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Isabella Chiarini is turning heartbreak into heat on her latest release, “ Kiss ,” a high-energy remix of her 2020 track “Kissing the Good Times Goodbye.” Hailing from Hamilton, Ontario, Chiarini brings both emotional weight and fresh production to this reboot, marking a clear step forward in her evolution as an artist. While the original version leaned more into traditional pop territory, this remix embraces a dancefloor-ready sound that pulses with bold confidence. The shift isn't just stylistic ,  it’s symbolic. “Kiss” is a reclamation. It takes a song rooted in emotional disappointment and flips it into an empowering anthem about recognizing your worth and letting go of what no longer serves you. The track tells the story of someone stuck in a cycle of empty promises. We've all met that person who talks a good game but never shows up when it counts. Chiarini captures that frustration, but instead of wallowing in it, she pushes through. The message is crystal clear: when words don’t match actions, it’s time to kiss those so-called good times goodbye. That theme hits even harder when you know where Chiarini is coming from. Raised by her father after losing her mother at a young age, she learned early on about perseverance and self-belief. Music became her escape and her purpose. She’s been chasing that dream since childhood, training with vocal coach Teresa Nocita and eventually signing with Nashville’s PCG Universal. Now, back in Canada and collaborating with Nocita and Canadian Idol winner Brian Melo, Chiarini is tapping into her most authentic sound yet. “Being my authentic self every step of the way is my main priority,” she says. “I hope when people listen to 'Kiss', they find the strength to leave toxic relationships and be strong.” That sense of strength is what carries the track. Sure, it’s danceable, catchy, and made for playlists, but it’s also a survival song, a middle finger to manipulation, and a reminder that you don’t have to stick around waiting for someone to change. With her growing catalog and a clear vision, Isabella Chiarini is proving that pop can be fun, fearless, and full of meaning. “Kiss” isn’t just a remix, it’s a reintroduction. You mentioned that “Kiss” is a remix of a song from 2020 . W hat made now the right time to revisit and reimagine it, and how does this new version reflect who you are today? I decided to remix this song because I felt that it no longer fit who I was as an artist. I wrote this song when I was 15 years old, now being almost 22, I’ve obviously evolved, and so has my music. I’ve recently been venturing into dance pop, and the original song was more rock-inspired. Since I’ve been shifting my sound, it only felt fitting to upgrade the song that I felt least fit my new vibe while also trying to stay somewhat true to the original!  Dance music can be so liberating—was it therapeutic for you to transform a painful memory into something that makes people want to move? Yes, I love it when song lyrics are angry or sad, but the music is upbeat because it gives a nice parallel. That way, people can listen no matter what emotion they’re feeling because it’ll always serve a purpose! Re-recording this song felt nostalgic because I haven’t sung it in years, and also liberating because I was able to create it in a way that was more authentic to me.  Your personal story, especially being raised by your father, seems to fuel your resilience. How does that strength show up in your songwriting and in a track like “Kiss”? It comes out in my work because it’s a part of me. Any music that I put out is an extension of my feelings. I like to put my whole heart into every song, and hearing the end products fuels me to keep pushing. You’ve worked with industry veterans like Teresa Nocita and Brian Melo. How have those collaborations helped shape your sound or confidence as an artist? Teresa and Brian have been there for me in tremendous ways. They’ve helped shape me into the artist I am today by giving me permission to fail and get back up again! Working with talented people gave me the motivation and drive to always try my best and develop my confidence. For listeners who might be stuck in a toxic relationship, what do you hope “Kiss” gives them that maybe you needed to hear yourself at one point? When people listen to “Kiss,” I hope it gives them the strength to do what is best for them! The song is about someone who is constantly hurting you, and by them hurting you, they’re essentially digging their own grave. I want people to find their inner voice to be who they want to be and be who they want to be with.

