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Some songs stay surface-level. Dry Land does not. With haunting vocals, vivid metaphors, and a raw emotional undercurrent,  Songbird’s latest single “ Dry Land ” doesn’t just make a splash; it pulls you under and doesn’t let go until the final note. The 25-year-old pop singer/songwriter from Brick, New Jersey, is no stranger to storytelling, and this release proves she’s swimming in deeper waters than most of her peers. Written around the concept of sharks, yes, sharks, “Dry Land” uses the ocean predator as a metaphor for toxic relationships, intrusive thoughts, or anything in life that drags you below the surface. But what makes the song so special is its ambiguity. Some fans interpret it as a breakup anthem. Others see it as a battle with inner demons. For Songbird, that’s exactly the point. “No matter what is pulling you underwater, one day you’ll find dry land. I hope people understand their worth—learning to love themselves and grow.” Produced with a cinematic sheen and recorded in Nashville with a seasoned team, “Dry Land” blends moody piano chords with pop-driven hooks that crescendo into something cathartic. It’s got that classic pop ballad power, but with a unique edge, emotionally honest, thematically daring, and vocally mesmerizing. There’s something timeless in the way Songbird delivers her truth. She doesn’t just wear her heart on her sleeve; she writes it into every bar. And while the track dives into pain, confusion, and survival, it ultimately surfaces with a message of hope and strength. “Dry Land” feels like the kind of song you stumble on during a dark night and end up playing on repeat until the sun rises. It’s for anyone who’s ever felt like they were drowning and needed a reminder that land is closer than they think. You mentioned sharks were the original inspiration for "Dry Land." What drew you to that image, and how did it evolve into something so personal? I'm obsessed with sharks! They're the coolest creatures; I even have a shark tattoo and way too many plushies on my couch. When I went to Nashville, I co-wrote the song with Austin Heller and Jake Neumar. I told them all this, and we landed on writing about a toxic ex. More towards the behavior of a great white shark because they're my favorite! (The behavior says predatory hunting, curiosity, and much more that we used for the song).  The song has connected with people on many levels: breakups, mental health, and self-worth. Did you expect it to have that kind of emotional versatility? Honestly, no, but I'm glad it did. I wasn't too sure how people would take it again since sharks were the first main focus. When I showed it to my friends, they asked if it was based on inner demons. I was shocked and confused at first. Then I came to realize why I love music so much. Anyone can relate in any way. There are times I listen to a song and think it's one thing, but in reality, it's about something else. I love that you can interpret a song in any way you'd like. And I'm happy to see my song doing that for others. What was your experience like recording in Nashville? How did working with that team elevate the track? Recording in Nashville is my all-time preferred way of working on music. So far, all my music as Songbird has been recorded and co-written there (besides my song "All The Way" for a movie! I recorded in Nashville, but wrote it all myself). Before I was Songbird, I recorded in my home state, New Jersey. Don't get me wrong, recording music is the best no matter where, but Nashville is special. This song, specifically I, was in Austin's home studio. We co-wrote and recorded there, and it was so chill. I never felt any pressure; I felt like myself. I feel I'm able to get more done and have more creativity flowing. It's honestly the best, and I crave to do it more. How do your influences like Sara Bareilles, Adele, and Lana Del Rey shape your writing or vocal style? All of those artists have helped me grow as a singer. When I was in competition singing groups, I would perform solos as well. Most of the songs I was introduced to were by that artist. Once I found out about their music, I couldn't stop listening to their styles. Sara Bareilles, I would say, has the bigger impact. I won a competition back in 2015 with her song "Gravity," and that song has been a staple for me to perform since. Adele, the first song I learned to sing and play on the piano, was her song "Someone Like You." Lana Del Rey, the first song I sang was "Young And Beautiful"; it was at my 8th-grade chorus concert. It was also the night my fiancé asked me to be his girlfriend! They've all been very impactful in my life.  What message or feeling do you hope listeners carry with them after hearing "Dry Land"? After hearing "Dry Land," I hope my listeners realize they deserve happiness. To realize that whatever is dragging them underwater needs to be stopped. Everyone deserves to be themselves and not have to apologize for it. Be you, be happy, and find your own dry land.

