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Photo by  Klara Kulikova  on  Unsplash You know that feeling when you stumble across a band playing in a subway tunnel and suddenly your entire day shifts? The commute becomes secondary. The phone goes away. For three minutes, you're just... there. Present. Connected to something real. That's the magic mobile performance bands have been tapping into while the rest of the industry obsesses over algorithms and streaming numbers. They're out there proving something the music business forgot: proximity beats perfection every damn time. The Venue Is Wherever You Are Mobile performance isn't busking with better marketing. It's a complete rejection of the traditional venue model that's pricing out both artists and fans. These bands show up in parks, coffee shops, house parties, street corners, and anywhere people gather. No sound system? They project. No stage? The floor works. No green room? The van is fine. What started as a necessity has become a philosophy. Why wait for someone to book you when you can book yourself everywhere? The best mobile acts understand something club bookers don't: intimacy scales. Whether it's five people or fifty, the connection is the same. Maybe stronger. There's no barrier between performer and audience. No security is telling people to step back. Just humans sharing space and sound. Authenticity You Can't Fake Here's what happens when you strip away the production: the music either works or it doesn't. There's nowhere to hide behind reverb, lighting, or a killer sound engineer. Your voice cracks? Everyone hears it. Your timing's off? It's obvious. Your energy's fake? The audience knows immediately. Mobile performance is the ultimate bullshit detector. And audiences are hungry for that realness. We've been fed so much processed music that raw performance feels revolutionary. No autotune safety net. No do-overs. Just you, your instrument, and whatever magic you can create in that moment. The mistakes become part of the story. The imperfections make it human. That's why mobile performance videos go viral. With average mobile data usage  reaching 24 GB per month per user in 2023, people are consuming more live content than ever, and they're not just watching music—they're witnessing vulnerability. And vulnerability is the one thing you can't manufacture in a recording studio. The Economics Actually Make Sense Let's talk money, because everyone's tired of pretending art pays for itself through exposure. Mobile performance can actually be profitable. No venue fee. No door split. No sound rental. Just you, your tip jar, and whatever merch fits in a backpack. The overhead is minimal. The potential is huge. In Australia, about 15,400 practicing musicians  made up 32% of all artistic vocations as of recent industry data, yet most are still chasing traditional revenue models that aren't working. Mobile musicians find they can make more in a weekend than most bands make in a month of streaming. Cash in hand. No waiting for royalty checks that might never come. Plus, you're building a real fanbase. People who discover you on the street are more likely to buy your stuff, follow your accounts, and show up to your shows. They feel like they found you. That connection is worth more than a thousand playlist adds. The smart mobile performers aren't just collecting tips. They're collecting email addresses, selling merch, booking private gigs, and turning street performances into sustainable income streams. Authenticity You Can't Fake Here's what happens when you strip away the production: the music either works or it doesn't. There's nowhere to hide behind reverb, lighting, or a killer sound engineer. Your voice cracks? Everyone hears it. Your timing's off? It's obvious. Your energy's fake? The audience knows immediately. Mobile performance is the ultimate bullshit detector. And audiences are hungry for that realness. We've been fed so much processed music that raw performance feels revolutionary. No autotune safety net. No do-overs. Just you, your instrument, and whatever magic you can create in that moment. The mistakes become part of the story. The imperfections make it human. That's why mobile performance videos go viral. People aren't just watching music, they're witnessing vulnerability. And vulnerability is the one thing you can't manufacture in a recording studio.   