Photos by M.E. Erin Kirby  doesn’t just sing country songs; she lives them. The Georgia-born powerhouse, who has already taken the stage at venues like the Grand Ole Opry and SXSW, has finally released a project that feels like her authentic voice. In and Out of Love is not another polished Nashville heartbreak record. It is the sound of a woman who meant every word she wrote and stopped trying to sand down the truth. The five-song EP moves like a complete emotional cycle, from the first spark to the inevitable crash to the kind of peace you only earn by walking through it. It is stripped down, raw, and focused on storytelling. No glossy production tricks, no fake perfect choruses, just honesty and soul. The opener, “Nowhere Everywhere,” sets the tone with that restless space before love becomes real. It is the in-between moment where you are hopeful, scared, and not quite alone anymore. “Make A Move” arrives with tension and unraveling, the sound of someone asking for answers that may never show up. By the time “Regretting You” closes in, Erin has crossed the bridge. She has moved past heartbreak and is ready to release it. It is not bitter, it is grateful. Peace sometimes sounds like letting go. Erin calls this her “Adele Country” era, and it shows. “Because In and Out of Love is such a raw and emotional project, I wanted the production to stay out of the way and let the songs speak for themselves,” she says. With producers Ryan Kohn and Aaron Eshuis guiding the sound, the result lands clean, classic, and cinematic without drowning the emotion. It is easy to forget how young Erin is when she sings. There is a grit in her tone and a weight in her writing that feels lived-in. You can hear the experience, the missteps, and the hard-earned clarity. She has seen a lot of life, and she is not afraid to turn it into music that cuts and comforts at the same time. In and Out of Love is not just another country breakup record. It is a lesson in vulnerability and a reminder that country music still resonates most deeply when the artist brings their real life to the microphone. Erin Kirby stripped it all back, stood in her truth, and pressed record. The result is a project that both hurts and heals, and stays with you long after it ends. In and Out of Love feels brutally honest; it doesn't sugarcoat the messy parts of falling apart. What did you have to confront personally to write this project truthfully? One thing I had to confront to make this project truthful and vulnerable was my perfectionism. I have always struggled with wanting everything I do to be "perfect." With a project like In and Out of Love , I realized that perfection doesn't come from the technicalities but from the emotion and heart. You've described this as your "Adele Country" era. What does that mean to you in terms of sound and emotional storytelling, and how did you know you'd finally found your lane? To me, "Adele Country" means emotional, vulnerable, and raw. The production should be stripped back, allowing the lyrics and vocals to tell the story. I knew this was the lane for me when I started to feel genuinely proud of the music I had created. I have been fortunate enough to write many songs I love, but the songs on In and Out of Love  are 110% me! The EP follows the full cycle of a relationship, from the spark to the heartbreak to peace. Which song was the hardest for you to record emotionally, and why? "Make a Move" was probably the most emotionally challenging song for me to record. This song is a message for myself, a reminder that I'm in the right place. The idea came to me when I was feeling stuck in my career. I was praying for a sign of motivation, and I needed something to happen to nudge me in the right direction. The day we wrote this song, I knew it was the sign I was asking for. "Make a Move" is one of my favorite songs I have written, and I'm so proud of where it landed on this project. You've had a wild career arc, from pop beginnings to TV stages, worship camp breakthroughs, before landing in country. How did that evolution shape the artist you are now? I'm a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Deep down, I think that each step I've taken in music has led me to these songs I have just released. Without my time in pop and television, I never would've learned how to use my voice in the way that I do. I'm grateful to have a soul in the country where I write, and I owe that all to my past. Country music can sometimes feel overly polished. You went the opposite route with stripped-back production. What made you want to pull everything back and let the lyrics breathe on this one? Aaron Eshuis and Ryan Kohn absolutely crushed the production on my debut EP. I knew I wanted a stripped-back yet emotional production for these songs. I didn't want the music to distract from the lyrics, but instead I wanted it to accentuate its best moments!