Stas Mari' s new album 'Beyond the Sky' is not just a collection of songs; it is a living, breathing archive of emotion, ancestry, and place. With a voice that feels like both a whisper and a wave, Mari invites listeners to step into a deeply personal sonic world shaped by the California coast, motherhood, migration, and memory. The result is a rich, genre-blending folk fusion project that is as intimate as it is expansive. Co-produced by world-renowned musician Ricky Fataar (Bonnie Raitt, The Beach Boys), Beyond the Sky took over a decade to complete. Recorded between life's milestones, marriage, childbirth, a move from San Francisco to Big Sur, and the pandemic—the album carries the weight of lived experience in every note. And yet, it never feels heavy. Instead, it shimmers with light, honesty, and warmth. The album drifts effortlessly between moods and styles. There's the poetic and percussive "Pacaypallá," inspired by Pablo Neruda. The sweeping, heartbreaking "Rain On Me" was written in memory of a lost child. The haunting "The Steppe" honors Mari's Ukrainian great-grandmother. And the tender love song "Stories," a quiet celebration of a lifelong partnership. Each track carries its own emotional pulse, stitched together by Mari's captivating vocals and lyrical storytelling. What sets Beyond the Sky apart is its sense of sacred timing. It was not rushed. It simmered. It grew with her children and was uplifted by friends, including one who posthumously gifted Mari the means to finish the album. That generosity, like the songs themselves, adds a spiritual resonance that lingers long after the final track fades. This is music for kitchen tables, for morning drives, for grief, and for celebration. Stas Mari has crafted a timeless, soul-deep album that asks us to remember, reflect, and stay connected to our roots, to our loved ones, and to the quiet beauty beyond the sky. 'Beyond the Sky' took over a decade to complete. How did the passage of time and major life changes shape the way the album came together? We started recording the album when I still lived in San Francisco and when time felt limitless (becoming a mother teaches you that time is very precious!) I was in the midst of completing my Waldorf teacher training, surfing at Ocean Beach, and teaching gardening classes at a local school when the music came. It was a moment of inspiration. Whenever Ricky (my producer) was available, we'd gather in his home studio and collaborate on the songs. The process was casual and organic, and we didn't feel rushed. Later on, the logistics and realities of life were the reasons for the album's long simmer. Moving to Big Sur from San Francisco, isolating during the pandemic, and then becoming a mother of two boys put this music project on hold. It has felt like a huge feat to release this album as a "stay-at-home mom" when life is constantly interrupted by the needs of the little ones. Prioritizing time for creative expression is essential for my well-being. Hearing the songs that were recorded years before their release conjures up nostalgia... "Beyond the Sky" has become a time capsule and an era of my life. What was it like working with Ricky Fataar on such a profoundly personal project? When Ricky first pitched the idea of doing an album together, I was excited, honored, and also a bit intimidated. He has so much musical talent and experience, but as our friendship grew, I realized that this project was not only nourishing but also fun for both of us. He has become like an uncle figure to me and always puts me at ease when I bring a new song or idea to the table. Our studio sessions were productive, but they were always filled with quality heart-to-hearts in between the music. When he returned home from long tours with Bonnie Raitt, he appreciated diving into something completely different, where he had the creative license to bring each track to life. His home studio was an inspiring place to spend time-- filled with instruments from all over the world, each one with a story.  I feel like Ricky saw me grow into my adult self... getting married to my husband Ben and building my own family... he was a part of these big milestones. Each track on the album feels like a story. How do you decide which memories or moments become songs? Yes, there is a story in each track! Some are playful reflections of my life and my childhood, and others are about loss, coming of age, and matters of the heart. I am an empath, and sometimes, when I feel deeply moved by what I witness in the world, I express myself most effectively through song.  It's hard to say if there's a decisive moment when I choose to make a memory or moment into a song... sometimes the music comes first, and when I sense the mood or spirit of the song forming, the story or memory emerges. Songwriting hasn't come with a consistent formula for me. There are times, though, when a song must be written. With all the turmoil in Ukraine over the last decade, I learned more about my Ukrainian great-grandmother, a subsistence farmer and weaver who endured great hardship. Her resourcefulness and resilience have always moved me, and I wrote "The Steppe" in her voice. Another example of a song that I wrote without hesitation was "Fire," after the Soberanes Fire burned through my family's property in Big Sur. As Californians, we are no strangers to fire... when we are close to these forces of nature, we are humbled by their power. Your multicultural roots and time spent abroad clearly influence your sound. How do you approach blending different genres and cultural elements into your music? Whenever people ask, "What's your genre of music?" I have a tough time answering that question. My travels to South America and Mexico have brought so much rhythm and beauty to my life that I sometimes can't help but bring some of that flavor into my songs. There are words or phrases that sound less cliché when they're in another language and certain beats that instantly lift the spirit. When we traveled to Brazil for our honeymoon, I brought my guitar with me and learned chords and rhythms from whoever had the patience to teach me.  When I was reading from my favorite Pablo Neruda poetry book, I could hear music in the words of "Pacaypallá." They took me back to the months I spent living in Chile. And then there's something about writing a country folk tune with three or four chords... the satisfying and somewhat predictable way to tell a story that hopefully brings the listener ease and comfort. ("Country Down the Road" was that track for me). When I hear music that touches me, I sometimes say to myself, "I'd like to write a song like that." So why not? If listeners could walk away from this album holding one feeling or memory, what would you hope it is? I hope listeners feel like they have just sat around the kitchen table, sharing stories by candlelight. Sharing memories and telling stories can help us find wholeness and a sense of belonging. While our ancestry, paths, and experiences are different, we are never alone.

