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New York artist LEX continues to push her sound in a deeply personal direction with the release of "CIGARETTES," a raw alternative hip-hop single that examines the emotional toll of heartbreak, addiction, and the long road toward recovery. Rather than relying on exaggerated storytelling, the track is rooted in lived experience, offering an unfiltered look at the unhealthy coping mechanisms that can follow personal loss. Blending alternative hip-hop with punk-inspired energy, "CIGARETTES" showcases LEX's ability to bridge melodic vulnerability with emotionally charged lyricism. The production remains understated, allowing the weight of the narrative to take center stage while her vocal delivery moves effortlessly between melodic hooks and introspective rap verses. At its core, the single explores the cycle of turning to alcohol and other destructive habits in an attempt to numb emotional pain. Instead of presenting recovery as a simple or linear process, LEX captures the difficult reality of recognizing destructive patterns while struggling to escape them. That honesty gives "CIGARETTES" an authenticity that separates it from more conventional songs about heartbreak. The release also marks another step forward for an artist steadily expanding her international profile. Following the success of previous releases, including "STAY," which gained recognition on Japan's Shazam charts, LEX continues to build momentum through a growing global streaming audience and an increasingly engaged social media following. While "CIGARETTES" is undeniably one of LEX's most personal releases to date, its message extends beyond her own experiences. The single serves as a reminder that healing often begins with confronting uncomfortable truths rather than hiding from them. By transforming personal struggles into honest songwriting, LEX delivers a release that speaks to anyone navigating grief, addiction, or the difficult process of rebuilding after life's darkest moments. "CIGARETTES" explores addiction, heartbreak, and self-destruction without romanticizing any of it. Was there a specific moment that made you realize this story needed to be told as honestly as possible? The moment I realized my story needed to be told as honestly as possible was when I faced my reality. My addiction and trauma came to the forefront, and I knew others were going through the same emotions and situations as myself. I needed to use my voice to not only face and accept my truth but to help others face their own demons. Your music blends alternative hip-hop, punk, and emo influences into a sound that feels distinctly your own. Which artists or experiences have had the biggest impact on shaping your creative identity? The biggest event that has shaped my identity all started when I was younger. I was raised by my grandparents on Long Island in a blessed situation. Though there was always a feeling of loneliness and abandonment due to growing up without a father in my life, I turned to music. My grandmother would take me to concerts when I was just 6 years old. At 12 years old, I started to write covers of songs I would listen to at the time. At the time, I didn’t understand what I was doing; I just knew it made me feel less alone. Artists that had the biggest impact on me would have to be Fall Out Boy, Mayday Parade, Brand New, Lil Wayne, Eminem, and Nicki Minaj. My first memory of music was listening to Fall Out Boy in the car with my grandmother, a song called “ My Heart is the Worst Kind of Weapon”. I remember when I first heard it like it was yesterday, driving over the Great South Bay bridge. Ever since then, I knew music was something I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Many listeners will see parts of themselves in "CIGARETTES." What do you hope someone struggling with heartbreak, addiction, or mental health takes away after hearing the song? When someone hears “Cigarettes”, I hope they take away the fact that they aren’t alone. I hope they know feeding an addiction won’t solve their problems and the best way of dealing with your trauma is facing it head-on. No matter how long you push it away, it will always come back and need to be dealt with. There's a constant tension between vulnerability and resilience throughout this track. How do you balance sharing deeply personal experiences while still protecting your own emotional well-being as an artist? For me, when I’m writing, the best way to explain it is sorta like going into a trance. It’s an out-of-body experience when I’m writing music. It’s a lot easier for me to protect my emotional well-being as an artist because of that. Writing music is my way to escape and take care of my well-being. Without music, I would be very lost in this world. With your audience continuing to grow internationally, how do you plan to build on the momentum of "CIGARETTES," and what can fans expect from this next chapter of your career? There will be a music video coming out for Cigarettes soon, along with merch. In the near future, I plan to take a visit to Japan to do some live shows! I have a new single coming out called “Show Me” that drops at the end of this month. I’m very excited to share an uplifting song about love. I’m also making plans to move to LA next year to further my career.

In an era dominated by fast-moving musical trends, Melbourne vocalist Wade Morgan is embracing something timeless. His new EP, Love Rhythms and Themes, delivers six tracks rooted in classic jazz, swing, and big band traditions while offering a fresh perspective for modern audiences. Known for his rich baritone and sophisticated stage presence, Morgan has earned comparisons to crooners like Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. As a regular performer at Melbourne's Paris Cat Jazz Club, where he recently played to a sold-out crowd, he has built a reputation for bringing the elegance of the Great American Songbook back into the spotlight. Throughout Love Rhythms and Themes, Morgan explores romance, nostalgia, vulnerability, and late-night reflection through lush arrangements and cinematic storytelling. Songs like "The Crooners Dream," "The Night Chose Us," and "Umbrella for a Cloudy Mind" showcase his ability to blend vintage swing with contemporary songwriting, creating a collection that feels both familiar and refreshingly current. At its heart, the EP is about creating joy. Morgan hopes listeners simply smile while experiencing the music, a fitting goal for a project that celebrates timeless melodies, heartfelt storytelling, and the enduring charm of classic jazz. Your music draws inspiration from icons like Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra while still feeling contemporary. How do you strike that balance without becoming simply a tribute act? Great songs transcend time. I’ve always believed there have been two extraordinary eras of popular songwriting. The first spans the 1920s through to the 1960s, with legendary songwriters and lyricists such as Sammy Cahn, Jimmy Van Heusen, George and Ira Gershwin, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Jerome Kern, Johnny