of track that gets you out of your chair before you even realize it. It’s not just a song; it’s a full-body experience, built from pure instinct, tight chemistry, and a decades-long friendship that’s clearly paying off. The trio: James Richards, Mike McAlister, and Paul Richards, are longtime collaborators who finally decided to stop overthinking and just do the damn thing. After years apart, they’ve reunited under a new name and a new energy that’s impossible to fake. “Not Until It’s Right” takes everything Divergent have been teasing, from their free-spirited debut “Runnin’ Free” to their evolving live sound, and spins it into something fresh, magnetic, and just the right amount of dirty. The song kicks off with Paul’s crisp drumsticks snapping you to attention before James’ keys and Mike’s bass slither in like co-conspirators. The groove is playful, confident, and just a little dangerous, like flirting under neon lights knowing exactly how the night’s gonna end. Lyrically, it’s simple and straight to the point: boy meets girl, girl’s not settling for half-assed love, and the only way to earn it is to move to her rhythm. “No, no, no,” she says, and that hook sticks. It’s cheeky, it’s catchy, and it drives home the idea that love, like music, only hits when the timing’s right. Where Divergent really flexes its muscle is in the performance. You can feel how much fun they’re having. James lays down this hypnotic piano line that started, as the story goes, on his old Chickering upright piano, and it sounds like a memory turned into motion. Mike’s bass walks with swagger, sliding between the rhythm like it’s second nature, while Paul’s drumming brings that big-room energy that reminds you these guys are meant to be onstage. It’s not polished to death, and that’s what makes it work. It’s alive. Then there’s the video, filmed at Sweetwater Studios, which captures exactly who Divergent are: three dudes locked into their craft, vibing like they own the room. There’s no ego here, just passion and groove. You watch it and instantly get the sense that they’re right there, not posing for a brand, but playing because they have to. It’s the kind of authenticity you don’t see enough of anymore. Divergent may be seasoned musicians, but this new era feels like the start of something wild. If “Not Until It’s Right” is any indication of what’s coming on their upcoming album, Rev It Up, then buckle up, this band isn’t done making noise. They’re just getting warmed up.

Columbus alt-rock duo Jady  have officially hit their breakthrough moment with Silver , a record that feels bigger, heavier, and more emotionally grounded than anything they’ve done before. It’s not about chasing trends or trying to sound like anyone else. This album is straight-up therapy through distortion pedals and heartbreak. From the jump, you can hear the band stepping into a new kind of confidence. Jarrett Doherty and Ashton Bergdorf don’t hide behind production tricks or fake edge. Silver  is honest to a fault, the kind of record that says, “Yeah, we’ve been through some shit, and we’re not pretending it didn’t happen.” The songs hit a balance most alt bands can’t find. It’s clean but raw, emotional but still ready to blow out your speakers. There’s that arena energy running through it, not because it’s commercial, but because it’s earned.  They’ve done the grind: 150+ shows, multiple tours, real sweat equity. You can hear every late-night drive and existential crisis baked into this thing. Production-wise, it’s stacked. Heavy names like Erik Ron, Curtis Peoples, and Sam Tinnesz help polish the sound, but they don’t sand down the edges. There’s still that Midwestern bite, that “we built this from nothing” tension that makes each chorus hit harder. What makes Silver  work is how human it is. The lyrics dig into honesty, imperfection, burnout, and self-discovery without ever feeling whiny or fake-deep. It’s an album about growth, the kind that hurts before it heals. By the end, you’re left with something that’s both personal and massive in scope. Silver  isn’t just their next chapter; it’s the start of Jady’s headliner era.