South Florida indie alt-pop artist myah has always walked the line between vulnerability and vision, and her new single “dodging bullets” is a masterclass in both. The track is the final chapter of her upcoming debut album i don’t know what i’m feeling , and it doesn’t just conclude the project. It rips open its core one last time before letting the light in. Born from the wreckage of a one-sided breakup, “dodging bullets” wrestles with the hollow comfort of cliché advice. You know the line: “You dodged a bullet.”  But for myah, the phrase felt less like protection and more like residue. “Even if you do dodge a bullet, you’re still left shaken and maybe even grazed,” she explains, and that imagery bleeds through every lyric. Backed by Midwest emo guitar lines and haunting alt-pop textures, the track crescendos into a soundscape that feels both intimate and cinematic. Think of early 2000s heartache with a 2025 clarity. Fans of Foxing, Modest Mouse, and Yeah Yeah Yeahs will feel right at home, but myah makes the genre her own with sharp storytelling and a breathless sense of honesty. The accompanying self-directed music video, more short film than visualizer, grounds the emotional turbulence in myah’s signature aesthetic: soft, raw, and achingly romantic. The video and single mark the first of a final rollout before the album officially drops in August. At its heart, “dodging bullets” is about honoring the messy middle, the grey space between heartbreak and healing. And if you’ve ever felt guilty for grieving what you knew  wasn’t good for you, this one’s for you. It’s okay if healing feels like limping away from something that almost killed you. Instagram

Boston-based pop artist  Isabelle Gitlin  isn’t just writing songs; she’s creating sonic mirrors. Her latest single, “ It Still ,” is an emotionally raw, atmospheric track that tackles the disorienting feeling of being trapped in the past while life keeps moving forward. It’s a vulnerable, slow-burning reflection on trauma, time, and the exhausting loop of “what could’ve been.” On “It Still,” Gitlin explores the invisible weight of unresolved pain, how it lingers, how it infiltrates your present, and how it blurs the lines between memory and reality. Her voice floats with quiet urgency over moody production, giving the listener space to sit with their own memories and emotions. “I wanted to show how certain traumas and past events can still feel so recent despite occurring years or decades ago,” Gitlin explains. “It can be a dangerous and uncomfortable space to live in, but it’s very real.” Sonically, “It Still” leans into minimalist pop with cinematic undertones. There’s restraint in the arrangement that mirrors the emotional paralysis the lyrics describe. The result is a song that doesn’t just tell a story, it feels like the story. Frozen moments. Lingering thoughts. Painful clarity. Gitlin’s artistry is defined by emotional honesty and intentional experimentation. Influenced by a range of genres and visual elements, she creates fully immersive experiences with each project. And while a full body of work is on the horizon, “It Still” feels like a powerful standalone statement from an artist unafraid to confront the darker corners of the mind and invite us to do the same. “I hope people feel less alone and understood,” she says. “It’s important to validate those feelings and slowly work to break that cycle… I want people to know that I’m right there with them.” "It Still" explores the weight of unresolved emotions. How do you personally begin to untangle yourself from the past when you're writing? Writing itself helps me untangle myself from the past because I'm putting it into words and sharing it. A lot of times, it's easy for me to become withdrawn and get lost in my thoughts, but art, music, and creativity give me the space to process everything and explore the different parts of myself that I would otherwise find extremely difficult to express.  You've mentioned your love for building sonic worlds. If "It Still" were a physical space, what would it look like? "It Still" would look like a dimly lit, maroon-colored room filled with mirrors on every surface and every wall, where you can only see your reflection staring back at you. With the mirrors, your reflection is endless, and you're essentially unable to escape yourself. I view it as a space that forces you to confront the parts of yourself and your past that are uncomfortable to face.  How do you balance the vulnerability of a track like this with the pressure to present a polished "pop" image? I think that being authentic to myself and not boxing myself into one area, genre, topic, etc., is helpful in growing and finding myself as an artist. I love it when artists show different sides of themselves in their work that aren't always "polished" or "perfect," even though that's often what we as artists strive for and want. But I think it's what makes an artist human, and that's what we, as an audience, connect to and admire, that humanity and imperfection. And I just hope people connect with my work in that way and feel seen by it.  What would you say to someone who feels completely stuck in their past and sees no clear way forward? That I hear them, and I see them. It's difficult to move forward, but moving forward doesn't mean forgetting or erasing it; it means giving yourself space to keep growing and living. It isn't always a linear journey; it takes time, but it's possible, but it's possible to feel lighter and not feel weighed down by your thoughts, feelings, and traumas. And I'd just let them know that I'm there for them.  When you're crafting emotionally intense music, what role do visuals and aesthetics play in supporting the message? Visuals and aesthetics play an immense part in supporting and conveying the message because they add another layer of storytelling. They set the scene and invite listeners and viewers into a more curated space where the music, lyrics, and visuals intersect to showcase the full picture of what I'm trying to say. I typically visualize each project as its own story, with its own images as I'm writing, recording, and building it. I see different colors, specific scenery, or a certain piece of clothing, and work to incorporate those elements into the project. What's next for you? I'm always writing, working on music, planning ahead, and continuing to learn and grow to improve my craft. I do have a project I'm finishing up that I'm hoping to put out in the next month or so, which I'm very excited about, and I'll be performing in a show with a couple of incredible artists next month as well.