Mercer and so many others. Then came the explosion of music from the 1960s into the early ’70s with artists like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Cream and The Animals. The fact that we’re still listening to those songs in 2026 says everything about their quality. Great songs never really go away. What I’ve learned from Sinatra, Crosby and Martin isn’t simply how to sing; it’s storytelling, phrasing and creating a genuine connection with an audience. I’m not trying to recreate them. I’m trying to apply those lessons to songs that reflect my own experiences and perspective. My original music is written for today’s listeners. The arrangements draw on the elegance of jazz, swing, and big band, but the stories come from my own life. I want listeners to feel as though they’re hearing something familiar yet completely new. For me, it’s about preserving the craftsmanship of the Great American Songbook while giving it a contemporary voice. That’s where I believe my music finds its own identity. Love Rhythms and Themes explores romance, nostalgia, and vulnerability through six interconnected songs. What inspired you to build the EP around these themes? As I was writing the songs, I realized rhythm wasn’t just part of the music; it became part of the storytelling. There are lyrics like “My heart beats like a big bass drum” and “Like a saxophone solo, wild and true.” Those musical references kept appearing throughout the songs, so the idea of Love Rhythms and Themes came together quite naturally. The EP is built around my own experiences. Dizzy With You and The Night Chose Us tell the story of meeting and falling in love with my wife. Umbrella for a Cloudy Mind is about protecting your mindset during difficult times and remembering to focus on the love and joy that surrounds you. Crooners Dream is about my own journey to finding my musical path through the inspiration of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Bing Crosby. Drink Drank Drunk is simply about the excitement of a Friday or Saturday night with friends, but it’s also a reminder that one drink too many can sometimes get you into trouble. Although each song stands on its own, together they tell a much bigger story about love, hope, ambition, and the different seasons we experience throughout life. Jazz and big band music aren’t the dominant sounds in today’s industry. What motivates you to keep this style alive, and why do you think younger audiences are beginning to rediscover it? (Laughs.) That’s my secret goal, to help bring this style back into the mainstream. There’s something genuinely uplifting about jazz and big band music. It makes people smile. I’ve been to countless big band performances, and people always leave happier than when they arrived. They’re laughing, talking, dancing, and sharing the experience with the people around them. That’s something really special. I also think younger audiences are beginning to rediscover the genre because they’re looking for authenticity. In a world filled with algorithms and endless scrolling, hearing real musicians playing timeless songs feels refreshing. If my music can introduce even a few new listeners to jazz while also showing that original songs can sit comfortably alongside the classics, then I feel like I’m doing my small part to keep the genre moving forward You’ve recently performed a sold-out show at the Paris Cat Jazz Club. How has performing these songs live influenced your connection to the material and your confidence as an artist? That show was a significant milestone for me. Standing in front of a full room and seeing people genuinely connect with the music confirmed that these songs resonate beyond the recording studio. Live performance changes everything. You discover which lyrics people respond to, where they laugh, where they become completely silent, and where the emotional moments really land. Those reactions deepen my own connection to the songs because they become shared experiences rather than something I created alone. Selling out the Paris Cat Jazz Club also reinforced that there is an audience for original jazz-inspired music. That gave me confidence not only as a performer but also as a songwriter with something meaningful to contribute. Looking ahead, where do you see your sound evolving? Do you plan to continue honoring the traditional jazz canon, or are there new musical directions you’d like to explore? I’ve felt from a young age that this style of music is where I belong, so I don’t see myself moving too far away from jazz, swing, and big band. That said, I love collaborating and challenging myself creatively. I’ve worked with A B Music House on several songs outside the jazz genre. I sang on The Valley, which has a reggae influence, and I wrote the lyrics for Put Down the Phone, another reggae track. I also wrote the lyrics for Condemnation, which leans more towards ’90s R&B. Those experiences have shown me that songwriting isn’t confined to one genre. No matter what musical direction I explore, I think people will always recognize my voice, my storytelling and my love of timeless songs. That’s what I hope ultimately defines me as an artist.

Brazilian electro-pop artist Maya D isn't simply releasing a debut album. With Pool Party, she introduces listeners to an entire creative universe where music, visuals, and storytelling merge into an immersive experience. Entirely written and produced independently, the project feels less like a collection of songs and more like the first chapter of a carefully imagined world. Despite its sun-soaked title, Pool Party dives far deeper than carefree summer escapism. The album uses the imagery of pools, glamour, and celebration as symbols for identity, transformation, and emotional freedom. Every track explores a different version of femininity, shifting effortlessly between flirtation, vulnerability, heartbreak, confidence, irony, and self-discovery without ever losing its cohesive vision. What makes Maya D stand out is her commitment to world-building. The introduction of the "Maya Verse" elevates Pool Party beyond traditional pop, inviting listeners into an atmosphere where every production choice, visual element, and lyric serves a larger artistic purpose. The glossy electronic production provides cinematic energy while still leaving room for moments of genuine emotional honesty. That balance between confidence and vulnerability becomes the album's greatest strength. Maya D never presents empowerment as perfection. Instead, she embraces contradiction, celebrating the idea that strength often comes from accepting every version of yourself rather than chasing an idealized image. As an independent artist, Maya D maintains complete creative ownership over every aspect of Pool Party, and that artistic freedom is evident throughout the record. The result is an ambitious debut that feels intentional, cohesive, and refreshingly authentic. With Pool Party, Maya D proves she's building more than a music career. She's building a universe worth stepping into, one that encourages listeners to embrace their complexity and celebrate who they are without apology.