If you’ve ever found yourself longing for a version of the past that no longer exists, or wondering if you even appreciated it enough when it was happening, Maggie MacKenzie ’s debut EP, another time , is for you. The pop-folk singer-songwriter, fresh off her graduation from Berklee College of Music, wastes no time establishing herself as an emotionally attuned storyteller. With poetic lyricism, warm vocals, and minimalistic production that lets the emotion breathe, Maggie turns introspection into connection. Every track on another time feels like flipping through a diary you didn’t realize you were writing until the moment was already gone. The three-song project floats between memories and missed moments, with themes of homesickness, burnout, and heartbreak weaving a quiet but powerful thread. “Seven Again” taps into childhood nostalgia and the ache of growing up. The title track, “Another Time,” sits in the space between what was and what could’ve been. And “Black and White” unpacks heartbreak in grayscale, capturing the emotional fog of something ending before you’re ready to accept it. “This EP tells different stories, all with a common theme of being nostalgic for another point in time,” Maggie shares. “I hope people can see themselves in these songs and process emotions they maybe weren’t actively registering on their own.” Produced by fellow Berklee grad Jake Arnowitz, another time is as much a personal milestone as it is a shared experience. The EP reflects the intimacy of collaboration, pulling from honest conversations, late-night writing sessions, and a mutual love for storytelling through sound. There’s no overproduction here, no filters over the feeling. It's simply honest songwriting that makes space for listeners to remember their own “another time.” And in that space, Maggie MacKenzie finds her voice, one that resonates not just because it’s beautiful but because it’s real. Each song on this EP feels deeply specific. Was there a particular memory that sparked the idea for the overarching theme of “another time”? I believe the memory that gave rise to this overarching theme emerged while writing “Seven Again.” That was the first song on this EP that I wrote, and it set the tone of nostalgia and this longing to transport back to a previous moment in time. The memory that initially came to mind when writing “seven again” was getting picked up from school and driving around in my mom’s Toyota Sienna, running errands together, and singing along to the radio. This moment stood out as an example of how simple and carefree life can feel while still being joyful. Upon fully developing and realizing the other songs for this EP, it became clear to me that all of these songs shared the same sentiment of wanting to be back in another moment in time. I love how all these songs can feel different and distinct from one another, yet still share this sentiment. How did your time at Berklee influence the emotional and sonic choices you made on this project? My time at Berklee had a very strong influence on my songwriting style, not only from the classes I was in but from being inspired by so many incredible people around me. This time definitely influenced me to make bolder melodic and harmonic choices and to not hold back when fleshing out the lyrical content of my songs. I realized that if you lead with your own honest experience when songwriting, people will be able to find themselves in that music because of your openness. Berklee taught me and allowed me to evolve so much, and I’m so grateful to continue growing as a songwriter. “Seven Again” stands out as a reflection on childhood. What does that age symbolize for you in the context of the EP? Seven sticks out in my head as this perfect age - you’re old enough to have fully vivid memories of what day-to-day life was like, and you’re starting to develop your sense of self and identity, but you’re still spared from a lot of the external stressors. Things still felt light and a bit carefree, and that ease means more in hindsight because that age is such a turning point in our personal development. I think it symbolizes this idealized moment in time that people overlook, missing and having that sentimental attachment to. You’ve said you hope people process emotions they hadn’t registered yet; what emotion surprised you the most while writing this EP? I think the relief is what surprised me most while writing this EP! I knew that diving into these emotions would bring up some heavier emotions that I hadn’t fully processed. Upon getting to write about these feelings, though, I felt a sense of relief that I could find a way to verbalize and express these pent-up feelings. It was a very therapeutic experience, which I really didn’t expect to find during this writing process!  If you could go back to “another time” yourself, what moment would you choose, and what would you do differently, if anything? I love this question; choosing just one is tricky! I have some family in Wisconsin who have a lake house, and one summer, when I was 8, almost all of my extended family went to that lake to be together and share in that experience.  I would love to get to relive that time, to get to be back in such a special place with my family there! My mom is one of 10 kids, so we have a huge extended family. I’d love the chance to have that experience together again!