Some artists write songs. Shoni writes survival stories. With the release of her new album Shades of Blues , the New York-based singer-songwriter delivers a body of work that doesn’t sugarcoat the weight of love, loss, family, or faith. Instead, she leans into every emotion, raw, unfiltered, and deeply human, blending contemporary blues, R&B, and neo-soul into a project that proves beauty can bloom out of chaos. From the very first track, Shades of Blues  feels less like an album and more like a journey. Opening with “Hwy 95,” Shoni paints the picture of being stuck between ambition and fulfillment, using the highway as a metaphor for life’s waiting places. That feeling of limbo, the restless grind of wanting more while being trapped in the in-between, sets the tone for what follows: honesty without compromise. In “Page,” she opens up about the unspoken emotions in relationships, capturing the tension between the fear of vulnerability and the hunger for real connection. The project’s emotional core resonates most deeply on “Daddy’s Girls.” Through biting irony (“clap your hands for the father of the year”), Shoni shines a light on paternal absence and the scars of generational trauma, all while speaking directly to those who have had to find validation in broken places. It’s a song that feels both specific and universal, a testament to her ability to tell stories that resonate far beyond her own life. What makes Shades of Blues  so powerful is its balance. Heavy themes are met with messages of faith, gratitude, and celebration. “Won’t Complain” grounds the album in resilience, carrying the reminder that hope isn’t naive; it’s a matter of survival. Then, “Bassline,” featuring Jae Writez, shifts gears into something magnetic and sensual, honoring music itself as both an escape and a salvation. The feature is more than just a guest verse; it’s a full-circle collaboration with Adrian (Jae Writez) C. Young Jr., who helped Shoni push past her doubts and finish the record. For Shoni, this project is also about place. Recorded in Virginia Beach, Shades of Blues  is a bittersweet love letter to the city where she grew up, one that shaped her through both obstacles and resilience. The weight of those experiences bleeds into the record’s DNA, giving every track the kind of authenticity you can’t fake. As she explains, “I hope people know the importance of feeling every emotion as it comes and pushing through life’s blues. Regardless of what may be happening in your life and in the world, beauty can emerge from chaos. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.” Since her 2019 debut single “Good Vibes,” Shoni has proven that her artistry isn’t about trends, it’s about truth. Whether through her seductive soprano vocals, her work narrating audiobooks, or her role as founder of the Beauty & Soul movement, she continues to create spaces where honesty and healing take precedence. With Shades of Blues , she takes that mission further, offering listeners not just music but a reminder: you’re allowed to feel, to stumble, and to grow stronger for it. Shades of Blues  is more than an album; it’s Shoni’s testimony. It reminds us that even in the darkest chapters, resilience is possible, and beauty is never too far away. You've called Shades of Blues your "bittersweet love song to Virginia." How did recording in Virginia Beach shape the sound and the emotion of this project? When I first started recording, I had a hard time connecting my voice to the words that I wrote. I had to take a step back and think about why I was creating the project. Once I connected with my "Why" of Shades of Blues being a bittersweet love song and a goodbye to VA, everything just fell into place. By recording in Virginia, I was able to drive around my hometown, go to my school's homecoming, and reconnect with friends and family. Each moment reminded me how far I have come and how much I have grown into the woman I am since I left. Throughout the project, the timidity and uncertainty transformed into frustration, then confidence, and ultimately contentment. I experienced all of those emotions living and learning in VA. "Daddy's Girls" is one of the most raw and vulnerable tracks on the album. What gave you the courage to tackle generational trauma so directly in your music? My daughters. I can turn into a lioness in 0.5 seconds if you mess with my family. No lol. Sadly, my daughters both came to meet with me on two different occasions, upset about their father, which ultimately upset me and made me sad for them. To deal with those feelings, I did what I do best: I started writing about them. I began writing Daddy's" Girls" as a poem about how fathers' actions affect their daughters. As a daddy's girl myself, it was easy to write. The song is the most raw and unexpected on the project. I wanted to showcase a different side of myself