Very few artists can write about heroism without turning it into a commercial. Paul Minnich has no interest in shallow patriotism. On his new single “American Valor,” released on Veterans Day, he cuts straight into the truth. The song honors the ones who served, but it also refuses to hide the trauma, loneliness, and permanent change that can come with that duty. It is a salute, but it is also a reality check. From the first verse, Minnich’s voice carries the weight of something lived, not imagined. The line “How many times have you said goodbye, closed your eyes and turned to cry” hits with the kind of honesty you do not forget. No fireworks, no speeches, just a quiet punch to the ribs. The melody walks with a slow, steady march, heavy but controlled, and his vocal delivery feels like standing in front of a folded flag thinking about the names nobody says out loud. “American Valor” is not interested in glorifying war and it does not collapse into hopelessness either. Minnich finds the honest middle ground where duty, sacrifice, and humanity collide. The chorus makes that clear: “I didn’t walk a mile in your shoes, I don’t have to, to see through those dress blues.” It is humility. It is understanding without pretending. Then comes the line that might be the core of the entire record: “Freedom’s not cheap, man it ain’t free, they paid in full for you and me.” It is blunt because it needs to be. Minnich does not dress it up, he lets it land. The production stays stripped-down and direct. No cinematic strings trying to tell you how to feel. Just a man, a voice, and a truth the country has a habit of looking away from. That is what makes “American Valor” stand out. It is patriotic without propaganda, respectful without being sanitized. “American Valor” is more than a song. It is a moment of stillness for the faces behind the flag, the ones whose stories do not fit in a headline or a speech. Paul Minnich has made something real, something human, something that remembers. “American Valor” feels deeply personal. What moment inspired you to write it? Seeing my brother tear up when he hugged our mother goodbye before his latest deployment.  Your brother’s service clearly impacted this song. How did watching his experiences shape your perspective on sacrifice? I remember talking to my brother before his deployment to Iraq in the early 2000s.  We both knew there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it back.  I told him I felt it wasn’t fair that he was going and the rest of us weren’t.  He told me, No, it is fair.  He said I had to keep doing what it was I did back home. That was my part.  He was going to do his part, protecting my freedom and safety so I could continue to do mine safely.   It taught me that true sacrifice is being willing to give it all up because you believe in others, their success, and their safety, as all of that is bigger than you.  The song feels both patriotic and painfully real. How did you find that emotional balance? I simply put into words what I see and feel about every service man & woman I’ve known.  Then I gave them a toast for what they have gone through.  The reason it comes across as patriotic is that each and every one is a true patriot, and their love for this country shines bright.  The lyric “None never quite came home” is powerful. What does that line mean to you personally? Although that line is not in the song, it’s a testament to when they came home, they were changed.  It was as if part of them stayed down range, and from time to time, it would pull them back.  What do you hope veterans and their families feel when they hear “American Valor”? When we see them and their individual story, we feel what they have gone through, and we celebrate and honor them as we “raise one tonight”.

Some artists sing. Others level up. Nya’s “My Tears Grew Roses” feels less like a song and more like a spiritual transformation caught in real time. The pop ballad, a centerpiece of her upcoming full-length album, is a cathartic release and a love letter to growth through suffering. It is lush, cinematic, and deeply human, turning heartbreak into the soil for something honest and alive. The track begins with a quiet piano motif, delicate and steady, before Nya’s voice slips in like a confession. What starts as a whisper rises into something powerful. Her vocal control is unreal, shifting between fragility and strength without ever sounding forced. When she delivers the line “Beauty comes from pain,” it hits because she’s lived it. Every note feels earned. The production stays in service to her storytelling, bending around her voice like light through stained glass. The sound builds in slow, intentional waves. Strings, heartbeat percussion, and a melody that climbs like something breaking open from the inside. There are echoes of classic power ballads, but Nya pushes the form forward with a modern, cinematic edge. It’s the sound of someone who walked through fire and didn’t just survive, but bloomed. The music video amplifies the emotional arc. Built from tour footage and behind-the-scenes moments from her run with Lindsey Stirling across the United States and Europe, it moves like a living journal. Exhaustion, adrenaline, lonely hotel rooms, crowds screaming her name, all woven together. It’s raw and unfiltered, proof that growth doesn’t always happen in silence. Sometimes it happens under stage lights and airport fluorescents. “My Tears Grew Roses” confirms Nya is far more than a voice. She is a storyteller with range, depth, and something real to say. She is not the wide-eyed dreamer she once was. She is a woman who turned her scars into art and her pain into fuel. If this single is any sign of what is coming next, Nya isn’t just evolving. She is ascending on her own terms. My