Free Under Fire aren't interested in chasing trends. On their latest single, "Givin' My Lovin' A Shot," the Ajax, Ontario rock outfit doubles down on the timeless energy that has defined rock's greatest eras while injecting it with a modern sense of urgency. Built around soaring guitar work, driving rhythms, and a vocal performance that carries both grit and conviction, the single feels equally suited for late-night highway drives and packed festival stages. It's the kind of track that reminds listeners why loud guitars and honest songwriting continue to resonate long after trends come and go. The release serves as the first taste of the band's upcoming third studio album, Graffiti In The Garden, arriving September 18. Rather than offering a collection of disconnected songs, the record promises an ambitious exploration of identity, ambition, regret, joy, and the contradictions that shape the human experience. The album's central metaphor, comparing life's permanent emotional marks to graffiti on a beautiful landscape, gives the project an emotional depth that extends well beyond its explosive rock instrumentation. Free Under Fire have steadily built momentum through standout performances at NXNE, Deerfest, and Roots & Revival, proving that their reputation extends far beyond the studio. That live energy translates effortlessly into "Givin' My Lovin' A Shot," creating a release that feels immediate, confident, and unapologetically authentic. With "Givin' My Lovin' A Shot" arriving August 13 and Graffiti In The Garden following shortly after, Free Under Fire make a compelling case that rock isn't making a comeback. It never left. The title Graffiti In The Garden is incredibly visual. What inspired that metaphor, and how does it connect the album's songs into one larger story? At its basis, the title of the record is juxtaposition. It's taking something that may be construed as vulgar in the common cultural milieu and combining it with something we implicitly, inherently hold sacred. In a way, it's a microcosm of the bigger thing it inhabits (our band and its name - Free Under Fire). It mirrors the name. Jung described the unconscious as wilderness - creative life. Perhaps the title is an attempt to subvert this framework; by intentionally desecrating sacred space, we attempt to gain some modicum of agency over our unconscious without the hard work typically required in probing dangerous internal spaces. Enter the modern metaphor - be it cell phones at concerts in lieu of sitting in the moment and feeling what the song makes you feel, or anything else. The interpretations are as endless as the people who hypothesize them. But one thing to note is that both graffiti and garden are canvases for human expression. Whereas music is sound given orchestral form by people, so too is the garden a focus of our creative endeavours. We reap what we sow. It's the same thing when you attempt to weave a rock album together from the fabric of everyday life. "Givin' My Lovin' A Shot" introduces this new era with a huge, energetic sound. Why did this track feel like the right first single to represent the album? "Givin' My Lovin' A Shot" is certainly energetic and huge, but "Brand New Feeling" is actually the first official single (released June 4th of this year). It felt like the right single because it spoke to a universal phenomenon, namely, rising out of a bad mood and beginning to see all the joys in your life that you had previously disregarded. That's as close to a ubiquitous human experience as you can get. I mean, this may seem a strange comparison, but when you think about the Voyager capsule sent into space, the criteria was largely the same. In the unlikely (or perhaps very likely - equally daunting!) chance that extraterrestrials intercept the capsule, no matter what aspect of it they analyzed first, they would come face to face with an aspect of human intelligence, be it language, physiology or music, that represented as many people of planet earth as possible. The songs on the capsule included songs like "Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground" by Blind Willie Johnson - a nearly instrumental Delta Blues song that deals with not knowing where you're going to rest your head when night falls. That's a universal human experience. The hope for "Graffiti In The Garden" is two-fold - one - that lyrical content is still something that matters to people, and that they would connect not only musically but lyrically to songs, but - two - that it would serve as the entry point for our album. I'm fully aware that there are certain songs on our upcoming album (releasing September 18, 2026) that may seem more esoteric thematically or lyrically, but the idea is that if a person has heard one song, connected with it and become interested in our band, then they would likely listen to other songs on the record that they may not otherwise give a chance to. Having a first single that maximizes this probability is a good strategic move. Your recent performances at NXNE, Deerfest, and Roots & Revival have continued building your reputation as a live band. How has playing bigger stages influenced the way you approached this record? I would say this record, above other records, has definitely shaped up to be a stadium album. Many of the songs are high energy, and even the ones that are more subdued definitely connect with larger and larger audiences. To be completely honest, we don't write songs for other people. We don't write songs for large crowds. We just naturally have gravitated towards a more high energy sound. People go to large shows to take part in the collective ecstasy - to witness a spectacle. On that front, we aim to deliver! You describe the album as an exploration of the human condition, touching on ambition, regret, bliss, and self-reflection. Which song challenged you the most emotionally during the writing process, and why? It's a strange thing. If you're honest with yourself and express yourself without reservation in your music, then you are a conduit. Nothing more, nothing less. It's really no different than someone who is not a musician living the emotions of their lives in real time. The only difference is I spend years looking for the chords, the themes, the lyrics, the melodies to give voice to mine. The emotional aspect of it isn't even the most arduous part. The enigmatic puzzle-piecing that experimental music (which is music that really entices me, personally) demands can be incredibly draining, emotionally. The difference between a good song and a great song is only about 10%. A little unorthodoxy here, a peculiarity there. It's all arbitrary on pen and paper. But that's the razor thin gap between a memorable, idiosyncratic work of art and a merely passable song. But that last 10% is what you strive a whole lifetime to meaningfully capture. You've said you want listeners to walk away believing that rock music is still alive and that the rock album still matters. What do you think today's generation is rediscovering about rock that makes this the right moment for a record like Graffiti In The Garden? Rock music, with all its multi-faceted sonic, landscapes, has not gone away. It has merely changed hands across the generations - from the exuberant, star studded rockers of the 1970’s, resplendent, in all the shining glory of rock’s supposed heyday – to the intricate daily fabric of our post-internet age. Rock has just changed forms, but the spirit the underpins great rock bands has never gone away. There's never been a better time than now for rock to come back. And we're happy to be a part of that revival.