vocally and bring people along on life's crazy rollercoaster ride, while also shedding light on an issue that many women can relate to. The album balances heavy, emotional storytelling with lighter moments of faith and celebration, such as "Won't Complain" and "Bassline." How intentional was that balance when putting the tracklist together? One of the things I admire about the Blues genre is its rawness and heaviness. However, I believe in balance. Balancing the energy with the tracklisting was very intentional. "Hwy 95 "starts from a place of despair and longing for more out of life, while knowing you still need to take care of your responsibilities. As a single mom, my dreams have to be put on the back burner at times to prioritize the needs of my family; that's not always easy. That longing fueled a desire for connection and partnership, which is reflected in the song "Page." As hard as it is, eventually you have to speak up and say, "Hey, maybe I do want more," which again is not easy but is courageous. Then, after the ruggedness of "Daddy's Girls", I wanted to bring in a little sweetness with "Bassline." "Daddy's Girls" explores the frustration and anguish women and girls experience as a result of their fathers' actions, while "Bassline" presents a balance between women and men through the lens of music. At the end of the day, we all need each other, and to drive that point home, "Won't Complain" concludes the project, highlighting that despite all the feelings, twists, and turns, the simple things are what's most important.  You've built a platform with your Beauty & Soul movement to talk about health, wealth, love, and business. How does that mission connect with the themes you explore on Shades of Blues? Great question! I created Beauty & Soul at a time when I was looking for community and friendship. That desire for purpose and connection can be heard in "Hwy 95" and "Page." The Beauty & Soul Brunch and Podcast helped me evolve and find my purpose with community building, wellness, and music. They all work together. If I were to place Shades of Blues and Beauty & Soul on the timeline of my life, Shades of Blues would be first, and Beauty & Soul would come in during my spoken word piece, Soulfully Shoni. They both highlight self-discovery and evolution. You've said you want listeners to "push through life's blues and find the beauty in chaos." What's one moment in your own life when music helped you do exactly that? Truthfully, I've been pushing past life's blues since the beginning. When I released my debut single, Good Vibes, I was currently experiencing the opposite. I had just started a new job I hated and was extremely overworked, but one day I asked myself if I could write about the perfect day, what would I say? I then thought about all the good moments I experienced in NYC and incorporated them into the song. To this day, I love seeing how people positively react to that song because it reminds me of the power of music. I created a positive experience for myself by remembering the great moments in my life and turning them into art. How cool is that?! I'm curious what else I can manifest with my words.

Rochester-based singer-songwriter Annie Wells has always been known for weaving her life experiences into music that sits at the intersection of jazz, pop, folk, and the Great American Songbook. With her new single “ True Blue Boy ,” Wells offers a deeply personal piece that tells the story of a difficult yet ultimately rewarding courtship with the man who would become her husband. Written as a birthday gift for her partner, Colin, “True Blue Boy” is framed around the journey to true love, one marked by obstacles, heartbreak, and resilience. Wells’ lyricism finds inspiration in blues and jazz greats like Duke Ellington and Muddy Waters, and the song reflects their timeless spirit while adding her own contemporary twist. The result is a track that feels both classic and refreshingly intimate. Musically, Wells surrounds herself with seasoned jazz musicians whose résumés span from the Glenn Miller Orchestra to collaborations with Ray Charles and Archie Shepp. Mike Kaupa’s trumpet lines bring warmth and color, Dave Arenius’ upright bass grounds the song in tradition, and Phil Marshall’s guitar provides texture and rhythm. Together, they build a soundscape that feels as rich as the story it carries. What sets “True Blue Boy” apart is its ability to balance melancholy with joy. The song acknowledges the heartaches and struggles of Wells’ relationship but pairs those reflections with an upbeat, rhythmic feel that mirrors the triumph of love that lasts. Wells’ ethereal voice, often compared to Joni Mitchell and Blossom Dearie, floats above the arrangement with clarity and grace, asking listeners to look deeper into the music rather than chasing instant gratification. This single also sets