Tears Grew Roses” feels incredibly personal. What moment or emotion sparked the idea behind it? It wasn’t so much a specific moment, but rather I wrote the chorus melody and lyrics at a time when I felt utterly overwhelmed and lost. Creating from my heart helped me push through my pain and confusion. The emotion of the piece reflects both the intensity of that time and the genuine hope I had for all the beautiful things to come. You describe beauty coming from pain. How do you balance vulnerability and strength when writing songs like this? I try to be as honest as possible. There’s great strength in allowing ourselves to be genuinely vulnerable. That’s when we can fully connect. Touring with Lindsey Stirling has been both challenging and inspiring. What did that experience teach you about yourself as an artist? I had never done an arena tour or a true tour run, period, so I was challenged to grow and improve quickly to deliver the kind of performance I wanted. I learned a great deal about myself during that process. Though there were certainly times I dealt with a lot of fear and anxiety, I’m so glad to have had the experience. I’m a better artist and person for it.  The video feels intimate and documentary-like. Why did you choose to show those behind-the-scenes moments? My Tears Grew Roses was born out of my personal and professional journey. I wanted the visuals to share a bit of that journey as well, the highs and the lows. This song feels like a new chapter in your story. What does this era of Nya represent to you creatively and personally? I love the Nietzschean concept of becoming who you are. The more I mature in my artistry, the more I strive to be the freest and most authentic version of myself. Other than living with kindness—that’s really my goal for both my professional and personal life—I hope that by being my most authentic self, I’ll be able to give something unique and honest to the world.

Lucas John & The Delinquents aren’t here to play nice, and “Little Rock” proves it. The Nashville-based outlaw outfit delivers a roaring, whiskey-soaked barnburner that is as funny as it is ferocious. Imagine Lynyrd Skynyrd getting day drunk with Garth Brooks, then writing a song about their collective bad decisions. That is “Little Rock.” The track kicks off with a bang: “I got drunk in Little Rock off of Rock Town bourbon whiskey,” and from there, it is pedal to the floor pandemonium. You can practically smell the bourbon and asphalt as the story unfolds. What starts as a harmless buzz turns into a full-blown Southern crime comedy, complete with speeding tickets, flirtatious cops, and a jail sentence that somehow feels worth it. The hook sticks like spilled beer on a bar floor, and the groove carries the swagger of a band that knows exactly who they are and doesn’t care who disagrees. Lucas John’s vocal delivery rides the line between reckless charm and pure outlaw bravado. There is grit in his tone, humor in his phrasing, and a twinkle of mischief behind every lyric. His band, The Delinquents, match him note for note with tight, road-worn chemistry that feels alive. You can tell these are not just session players but brothers in crime who have shared plenty of long nights and questionable decisions. The production, led by Jared Stong, captures that live, sweat-on-the-guitar energy perfectly. Nothing feels overproduced or polished. It is raw, wild, and relentlessly fun. Even in its chaos, the storytelling remains sharp, witty, and self-aware. “Little Rock” doesn’t glorify the mess. It laughs at it, learns from it, and pours another shot anyway. In a world where country music often leans too pop or too predictable, “Little Rock” rips through with grit, charm, and unapologetic Southern pride. It is a cautionary tale disguised as a party anthem, the kind of track that makes you want to sing along even as it warns you not to follow the same path. Lucas John & The Delinquents don’t just play country music. They live it, breathe it, and bottle it. You used your live band in the studio for this track. How did that affect the sound and chemistry? We have grown closer both personally and musically as a band over the last year and a half. The four of us, although we come from different experiences, share many similarities in our musical approach and inclinations. I couldn't have done it without them. We have built a solid audience through our live performances. There was no other choice but to capture that in a studio with the same people. It was the only way!  The lyrics balance humor with storytelling. How do you maintain the authenticity of that blend without going overboard? If I had a specific formula, I would tell you! The main thing I try to achieve is keeping things simple and easy to digest on the first listen, while maintaining a forward progression in the story. With humor that comes naturally, it will feel natural. I never think "I need a funny line". It never works out when I try to do that. The line pops into my head and I think, "yeah, that fits." You have toured with some major artists across the country scene. How has that influenced your perspective as a frontman? It's just really peeled back the curtain on just how much I am responsible for. If I have a bad day, then the band suffers. If I have a bad month, then the band suffers. I've definitely had my share of bad days and months. But I've recently been working really hard on myself, learning how to manage those peaks and valleys, so that I can be consistent, not just for the band but for the folks at the shows as well. I want to give the best show I can every day, even when I'm not feeling my best.  When you play "Little Rock" live, what kind of reaction do you hope to see from the crowd? The perfect mixture of head bobbing and laughing.