At a time when outrage often feels louder than optimism, BRYTWD arrives with a reminder that choosing compassion can be its own form of rebellion. The Seattle-based indie rock collective's latest single, "Choose Love," is less interested in chasing radio trends than creating an immersive emotional experience, blending psychedelic rock, gospel harmonies, and expansive songwriting into a six-minute journey that refuses to rush its message. Drawing inspiration from the organic spirit of classic psychedelic records, "Choose Love" embraces imperfection as a strength rather than something to polish away. Every instrument breathes naturally, with shifting tempos and evolving arrangements that make the song feel alive. Instead of relying on pristine production or predictable pop structures, BRYTWD lets the music unfold organically, giving each section room to build toward moments of genuine emotional release. Lyrically, the song carries surprising emotional weight beneath its uplifting surface. Rather than ignoring heartbreak, frontman Bryan Costanich reframes it as proof that love was real in the first place. That perspective transforms "Choose Love" into something far bigger than a feel-good anthem. It's a meditation on resilience, celebrating the full spectrum of human experience while arguing that joy itself can be an act of resistance in difficult times. What makes the single especially compelling is its refusal to conform. Clocking in at six minutes, it's a deliberate rejection of the short-form attention economy, inviting listeners to slow down and fully absorb every dynamic shift, soaring gospel vocal, and psychedelic flourish. The result feels refreshingly timeless, recalling the adventurous spirit of classic rock while remaining emotionally relevant today. For a band making its public debut after years of private songwriting, "Choose Love" feels remarkably confident. It's an ambitious introduction that values authenticity over algorithms and human connection over perfection. In a musical landscape increasingly shaped by convenience, BRYTWD reminds us that the most rewarding experiences are often the ones willing to take their time. "Choose Love" presents joy as an act of resistance rather than simple optimism. What personal experiences or observations inspired you to frame love as a conscious choice during difficult times? Joy is an act of resistance because resistance itself is a choice. Choosing love, especially during heartbreak or in the face of political and social turmoil, is an intentional act. The song is a reminder that what makes life meaningful is the full spectrum of human experience. I've spent years writing heartbreak songs that helped me process difficult moments, so I wanted to challenge myself to write something joyful instead. The lyric, "Celebrate the broken heart, 'cause it means that you just felt love," reflects that idea. The hard moments don't diminish the good ones—they give them meaning. Life becomes richer when we embrace both the joy of deep love and the pain of losing it. The song intentionally stretches to six minutes in an era dominated by short-form content and algorithm-driven music. Why was it important to reject those industry expectations, and what do you hope listeners gain by staying with the song from beginning to end? There's a quiet rebellion in allowing a song to take the time it needs. For decades, great songs have been cut down to fit commercial radio, and now algorithms encourage artists to reduce music to a few seconds of attention-grabbing content. I wanted to resist that. Our songs should determine their own length, free from corporate expectations or social media trends. We aren't making music for someone endlessly scrolling—we're making music people can live inside. Good stories need room to breathe, and by stretching those moments of joy, listeners can experience a complete emotional journey instead of just a passing hook. The recording embraces live performance, changing tempos, and natural imperfections instead of polished digital precision. How does that analog approach better communicate the emotional message behind BRYTWD's music? For me, music becomes magical when it's a physical, shared experience. Sitting alone at a computer assembling parts never feels the same as being in a room with other musicians, feeding off each other's energy in real time. That philosophy begins with the songwriting itself. Life doesn't happen to a click track. Relationships, emotions, and even our heartbeats naturally speed up and slow down, so our songs do too. The Japanese concept of wabi-sabi; finding beauty in imperfection, is central to BRYTWD. It's our rejection of an increasingly polished, autotuned, AI-generated landscape. Those imperfections remind us that we're still human, creating something together, and that's what makes the music feel honest. This release marks the evolution of BRYTWD from a solo vision into a six-piece collaborative band featuring gospel vocalists and musicians from diverse musical backgrounds. How has working with this collective changed your songwriting and expanded what BRYTWD can become? Working with this band has brought me much closer to the music I've always envisioned. I have a huge catalog of singer-songwriter material in the vein of Leonard Cohen or Elliott Smith, but the dream was always to surround those songs with a big, psychedelic, gospel-inspired sound. Now I get to work with an incredible group of musicians who each bring something unique. The Gartrell Gospelizo Girls; Jasmine, Javonne, and Heleina, create harmonies that sometimes feel almost transcendent. Julie Slick constantly pushes the boundaries of what's possible on bass. Keith Wayne adds a spacious, psychedelic guitar style, while Cameron Boher blends his punk background with complex jazz-inspired rhythms. When I bring a song to the band now, it transforms into something far beyond what I could have created alone. It's become a truly collaborative process. "Choose Love" feels both deeply personal and quietly political without becoming preachy. How do you strike the balance between making a statement about the world while still creating a song that people can connect with on an individual level? I needed to write a song that reframed negativity and illuminated something hopeful. We're living through incredibly turbulent times, and I wanted to create something that made me dance through the chaos instead of simply being overwhelmed by it. One thing I admire about Glass Animals is their ability to write about real human experiences while making music that's impossible not to move to. Dancing has a genuine physiological effect on our mental health, it helps us heal. That's what I wanted Choose Love to do. The song acknowledges the darkness around us while reminding listeners that choosing joy, love, and movement is still possible, even in difficult times.

Jessie Altman's latest single, "For The Hell Of It," captures the exhilarating feeling of letting go of fear and embracing life's unexpected moments. As the newest preview of her upcoming sophomore album Lovelight, the track showcases an artist who is stepping confidently into a new creative chapter, trading hesitation for spontaneity without sacrificing emotional depth. Built around bright pop production and an infectious melody, "For The Hell Of It" is driven by an irresistible sense of momentum. Co-written with hitmakers Sam Hollander and Grant Michaels, the song balances polished songwriting with a carefree spirit, encouraging listeners to stop overthinking and simply trust where life leads them. The chorus is undeniably catchy, but it's the message behind it that leaves the strongest impression. Lyrically, Altman explores the idea that some of life's best experiences don't require a carefully crafted plan. Rather than dwelling on heartbreak or uncertainty, she celebrates the thrill of saying yes, following your instincts, and allowing yourself to be surprised. It's a refreshing perspective that feels both uplifting and relatable, especially in an era where every decision can feel weighed down by expectations. Vocally, Altman delivers the song with warmth and confidence, bringing genuine personality to every line. Her performance never feels forced, allowing the playful energy of the lyrics to shine naturally. The production complements her voice perfectly, creating a vibrant pop sound that feels equally at home on a summer road trip or blasting through festival speakers. Following the heartfelt storytelling of "Barcelona," "For The Hell Of It" reveals another side of Altman's artistry while continuing the emotional narrative leading into Lovelight. It's a reminder that growth isn't always about overcoming hardship; sometimes it's about giving yourself permission to enjoy the moment without searching for a reason. With memorable hooks, polished production, and an empowering message, "For The Hell Of It" is an infectious pop anthem that suggests Jessie Altman's most confident work is still ahead.