Aaron Sand, his dog Harvey, and Sandy Cohen at Stella Flame Gallery for Sandy Cohen’s “Boys Wanna Get With me, Girls Wanna Get With Me” art show - June 7th, 2025 - Photographer: Vital Agibalow  Singer-songwriter Aaron Sand made a polished appearance this past Saturday at renowned artist Sandy Cohen’s latest gallery show in The Hamptons, held at the elegant Stella Flame Gallery. The evening marked the debut of Cohen’s newest body of work, provocatively titled “Boys Wanna Get With Me, Girls Wanna Get With Me.” Known globally for her vibrant, unapologetic pieces, many of which reside in celebrity homes, Cohen continues to captivate with collections that challenge gender narratives and explore identity through bold, emotionally charged visuals. Running from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m. on June 7th, the event drew a full house. The gallery was buzzing with art collectors, creatives, and notable figures from the Hamptons’ elite social scene, as well as fans of both Sandy and Aaron who came out in full force to support. Aaron Sand, who promoted his attendance in a collaborative post with Cohen ahead of the show, turned heads with a carefully curated ensemble. He opted for a dark blue Michael Kors collared shirt, paired with white Michael Kors pants and sky blue Tommy Hilfiger dress shoes. His look was topped off with classic Michael Kors aviators and a New York Mets baseball cap, effortlessly blending upscale Hamptons elegance with laid-back, youthful charm. Aaron Sand, his dog Harvey, and Sandy Cohen at Stella Flame Gallery for Sandy Cohen’s “Boys Wanna Get With me, Girls Wanna Get With Me” art show - June 7th, 2025 - Photographer: Vital Agibalow / Raphael Avigdor  While fashion insiders noted that Sand has been spotted in several of these pieces before, he continues to be praised for his ability to restyle familiar items with fresh perspective. His intentional approach to fashion speaks to both sustainability and self-expression. “What’s the point in buying clothing if you’re only going to wear it once?” Sand said in a previous interview. “I’m very blessed to be able to pay good money for designer clothing, and I’m not gonna take that for granted. I love and cherish every piece that I have, and I rock them as much as I can. I also love fashion, so I enjoy mixing things up and seeing what outfits I can put together.” Aaron Sand and his dog Harvey at Stella Flame Gallery for Sandy Cohen’s “Boys Wanna Get With me, Girls Wanna Get With Me” art show - June 7th, 2025 - Photographer: Raphael Avigdor  Press photos from the night show Aaron and Sandy deep in conversation and posing together against the backdrop of Cohen’s newest works—an embodiment of the evening’s creative synergy. Aaron Sand, his dog Harvey, and Sandy Cohen at Stella Flame Gallery for Sandy Cohen’s “Boys Wanna Get With me, Girls Wanna Get With Me” art show - June 7th, 2025 - Photographer: Raphael Avigdor  Sandy Cohen's outfit: a fedora by NTTE Hats, shirt from her own collection (Fame by Sandy Cohen Art) pants by OAK, shoes by Allbirds , was the undeniable star of the show, as collectors and attendees filled the gallery to capacity. With multiple sales made and glowing feedback from the crowd, “Boys Wanna Get With Me, Girls Wanna Get With Me” marked yet another successful chapter in Cohen’s celebrated career.