The Economics Actually Make Sense Photo by  Gabe Pierce  on  Unsplash Let's talk money, because everyone's tired of pretending art pays for itself through exposure. Mobile performance can actually be profitable. No venue fee. No door split. No sound rental. Just you, your tip jar, and whatever merch fits in a backpack. The overhead is minimal. The potential is huge. Mobile musicians for events  are finding they can make more in a weekend than most bands make in a month of streaming. Cash in hand. No waiting for royalty checks that might never come. Plus, you're building a real fanbase. People who discover you on the street are more likely to buy your stuff, follow your accounts, and show up to your shows. They feel like they found you. That connection is worth more than a thousand playlist adds. The smart mobile performers aren't just collecting tips. They're collecting email addresses, selling merch, booking private gigs, and turning street performances into sustainable income streams. You Control the Narrative The music industry loves gatekeepers. A&R reps. Booking agents. Playlist curators. Radio programmers. All deciding who gets heard and who doesn't. Mobile performance says fuck all that. You choose when to play. You choose where to play. You choose what to play. The only approval you need is from the people standing in front of you. And their feedback is immediate and honest. Bad set? The crowd disperses. Good set? They stick around, pull out phones, drop money, and ask when you're playing next. It's market research in real time. While many artists rely on apps for touring musicians  to manage their schedules and logistics, mobile performers operate on pure instinct and audience response. No one's telling you to sound more radio-friendly or fit a certain demographic. The streets don't care about your Spotify genre tags. They care about whether you can make them feel something. The Community Element Changes Everything Mobile performance builds scenes differently. Instead of competing for the same venues and the same audiences, mobile acts create new spaces and new crowds. They turn parks into concert halls. Farmers' markets are becoming festivals. Commuter routes into discovery opportunities. Other mobile performers become collaborators, not competition. You share locations, cross-promote, and even team up for bigger events. The community aspect is stronger because everyone's figuring it out together. Audiences become evangelists. They tell friends. They bring people next time. They become part of the story because they were there when it was just you and a guitar case. The Skills Transfer to Everything Mobile performance makes you better at everything else. Stage presence? You learn fast when you're competing with traffic noise and distractions. Crowd engagement? You master it, or you play to empty spaces. Song arrangement? You figure out what works stripped down. The confidence you build performing anywhere translates to traditional venues, recording sessions, and even online content. You become fearless because you've already played your heart out in the hardest room there is: the real world. Unlike figuring out how to play music while using another app on Android  for streaming setups, mobile performance teaches you to work with whatever's in front of you—no technical workarounds needed. Not Everyone Gets It The music industry still doesn't know what to do with mobile performers. They can't be easily categorized, marketed, or controlled. Labels struggle to understand artists who don't need traditional pathways to reach audiences. Some venues see mobile acts as threats. Some cities have ordinances against street performance. The establishment pushes back because mobile performance exposes how unnecessary most of the traditional infrastructure really is. But that resistance is also validation. When your movement makes people uncomfortable, you're probably onto something. The Real Revolution Mobile performance isn't just about where you play. It's about remembering why you started playing. It's about connection over commerce. Presence over production. Humanity over hype. The bands getting this right aren't just performing music. They're creating moments. Building community. Proving that the most powerful venue is wherever people are willing to listen. So grab your instrument. Find your spot. Start playing. The world is your venue, and it's been waiting for you to show up.

Ottawa singer-songwriter James Leclaire has always had a gift for storytelling, but on Self Deconstruction , he does more than tell stories. He opens a window into his most personal and painful chapter. This is not just an album. It is a journey through heartbreak, betrayal, and the slow, unsteady rise back to wholeness. Leclaire wrote these songs in the wake of a devastating divorce that ended a 23-year marriage. The result is his most vulnerable and emotionally exposed work to date. The opening title track sets the tone immediately with powerful lines like “I’m gonna grind my teeth right down to the nerve” and “I’m gonna curse the Lord until he listens.” These are not abstract lyrics. They come from lived experience and a place of raw emotional truth. What follows is a series of songs that dive deeper into the fallout. Tracks like “Nothing Left to Give” and “The Anger In Me” reveal