There’s a certain kind of magic that only exists in small clubs after midnight. The floors are sticky, the amps are louder than they should be, and every lyric feels less like a performance and more like a confession. Mert Spalty bottles that exact feeling on PODUNK, an eight-track collection that doesn't polish away its imperfections but proudly wears them as part of its identity. Written after a year of road-testing the material with his live band throughout New York City, PODUNK feels less like a studio album and more like stepping into a packed basement show. Every track carries an urgency that's impossible to fake, reflecting Spalty's mission to sing like you mean it and play music loud. Opening with "Cloud 9," the record immediately establishes its emotional balancing act, chasing optimism while acknowledging the weight that comes with growing up. That theme continues across standout cuts like "How the World Spins," where life's lessons become increasingly difficult to ignore, and "Sabotage," a punchy reminder that our greatest obstacles are often the ones we create ourselves. The album's emotional centerpiece, "Threads," digs even deeper into self-destruction, turning personal shortcomings into something surprisingly cathartic. What keeps PODUNK engaging is its refusal to stay in one lane. "Wave" strips everything back into a raw single-take performance that feels startlingly intimate, while "Summer I Shaved My Head" captures a fleeting chapter of life with nostalgic clarity. By the time "River Run" arrives, the album slows just enough to reflect on how time quietly reshapes us before the closing track, "Rollercoaster" ties everything together with an honest acceptance that growth isn't always linear. Sometimes life really does feel like going around the same bend over and over again. Musically, Spalty blends alternative rock, punk, indie rock, and even unexpected flourishes into something uniquely his own. The DIY production never feels like a limitation. If anything, recording and producing the album himself gives PODUNK an authenticity that's increasingly rare. Rather than chasing perfection, Spalty captures moments, and those moments feel alive. At its heart, PODUNK is an album about learning, failing, repeating mistakes, and continuing forward anyway. It's loud without losing its vulnerability, energetic without sacrificing substance, and nostalgic without feeling trapped in the past. For listeners who still believe the best rock records should feel lived-in rather than manufactured, Mert Spalty delivers exactly that with PODUNK. You describe PODUNK as an album about learning life lessons, sometimes learning them, sometimes not. Looking back now, which lesson from this record has been the hardest for you to actually live by? Hardest for me is DO NOT SELF-SABOTAGE. So many times I've undercut myself, from a lack of confidence or fear of rejection or just because??? And I do still. I've been procrastinating writing responses to these interview questions. Right before releasing PODUNK I sent multiple mix revisions of ‘Cloud 9’ out for mastering. I stay out late at bars and smoke despite what it does to my singing voice. ‘Sabotage’ is a song I sing with hope. These songs spent a year evolving on stage before they were recorded. How did performing them change the way you approached the final versions that ended up on the album? Playing these songs live baked them into my brain that way. I love when a band has good live energy, and it’s captured in their recordings. On stage I give it my all and the band brings more. And because an audience hoots and hollers, applauds, shoves each other around…..playing the songs live helped sharpen their most compelling versions. PODUNK feels like a live show with flair- soaring lead guitars, splash of choir vox, dab of organ. Fletcher was keen to explore vocoders, freaky flangers, grain delay.....too bad, Fletch- it was already right as is! You produced, recorded, and mixed PODUNK yourself in practice spaces and your apartment. What did taking complete creative control allow you to achieve that a traditional studio environment couldn't? Total control I learned is a blessing and a curse. But it taught me that II can make a record like this one, mostly on my own. I’ve figured out what to ask for help with next time too. Making it myself let me leave my fingerprints all over it. The guitar parts are sloppy and exciting. Vocal takes fearless. I bleeped out the word ‘goon’ in ’Summer I Shaved My Head’ because it cracks me up. I explored parts of my own style in ways I'd have missed or fixed in a studio. The album moves between explosive punk energy and quieter, reflective moments. How important was it for you to capture both the chaos of a live show and the vulnerability behind the lyrics? Most important for me was to make it a fun listening experience. I never want a song to drag out too long, always evolving and exciting. Subverting expectations. An acoustic bossa nova song at the center of a punk album, ‘Wave’ on PODUNK. Lyrics are the most important bit for me. If I don’t have a message, I can’t sing as I mean it. Vulnerability is always there even at the top of my lungs. The title PODUNK embraces a label that some people might dismiss. What does the word represent to you, and how does it reflect your philosophy as an independent artist making music outside the traditional industry system? "Podunk" is how this album sounds to me. I described my band as "podunk punk" in a band bio for a venue’s website, and it stuck. The music IS punk. And I yodel when I sing. And many of the songs have a train drum beat. And I cobbled this album together myself front to back, entirely homegrown, made from scratch. Not a lick of AI on it. I mixed it in Ableton using stock plugins and my SP-404. It’s a simply made album, and that is a testament to art from my perspective. If you’re ready to dismiss PODUNK, you’re not ready for Mert Spalty.