You follow them for the fit checks. The perfectly worded captions. The edgy-but-safe takes. Maybe you even repost their tour promo or drop a fire emoji under their latest post. But ask yourself, when was the last time you actually listened to their music... more than once? We’re in an era where artist branding is tighter than ever, and the music? Sometimes, it’s just the background noise. The PR Machine Is Now the Main Act Let’s be honest: half the artists going viral right now don’t have a breakout song, they have a breakout narrative. A mental health journey. A DIY origin story. A curated alt-girl aesthetic or mysterious sadboy vibe. And that’s not shade, it’s strategy. Branding sells. The problem? PR has become more captivating than the actual sound. You’re not falling for the hook, you’re falling for the press release. Not Every Artist Is the One Running the Account We forget this too often: most artists at a certain level have teams running the show. That perfectly timed tweet? Scheduled. That vulnerable IG caption? Edited. That “spontaneous” TikTok moment? Strategized. You’re not just engaging with an artist, you’re engaging with an algorithm-informed brand identity built for maximum appeal. And there’s nothing wrong with that… until it starts to replace the art. The Music Doesn’t Always Match the Hype We’ve all done it. Hyped someone up based on aesthetics and “vibes” alone, only to finally listen to the EP and think… damn, this is mid. But by then, it’s too late. The narrative has taken over. And if the music isn’t hitting? You’re gaslit into thinking maybe you just don’t “get it.” Spoiler: it’s okay to say a perfectly marketed artist makes forgettable music. It doesn’t make you a hater, it makes you honest. PR-Driven Careers Aren’t Always Built to Last You can’t tour a backstory. You can’t sell out shows based on curated mystery. Eventually, the music has to hold weight. The artists who last are the ones who can strip the narrative away and still hit you in the chest with a lyric, a melody, a live set that actually moves you. We’ve seen careers built off vibes fizzle fast. That’s because PR can open the door, but the music still has to keep people in the room. So… What’s the Fix? It’s not about rejecting branding or story. Artists are human. They’re layered. They deserve compelling narratives. But as fans, we need to listen deeper. Ask questions. Are you replaying the song, or just reposting the mood board? As artists, we need to lead with the art. Make music that can exist without a viral rollout. Music that can hit just as hard in a quiet room as it does in a high-concept visualizer. PR isn’t the enemy. But when the polish becomes louder than the performance, we lose what music’s really about: connection. So next time you hit repost, ask yourself, do I love the artist?

The crowd. The stage. The sweaty green room selfies. The “I can’t believe I’m doing this” tour montage set to a moody track on Instagram. We’ve been sold a dream: Touring = success. But behind that dream? Burnout. Debt. Panic attacks in Motel 6 bathrooms. A gnawing sense of disconnection. And barely enough gas money to get to the next venue. Touring is the music industry’s favorite fantasy. And it’s time we admit, it’s killing artists. It’s Financially Wrecking Indie Artists Let’s start with the obvious. Touring is expensive as hell. Van rentals. Gas. Hotels. Food. Merch production. Paying your band or crew. Even for a DIY run, the numbers often don’t add up. You play five shows for $300 guarantees and maybe walk away with a few hundred in profit, if you’re lucky. And that’s before taxes and breakdowns (of the van and the mental kind). The truth is, many artists are losing money on tour. But they keep doing it. Why? Because the industry says this is how you make it. Everyone’s Burned Out, But Faking the Hustle Touring is physically brutal. The sleep deprivation. The loading in and out. The back-to-back emotional vulnerability on stage, night after night, while your body’s begging for rest. It’s also lonely. You’re disconnected from your home, your people, your routines. You’re expected to be “on” all the time, for fans, for press, for the algorithm. It’s isolating, exhausting, and totally normalized. And if you complain? You’re told to be grateful. Because this is “the dream,” right? Labels Push Touring Because It Benefits Them Let’s be real. The people who push artists to tour the hardest are often the ones not on the road. Labels want tour exposure to sell more records. Agents want their cut. Promoters want ticket sales. But if you drop out from exhaustion? If you get sick? If your mental health collapses mid-tour? You're the one who pays for it, financially and emotionally. There’s no safety net. No wellness support. No acknowledgment that the system is broken. Just more pressure to push through. You’re the product. The tour is the packaging. Social Media Only Shows the Highlight Reel Touring content gets likes. Fans eat it up. But let’s be clear: those vibey recap videos are edited. The in-between moments, crying in truck stop parking lots, anxiety spirals, wondering if it’s even worth it, don’t fit the feed. So we curate. We show the stage lights, not the stomach ulcers. And the cycle continues: Pretend you’re thriving, even when you’re barely holding on. There Has to Be Another Way We’re not saying touring should disappear. For some artists, it’s a lifeline. But for many, it’s unsustainable, especially in a post-pandemic economy where venues are fragile, expenses are up, and safety nets don’t exist. There needs to be room for alternative paths to success. Digital performances. Localized fan-building. Community-based models. Merch collabs. Licensing. Residencies. Artists shouldn’t have to sacrifice their health for credibility. We love the road warriors. But we refuse to romanticize the grind when it’s clearly breaking people. Touring is hard. Touring is risky. Touring is not always the best path, and that’s okay. Artists deserve better. More options. More support. More truth. Because surviving tour life shouldn’t be the requirement for being seen as legit. Your worth isn’t measured in mileage.