In a music world full of formulas and facades, Mia Cefalo is bringing back real emotion, served raw, loud, and undeniably catchy. The Philly-based, Miami-born artist is turning post-breakup chaos into anthems you can scream in your car with the windows down. Her latest single, “ Lose Me ,” is a gritty, vulnerable punch to the gut wrapped in power chords and pop-punk perfection. Written about a hyper-specific yet deeply relatable moment, being young, emotionally wrecked, and sitting in the back of someone’s car you don’t even speak to anymore, “Lose Me” captures the confusing wave of nostalgia, anger, and sadness that hits when memories resurface uninvited. It’s the sonic equivalent of remembering everything you wish you’d said after the fact. “I wanted to capture that weird emotional loop you fall into when a memory hits you hard,” Mia shares. “You’re suddenly back there, even if you know it wasn’t good for you.” Though she originally dipped her toes into music with a few “cringey country songs” (her words), Mia found her true voice in pop-punk, a genre that fits her emotional honesty and fierce energy like a perfectly ripped band tee. Influenced by the angst of Avril Lavigne and the fiery honesty of Paramore, Mia’s music gives listeners permission to feel everything, especially the messy stuff. Backed by producers Jeff McKinnon and Sam Carlen, and songwriting collaborator Luke Bernardi, Mia crafts tracks that don’t just sound good, they feel like your favorite journal entry screamed over a distortion pedal. With “Lose Me,” she isn’t just singing about heartbreak. She’s giving a voice to those silent moments when you realize a person or situation never deserved your loyalty in the first place. And that’s something anyone can relate to. “Lose Me” hits on such a specific but universal moment. Was there a particular memory or trigger that brought this one rushing back to you? Thank you. Yes! I think that when you turn a certain age (I’ll be 28 this year), you start to realize how fast the ten years leading up to that point went. You start to feel nostalgic about how your life was ten years ago.  When sitting down to write this, I was trying to create a relatable world. What were we doing when we were 16 and 17 years old?  How did we feel about those crazy moments as teenagers, and how does that make us feel now (looking back )? I wanted to capture a particular feeling. You’ve talked about starting in country music and pivoting to pop-punk—what made you realize this was your true sound? What made me realize that Pop-Punk might be a better sound for me was when my writing partner came to me with a song he wrote one day at work, and there happened to be a guitar nearby.  I remember it sounded so different than what I was used to. When I took it to the studio, I was able to visualize it, kind of, which had never happened to me before. And when that happened, I decided to switch genres for good. Your lyrics feel like pages ripped from a diary. How do you balance personal storytelling with creating something that feels relatable to others? That means the world to me. When I tell stories about something that happened to me, I always try to word it so that the listener can picture it. That’s the first thing. The second thing is musical - I try to create a vibe that feels nostalgic in some way. Whether that’s a guitar riff or a melody, something that feels familiar. If I can successfully put that together, it’s usually a good sign of relatability. How has living in Philadelphia, after growing up in Miami, shaped your musical style and songwriting process? Moving to Philadelphia changed my life. It took a couple of years to adjust, though, because, at first, I felt like it wasn’t the right fit. I started feeling at home here about two years after I moved. Having been here for a while now, I have officially experienced more life here than I did in Miami.  Back in FL, absolutely nothing happened, really, and that was the problem. When I started to experience loss and heartbreak, here. That’s when my writing got better.  Getting laid off during COVID, leaving a two-year job that wasn’t serving me but made me who I am today, friendship breakups, etc. When I met my husband, who also writes for me sometimes, he had been writing his whole life and taught me how to take an idea and make it more relatable. He has been with me through thick and thin, so we've experienced tough times together and created some really good songs from those times. If you could go back and play “Lose Me” for the person it’s about, would you? Why or why not? I don’t think I would. It's intended for a couple of people specifically, and I hope they find it one day. I hope they come across it at some point and discover it on their own.