Some songs flirt. “Emilio” bites .   Stewart Taylor’s latest single is a bilingual spark of Latin pop desire and emotional storytelling that dives into the tension of a love that never had permission to happen. As the lead single from his upcoming 2026 debut album, “Emilio” arrives with a self-directed music video that proves Taylor is not only writing his own truth but shaping it visually for the world to see. Built on pulsing bass lines, glossy 1980s pop textures, and a smooth bilingual hook, “Emilio” feels like a lost dance floor classic rediscovered inside a packed nightclub. Taylor explains that the song was inspired by a work relationship filled with chemistry and boundaries that neither person could cross. He admits he has always had a soft spot for Latin men, and that energy charges every moment of the track. The chorus lands like a secret whispered between beats, confessional, reckless, and impossible to ignore. Taylor’s vocal style reflects the romantic drama of Selena, the theatrical vulnerability of Chappell Roan, and a hint of the pop showmanship of Lady Gaga. Produced by Stephen Beerkens of The Faim, the song went through multiple versions before reaching its final shape. It draws from Taylor’s love of Latin music, 1980s dance production, U2 sized emotion, and years of singing in Spanish. The music video, filmed at the legendary Jewel’s Catch One in Los Angeles, adds another layer to the story. The venue boasts decades of cultural history, making it the perfect location to tell a story of desire and expression. Featuring Armando Eleazar, known for performing on Saturday Night Live with Bad Bunny and dancing alongside Jennifer Lopez in Kiss of the Spider Woman, the video unfolds like a memory filled with mirror balls, sweat, and glances that linger too long. What makes “Emilio” stand out is that it is not a song about losing something. It is a song about owning your feelings without apology. Taylor hopes listeners are reminded that love does not always fall where it is expected, and that everyone experiences both the highs and lows on the way to finding what is real.

Let’s be honest: most “synth-pop” artists swear they’re weird, but Fur Trapper is actually weird, in the best, most committed way. Lisa Rieffel’s alter ego has always lived somewhere between a glitch in the matrix and a cigarette break outside an underground club, but “ Never Enough (Modern Human) ” feels like the moment she stops hinting and just rips the curtain down. The new music video, written and directed by Rieffel herself, is the kind of surreal, hyper-digital spiral that makes you question whether you’re watching art or slipping into a dream you didn’t consent to. Using greenscreen like a mad scientist discovering a new toy, she builds a world that’s glossy, uncanny, seductive, and slightly uncomfortable… kind of like being alive right now. The whole thing hits with this Wings of Desire energy, but filtered through a modern, overstimulated brain that’s been chewed up by consumer culture and spit out scrolling at 3 a.m. “Never Enough (Modern Human)” taps into that feeling we all hate to admit, wanting everything, feeling nothing, pretending we’re fine. Rieffel doesn’t dress it up. She leans into the tension, pairing shimmering ‘80s synth-pop with visuals that feel like a neon therapy session. It’s cinematic, but personal; polished, but quietly unhinged. Exactly the contradiction she intended. Her upcoming debut album, SUPER NOW, expands this universe into a full-blown synth playground, glossy textures, shadowy moods, and storytelling sharp enough to cut you. But “Never Enough (Modern Human)” is the centerpiece for a reason. It sums up the entire thesis: beautiful chaos wrapped in a pop song that hits way too close to home. Fur Trapper isn’t just dropping singles, she’s world-building. And with this release, she’s basically saying, welcome to the simulation, babe.