the exhaustion and rage that come with grief. Even “Victim of the Blues,” written in 2016, feels strangely prophetic now, capturing the same sense of betrayal that would later define his reality. But Self Deconstruction is not just about sorrow. It is also about the hard work of healing. In “Flesh and Blood,” Leclaire compares his recovery to the cycles of nature and declares, “This scar is forever, but like the stars, I will sparkle and shine on.” It is one of the album’s most powerful moments, offering hope without pretending the pain was easy to move through. The album closes with a chant-like reprise of the title track, echoing the feeling of release and resolution. It feels communal, like shared survival. Produced by Phillip Victor Bova and featuring respected musicians like Kevin Breit, John and Fraser Findlay, the sound is warm, rich, and organic. Every note feels lived in. Self Deconstruction is not polished pop. It is not easy listening. It is real, personal, and deeply affecting. James Leclaire does not sugarcoat the pain. He transforms it into something meaningful and unforgettable. What was the emotional process like for you when writing  Self Deconstruction  compared to your earlier albums? Well, this batch of songs was not all written to become  Self Deconstruction.  Some of the songs were written up to 10 years ago, and others in the last 2-3. I stepped away from music in 2015 for five years and, during that time, accumulated a bunch of material. In the last few days of 2019, I decided to go into the studio and record 21 tracks. Within the first few months of 2020, my 23-year marriage disintegrated in a flash. This shock suddenly inspired me to write another 17 tracks over the next few years. The interesting thing was that some of the songs prior to the madness felt like they were written in the past to help me cope in the present. So they worked perfectly alongside the new tracks. To answer your question, this album's emphasis on emotional pain and struggle resonated directly with my life, unlike in the past, where the pain was written from witnessing others.  How did your experience in storytelling through animation influence the way you shaped this record? I wouldn't say that it help shaped it, but instead, my experience in scriptwriting and storyboarding helped with the timing and wordsmithing of songwriting. But it also goes both ways as well. "Flesh and Blood" feels like a turning point on the album. When did you know it needed to be included? It's cool that you see it as a turning point because it is. I have overcome many obstacles in my life, and I know that mine are nothing compared to what others face, but there was a moment when I was asked to "forget" the atrocities that were committed against me. Some things you can't forget, which is what inspired the track.  "Flesh and Blood" was to remind myself that I am strong, but I also hurt and bleed. To heal, I couldn't accept who caused these scars. I am only flesh and blood, not superhuman. That ask was too much. Two months before it was written in Feb 2021, I had just met a new woman who showed me what it was like to be truly loved and respected. She made me feel, as "Flesh and Blood" states, "Like the stars, I will sparkle and shine on." We are still together and deeply in love. How did working with musicians like Kevin Breit and Mickey Raphael shape the sound of the album? Both are unbelievably talented, inspiring, and friendly guys. Kevin worked on several of the 38 tracks from the recording sessions that spanned from 2020-2023. On  Self Deconstruction,  he only appears in "The Anger in Me."  But his slide guitar adds so much sadness and equal parts aggression, which lift the track to a whole other level. As for Mickey, he didn't play on this album, but instead, he was on my 2024 album  Come On In  on the track "Wild How The Year Fly By." Like Kevin, he made the song resonate even deeper. That said, Juno Award Nominee John Fraser Finlay's electric guitar work really helped define the mood of the album. Having all the artists who wanted to be a part of my recording process and the skill of my producer, Phillip Victor Bova, sure helped show how far my songs could go. I'm so lucky to have such amazing support.  What would you say to someone who is currently going through a painful breakup and is listening to this album for the first time? I would tell them that it will be hard. It will be a long, drawn-out healing process. You will tear yourself apart as you try to find peace, and in doing so, you will also build yourself up into a stronger and healthier new you. But it's all on you to do so. I have been thinking of calling the next batch of songs Self Reconstruction… we'll see. Instagram