The most dangerous thing you can be in this industry? Honest. Say too much, and suddenly you’re “ungrateful.” Ask too many questions, and now you’re “difficult to work with.” Speak out, and you’ll watch people who once applauded your vulnerability fall completely silent. The system that claims to love authenticity is often the first to punish it. Let’s be real: the music industry doesn’t just exploit artists, it gaslights them. Step 1: Pretend You’re Family It always starts the same. A label, a manager, a “creative partner” says: We believe in you. We’re family. You’re safe here. And for a moment, you believe it. Until the contracts don’t match the promises. Until your ideas are watered down for “marketability.” Until you’re told to be more brandable, less emotional, and a little more palatable for radio. But when you question it? You’re the problem. Not the system. Not the exploitation. You. That’s gaslighting 101. Step 2: Isolate and Control A lot of artists don’t realize they’re being manipulated until it’s too late. The people around them start managing more than their career; they manage their narrative. What you post. Who you talk to. How you feel. Suddenly, you’re not sure what’s real anymore. You stop trusting your gut. You second-guess every song, every lyric, every truth that once made you powerful. And that’s the point. The industry doesn’t just want your talent, it wants your silence. Step 3: Punish Honesty and Praise Obedience Ever notice how artists who speak up about injustice, abuse, or mental health often get blacklisted? Meanwhile, those who stay quiet and play nice get the fast track, even if their art has no soul. That’s not an accident. It’s a strategy. The system rewards obedience, not originality. And when you step outside that mold, they hit you with: “Don’t air dirty laundry.” “You’re being dramatic.” “Maybe you’re just too sensitive.” Nah. Maybe we’re just done playing the game. Truth Is the Most Punk Thing You Can Do This industry feeds off your insecurity. It needs you to doubt yourself, so you’ll sign away your rights, your time, your art. But here’s the truth: your voice is your leverage. And your truth is what keeps this whole thing alive. So if you’re an artist reading this, and you’re tired of being told to “tone it down” or “be easier to work with," you’re not crazy. You’re being controlled. And breaking free starts with naming it. We’re not here to play nice with gatekeepers. We’re here to protect artists, challenge bullshit, and amplify voices the industry wants to quiet. The louder you get, the more scared they become. So keep creating. Keep questioning. And above all, don’t shut up.

Stephanie Braganza isn’t here to play it safe. Known for her powerhouse vocals and fearless presence on stage, the Toronto-based artist is kicking off a new chapter with her latest single “ Feel A Little Less ,” a pop-rock anthem that blends the emotional intensity of Paramore with the grit of Sum 41 and the raw power of Good Charlotte. This track hits hard because it’s real. Written during a dark time in Stephanie’s life, Feel A Little Less started as a reflection on feeling trapped inside her own mind. Over time, it evolved into something much bigger — an anthem about reclaiming power, silencing inner demons, and refusing to let pain define you. Whether your monster is internal or standing right in front of you, this song is your call to pick up the sword and fight back. “If this song helps even one person feel understood or a little more seen, that’s more than I could ever ask for.” Backed by heavy guitars, driving drums, and soaring vocals, the single captures the emotional tug-of-war between wanting to escape and choosing to survive. It’s cathartic, defiant, and painfully relatable. The song’s official music video doubles down on that message, with a symbolic, warrior-like visual theme and a sword that represents the emotional battle at the song’s core. The cover art brings that same monster to life — a reminder that the fight is real, but so is the strength to overcome it. Stephanie Braganza has spent her career making bold moves. From singing at the Rogers Centre during Blue Jays games to breaking a Guinness World Record, and even earning co-signs from PETA and No Doubt’s Tony Kanal. But "Feel A Little Less" might be her most important move yet. “Feel A Little Less” was written during a dark time in your life. Can you walk us through what that period looked like and how the song helped you process it? I was coming out of a toxic relationship that left me feeling emotionally drained and like I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. It was one of those situations where you’re constantly walking on eggshells, and over time, you start to believe the awful things being said about you. I had internalized so much negativity that I felt like I didn’t deserve to exist. That unprocessed trauma slowly built into what I’ve since been diagnosed with as C-PTSD.  