New Constellations did not come to play pretend healing. Their new single "Believe Again" feels like a collision between who you were, who you are, and who you're low-key afraid you might still become. It is not a song designed for background playlists or cute indie aesthetics. It lands like an overdue conversation with the younger version of yourself, the one who had ridiculous dreams and zero evidence they were possible, but still held the line anyway. For New Constellations , this is not just nostalgia. It is reclamation. "Believe Again" is built as a dialogue across time, a moment where the present self turns back and says thank you to the girl who carried the light long before there was a stage, a tour, or millions of streams. Instead of distancing herself from that version, she honors her. The result is a synth-drenched coming-of-age moment that refuses to apologize for feeling something. Starlit synths, dreamy pads, and pulse-driven percussion create a world that feels cinematic without losing emotional detail. Harlee Case's voice moves between softness and conviction, like she is letting you read pages from a diary she never planned on releasing, but finally realized she no longer needs to hide. This track is the first chapter of "It Comes in Waves," the debut album from New Constellations , the duo formed by lifelong friends Harlee Case and Josh Smith, based in Portland. They started making music in a bedroom at 14 and went their separate ways for more than a decade. Harlee Case became a voice for female empowerment and plant medicine advocacy, while Josh toured and sharpened his production instincts. Now they are back, fused into a project that feels bigger than either of them could have achieved alone. New Constellations are not the type of act quietly testing the waters. They have already garnered over 100 million streams, secured syncs with Apple TV, Good Trouble, a full-length film, and ESPRIT, and sold out tours across the West Coast, East Coast, and with Cannons. The momentum is real and getting louder. With a healing-centered North America tour in November and new singles dropping every six weeks, "Believe Again" does not feel like a single. It feels like a thesis. A reminder that growth is not betrayal, and the kid who believed first deserves a seat at the table. "Believe Again" feels deeply personal. What inspired you to write it as a conversation with your younger self? We rarely start writing with a set intention. Instead, we like to see what's already stirring inside us, to let the music rise from the subconscious or from something bigger than us both. This song came through that same way. It started as one idea and then quickly led me into a conversation with my younger self. I'm so grateful for that girl, the one who found the courage to try again after giving up. I see her differently now, with so much love and respect. She was brave enough to believe in her own vision, to hold onto the worlds she saw in her mind, and to keep building them, no matter how long it took. We're here because she refused to stop dreaming. The production feels cinematic yet intimate. How did you approach balancing those emotions sonically? Often, our songs begin with very sparse beats. I try to get a sense, or a vibe, going without it dictating the path forward too much. I want to create enough of a canvas for Harlee to be able to paint on without influencing too much too early. Once we start developing a melody or lyrical content, I will add to the beat to complement it. Often, the intimacy comes from the lyrical content or the vocal melodies, and we try to use the music production to heighten that aspect without distracting from it. What message do you hope listeners take from the balance between nostalgia and renewal in the song? I hope listeners are reminded that they, too, can choose to believe in themselves at any moment, regardless of their current life circumstances. It's never too late to become the person you've always dreamed of being. When we witness real-life examples of transformation and success, something in our minds opens up, and we begin to see that those possibilities exist for us too. Our minds are mighty, and I hope to keep inspiring people to trust that power, to have hope in themselves, and to know that it's never too late to begin again. You're heading into a North America Tour centered on healing. How does this song fit into that vision? I wouldn't say our tour is intentionally centered on healing, but our music can be used in many ways as a tool for it. That's what music has always been for me, a way to alchemize my emotions, to turn pain or confusion into something that serves my heart and purpose more fully. I believe "like attracts like," and many of the people who connect with our music are also on their own healing journeys. There's something powerful about being in a room full of people healthily moving through their emotions — singing, crying, dancing, releasing. Our shows are definitely a rollercoaster, but in the best, most cathartic way. With singles rolling out every six weeks leading to your debut album, how does "Believe Again" set the tone for what's coming next?  Believe again, in a way, is the story of our band and the path that we took to even getting here in the first place. It's very apropos that our first single from our first album is a story acknowledging and thanking the path that brought us here in the first place. It's sort of a beautiful homage to the struggles of an artist in terms of not giving up on your art when life seems to get in the way.