the stage for Wells’ upcoming album Pictures of Heart , slated for release in 2026. If “True Blue Boy” is any indication, the record will continue her exploration of themes that define her work: resilience, hope, and the beauty found in both loss and love. Annie Wells proves once again that her hybrid style, never fully jazz and never strictly pop, carves out a unique space where authenticity and artistry thrive. “True Blue Boy” is a love song, yes, but more than that, it’s a testament to patience, vulnerability, and the joy that comes from staying true to your vision. You wrote  “True Blue Boy”  as a gift for your now-husband. How did he react when he first heard it performed live? I had a performance date scheduled on Colin’s birthday in August. I worked quickly to finish writing the song in time to surprise him. He was at a table nearby with friends when I announced I had a birthday gift for him. Colin was very moved by the song, and by October, he asked me to marry him. The song wasn’t intended to prompt a proposal, but I suppose it helped to “seal the deal”. Your music balances jazz tradition with modern singer-songwriter storytelling. How do you maintain that balance? Pop melodies and jazz chords. I love to add an unexpected jazz chord progression under a pop melody. The combination of both creates an emotional depth that I feel, and I want the listener to feel. The stories are heartfelt and true. They are drawn from my journals and inspired by art, news events, movies, and life experiences. Crafting fictional characters isn’t my strong suit, but now and then, someone in the story ends up being a patchwork of real-life personalities. I’ve learned so much about songwriting from Phil Marshall ( Phil Marshall ), who played guitar on “True Blue Boy”. Phil is my long-time musical mentor and friend. He comes from the same school of genre blending and storytelling, incorporating his own unique style of writing. He gives me honest feedback that helps shape the lyrics and arrangements.  What was it like working with jazz veterans like Mike Kaupa and Dave Arenius on this track? I have been incredibly fortunate to perform and record with Mike Kaupa and Dave Arenius. They brought a traditional jazz background to the music and deftly turned it on its head, integrating it perfectly with “True Blue Boy”.   Mike played trumpet through a pedal board that created the cool harmonies you hear weaving in and out of the song. His use of electronics adds beautiful, lush textures and layers of sound. Dave played his Bohemian (Czech, Hungarian, and/or German) double bass made ca. 1850 that exudes a deep warmth. Dave is a lyrical bass player. His melodic lines are grounded in jazz. Because it defies categorization, I’ve asked Dave and Mike to help me describe my music. They both say, “It’s Annie”. Dave has called my music “delicious.” Many of your songs draw on strong women and personal history. How does that influence continue to shape your writing? The women I’ve written songs about have inspired me to stay true to my dreams. In the face of adversity or perceived limitations, they did not give up. Family members, artists, musicians, and even a fictional character from a movie have all validated my need to keep making music. In a song I wrote, inspired by a message from my mother—channeled through a psychic medium—she urges me to “sing a song soft and low, just like a mourning dove / It doesn’t matter if nobody hears you, I hear you with my heart” .  Memories can carry a lonely power that transforms into connection when they resonate with the listeners of my songs. When someone is moved by my music, it means the world to me. With  Pictures of Heart  on the way in 2026, what themes or stories are you most excited to share? “She dreams pictures of a heart”  is a lyric line from one of the tracks on my new album.  Each of the seven songs tells a different love story, but not in the way you’d expect. The theme throughout the album is how love takes on many forms and meanings. “True Blue Boy” is about my long road to true love. In “Time Escaped”, time is personified in a love letter to my family during the pandemic. “Devil’s Gonna Get You”  conveys what it’s like to truly love someone who can only respond with conditional love. “Radio Silence”, written by Christopher Earl Zajkowski, tells the story of betrayal and heartbreak. “1000 Hearts”  is about selfless love that came too late for a child with autism who wandered away from his school unnoticed. In “Pictures” , we see a lonely woman longing for love and connection. Her memories are all she has. In the final track, “Blue Aeroplane,” written by my friend Dave Ripton, love carries on beyond mortality. The last time I saw Dave, he confided in me that he had been diagnosed with cancer. He asked me to record his song, and it was an honor to receive that gift from him.