Some songs dwell on heartbreak. Others refuse to stay there. With "JUST SAY SORRY," Los Angeles singer-songwriter Giselle transforms disappointment into determination, delivering a confident pop and R&B anthem that reminds listeners there's strength in knowing when to walk away. Rather than pleading for closure, Giselle flips the narrative. The song captures the moment when excuses have run out, promises have lost their meaning, and the only thing left worth hearing is a genuine apology. It's an emotionally mature perspective that feels relatable across friendships, romantic relationships, and any situation where respect has worn thin. Vocally, Giselle balances vulnerability with conviction. Her delivery never feels overly theatrical, allowing the emotion to come naturally through each lyric. That authenticity pairs well with polished pop production and R&B influences, creating a track that feels equally suited for late-night reflection and repeat listens on the drive home. What makes "JUST SAY SORRY" stand out is its refusal to romanticize toxic behavior. Instead of waiting for someone else to change, Giselle encourages listeners to recognize their own worth and stop accepting less than they deserve. It's a message that lands without becoming preachy, making the song feel empowering rather than bitter. That perspective reflects Giselle's artistic journey. Having written music since childhood and performed at iconic Los Angeles venues including The Hotel Cafe, The Mint, Whisky a Go Go, and The Viper Room, she's continued to develop a sound that blends pop and R&B while refusing to be boxed into a single genre. Her willingness to pull inspiration from rock, pop-punk, country, and beyond gives her music an identity that feels refreshingly unrestricted. "JUST SAY SORRY" also serves as the title track for Giselle's upcoming album, arriving August 4. If this single is any indication, the full project promises to explore resilience, self-respect, and emotional honesty with the same confidence that makes this release so memorable. In a world full of songs about chasing people who refuse to change, "JUST SAY SORRY" offers a far more powerful alternative: choosing yourself instead. "JUST SAY SORRY" is all about reaching the point where enough is enough. Was there a specific moment or experience that sparked the song's message? I wouldn’t say there was one specific moment. It was more of a buildup over time, experiencing the same patterns over and over again. The song came from reflecting on past relationships, friendships, and the people who repeatedly brought that same kind of negativity into my life. The track encourages listeners to stop accepting less than they deserve. What do you hope someone who's stuck in an unhealthy relationship or friendship takes away after hearing it? I hope this song gives them the strength and courage to move on from toxic people, toxic relationships, and toxic friendships. Your music blends pop and R&B while drawing from a variety of other genres. How did you approach the production of "JUST SAY SORRY" to best match the emotion behind the lyrics? I really wanted to capture the essence of late '90s and early 2000s R&B and pop. I found a lot of inspiration in artists like Brandy, Monica, Britney Spears, and Christina Aguilera. My goal was to blend that nostalgic sound with the emotion behind the lyrics into one cohesive experience. As the title track of your upcoming album, how does "JUST SAY SORRY" set the tone for the rest of the project, and what can fans expect from the full body of work? It absolutely sets the tone. The album tells a story, and some of the songs are even connected lyrically if fans are paying close attention. There's also a little surprise waiting for listeners within the album that I'm really excited for them to discover. You've been writing music since you were eight years old and have performed at iconic Los Angeles venues. Looking back, how has your songwriting evolved to allow you to tell stories with the confidence and honesty heard on this release? I feel like I've grown so much; not just as an artist, but as a performer, songwriter, and person. Looking back at who I was compared to who I am today is pretty incredible. My confidence has grown to the point where I can tell stories that may be difficult to share, and write songs that are bold, empowering, and focused on taking action to create a better future. I've reached a place where I truly believe I deserve to take up space, both on stage and as an artist. There's something really beautiful about that, and I hope every artist gets to experience that feeling at some point. I've lived a lot of life already, and I have so many stories left to tell. I also care deeply about other people's experiences, and I love writing songs that honestly reflect what we've all been through, in the hope that they can help someone heal.

With just her second official release, ERIIN continues proving she's one of pop's most promising emerging artists. "Deja Vu" builds on the momentum of her debut single "Galaxy," trading cosmic wonder for a more grounded story of personal transformation while maintaining the infectious hooks and polished electro-pop production that are quickly becoming her signature. Driven by shimmering synths, crisp percussion, and an uplifting chorus, "Deja Vu" captures the feeling of recognizing how much you've changed without losing sight of who you once were. Rather than revisiting old mistakes, the song reframes déjà vu as a symbol of growth, showing that familiar moments can take on entirely new meaning when viewed through a different perspective. It's a relatable message wrapped in a production that feels equally suited for late-night drives and festival playlists. Produced by Rain Pollock, the track strikes a confident balance between dance-pop energy and emotional vulnerability. ERIIN's vocal performance remains front and center throughout, delivering the lyrics with both conviction and warmth. Influences from artists like Zara Larsson, Ellie Goulding, and Ava Max are easy to hear, but "Deja Vu" never feels derivative. Instead, ERIIN continues carving out her own lane by pairing commercial-ready melodies with themes of resilience and self-discovery. What makes the single especially effective is its sense of authenticity. Inspired by ERIIN's move to Los Angeles and a period of emotional growth, the song feels lived-in rather than manufactured. That personal perspective gives "Deja Vu" an emotional weight that extends beyond its polished production, making its empowering message feel earned instead of simply motivational. As ERIIN continues establishing herself within the modern pop landscape, "Deja Vu" demonstrates meaningful artistic progression. It's a confident, uplifting release that showcases stronger songwriting, refined production, and an artist growing more comfortable in her own voice. If this single is any indication, ERIIN's next chapter is shaping up to be her most exciting yet. "Deja Vu" explores the idea of outgrowing past versions of yourself. What personal experiences inspired the song, and at what point did you realize this was a story you needed to tell? The inspiration for “Deja Vu” came from starting to see things happening in my reality that I once envisioned for myself. As I started growing and evolving as an artist, I realized that this is who I always have been. There were just certain parts of myself I had kept confined. There is an infinite amount of possibilities when you get outside the confinement of the mind. As I started creating the record in the studio, these concepts naturally formed into the song and came to fruition. A lot of the time we don’t realize that our mind is repeating cycles, so it is vital to take a step outside of it to evolve. Your music blends polished dance-pop with deeply personal themes. How do you strike the balance between creating something radio-ready while still keeping it emotionally authentic? When I originally started recording and songwriting, I thought that songs with a lot of emotional depth had to be slow and more acoustic. As I grew, I realized that I could blend my love of electronic and pop music with deeper meaning. The dance floor and music are so healing. I’m able to keep the songs palatable by taking meaningful lyrics/themes and finding ways to streamline them for radio. Strong hooks as well. You moved to Los Angeles shortly before launching your recording career. How has that transition shaped both your songwriting and your confidence as an artist? Jumping straight into the music scene in Los Angeles kickstarted my career. I’m a big believer that you have to get out of your comfort zone to grow, and this city did just that. I am surrounded by so many other incredible creatives, which has led me to exponential growth in the past couple of years. I’ve learned a lot about what it really means to be an artist, the creative process, and how to let myself be more free. I feel more myself than I ever have before. With "Galaxy" introducing listeners to your sound and "Deja Vu" showing another side of your artistry, what do you think you've learned most about yourself between those two releases? Between the release of “Galaxy” and “Deja Vu,” I’ve learned to let myself “wear different colors.” “Galaxy” was very light, bright, and polished. “Deja Vu” taught me to let my hair down. Pop music often celebrates confidence, but "Deja Vu" suggests that confidence comes from growth rather than perfection. What do you hope listeners take away about embracing change after hearing the song? After listening to “Deja Vu”, I hope listeners take away a feeling of inspiration, energy, and stepping into their highest self. Growth requires imperfection and letting go of what’s no longer serving us. I hope people are reminded of their potential and to look beyond limiting beliefs.