“Finbar” does not just play; it possesses. The Kerry Kenny Band’s latest single is a fever dream wrapped in Celtic fire, a collision of tradition and rebellion that burns brighter with every measure. From the first beat, it is clear that Kerry Kenny is not interested in being polite or predictable. She is here to exorcise something. The track opens like an invocation. A steady drumbeat simmers beneath swirling fiddles and guitar lines that feel both ancient and electric. Kenny’s voice cuts through the smoke, raw and haunting, as she chants and cries the name “Finbar” like a spell cast in real time. It is not just a name; it is a curse, a memory, an ache that refuses to die. The song builds and unravels all at once, its rhythm spiraling toward chaos before crashing into release. By the end, you are not sure whether to dance, scream, or pray. The accompanying video, co-directed by Tom Robenolt of Point Five Films, turns that energy into pure visual combustion. Ink scrawls across paper, flames devour words, and Kenny becomes both storyteller and subject, the woman unraveling and the witness to her own undoing. It is Gothic, feral, and hypnotic, the kind of imagery that clings long after the final frame. What makes “Finbar” so gripping is its fearless blend of worlds. You can hear echoes of Irish folk tradition in its bones, but the blood running through it is pure rock and roll. Kenny’s years of studying and performing across Europe, Asia, and the United States are reflected in her sound, from the operatic phrasing to the punkish edge that refuses to conform. Every moment feels alive, dangerous, and deliberate. “Finbar” serves as the ignition point for Kenny’s upcoming album Brutal Best . If this is the tone-setter, listeners are in for a raw and fearless ride. Kerry Kenny does not just perform her songs; she inhabits them. With “Finbar,” she has lit a fuse that will not be easily put out. "Finbar" feels deeply personal yet wildly theatrical. What inspired the story behind it? The Caoimhe character (pronounced "Keeva") is primarily inspired by the heartbroken heroine in  "The Blacksmith ," one of my favorite Planxty songs (and one I perform every St. Patrick's Day ad nauseam). Having grown up performing St. Patrick's Day gigs in my family's Irish pub and studying Irish Music in Ireland, I've been surrounded by traditional Irish songs my whole life. The themes of those tunes cover everything from drunken antics to infidelity, betrayal, and death (often sung with a wink and a smile). That mix of tragedy wrapped in melody always fascinated me. When I began writing  Finbar,  I wanted to capture that same spirit. The song centers on Caoimhe, an obsessed and unhinged woman who refuses to let go of her love for Finbar. She's a little dangerous, maybe even delusional, but she's also very human. The video's imagery is powerful and symbolic. How did you develop the concept of ink and fire? The  Finbar  video shows the layers of Caoimhe's unraveling mind. It begins with her in a pub, still functioning but barely holding it together, then shifts to her performing for a lone audience member. From there, she descends into ritual, fire, and chaos. When she is at last scrawling Finbar's name over and over, it's raw, staining, and an obvious testament to her uncontrollable obsession. The fire is her final act as she burns an effigy of Finbar. (We are left not knowing what that means for poor Fin!) Working with Tom Robenolt of Point Five Films was incredible because he immediately understood the madness and joined right in. Your sound combines Celtic roots with rock and punk influences. How do you maintain that balance of authenticity? I don't know how to be inauthentic. (Doesn't that sound inauthentic?). My host family in Bray, Ireland, always complimented me for being so "down to earth" (apparently, it was a quality they hadn't expected from an American). For me, authenticity means honoring my roots while simultaneously refusing to be confined by them. I thrive on the challenge of songwriting and can't stand to be confined to a single style. My musical idols are incredibly diverse, including artists such as PJ Harvey, Elvis Costello, The Beatles, Nick Cave, Laurie Anderson, Björk, and Tom Waits. My music dives into the grit and energy of rock and punk at times. Listeners can hear emotion, truth, and sometimes even a touch of humor. I hope anyone who listens to one of my albums finds it to be alive and unpredictable. You have lived and performed in various parts of the world. How have those experiences shaped your songwriting? Living in places like Limerick, Krakow, Seoul, and Thailand has significantly changed how I view the world. For example, the song "Finbar" got some of its inspiration from studying Irish music and literature in Limerick. I met people named Finbar and Caoimhe there. (No, the song isn't actually about them, but I always remembered those cool names!) My constant search for new music and musical styles has been significantly enhanced by traveling. All that globetrotting also hammered home the idea that we're all pretty similar, which really opened up my creativity. It led me to blend different cultural sounds, experiment with words in multiple languages, and write from a place of genuine connection through characters, rather than just focusing on myself. When you see how big the world really is, it's easy to be humble and realize how much there is to learn and experience. My journey proves that if a girl from a small, working-class town in Pennsylvania can travel, learn, teach, and create worldwide, anyone can pursue their dreams. "Finbar" is the first single on your new album , Brutal Best.  What can fans expect from the rest of the record? Brutal Best  can be a raw and emotional journey, or it can be a lighthearted romp at times. Some songs take you into deep emotional truth, and others refer to Japan's 111 active volcanoes. No two tracks sound alike. You'll hear touches of classic rock, folk, post-punk, and even some unexpected grooves like the gypsy-reggaetón feel in  Finbar.    It's an album about courage and owning your story, even the messy parts. I want people to feel inspired to create, to take risks, and to stop hesitating. Whether it's music, art, or life itself, do it.