Vanden Dool doesn’t sugarcoat heartbreak. The Calgary-based synth-pop artist’s latest EP,  I Don’t Know if You Can Love Me ,  is a cinematic, emotionally saturated project that pairs the aching honesty of rejection with the pulsating rhythms of electronica. It’s the kind of release that feels like crying in a club bathroom, moody, reflective, but somehow still electrifying. Known for fusing melancholic lyricism with atmospheric synth textures and magnetic beats, Vanden Dool is carving out a unique lane in the Canadian indie-pop scene. His sound calls back to 80s new wave and modern alternative pop in equal parts, evoking comparisons to acts like M83 or CHVRCHES, except with a colder bite and a bit more personal ache. At the heart of the new EP is a theme nearly everyone can relate to: the weird purgatory of wanting someone who doesn’t want you back. On  I Don’t Know if You Can Love Me , Vanden Dool dissects this emotional limbo with surgical precision, using soundscapes as sharp as the subject matter. The title alone is vulnerable, but the tracks push even deeper, tackling everything from the hesitation of reaching out to someone to the slow-burning realization that the connection you craved may have never really existed in the first place. There’s a strange comfort in how candid it all feels, like flipping through old text messages you never had the nerve to send. The EP’s lead single, “Not What You Want,” stands out as an emotional high point. Built on glitchy synths, swelling layers, and Vanden Dool’s signature melancholic vocals, the track feels like a farewell letter dressed in neon. Lyrically, it confronts the brutal simplicity of rejection, no blame, no drama, just the quiet pain of not being  it  for someone. What makes the song even more compelling is its open-ended message. Sure, it could be about a romantic situation, but it’s also a mirror to any form of rejection—professional, creative, or platonic. That universality is part of what gives  I Don’t Know if You Can Love Me  its emotional punch: it never tries to tell you how to feel, but it meets you exactly where you are. Despite the weight of the themes, the EP isn’t a downer. In fact, Vanden Dool manages to make existential longing sound danceable. His ability to marry emotional honesty with sonic escapism creates a listening experience that’s both introspective and immersive. You’ll want to blast it through headphones on a late-night walk or let it loop in the background of your next solo drive. At its core, this EP is for anyone who’s ever gotten ghosted, misread the signs, or poured their heart into a “what are we?” situation that never got an answer. As Vanden Dool puts it: “I hope people find something to relate to in at least some of the lyrics. As most if not all people have experienced the sting of rejection or finding themselves in a less than ideal situation with someone at some point in their lives, I think they might find something to identify with.” And in a world of surface-level hits and algorithm-chasing singles, that kind of raw, relatable storytelling is exactly what makes Vanden Dool an artist worth paying attention to. You describe your EP as exploring different levels of unrequited love—was there one particular experience that sparked the concept? There were actually several instances that inspired these songs. The opener, "I'm Not in Love with You," was about one particular experience with someone, but all the other tracks were a culmination of times I've had similar experiences with different people. The concept for the EP itself was a way for me to step back from the more ambitious pseudo-social commentary from my 2023 album  Poverty and Pop Culture,  while still retaining the tradition that 2020's  The View from Here  EP set centered the lyrics around related ideas. I find it makes overcoming writer's block easier when I have an idea for what an entire collection of songs is going to be about. The lyrics on “Not What You Want” feel open to interpretation. Was that intentional? I went into "Not What You Want" with the simple intent to write a song about how it feel when you have a very strong desire to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't feel that way about you. But once it was set for release, I realized the lyrics never once explicitly said it was about being romantically interested in someone, and because of that, it inadvertently could apply to anything involving rejection. In 2022 I released a single with Lethbridge-based artist Makiisma called "You Will Not Love Me Forever", which was about people finding my music and telling me they enjoyed it and then not following what came later or going to any more shows, but deliberately written in a way that made it sound like a doomed romantic relationship. This song feels like the opposite to me: it was meant as a song about a failed attempt at romance, but accidentally became something more open to interpretation. I could have written similar lyrics about not getting contacted for a job I applied for that I really wanted, or for the countless festival and showcase rejections I receive. So there was an intended meaning to the song, but I'm perfectly happy with people taking whatever meaning they think they can identify with. Your sound blends melancholy with upbeat electronic energy—how do you balance that tension when producing a track? I mostly try to look up to bands that have done it in the past. Rock 'n' roll in the 1960s had a bounty of songs that are easy to groove to but have heart-wrenchingly sad lyrics, for instance, so it's a tried and true tradition at this point. My favourite band and one of my main inspirations is the Scottish synth-pop band CHVRCHES, and they've spent the past decade perfecting the balance between melancholy and high energy; their songs don't always immediately sound sad, but once you take a look at the lyrics you realize how much pain went into writing them. Before them were bands like Joy Division and Depeche Mode, who combined deeply brooding lyrics with up-tempo musical arrangements that don't ignore the darkness to the lyrics but instead make you feel like sweating the darkness out in the club. I always try to have a track move in one of these directions, precisely because I know people have succeeded in doing it before, and it's the kind of music that excites me the most. What’s something you learned about yourself through creating this project? I think it mostly disturbed me with the amount of variety I was able to write on the topic of unrequited love, especially as this is far from the first time I've written about it. It felt like there was a frightening amount of loneliness that went into it. My main fear when writing the songs was that it would be misinterpreted as a product of incel culture, so I wanted to be very careful in how I worded things. I made a deliberate effort to make sure what I was writing wasn't out of bitterness or anger or blame toward the other party; it was just an expression of grief for outcomes I was sad about but couldn't control. I think this way it also becomes more relatable, because anyone of any gender or sexuality can experience that same kind of sorrow. If a listener could only take away one feeling from this EP, what do you hope it would be? If the listener also has had poor luck with love, I hope it makes them feel like they're not alone in that. It's especially hard to remember that when you watch friends and family finding themselves in a happy relationship, sometimes even getting married, and you're still left all alone not knowing how to fix what you're doing wrong or if there's even anything to fix; so I think it's important to have those reminders that other people are out there going through the same thing. If the listener is one of the friends or family finding love, I hope it inspires them to cherish what they found, because that kind of fulfilment is a wonderful thing that some people may never experience, and they've probably had the kinds of ordeals described in these songs before meeting that special someone. With the hardships inherent in a relationship, it's important for them to remember how lucky they are that they've still found companionship with someone who's equally happy to be with them.