Let’s be real: breakups suck. Whether it ended in betrayal, a slow fade, or one of those “it’s not you, it’s me” conversations that felt like a punch in the gut, the emotional aftermath is rarely clean. And in 2025, where modern love is filtered through DMs, soft launches, ghosting, and that gut-wrenching moment you realize they’ve unfollowed you, sometimes the only thing you can count on is your playlist. There’s something undeniably therapeutic about getting in your car, turning the volume all the way up, and screaming along to a song that says exactly what you can’t. Maybe it’s a lyric that hits too close to home. Maybe it’s the kind of chorus that cracks your chest open and lets everything pour out. Whatever it is, the right breakup song doesn’t just help you feel something; it helps you release it. At BUZZMUSIC, we’re all about spotlighting the artists who turn pain into power. This list features 20 of the most soul-shaking, window-shattering breakup songs from the indie scene in 2025, each one a raw, real, and emotionally loaded anthem made to help you let go, move on, or just cry in the drive-thru line. From messy endings and overdue goodbyes to rebound regrets and "I should’ve known better" revelations, these songs don’t hold back, and neither should you. So buckle up, crack the windows, and let it all out. This is your heartbreak soundtrack. 1. "Night Shift" by Lucy Dacus Lucy Dacus delivers a raw and unfiltered portrayal of post-breakup emotions in "Night Shift." As the only breakup song she claims to have written, Dacus channels the pain of separating from her former bassist.  The track masterfully transitions from subdued verses to a cathartic crescendo, encapsulating the journey from heartbreak to empowerment. Its candid lyrics and dynamic composition have earned it critical acclaim , solidifying its place as a modern indie classic. ​ 2. "Supalonely" by BENEE feat. Gus Dapperton Emerging from New Zealand's vibrant music scene, BENEE transforms personal heartache into an infectious pop anthem with " Supalonely ."  Inspired by a breakup during a trip to Los Angeles, the song juxtaposes melancholic themes with upbeat rhythms. BENEE's playful self-deprecation, combined with Gus Dapperton's complementary vocals, creates a track that invites listeners to dance through their sadness. ​ 3. "It Didn't" by Madeline Merlo Canadian country-pop artist Madeline Merlo offers a refreshing take on resilience after heartbreak with " It Didn't ."  Co-written with Jason Blaine and Jeff Pardo, the song reflects Merlo's personal battles with depression and the aftermath of a tumultuous relationship. Its upbeat tempo and empowering lyrics serve as a testament to overcoming adversity and finding strength in vulnerability. ​ 4. "Rather Be The Ex" by Kelly McTigue In " Rather Be The Ex ," Kelly McTigue crafts an unapologetic anthem for those who've chosen self-respect over toxic relationships.  The song delves into the complexities of walking away, emphasizing the empowerment found in prioritizing one's well-being. McTigue's soulful delivery and poignant lyrics resonate with anyone who's faced the bittersweet liberation of ending a detrimental partnership. ​ 5. "Take The Lonely" by Hayden Coffman Hayden Coffman's " Take The Lonely " encapsulates the solitude and introspection that often follow a breakup.  As an independent artist, Coffman pours genuine emotion into his music, creating a track that speaks to the heart of loneliness and the journey toward healing. The song's heartfelt lyrics and melodic composition make it a comforting companion during moments of solitude.  6. "The Art of Losing You" by Crawford Mack Crawford Mack 's " The Art of Losing You " offers a nuanced exploration of seeking closure after a relationship ends. The song delves into the complexities of letting go and the bittersweet acceptance that accompanies it. Mack's evocative storytelling and emotive vocals provide solace to those grappling with the aftermath of lost love. ​ 7. "High On My Lows" by Sawyer Hill Sawyer Hill 's " High On My Lows " delves into the paradox of finding comfort in sorrow. The track reflects on the highs and lows of relationships, capturing the essence of emotional turbulence. Hill's introspective lyrics and haunting melodies create a poignant narrative that resonates with listeners navigating the complexities of love and loss.  8. "Body" by Karly Bowman In " Body ," Karly Bowman confronts the raw emotions that surface post-breakup. The song explores themes of self-worth and the struggle to reclaim one's identity after a relationship ends. Bowman's soulful vocals and candid lyrics offer a cathartic experience for listeners seeking understanding and empowerment. ​ 9. "Post Break-Up Sex" by The Vaccines British indie rock band The Vaccines tackle the rebound culture with " Post Break-Up Sex ." The song candidly addresses the emptiness that can accompany casual encounters following a breakup. Its catchy hooks and straightforward lyrics provide a