Writing Feel A Little Less  was one of the first steps toward reclaiming my voice. It gave me space to say what I was too afraid to say out loud at the time. The lyrics came from a place of deep hurt, but also a quiet kind of resistance. It was like I was telling myself: " you don’t have to keep living in this ache — you’ve wasted so much time floundering in your pain; you’ve forgotten your purpose." That thought is what carried me through. The visual concept of the music video is bold and symbolic. What does the sword represent to you personally, and how did the ‘monster’ imagery evolve from your own experience? The sword represents fighting back — not just against someone else, but against the voice in your own head that tells you you’re not good enough. For me, the ‘monster’ represents both my inner critic and a real-life person who, for whatever reason, seemed determined to bring me down. It’s that energy that tries to sabotage your growth and convince you that your light is too much. In the video, I wanted to show myself stepping into my power, not by being perfect, but by being willing to fight for myself. The whole warrior aesthetic felt true to where I’m at now: I’ve been through battles, I’ve got scars, but I’m still here, and I’m stronger because I’m moving toward the other side of it. You mentioned the meaning of the song shifted over time. How has your relationship with the track changed from when you first wrote it to releasing it now? When I first wrote Feel A Little Less, I was just trying to survive. It was raw and personal — parts of it read like a diary entry I didn’t expect to share. At the time, it felt like a lifeline during a toxic relationship where I was constantly questioning my worth. I was still in the thick of it, and the song gave me a place to let it out. The opening line, “Dear Doctor, remove these scars,” is one of the most personal in the song. It captures how desperate I was to erase what had been done to me — emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Now that it's released, I hear it differently. I see it less as a cry for help and more like a battle anthem — a reminder that I didn’t give up on myself. Performing it now feels powerful instead of painful. I've even had people reach out saying it helped them feel seen, and that’s changed how I connect with it, too. It’s not just about what I went through - it’s about resilience. There’s a lyric that stands out to me every time I sing it: “trying to heal is the hardest part, ripped out the roots along with my heart.” It represents the grief that comes with severing ties — from the past, from the parts of yourself that you thought you needed to keep in order to belong. Letting go of those roots was devastating, but also necessary for me to start healing on my own terms. This release feels like the start of a new chapter. What have you learned about yourself, as both an artist and a person, through creating and releasing this song? This release has been a huge turning point for me, creatively and personally. I realized I don’t need to water myself down to be palatable or "perfect." I’ve spent years second-guessing my instincts, but with this project, I trusted my gut — from the songwriting to the visuals. I allowed myself to take up space, to be loud, dramatic, emotional - all the things I was taught to suppress. As a person, I’ve learned that I’m stronger than I thought. I used to feel like my pain was something meant to be hidden. But this song — and the whole process around it — reminded me that vulnerability can be a kind of strength. And as an artist, I’ve learned that my voice has value, even when it shakes. What do you hope fans who are battling their own “monsters” feel when they listen to "Feel A Little Less" for the first time? I hope they feel less alone. That was a big reason I wanted to share this — to reach someone who might be stuck in the same kind of darkness. Sometimes, just knowing someone else has been there can be enough to keep you going. I also want it to be empowering. If you’re fighting to get through the day and you get to the end of it, you’re already a warrior. I hope this song helps people feel just a little bit more seen, like someone out there understands the weight they’re carrying, even if it’s just for a moment.

Hailing from Calgary, Canada, this rising star has proven you can still infuse empowering messages within catchy, energetic soundscapes. Merkus has been heavily influenced by artists like Lady A, Taylor Swift, Kelsea Ballerini, and Shania Twain, and we can definitely hear it throughout her debut single. “SINGLE ON YOU” brings forth a playful, light, and twangy energy, all the while blending catchy, upbeat pop elements that pull the listener right in. In her recent BuzzMusic Interview, Stephanie let us in on some of the inspiration behind this extremely memorable track. She divulged that this song took her in a new sonic direction, blending her love of country and pop together to form the compelling sound we are happily met with throughout “SINGLE ON YOU.” Stephanie's inspiration came from an end of a relationship, putting her pen to paper the same exact day the breakup occurred and channeling her immediate feelings from the tough situation at the moment. Throughout “SINGLE ON YOU,” Stephanie aims to help show other women their worth, hoping to empower them to walk away from romantic situations in life that no longer serve them as she did. We can’t wait to hear more from this up-and-coming star. Dive into the full review of “SINGLE ON YOU," here . Instagram