When it comes to transformation, Vox Rea doesn’t just write about it; they embody it. The sister duo of Kate and Lauren Kurdyak has evolved far beyond their pop debut as The Katherines into a fully realized art-pop collective. And with their new album, Art Oracles, released May 23, they’ve crafted a project that feels less like a standard LP and more like a cinematic world you live inside of. Layered with haunting string arrangements, lush harmonies, and lyrics that read like philosophical poetry, Art Oracles is a slow-burning revelation. The album moves between grief and autonomy, self-doubt and power, asking the kind of questions most pop records would rather avoid. And that’s exactly what makes it so gripping. "This is an album for anyone who’s ever wrestled with control of their art, their image, or their inner voice, and come out the other side a little bruised but stronger." At its core, this record is a reclamation. A rejection of surface-level pop conventions. A redefinition of what femininity, creativity, and vulnerability can sound like when they’re not filtered through the industry machine. From the ambient drama of “Damn (Unstuck)” to the existential pulse of “Dose Me Up,” Vox Rea blurs the line between ethereal folk, noir-pop, and something entirely their own. But it’s not just about sound. Vox Rea is a full-spectrum experience, directing their own visuals, crafting immersive merch, and performing with a raw theatricality that makes their live shows feel like rituals. Art Oracles doesn’t just demand your ears, it asks for your full presence.

Whether you’re hosting a virtual party, teaching a dance class, running a webinar, or just want to vibe with friends, learning how to play music for everyone on Zoom  is a game-changer. Thankfully, Zoom makes it easy to share high-quality audio with all participants, as long as you know which settings to use. Let’s break it down step by step. Use Zoom’s Share Screen Audio Feature The easiest and most reliable method to play music for everyone on Zoom is by using the Share Screen option with audio enabled. Here’s how: Open Zoom and start or join a meeting. Click the Share Screen button (usually at the bottom of the window). In the pop-up window, click the Advanced tab at the top. Select Computer Audio (or "Music or Computer Sound Only"). Hit Share. Now, any music you play on your computer, whether through Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube, or any other app, will be broadcast to everyone in the meeting. Pro Tip: Adjust your computer’s volume before sharing audio. Whatever volume you set will be what your Zoom attendees hear. 2. Share a Music Video or Streaming Tab If you want to share both video and audio (for example, a music video or a DJ set): Click Share Screen again. Select the browser tab or app window where the video is playing. Make sure to check the box for Share sound before confirming. This method is great for virtual events, watch parties, or online classes where visual content matters. 3. Optimize Audio for Best Quality To improve how music sounds to your participants: In Zoom’s main settings, go to Audio. Check Show in-meeting option to enable Original Sound. During your meeting, click Turn On Original Sound (usually in the top-left corner of the Zoom window). This bypasses Zoom’s default voice optimization, which can muffle music, and streams the raw audio directly to your audience. 4. Use a Virtual Audio Cable or Audio Mixer (Advanced) For DJs, podcasters, or those wanting pro-level sound: Use software like VB-Audio’s Virtual Audio Cable or Loopback Audio (Mac). Route your music app’s audio directly into Zoom as a microphone input. This setup delivers studio-quality sound but requires a bit more technical know-how. 5. Mute Your Mic While Playing Music Remember to mute your physical mic while streaming music to avoid background noise or feedback disrupting the sound. Whether you stick to the simple Share Audio method or set up a pro-level virtual mixer, sharing music on Zoom is easy and effective.