There’s a certain kind of pop song that isn’t interested in warning you away from bad decisions. Instead, it asks you to dance through them. K DANIEL’s latest single, "Love Mistake," embraces that philosophy wholeheartedly, transforming reckless romance into a sweeping cinematic experience that feels equally at home beneath nightclub lights and city skylines after midnight. Serving as the first chapter of a new artistic era, "Love Mistake" introduces listeners to a version of K DANIEL that feels more focused, confident, and emotionally transparent than ever before. Rather than treating heartbreak and impulsive choices as cautionary tales, the song celebrates the intoxicating rush of throwing logic aside in pursuit of connection, even when the consequences are inevitable. Musically, the track refuses to stay within one lane. Cinematic pop foundations collide with Eurodance energy, hip house rhythms, and polished Europop production, creating an atmosphere that feels both nostalgic and unmistakably modern. Gregorian-inspired vocal textures add unexpected grandeur, while pulsing beats and infectious hooks ensure the emotional weight never slows the momentum. It's a song built for movement, yet every layer carries intention. What makes "Love Mistake" particularly compelling is the story behind its creation. Born from an overheard conversation during a catering shift in New York City, the song survived creative setbacks before ultimately finding the right collaborator to bring its vision to life. That perseverance mirrors the track itself, proving that detours often lead to stronger destinations. As K DANIEL closes the chapter on his previous identity and steps confidently into this new era, "Love Mistake" feels less like a debut single and more like the opening scene of a much larger world. Rich in atmosphere, emotion, and theatrical ambition, it's a release that invites listeners to lose themselves completely, even if only until sunrise. Pre-save "Love Mistake" here. "Love Mistake" marks the beginning of your new identity as K DANIEL. What made this the right song to introduce that evolution? Everything about Love Mistake happened through what felt like a natural evolution. For the first time in my career, I stopped trying to force the process. I made a promise to myself that I would trust the timing, trust my instincts, and let the universe lead me wherever this next chapter was meant to go. At the time, I was in the middle of completely rebuilding myself as an artist. After years of personal struggles, difficult lessons, and some very harsh realizations, I reached a point where I genuinely believed that if I wrote one more song, it would be my last. I was ready to walk away from music. I wasn't interested in creating something just to release another record. Then Love Mistake found me. A colleague in my catering shift casually said the words, "Dumb and drunk in NYC," and it felt like lightning. In that instant, everything clicked. It wasn't just a lyric—it was the beginning of an entire world. I knew there was something undeniable about it, and I knew I couldn't ignore it. That moment became the spark for everything that followed. From there, the song almost wrote itself. The concept, the lyrics, the melodies, and the emotional arc all arrived with a clarity I'd never experienced before. There was no second-guessing. Every decision felt instinctive, as if I was uncovering something that had been waiting for me rather than inventing it. When King 80 sent me the first production draft, I knew we had captured it. What people hear on the final record is remarkably close to the original demo I recorded at home. The atmosphere, the emotion, and the song's identity were there from the very beginning. We refined it, but we never chased trends or tried to reinvent what made it special. Love Mistake is also the first song where I stand entirely on my own as the songwriter and lyricist, with King 80 bringing the production to life. That was a defining moment for me. It gave me the confidence to say, for the first time, "This is my voice. This is my writing. This is my artistic identity.” More than anything, this record introduced me to myself. It's the first song that fully captures the sound I've been hearing in my head for years—a blend of cinematic storytelling, euphoric dance music, emotional vulnerability, and theatrical pop. Until now, I don't think I'd ever completely translated that vision into a record. Love Mistake is the first time every part of who I am as an artist came together. That's why it had to be the first release as K DANIEL. It's not just a new name. It's a new level of clarity, intention, and confidence. K DANIEL isn't a reinvention—it's the artist I was always becoming. Love Mistake is the first chapter of that story, and the world we're building around it is only the beginning. The song blends cinematic pop with Eurodance, hip house, and Gregorian-inspired vocals. How did you find the balance between creating something commercially infectious while still feeling uniquely your own? I don't think I was ever trying to find a balance because all of those musical worlds already exist within me. I've spent my life moving between different forms of storytelling. I trained and performed professionally as a ballet dancer since the age of 6, dancing leading roles to some of the greatest ballet scores ever written. I worked with the masterpieces of opera, then joined The Phantom of the Opera on Broadway, and am currently on its international Asian tour. Alongside that, I've worked in television and film. Every one of those experiences became part of my artistic language. So when people hear cinematic pop, Eurodance, hip-house, or Gregorian-inspired vocals in Love Mistake, they're not hearing me trying to combine genres. They're hearing about my life. Those influences aren't references I borrowed—they're part of my musical DNA. I've always been inspired by artists like Annie Lennox, Madonna, Michael Jackson, George Michael, and Sylvester, and classical composers like Bach, Massenet, Tchaikovsky, to name a few. As well as the emotional power of gospel music, dance, disco, and, above all, classical music. Those worlds may seem far apart, but to me they've always belonged together. They taught me that music can be theatrical, soulful, emotionally honest, and still make people move. That philosophy has shaped everything I create. I never sat down and said, "I'm going to write a commercial record." I asked myself, "What would I want to hear if there were no rules?" The answer became Love Mistake. The hook invites people in because great pop should be immediate. But underneath it, there are layers of orchestration, theatricality, emotion, and storytelling that reflect where I come from. That's what makes it feel