If you’re expanding your collection or just exploring new sounds, especially while browsing banjos for sale , using the right recording approach can help every instrument in your lineup shine in a mix. Small adjustments can make a big difference, and these tricks are designed to work for beginners and experienced musicians alike. Trick #1: Choose the Right Room (or Create One) The room you record in has a huge impact on tone because sound bounces off walls, floors, and ceilings. Hard surfaces can make strings sound sharp or echoey, while softer materials help create a cleaner and more controlled recording. You can improve almost any space by adding simple DIY sound control. Hanging blankets, placing cushions around reflective areas, or recording in a quieter corner of your home can make your instrument sound warmer and more focused. A small space doesn’t have to be a disadvantage when you learn how to soften harsh reflections. Trick #2: Experiment With Mic Distance and Angle Even a small change in mic position can dramatically shape the tone  of a stringed instrument. Moving the microphone just a few inches can shift the balance between warmth, clarity, and brightness. For most home setups, starting with the mic 12 to 18 inches away works well. From there, tilt the mic slightly or move it left or right to reduce harshness or capture more resonance. These tiny adjustments often fix issues faster than heavy editing. Trick #3: Use a Second Mic for Natural Depth Placing a second microphone in the room can add depth and space to your recordings . This helps make the instrument feel more real and natural, especially when you blend the close and room mics together. A spaced pair or a simple angled setup can give your recording a gentle stereo image. Just be sure to listen for any phase problems, which happen when the mics pick up sound waves at slightly different times. If something sounds hollow, adjust the distance until the tone feels full again. Trick #4: Tame Harsh Frequencies Before They Happen Instead of relying heavily on EQ later, you can avoid harsh tones by positioning the microphone more thoughtfully. Pointing the mic directly at bright spots, like the soundhole of an acoustic guitar or the f-holes of a violin, can create an overly sharp sound. Try aiming the mic slightly off-center or moving it toward the side of the instrument . These adjustments soften the tone naturally, meaning you’ll need far less editing afterward. Light EQ can still help, but capturing a clean sound at the source is always better. Trick #5: Capture Multiple Takes With Slight Variations Recording several takes of the same part adds richness and detail. Each take will sound a little different because no two performances are exactly alike, and these small differences blend into a thicker, more interesting sound. You can double-track a simple melody or layer chords to create a wide, warm texture. This technique works beautifully for string ensembles, but it can also bring life to solo parts when used carefully. Trick #6: Add Subtle Ambience for a Polished Feel A touch of reverb can make your strings sound smoother  and more polished, especially if the recording space is small or dry. The key is to add ambience that enhances the natural character without overwhelming it. Short room reverbs create an intimate feel, while hall or plate reverbs can add shine for more emotional or atmospheric parts. Start with a small amount and increase it slowly until the instrument sits comfortably in the mix. Too much reverb can blur the details, so gentle use is best. Trick #7: Keep Strings Fresh and Instruments Well-Maintained Fresh strings create clearer tones, stronger harmonics, and better sustain. Old strings often sound dull or uneven, so replacing them regularly is one of the easiest ways to improve your recordings instantly. Instrument maintenance also matters. Keeping the body clean, checking the condition of the bow (for bowed strings), and ensuring tuning stability all contribute to a smoother recording experience. A healthy instrument produces a healthier sound, and your microphone will pick up the difference. Putting Everything Together When recording at home, small choices add up quickly. The room you use, the distance of your mic, the care you give your instrument, and the creative decisions you make all work together to shape the final sound. Experimenting, listening closely, and adjusting as you go will help you find what works best for each instrument and musical style. With these simple DIY tricks , you don’t need expensive gear or a professional studio to capture beautiful, shining string recordings. Trust your ears, stay patient, and let your instruments speak naturally. The more you practice, the more confident and skilled you’ll become in shaping your own signature sound.