If you’ve ever tried to listen to YouTube music with the screen off on your Android or iPhone, you already know the frustration; close the app or lock your screen, and the music stops. But in 2025, there are several easy (and legal) ways to keep your favorite YouTube tracks playing even when your screen is off or your phone is locked. Whether you want to save battery life or simply keep your phone in your pocket, here’s how to do it. 1. Subscribe to YouTube Premium  (Best Option) The simplest and most reliable way to play YouTube music with the screen off is by subscribing to YouTube Premium. This service allows background play, ad-free videos, and even offline downloads. Once you’re subscribed: Open the YouTube app Start playing a music video or playlist Lock your phone or switch to another app, the audio will keep playing seamlessly. YouTube Premium also comes with YouTube Music Premium, giving you an even better experience for audio streaming. 2. Use the YouTube Music App If you’re primarily looking for music, downloading the YouTube Music app is a smart move. YouTube Music Premium allows background playback and offline listening—perfect for screen-off use. Open YouTube Music Start your playlist or song Lock your screen and enjoy uninterrupted music. 3. Browser Workaround (For Free Users) If you don’t have YouTube Premium, there’s a workaround: Open Chrome or Firefox on your Android or iPhone. Go to youtube.com  and search for your song or playlist. Tap the browser menu (three dots) and select Desktop Site. Start the video, then lock your screen. Swipe down the notification shade and press play on the media controls. This method can be a bit inconsistent depending on your phone model and browser updates. 4. Third-Party Apps & Extensions Some third-party apps and browser extensions allow background playback. Apps like Brave Browser offer built-in background audio support for YouTube videos without requiring Premium. However, always ensure any app you use complies with YouTube’s terms of service to avoid security or account issues. 5. Picture-in-Picture (PiP) Mode If your main goal is to watch YouTube videos while using other apps, PiP mode is an option. But remember, PiP usually requires YouTube Premium for mobile users: Go to Settings > Apps > YouTube > Picture-in-Picture and enable it. Start a video, then press Home or swipe up. The video will shrink into a small window. This isn’t quite screen-off playback, but it’s great for multitasking. So, how can you play YouTube music with the screen off? The easiest, most user-friendly answer in 2025 is still YouTube Premium. But if you’re looking for free alternatives, the browser workaround and certain third-party apps can help in a pinch.

The Nashville-based singer/songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist delivers a sharp, twangy, and hilariously honest track with her latest release, “ The Men I Knew .” Equal parts classic country and modern-day heartbreak humor, the song offers a refreshing look at the chaos of dating in today’s world, complete with fiddle, steel guitar, and a whole lot of truth. From being ghosted to watching someone become the man you always knew they could be, just not for you, Frances Praet takes the most ridiculous moments from her love life and spins them into a song that feels tragic, funny, and way too relatable. “I took the most ridiculous tales from my experiences the past few years, and spun them into a synopsis of why we should always take the high road and wish our past lovers well.” Produced with a polished yet rustic feel, the track features country legends Joe Spivey on fiddle and Scotty Sanders on steel guitar, adding a rich, traditional tone to Frances’ modern lyrical edge. The result is a song that feels timeless but completely current, like a Loretta Lynn track filtered through a 2024 dating app. But “The Men I Knew” isn’t just about dragging exes. It’s about compassion. Growth. Believe it or not, hope. Frances delivers the ultimate country power move: sending love to the women who come next, and wishing those exes well on their new journey. “Hopefully, once you're done with them, they'll become the men you always knew they could be—for the next girl to enjoy!” With her distinct blend of Americana, rock, and country storytelling, Frances Praet is building a sound that feels nostalgic and brand-new all at once. If you’ve ever laughed through tears over a failed fling, or found yourself rooting for someone after they broke your heart, this one’s for you.  “The Men I Knew” perfectly blends humor and heartbreak. Was there one particular story that inspired the song, or is it a collection of wild tales? Thank you! There’s always a fear when you’re making fun of yourself, you’ll cross a line into just being depressing, so I appreciate you saying that.  