Los Angeles pop artist Giselle is flipping the horror script with her latest release, “ FINAL GIRL ,” a bold, cinematic anthem that fuses glossy pop energy with a Halloween edge. Instead of rooting for the masked killer, Giselle dares listeners to step into the survivor’s shoes, the potential Final Girl, and experience the fear, chaos, and resilience from her point of view. Originally from Boston and raised in Buffalo, Giselle has lived and breathed music nearly her entire life. She began singing at five, writing songs at eight, and mastering instruments such as piano, violin, guitar, drums, and ukulele. After years of performing across New York, she leaped to Los Angeles at 21 and has since graced stages like The Hotel Café, The Mint, Whisky a Go Go, iHeartRadio, and Hotel Ziggy. Her grit and passion are undeniable, and “FINAL GIRL” captures all of it. More than a Halloween-ready bop, the track is a clever critique of pop culture’s obsession with horror villains. Giselle playfully calls out our tendency to idolize killers like Michael Myers, asking why we cheer for the monster instead of the survivor. The result is a track that’s darkly fun, sharp, and impossible to stop replaying. “I hope this song and music video can help people get into the Halloween spirit and finally feel the true fear of the possible Final Girl,” Giselle shares. “It gives a new perspective, and I hope they enjoy the ride while finding empathy for her.” To celebrate the release, Giselle is bringing “FINAL GIRL” to life on stage at her Halloween show at Whisky a Go Go on October 24 , a night guaranteed to mix chills, thrills, and pure pop spectacle. With “FINAL GIRL,” Giselle proves pop can be just as fearless as it is fun, turning fear into fire and solidifying herself as one of LA’s most exciting rising artists. "Final Girl" flips the usual horror narrative. What first inspired you to write from the survivor's perspective instead of the killer's? Yes, it does!! So, my fiancé actually requested that I write a song from that perspective! He said to me, "It would be so cool if you wrote a song from the final girl's point of view… the fear, the panic, and maybe even have the ending be intense!" I said, "I can do that!" And that's how "Final Girl" came to be!  The track is fun, but it also asks a real question. Why do we cheer for the villains? What do you hope fans take away from that reflection? Thank you! I often ask myself that same question, especially when it comes to horror. Not that there's anything wrong with it! It's fiction… I love Michael Myers and Ghostface (to name just two; the list could go on). But I do ask, "Why isn't the general consensus on the Final Girl or Final character(s) a positive one? Why do people tend to be upset when the villain doesn't win?" Most of the time, viewers feel happiness for the final character, but it's also accompanied by a little bit of sadness that the villain didn't succeed. Why is that? With this song and music video, I wanted people to ask themselves that same question. I wanted them to root for me and to feel intense feelings that we might not always feel for the survivor, since we don't usually get their internal monologue while they're running away from the killer!  You've performed at legendary LA venues like The Hotel Café and Whisky a Go Go. How does "Final Girl" feel different to bring to the stage? It will be a lot of fun to bring this to the stage! I'm really looking forward to it, as it will be incredibly theatrical!  As a multi-instrumentalist and songwriter, what was your process in shaping the sound of this track to match its cinematic theme? In my mind, I always heard this as a pop synth 80s-style track. When I wrote the song, the music video was flashing in my mind too! I knew it all had to feel very 80s camp slasher!  Your Halloween show at Whisky a Go Go is coming up. What can fans expect from the performance, and how will you bring the energy of the Final Girl to life? Yes! I'm so excited for it!!! October 24th at Whisky a Go Go is going to be a phenomenal night! It will be pure Halloween fun! Fans can expect to feel teleported to a different world that night AND get some surprises! Final Girl will be performed for the FIRST time at this show! So I don't want to spoil it… You have to be there!

Nashville is no stranger to artists chasing their solo spotlight, but  Steve Mac McCullough’s debut single “Left Hand Lane” feels like something different. The track is a witty yet heartfelt country anthem that takes a familiar frustration and spins it into something universally relatable. The inspiration came straight from McCullough’s real life. While driving between his two Orthopedic and Prosthetic offices in Texas, he noticed how often people clogged the left-hand lane. That observation evolved into more than just road rage; it became a metaphor and a powerful message. “I feel like ‘Left Hand Lane’ is a public service message, as well as a song,” McCullough explains. That blend of humor and truth is what makes this debut a hit. Written with Billboard-charting songwriter Mallary Hope and producer Wade Wenrick, “Left Hand Lane” is crafted with the kind of polish that makes it radio-ready from the start. Wenrick’s production keeps the sound slick and modern, balancing a classic country twang with a mainstream edge that will stick with both diehard fans of the genre and casual listeners. What stands out most is McCullough’s delivery. His voice carries warmth and wit, but it is grounded in authenticity. He sings like someone who has lived the story, which makes sense because he has. Instead of leaning on tired country clichés, he finds fresh ground in something as simple as a highway rule. That originality sets him apart in a crowded field of newcomers. “Left Hand Lane” is more than just a clever debut; it is a mission statement. It shows that McCullough is not afraid to inject humor, honesty, and a little everyday grit into his music. If this is the road he is starting on, fans should buckle up because Steve Mac McCullough is just getting started.