like K DANIEL. For the first time in my career, I wasn't trying to sound like the version of myself I thought people wanted. I was making the record exactly as I heard it in my head. That's why Love Mistake feels so natural to me. It isn't a collection of influences—it's the first time I've translated my entire artistic journey into one song. You’ve spoken about building an entire visual universe around this project. How important is storytelling beyond the music itself, and what can fans expect as this era unfolds? Storytelling is just as important to me as the music itself. I grew up on the stage—in ballet, opera, and musical theatre—where every movement, every costume, every light, and every note exists to tell a story. Because of that, I never saw music as something you only hear. I've always experienced it as something you step inside. When I finished Love Mistake, I didn't just hear the record—I immediately saw it. I saw a complete cinematic world unfolding in my mind. The visuals arrived almost as quickly as the melody, and from that moment my job became staying faithful to that vision. I describe my sound as cinematic pop because every song exists within a larger world. The visual language of this era is what I call "aristocratic decay meets industrial hedonism." It's where old-world elegance collides with modern nightlife—Victorian romance meeting downtown Manhattan, timeless beauty crashing into warehouse dance floors. It's glamorous and dangerous, intimate and larger-than-life. That world also reflects who I am. It's the meeting point between my artistic history and the music I'm making now. It carries everything I've learned from ballet, opera, theatre, and film, but translates it into contemporary dance-pop. It's where discipline meets freedom, where classical storytelling meets euphoric club music, where masculinity and femininity exist together without boundaries. More than anything, I want people to feel like they're entering a universe rather than simply listening to a collection of songs. Every visual, every photograph, every costume, every lyric, every performance, and every creative decision is connected. I want fans to discover new details every time they step into this world, almost like returning to another chapter of the same film. Love Mistake is only the beginning. As this era unfolds, people will realize they're not just following an album cycle—they're stepping into a fully realized artistic universe that will continue to evolve with every release. After losing your original producer just before production began, what did that experience teach you about trusting your creative instincts and the timing of your career? Losing my original producer really shook me because I never saw it coming. At the time, I was already navigating a very personal chapter in my life while completely rebuilding myself as an artist. I was carrying a lot emotionally, and the rebrand felt deeply connected to everything I was going through. When the producer walked away so unexpectedly, it didn't just feel like a professional setback—it felt personal. Because I didn't have any real answers, all I could do was speculate, and that uncertainty was probably the hardest part. But looking back, it became one of the most important moments in the making of Love Mistake. For the first time in my life, I gave myself permission to feel disappointed—but I also gave it a time limit. ONE HOUR! I let myself be upset for about an hour, and then I made a conscious decision to let it go. I didn't want to spend weeks trying to understand something I couldn't control. Instead, I surrendered the project and trusted that if it was meant to happen, the right people would find their way to it. That mindset changed everything. I've always trusted my instincts creatively, but this experience taught me to trust the timing of my life just as much. As artists, we spend so much energy trying to force doors open, and sometimes the most important thing you can do is stop fighting what's leaving and make room for what's arriving. That's exactly what happened with Love Mistake. The people who ultimately became part of the record were the people who were supposed to help bring it to life. In hindsight, what felt like rejection was actually redirection. Now I still work relentlessly, but I don't confuse control with faith. I do everything I can, and then I let the universe do what only it can. Today, I'm genuinely grateful the original plan didn't work out. Meeting King 80 completely changed the trajectory of this record. From the moment I heard his first production draft, I knew he understood the world I was trying to build. He didn't just produce the song—he amplified its identity. Looking back now, I can't imagine Love Mistake with anyone else. Sometimes the collaborations we think we want aren't the ones we're meant to have, and this song taught me to trust that. King 80 was the right person to bring this record to life, and I'm incredibly thankful our paths crossed when they did. Your music often explores vulnerability through movement and dance. How has your background as a professional ballet dancer influenced the way you write, perform, and communicate emotion? Dance taught me something long before music ever did: the body tells the truth before words do. As a professional ballet dancer, I spent years learning how to communicate entire stories without saying a single word. Every movement had intention, every gesture carried emotion, and every performance demanded complete vulnerability. That way of thinking has never left me. When I write music, I don't begin with lyrics or melodies alone—I begin with a feeling. I almost choreograph the emotion in my mind before I put it into words. I have to be able to see it, feel it, and move through it. That's why my songs are so visual and why rhythm is such an important part of my writing. I don't just hear music; I experience it physically. Ballet also taught me discipline. People often see the elegance of dance, but they don't see the years of repetition, sacrifice, and resilience behind it. That same discipline is what I bring into the studio. I can spend hours chasing a melody or refining a lyric because I know that the smallest details often carry the biggest emotional weight. At the same time, dance gave me permission to embrace vulnerability. You're standing on stage under bright lights, completely exposed, telling a story through your body. There's nowhere to hide. I approach songwriting the same way. If I'm not willing to be emotionally honest, I don't expect anyone else to connect with the music. In many ways, K DANIEL is the meeting point of those two worlds. Ballet gave me the language of movement, and music gave me the language of words. Together, they've become the way I tell stories.