A couple of years ago, I decided to put myself out there and date a lot to figure out what I wanted in a relationship. I am generally a very resilient person, but I’d had a few too many bad situationships (hence the song). I ran into one guy in particular (who was exceptionally mean) a few months after things ended. He told me I was the reason he decided to better himself because he “realized he was hurting good people.” That one inspired the chorus, and I realized I could fill in the blanks for the rest with all the crazy stories I had! Joe Spivey and Scotty Sanders are legends in the country world. What was it like having them play on this track, and how did they help shape the sound? Oh my gosh, I still pinch myself knowing such amazing musicians are willing to play on my songs! The song in itself is pretty simple; there are not a ton of instruments on it, and when we sent it to them, we didn’t have any sort of hook to draw you in. The fiddle and steel guitar made the entire thing come to life! I vividly remember getting these tracks back and tearing up listening to them both together on the song. Sometimes, you get a feeling when you hear new parts in a song that feel right - it's truly magical! You mentioned wanting to show love to the women who come after you. That’s such a powerful message. Has that always been your mindset, or did it develop over time with experience? Just from my own experience, the world seems intent on pitting women against each other. A lot of times, we’re made to feel like we weren’t enough for a guy we dated, and then the next girl is villainized. In reality, the guy who did something awful, like cheating or lying, should be the one we direct our anger towards! I sincerely hope no one else has to experience the version of some of these guys I dated. That is an ideal. I’ve grown with experience! Your music seamlessly blends classic rock and country. Who were the artists that shaped your sound growing up, and who’s inspiring you right now? Thank you! Growing up, I was a huge Shania Twain fan; I think I bring a lot of that energy into my music lately (and I still blast her music all the time!). I was also exposed to a lot of classic rock growing up, so that comes inherently. I’ve been listening to a lot of new women in the country recently, like Laci Kaye Booth and Carter Faith. It’s inspiring to see the fresh, innovative take on country music they’re doing. I love to listen to all kinds of music, so you never know what hints of different genres will make their way into the next song!  What advice would you give to someone currently navigating the same kinds of dating disasters you sing about in this track? Never lose sight of who you are and what you want. Seek fulfillment in other areas of your life. When the time is right, the right person will naturally come along and build upon the foundation you have established. If you put all of your faith in another human being, you will be disappointed 100% of the time. Also, you are not crazy for having needs! If it’s not working with someone, it’s not necessarily because you’re broken or wrong; it’s simply because it wasn’t the right person for you. Stay strong out there, and listen to The Men I Knew when you feel hopeless. You are not alone!

When we think of legendary musicians, we often celebrate their albums, sold-out tours, or genre-defining sounds. But what’s often overlooked is the fight behind the curtain, battles waged against an industry built to control, exploit, and silence creatives. From unfair contracts to corporate censorship, from stolen master recordings to the commodification of identity, many of the world’s biggest music stars have stood up and spoken out. This article highlights ten famous musicians who criticized the music industry, sometimes subtly, sometimes publicly, and sometimes with full-blown warfare. These artists challenged major labels, fought for artistic freedom, and risked their careers to call out the systems that profit off creativity without respecting the creators behind it. Whether you're an aspiring artist or just a music fan curious about the industry's darker truths, here are 10 musicians who refused to stay quiet. Bob Marley: Music As Resistance Bob Marley wasn’t just a reggae pioneer; he was a revolutionary voice who used his platform to expose the political and economic structures behind the music business. While major labels wanted to market Marley as a feel-good island icon, he refused to separate his art from his activism. His lyrics regularly criticized colonialism, capitalism, and the systems that oppressed not only Jamaica but all Black and Indigenous people globally. Marley was deeply critical of how the music industry commercialized cultural struggle, packaging it for white audiences while silencing its roots. He remained fiercely independent, aligning with labels only when they allowed him full creative control. Marley believed music could be a weapon, and he made sure it was pointed in the right direction. Bob Dylan: Anti-Commercial by Nature (YouTube/IBM) Bob Dylan has never cared about what the industry thinks. A poetic rebel from the start, Dylan gained fame in the early 1960s but quickly grew disillusioned with the music machine’s need to package, brand, and sell every aspect of an artist’s persona. In a time when protest music was becoming marketable, Dylan resisted becoming a mouthpiece. Perhaps his most famous act of rebellion was when he “went electric” at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965, shocking fans and critics alike. The move symbolized his refusal to be boxed in. Dylan has often spoken about the emptiness of fame and the music industry's obsession with trends over substance. His entire career has been a middle finger to corporate predictability. Prince: The King of Ownership Battles If there’s one artist who went to war with the music industry and won, it’s Prince. In the 1990s, he famously wrote the word “SLAVE” across his face during public appearances to protest his contract with Warner Bros. The label owned the masters to his recordings and restricted the pace at which he could release new music. To reclaim his freedom, Prince changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol and began releasing music independently. His bold moves forced the industry