For those who know, no introduction is necessary. For those who don’t, it’s time to catch up.  Medusa  the Gangsta Goddess, often hailed as the Godmother of West Coast Hip Hop, has always moved to the rhythm of her own wisdom. She’s a cultural matriarch, a master of the mic, and a living, breathing reminder that authenticity can outlast any trend. Now, she’s back with a new single, “Double Dutch,” and it’s not just a song—it’s a statement. Medusa has built her legacy as one of the first hip-hop artists to pioneer the live band format, an educator, and a revolutionary voice who helped reshape a genre once thought to be a boys’ club. With a career rooted deeply in the cultural and social movements of LA’s Leimert Park Village, the Good Life Cafe, and Project Blowed, her work has always fused sound with purpose. On “Double Dutch,” that fusion has never felt so vibrant. Produced by the equally iconic Georgia Anne Muldrow, the track swings with a timeless West Coast bounce. Medusa weaves her rhymes like the ropes of the game itself—tight, quick, and gracefully timed. The beat knocks with that classic sun-soaked funk while her lyrics cut through with confidence and clarity. Creating “Double Dutch” wasn’t just another recording session. Medusa describes the process with Georgia Anne Muldrow as planting flowers in the soil—organic, effortless, and full of life. The track taps into the spirit of their shared musical upbringing, blending playfulness with power. There’s a deeper metaphor at work here too. Like the game, life throws obstacles and challenges that require rhythm, timing, and sometimes the courage to just jump in. Medusa’s flow captures that exact feeling—resilient, joyful, and fearless. The accompanying music video only strengthens the message. Shot in the heart of Leimert Park, it radiates everything underground hip-hop was built on: community, authenticity, and unapologetic joy. Medusa strolls through her neighborhood not as an untouchable celebrity but as a respected pillar of the culture. Collaborators, friends, and fans alike gather around her, creating the feeling of a spontaneous block party. There’s no pretension, only celebration—a tribute not just to her legacy, but to the enduring spirit of the scene she helped cultivate. With a new album and national tour on the horizon, “Double Dutch” is more than a comeback. It’s a reminder that while the industry evolves, true artistry remains. Medusa isn’t just part of hip-hop history; she’s shaping its future, one bar at a time. “Double Dutch” feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. What inspired you to use the game as a metaphor for life’s challenges? I use double Dutch as a metaphor because in life you have to find your rhythm and different obstacles will sometimes cause that rhythm to Change. When that happens in double-dutch, you have to adapt. As you adapt, you have to find the joy in it while keeping your good friends around you, the ones that inspire you to new rhythms in life. Just keep jumping baby. You and Georgia Anne Muldrow clearly have a unique creative chemistry. What was it like collaborating on this track, and how did your visions align? Working with Georgia made me feel like I found my little sister of Funk Hop...She shared a story with me about coming to my event, Nappy at the Roots, watching me, the band, and felinescience perform, and fantasizing about being a feline. I realized there was mutual admiration happening. So when we built on all of the songs for Top Shelf Funk, she didn't just deliver some beats, and I chose, we built together on pure energy in our goddess funk realm. It was effortless. It was old and new.  In the room, you could feel the ancestors and the future.  It was easy to be myself. The true me, the vocalist, the MC, the poet, and the actor. Her tracks embraced me and brought the best out of me. We will forever be connected because of this synergy, sister Double Dutching!  The video captures a real sense of community and cultural history. What does Leimert Park mean to you today compared to when you first started performing? It means the same and more! I may not live in Leimert anymore, but my heart does. This is my haven. It feels like my heart and my light up as soon as I arrive. My people are always there with the same warmth and love. I give to it anytime it's asked of me. Leimert raised me into the artist that I am. The history of every elder like, Sika Dwimfo God rest, Kamau Daaood, Ben Caldwell of Chaos network the space that spawned Project Blowd workshop, Richard of fifth street dicks where Jazz and hip-hop mixed, the world stage Dwight Tribble, drummer mama NaeNae, and new phenomenon Fernando Pullum and his artist collective.  Every workshop there is a part of me, and every youngster that comes from it. I feel like we all subliminally hold hands somehow, whether we're in each other's presence or not. It's one of the most invaluable artist spaces in LA Leimert Park is the ark that I was raised in, that fires me up to this day! You’ve always used your platform to challenge norms and uplift others. How do you see the next generation of female emcees carrying that torch? I see it turning into a woman's platform, period! This is a genre that needs a lady's touch. All of the different styles of DOPE ILL SKILLED ladies create a balance. We have been objectified in it for so long that sometimes we, as women in it, forget we are everything, and this new generation of women is going to show and prove it. They are ready! Giving you their true selves, that truth that is out of the norm of the typecast. I BELIEVE IN YOU! With a new album and tour on the way, what can fans expect from this next chapter in the Gangsta Goddess journey?  They can expect me to continue to drop new jewels with my tools. I have a record label, GangstaGoddess Music. The plan is to put out the most unique, fly that I can find. I'm using myself right now as the temp plate to develop a great team, which seems to be working, thank God. With that being said, I wanna thank Steve Pena at SonyOrchard, SenYon Kelly of the hip hop museum in Brooklyn, Asya, creator of Fusicology, Zenobia Simmons, HIP Video Promo, Jerry Dolby, Tyeesha Warner, web designer, all my followers that support m,e and Leimert Park’s love and light!