AloneKitty’s Sad Not Sad , out later this month, is the sound of someone forcing themselves forward. The Toronto project began in upheaval—job gone, relationship over, stability erased—and quickly became a lifeline. These songs don’t romanticize collapse. They document it plainly, with guitars pushed to their breaking point. The first single, “Stay The Same,” makes that intent clear. Its serrated guitar layers shift between tension and release, vocals blurred just enough to fuse emotion with noise. The track resists transformation in name but captures the friction of change in sound—abrasive, melodic, and unflinching. Though originally a solo outlet, AloneKitty now operates as a trio with Stefan on drums and Mike on bass. The band recorded the album live at Toronto’s Canterbury Music Company on a vintage 1976 NEVE console, cutting twelve songs in two days with minimal takes. That approach resists the algorithmic polish dominating indie production, trading quantized perfection for instinct and bleed. The sessions were produced by Josh Korody (Beliefs), mixed by Luke Schindler (Alexisonfire, Broken Social Scene), and mastered by Slowdive’s Simon Scott. That lineup adds weight to the record’s shoegaze DNA, even as AloneKitty’s writing veers toward the urgency of punk and post-hardcore. Schindler describes the songs as “something I’d have in my rotation,” while Scott calls them repeat listens—praise that resonates coming from an architect of the genre. Sad Not Sad  isn’t an album about escape. It confronts instability directly, using volume and repetition as a form of endurance. For AloneKitty, the act of moving forward is the point—and the sound of survival is louder than ever. Pre-order the album on Bandcamp

San Diego-born singer-songwriter Ainjo is not afraid to put her real-life experiences front and center, and her latest single, “Weirdo,” is a striking example of that honesty. Blending jazz-infused R&B with soulful undertones, the track dives into the uncomfortable realities of harassment and unwanted attention, turning a painful chapter into a powerful piece of music. Ainjo’s story is unique. Before transitioning into music full-time, she spent a decade in the military, balancing her duties as a sailor by day while quietly pursuing her passion for performing by night. That dual life gave her perspective, resilience, and a voice that is both relatable and deeply authentic. “Weirdo” stems from those years on active duty, where she encountered men who, despite having families and picture-perfect lives, crossed boundaries in ways that left lasting impressions. Instead of keeping quiet, Ainjo did what true artists do; she turned the discomfort into art. Musically, “Weirdo” thrives in contrast. The production is smooth and sultry, carried by Ainjo’s warm yet commanding vocals. But beneath the groove lies a razor-sharp message: sometimes the people who seem the most put together are the ones doing the most damage. With lyrics that are vulnerable yet unflinching, Ainjo crafts a song that empowers listeners to acknowledge uncomfortable truths, while still vibing with the beat. What makes “Weirdo” even more impactful is its universality. While rooted in Ainjo’s personal experience, she points out that the song can be about anyone who has crossed boundaries or projected negativity into their lives. It is a track that listeners can play loud at work, in the car, or anywhere they want to reclaim power and call out unacceptable behavior. As part of her upcoming project, “Weirdo” sets the tone for a collection that will spotlight the men, both positive and negative, who have shaped Ainjo’s journey. It is more than just a single; it is a statement of resilience and self-definition from an artist who refuses to be silenced. With her soulful delivery and fearless storytelling, Ainjo proves she is ready to carve her place as one of R&B’s most honest voices. “Weirdo” stems from your military experience. How did you transform that difficult period into music? I knew that I wanted to talk some mess! This entire project is about how men affected my life. Every day when I went to work I knew that I would hear something from him and it was always something. I wanted this man to know he affected me. I want the entire world to hear how he made me feel. I’m sure he’s heard and I’m sure he knows and that’s okay with me! Your style blends jazz, R&B, and soul. Who are your biggest musical influences in shaping that sound? Amy Winehouse is my favorite! She’s a big influence on my music! I’m also a fan of SZA, Summer Walker and Jazmine Sullivan. I love the vulnerability in their music! What message do you hope listeners take away when they hear “Weirdo” at full volume? I want listeners to think of this person! I want them to know and feel like it’s okay to talk a little mess! Everyone has had a weirdo at work! There’s always somebody! How has transitioning from a military life to a full-time music career influenced your artistry? Transitioning out of the military has influenced my music in the sense that I can do more! I’m able to perform and write more and give more time to my music! I love being out of the military! You mentioned your project highlights both positive and negative influences from men in your life. Can you share more about the vision for the full body of work? I can’t give too much but a lot of the time I feel hopeless in men. And I hate that I feel this way. I just believe everyone has a “him.” And I just want to express my “Him’s.”