Nokturna aren’t playing nice anymore. The once-jazz combo turned metal wrecking crew just cracked open their next era with “Deadwater,” a track that doesn’t just dabble in darkness, it drinks it straight and asks for another round. With Jamie McIntosh and Ethan Hippel ripping on guitars, Liam Tupling detonating the kit, and Leland Haas locking the whole thing in place, Nokturna have ditched the warm glow of improvisational jazz for something far more feral. Good. It suits them. “Deadwater” is ugly, honest, and necessary. This song was born out of real-life collapse, the kind you don’t post on Instagram because it’s not aesthetic. It’s the sound of standing still too long in your own head, of realizing the life you built doesn’t fit anymore, and tearing it apart anyway. When they spit lines like, “Drown inside the deadwater” and “A newborn infant, spineless cold,” it’s not for dramatic flair. It’s because rebirth isn’t cute. It’s violent. And sometimes it starts at the bottom. Sonically, Nokturna drags you under. Riffs slam like concrete blocks, drums hit like they’re trying to break bone, and melodic breaks bleed just long enough to remind you you’re still alive. Fans of Gojira, Slipknot, and early Metallica will feel at home here, but Nokturna aren’t copy-pasting anybody. Their sound swings between primal terror and razor-sharp introspection, and the tension is addictive. What keeps “Deadwater” from rotting in its own misery is the flicker of defiance underneath. Nokturna knows damn well that isolation breaks people, but it also forges them. The track doesn’t promise a perfect comeback, just the right to crawl out of whatever hell you’re in and start again. As their first major statement after Fractured Reality, “Deadwater” makes one thing brutally clear: Nokturna didn’t evolve to fit in; they evolved to take over. They’re building something heavier, deeper, and far more human than genre constraints will ever contain. Anyone who’s ever suffocated in silence or had to rebuild from wreckage will hear themselves in this track. “Deadwater” explores isolation and rebirth. How personal was this writing process for the band? Very, Deadwater came about at a very tumultuous time in our band. There was a lot of internal tension, rivalry, and, most of all, separation. It was probably the most separated we had been as people during that time. Deadwater explored a lot of the feelings we were feeling, and eventually, how we got through it. You began as a jazz combo. How did that early foundation influence your approach to metal? Well, in all honesty, we had no idea we’d end up doing metal in the beginning, but we all kind of felt like that genre fit better with the kind of art we wanted to create at the time that we switched over. We kind of see Jazz and Metal as two sides of the same coin, both having a heavy focus on musicianship, technicality, and overall, both genres are an amazing way to convey emotion and feeling through technically complex music. So it just felt right, and overall didn’t really change how we approached creating and playing music together. In all honesty, it just made us feel more comfortable. The lyrics balance bleak imagery with hope. How do you find that line musically? During our writing process, we often start with the instrumental and then write the lyrics over top. So most of the time, the lyrical topic is usually decided after the instrumental is complete. In this case, after writing and practicing, we had decided to name the track “Deadwater” and base it on isolation and rebirth, some key ideas that will be reappearing in future projects. Afterwards we revisited the instrumental to make some specific changes to reflect that, the verse sections are very dry and almost claustrophobic feeling, as that’s where a lot of the bleakness sits, and then the chorus/bridge/breakdown sections are much bigger, filled with reverb and a lot of space, to reflect the more hopeful feelings behind the lyrics in those sections. Nokturna draws influence from giants like Metallica and Gojira. How do you carve out your unique identity within those shadows? Ever since the beginning of the band, we’ve been massively influenced by bands we love, even starting out our metal era by doing mostly Metallica covers. But as we evolved into doing our own original stuff, we developed an ethos around paying respect and combining all of our influences into one big melting pot of ideas. All of the bands that we love are majorly important in our lives, and to us, it’s incredibly important to show that through our music, it’s all about looking at what came before and evolving upon it. With Deadwater signaling a new chapter, what can fans expect from your next era? There will be lots of big changes coming your way, the music’s getting heavier, the lyrics deeper and more storied, and the live shows getting crazier. We’re entering an era based on rich, emotional storytelling and brutal, heavy music. We cannot wait for everyone to hear what we’ve been working on.