to confront uncomfortable truths about artist ownership, royalties, and exploitation. Prince became a blueprint for every artist seeking to own their masters and control their artistic legacy. He didn’t just criticize the music industry; he made history doing it. Billie Eilish: A New Generation Speaks Out (Kevin Winter / WireImage / Getty Images) Billie Eilish might be a Gen Z pop icon, but she’s not playing by the industry's traditional rules. From the start of her career, Billie has been open about the toxic pressures artists, especially young women, face in the music world. Whether it’s unrealistic beauty standards, the hyper-sexualization of teenage performers, or the constant demand to produce “content,” she’s spoken out against it all. Beyond body politics, Billie has also taken jabs at the industry's obsession with chart performance and social media optics. She’s challenged fans and executives to think differently about what success looks like and has built a brand around authenticity instead of conformity. In many ways, Billie represents a changing tide in the industry, where artists speak up instead of falling in line. David Bowie: The Visionary Who Saw Through It All Terry ONeill/Hulton Archive/Getty Images Long before streaming and TikTok, David Bowie foresaw how the music industry would change, and how it would exploit artists in the process. In a 2002 interview, Bowie boldly predicted the rise of the internet and how it would “crush” the traditional music business. He wasn’t wrong. Bowie often criticized labels for suffocating creative experimentation. He reinvented himself constantly, knowing that the industry preferred artists to pick a lane and stay in it. From glam rock to Berlin-era minimalism, Bowie refused to be reduced to a brand. He also supported up-and-coming artists in escaping predatory contracts and urged them to protect their intellectual property at all costs. Lauryn Hill: Walking Away on Her Own Terms Mathew Tsang / Getty Images After the phenomenal success of The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill , Hill made a move that shocked the world: she walked away. Not because she couldn't keep up, but because she didn’t want to play the game anymore . Lauryn has spoken candidly about the spiritual and emotional toll the music industry took on her. She felt exploited, misunderstood, and boxed in. Her refusal to play along cost her mainstream visibility, but she’s remained a powerful voice for artistic and personal freedom. Lauryn Hill is a cautionary tale and an icon, proof that stepping back can be more powerful than staying in. Bruce Springsteen: Fighting for the Working-Class Artist Bruce Springsteen didn’t just sing about the working class: he fought for them. As an artist who came from humble beginnings, he’s always been wary of how the music industry treats both its artists and its audiences. Springsteen has criticized corporate radio, streaming payouts, and the way profit often overshadows artistry. He’s also stood in solidarity with musicians trying to unionize, and he’s been a vocal advocate for fair royalties in the digital age. Bruce’s career has been marked by loyalty to the people, not the system. While he’s reached legendary status, he’s never lost sight of the everyday artist getting squeezed by the machine. Thom Yorke: Taking on Big Tech and Big Labels Photo by Kelsey McKinney As the lead singer of Radiohead, Thom Yorke has never been afraid to rattle the cages of the industry. He’s taken direct aim at streaming services like Spotify, calling them “the last desperate fart of a dying corpse.” His main gripe? The way tech companies profit off music without paying creators fairly. In 2007, Radiohead famously released In Rainbows  as a pay-what-you-want download, cutting out the middleman entirely. The move wasn’t just experimental—it was revolutionary. Yorke has continued to criticize the cozy relationship between major labels and tech platforms, and he’s encouraged artists to find new ways to distribute and profit from their music. Madonna: Destroying Double Standards Since Day One Photo by Famoseo Madonna has never been silent about how the industry treats women, especially women who dare to age, speak out, or take control. From the beginning of her career, she’s pushed back against the roles the music industry expects women to play: sexy, submissive, and silent after 40. She’s called out ageism, sexism, and the media's obsession with policing women’s bodies. Madonna has long been critical of how labels market female artists based on trends rather than talent, and she’s used her massive platform to amplify those critiques unapologetically. Her legacy isn't just about music, it's about blowing up every rule the industry made for women. Speaking Truth to Power in a Rigged Industry The music industry has never been a level playing field, and these artists knew it. Whether they exposed corrupt label practices, demanded ownership of their masters, or simply walked away from toxic systems, each one took a stand that reverberated far beyond the charts. Their criticisms weren’t just complaints; they were calls to action that helped spark real conversations about equity, transparency, and creative freedom. As streaming continues to dominate and corporate interests tighten their grip, the voices of these artists remain more relevant than ever. They didn’t just make music, they made noise where it mattered most. And for every artist coming up today, their legacy is a reminder: the system only changes when you have the guts to challenge it.