Some artists chase hits. Reverse Pathogen chases the truth, messy, loud, and straight from the gut. His latest single,  “ Sunday Afternoon ,”  isn’t just another rock track; it’s a war cry for anyone who’s ever been knocked down and still showed up the next day. Inspired by frontman Clayton Thomas’ memories of watching his grandfather root for the Cleveland Browns through decades of brutal losses, the song takes the spirit of a team that can’t seem to win and flips it into an anthem for resilience. Backed by drumming legend Josh Freese (Foo Fighters, Devo, The Vandals), the track pounds with grit, mixing nostalgia with a defiant edge that feels both personal and universal. “This song isn’t just about football—it’s about what it means to keep showing up, no matter how many times you lose,” Thomas explains. “It’s for the fans, the artists, the dreamers—anyone who keeps fighting when the odds are stacked against them.” Clayton’s path has been anything but ordinary. He cut his teeth in the hip hop world, collaborating with heavyweights like Lil Uzi Vert, Future, and Trippie Redd, before doubling back to his rock roots and racking up millions of streams. His full-length Accidentally Fetishized, released earlier this year, made it clear: Reverse Pathogen is unafraid of discomfort, unafraid of imperfection, and dead set on kicking down the walls of polished, industry-safe rock. His recent cover of Chappell Roan’s “Good Luck, Babe!” only doubled down on that raw, jagged honesty. With “Sunday Afternoon,” Reverse Pathogen raises a glass to the underdog, to the fans screaming from the cheap seats, to the dreamers who can’t stop chasing what feels impossible. It’s not pretty. It’s not polished. And that’s the point.

Winnipeg’s own The Dirty Beat just released their extraordinary new album, Birthrite: Lancing the Boil , a record that doesn’t just push boundaries but tears them wide open. Led by multi-instrumentalist and recording artist Warren G. Funk, The Dirty Beat asks a question few bands dare to: What would punk have sounded like before electricity? The answer comes alive in a sound that merges grit with folk textures, button accordion, mandolin, Irish flute, tin whistle, trumpet, hulusi, and more, layered over drop-tuned acoustic guitar and raw rhythmic force. The result feels both ancient and futuristic, ritualistic yet electrifying. Comparisons to Queens of the Stone Age, Ween, or Tom Waits only scratch the surface. As The Tinnitist wrote of their debut, The Dirty Beat commands a “seemingly endless palette of originality that distinguishes [them] from other musical acts.” Rooted in Funk’s upbringing as a Mennonite preacher’s son on a Manitoba farm, the music carries ghostly echoes of church hymns, rural isolation, and a mind shaped without mainstream pop culture, refined further through years in East Vancouver and his eventual return to prairie solitude. Their self-titled debut already earned college radio play worldwide and critical acclaim for its audacious instrumentation and scope. Now, with Birthrite: Lancing the Boil, The Dirty Beat goes even further. Early reviews describe the record as poetic, uncompromising, and cathartic. York Calling praised it for “poetry and cynicism in equal measure,” while Irregular Dreams hailed its ability to balance intensity with melody. If the debut cracked open the door to The Dirty Beat’s world, Birthrite walks straight into the fire. Symbolic lyricism collides with hypnotic grooves, layered harmonies, and a rhythm section that feels less like a backbeat and more like a ritual heartbeat. The album doesn’t just entertain, it purges, heals, and rebirths, cementing The Dirty Beat as one of Canada’s most original folk-rock innovators. You’ve described The Dirty Beat as answering the question, “What would rock sound like before electricity?” How did you land on that concept, and how does it guide your creative choices? Somewhere along the way, I’m not exactly sure how, there developed a “rule” that there are no electric guitars in the Dirty Beat, and it has become The Cardinal Rule. More than a rule, it’s a challenge, a game, a gauntlet thrown down: how to make heavy music without relying on guitars, amps, distortion?  