relatable narrative for those navigating the complexities of moving on. ​ 10. "Somebody That I Used to Know" by Gotye feat. Kimbra Gotye 's collaboration with Kimbra resulted in the hauntingly beautiful " Somebody That I Used to Know ." The track delves into the lingering feelings and unresolved questions that often follow a breakup. Its minimalist instrumentation and poignant duet format capture the dual perspectives of a fractured relationship. ​ 11. "No Distance Left to Run" by Blur Blur 's " No Distance Left to Run " offers a somber reflection on the end of a relationship. The song's melancholic tone and introspective lyrics convey the resignation and acceptance that come with realizing that love has run its course. It's a heartfelt ballad that resonates with those coming to terms with letting go. ​ 12. "Shut Up and Let Me Go" by The Ting Tings The Ting Tings deliver a punchy, upbeat breakup anthem with " Shut Up and Let Me Go ." The track exudes confidence and assertiveness, encouraging listeners to reclaim their independence. Its infectious rhythm and bold lyrics make it an empowering addition to any post-breakup playlist. 13. "She's Leaving You" by MJ Lenderman MJ Lenderman 's " She's Leaving You " paints a tragicomic portrait of a middle-aged man's infidelity and its repercussions. The song's narrative unfolds with the protagonist's deceit coming to light, leading to a poignant realization of his actions.  Lenderman, who co-produced the track with Alex Farrar, showcases his multi-instrumental talents, playing nearly all instruments on the song. The inclusion of backing vocals from Karly Hartzman adds depth to this indie rock piece, which has been lauded for its raw storytelling and emotive guitar solos. ​ 14. "Burn the Hard Drive" by Jade Bird British musician Jade Bird delves into the aftermath of her split from fiancée and former guitarist Luke Prosser in her EP, Burn the Hard Drive . The title track, produced by Mura Masa , encapsulates the desire to erase memories and start anew.  Bird's candid lyrics and soulful delivery resonate with anyone seeking closure from past relationships. The collaboration with Mura Masa introduces a fresh sonic landscape, blending indie folk with electronic elements. ​ 15. "Pretty Slowly" by Benson Boone In " Pretty Slowly ," Benson Boone reflects on a romantic relationship that ended due to his troubled past. The folk-rock ballad juxtaposes tender piano and guitar melodies with introspective lyrics, capturing the bittersweet nature of reminiscing about lost love. Boone's heartfelt performance offers a raw glimpse into the complexities of self-blame and longing. ​ 16. "Pedestal" by Aiko Czech singer Aiko presents " Pedestal ," a self-described "self-love, post-breakup anthem" that emphasizes reclaiming one's worth after a relationship's end. Co-written with Steven Ansell, the pop-rock track gained international attention when it represented the Czech Republic in the Eurovision Song Contest 2024. Aiko's powerful vocals and empowering message make it a standout anthem for those rising from the ashes of heartbreak. ​ 17. "All Again" by Queen of Jeans Philadelphia-based indie rock band Queen of Jeans explores the cyclical nature of relationships in their album All Again . The title track delves into themes of nostalgia and the temptation to revisit past romances.  Vocalist Miri Devora's emotive delivery, combined with dreamy instrumentation, offers listeners a contemplative look at love's repetitive patterns. The album has been praised for its enchanting blend of angst and melody. ​ 18. "In Love Again" by Ex-Vöid Formed by former members of Joanna Gruesome, Ex-Vöid's " In Love Again " captures the tumultuous journey of falling in and out of love. The track blends grungy guitar riffs with sweet melodies, reflecting the bittersweet nature of rekindled romance. Lan McArdle and Owen Williams' vocal harmonies evoke a sense of longing and hope, resonating with listeners who've experienced the complexities of love's resurgence. ​ 19. "Whodunnit" by Adeline Hotel Dan Knishkowy, recording as Adeline Hotel , offers a meditative exploration of divorce and its emotional aftermath in " Whodunnit ." Unlike typical breakup songs driven by resentment, this track adopts a whimsical and reflective approach. Knishkowy's poetic lyrics, accompanied by fingerpicked guitar and subtle instrumentation, provide a soothing balm for those navigating the complexities of separation.  20. "X's" by Georgia Webster Georgia Webster 's "X's" is an indie pop breakup song that captures the essence of moving on from love. The track's catchy melody and relatable lyrics resonate with listeners seeking solace and empowerment after a breakup. Webster's authentic storytelling and melodic sensibility make this song a standout in the indie breakup genre

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.