Electric guitars fill an incredible amount of sonic space, and it’s that power, that force, that wall of sound, that makes them such awesome instruments. So, how do you convey such power and heaviness when the electric guitar is removed from the equation? This limitation (and limits can be amazing for creativity) forces the acoustic, folk instruments – which in a rock setting tend to play more auxiliary roles – to the forefront, to push harder, to work together to create those textures and that spirit. What would a rock band marching an army to an ancient battlefield sound like? What would a prehistoric band trancing a shaman around a ceremonial fire sound like? I guess my desire to hear that is what drives my creative choices; reaching into thin air, grasping for those sounds. The instrumentation on  Birthrite  is incredibly unique—button accordion, Irish flute, hulusi, and more. How do you approach blending all of those sounds into something cohesive without losing the grit? I guess the cohesion comes naturally, from the instruments themselves. I’ve always just loved picking up instruments, finding their voice, putting them in different combinations and contexts. I consider the instruments as my bandmates, and either through trial and error or inspiration, they usually end up telling me what song needs them where.  Making primarily acoustic music means you get to – and have to – squeeze so much more out of each instrument. They are so much more than just notes: the flow of breath through wood, air grinding through reeds, valves popping, keys clacking, strings flopping. I also don’t have fast hands or good technique: writing and playing is more like wrestling for me. So as for not losing grit, when most of your instruments are long in the tooth and your playing is shit, the grit comes naturally! Your upbringing as a Mennonite preacher’s son on a Manitoba farm clearly shaped your perspective. How does that background continue to inform your songwriting and sonic identity today? My writing is informed and influenced by the hymns, choirs, and country-gospel I was raised on. I have more affinity with wood and fur and dirt than concrete and lights and synthetics, so I suppose my work will always lean rather earthy, low-tech, and handmade. Rooted in the earth, reaching for the sky! I think I always carry the belief that my work has to mean something; it should always be pointing to, striving for, the divine, not simply just to entertain or grab attention.  Growing up in a strict religious context with very little influence from pop culture means I never got marinated in any particular genre or scene. This has maybe allowed me to maintain a sort of childlike wonder and outsider approach to music and the world. It’s also made me kneejerk averse to ideological conformity and groupthink. Early reviews have called this record poetic, uncompromising, and cathartic. What emotions or experiences were you personally purging through the making of  Birthrite ? It really is a retrospective, a sort of looking back and taking stock of my life thus far. Living with mental illness and then hitting middle age is a bit of a brutal wake-up call; caught between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. The regrets, seeing the lost years, missed opportunities, dreams, and goals bailed on. The avoidance and bad habits that can, over time, become ingrained in a lifestyle. The realization that you have turned out so different from who you intended to become. And of taking personal accountability – that no matter who or what happened to me, I alone am ultimately responsible for how I have chosen to live… that’s a hard one.  If  The Dirty Beat  is about exorcism and rebirth, what do you hope listeners feel after experiencing the full album? It’s a somewhat exhausting record, so if listeners don’t feel a little spent afterwards, I guess the album has fallen short. I hope it somehow connects to their own experience; I really hope that younger listeners take heed. Life and dreams can really pass you by. You can literally wake up and a decade or two has gone by and all the stuff you intended to do, all the things you swore you’d change… It’s all still there, except now you have less energy, less time, less flexibility; things have settled into stone. So yeah, I’d hope people would take to heart: dreams don’t often die, but they can grow stale; they don’t stay alive and burning bright forever without your help. And pull the weeds out, in your life, in your spirit, the moment you see them, when they are small; once they mature, grow strong, become a part of you, they get so much harder to get rid of. Aside from that? I just hope they dig the music. I hope it makes heads bounce and bow.