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Queensland singer-songwriter Amber Farnan continues to establish herself as one of Australia's most promising indie-folk voices with "Empty," a quietly powerful single that embraces vulnerability without ever feeling melodramatic. Following the heartfelt "When I Get Better," this latest release showcases an artist who is increasingly confident in letting emotion speak for itself. Rather than relying on sweeping production or dramatic crescendos, "Empty" thrives in its restraint. The sparse instrumentation creates an intimate atmosphere where every lyric carries weight, allowing Farnan's warm, expressive vocal performance to remain at the forefront. It's a song that feels less concerned with providing answers than with documenting the often messy process of finding them. Lyrically, Farnan explores emotional exhaustion, self-reflection, and the lingering uncertainty that comes with healing from experiences that are difficult to fully understand. Her songwriting avoids clichés, instead inviting listeners into a deeply personal space while leaving enough openness for their own interpretations. That balance makes "Empty" feel universally relatable despite its autobiographical roots. The production mirrors the song's emotional core, favoring subtle textures and gentle dynamics over unnecessary embellishment. Every musical choice serves the story, reinforcing the sense of stillness that defines the track. Fans of Missy Higgins, Thelma Plum, and Asha Jefferies will recognize the same commitment to authentic storytelling and understated beauty. Already a Queensland Music Award winner and a performer alongside some of Australia's most respected artists, Amber Farnan continues to prove why she's earning attention across the country's independent music scene. "Empty" is another thoughtful step forward, demonstrating that sometimes the quietest songs leave the deepest impression.

Washington-based country artist Nick Cain is proving that there is more than one road to building a successful music career. Released on June 12, his debut album Singled Out introduces a songwriter whose journey into country music began long after he had already built careers in business, construction, real estate, and single parenthood. Rather than following the traditional Nashville pipeline, Cain has taken an entirely independent route, and Singled Out reflects that same spirit of self-reliance. The album draws heavily from lived experience, exploring resilience, reinvention, and the freedom that comes from embracing life's unexpected turns. Cain's songwriting feels grounded because it is. These are stories shaped by years of hard work, personal setbacks, and finding the courage to begin again after divorce and a chance concert experience inspired him to pick up a guitar during the pandemic. Musically, Singled Out delivers modern country with an approachable, blue-collar authenticity. Cain leans into relatable storytelling rather than polished industry formulas, allowing each track to feel like another chapter in a larger personal narrative. His vocals carry a sincerity that complements songs centered on perseverance, independence, and appreciating the life built through persistence rather than luck. What makes Nick Cain particularly compelling is that his independence extends far beyond the recording studio. He has invested in his own touring infrastructure, built a mobile concert stage, and regularly hosts large-scale events on his Washington property, creating experiences that strengthen the connection between artist and audience without relying on the traditional industry machine. With Singled Out, Nick Cain demonstrates that country music's future is not limited to Nashville. Sometimes the strongest stories come from artists willing to build their own path, one song, one show, and one community at a time.

In an era where so much music is polished to perfection, Last Anarchists Standing embraces the exact opposite philosophy. The Anarchists Ice Cream Club is a raw, theatrical concept album that celebrates punk's rebellious roots while delivering a satirical story about censorship, individuality, and refusing to conform. It's rough around the edges by design, and that's exactly what gives it its personality. The album unfolds like a dystopian rock opera, imagining a future where punk music has been outlawed and classified as a mental illness. Opening track "Patient X" introduces the story's unlikely protagonist before "Police State" immediately raises the stakes with themes of surveillance and oppression. By the time "Open This Door!" and "Lovers At The Wall" arrive, the narrative has shifted into full rebellion as Patient X and the other asylum inmates prepare to fight back in the most punk way possible: by staging a concert after raiding the cafeteria for ice cream. It's a bizarre concept, but one that cleverly uses humor to explore much larger ideas. Musically, Loki X handles vocals, guitars, bass, and drums, recording everything from his home studio with an intentionally DIY mindset. Many of the performances were captured in a single take or built from improvisation, giving songs like "There Is No Conspiracy," "All In My Head," and "Break It Down" an unpredictable energy that feels authentic rather than manufactured. Instead of chasing flawless production, the album prioritizes emotion and spontaneity. The second half continues expanding both the story and its themes. Tracks like "Who's Driving This Boat" and "New Titanic" lean into clever metaphors about leadership and society, while "Not My Enemy" offers one of the album's more reflective moments beneath its aggressive exterior. Closing songs "I Knight You," "Lady Elise," and "My Favorite Flavors" provide a fitting conclusion, ending the record with the same offbeat charm and rebellious spirit that defines the entire experience. The Anarchists Ice Cream Club isn't trying to compete with mainstream alternative rock. Instead, it proudly exists outside those expectations, embracing imperfections as part of its identity. Funny, thought-provoking, and unapologetically independent, Last Anarchists Standing delivers a concept album that feels like a reminder of what punk has always been about: challenging the status quo, building community, and making art on your own terms. The Anarchists Ice Cream Club presents a world where punk music is treated as a mental illness. What inspired this concept, and what commentary were you hoping to make through the story? It's a play on the "In an insane world, the sane man is crazy" idea. Also, the ability of the government to just classify ideas or culture as undesirable or against the law. You recorded the entire album yourself, often using one-take performances and improvisation. Why is preserving that raw, unfiltered energy so important to your creative process? I think any honest musician would say, the day you write the song is when the emotions are so real to you, you can never capture that authenticity and conviction again. Also, I hate wall of sound productions. I leave in mistakes and don't seek to make my recordings to "music industry" standards. I reject the music industry and don't consider myself a part of it. I'm not selling a "product". I make music for me, and the kid living in a cornfield who needs to know he or she is not alone, because I was once that kid. Songs like "Police State," "There Is No Conspiracy," and "Who's Driving This Boat" tackle themes of authority and control. How much of the album reflects your personal worldview versus serving the fictional narrative? I hope even in a song like Police State, my sense of humor comes through. I'm highly influenced by the Dada movement, the surrealists, and often say on stage, if I'm not pissing off the left and right wing, I'm not doing my job as an artist. I do think we are sailing on the new Titanic, and I'm just playing the violin. A companion film is being developed alongside the album. How do you see the visual element expanding the story, and what can fans expect that they won't get from the music alone? I think the medium of film can add to the depths of artistic expression, with what the actors bring emotionally. The album will make a lot more sense when it is understood to be a soundtrack. I love watching the old punk documentaries and campy films like Rock N Roll High School with the Ramones. I hope we make a quirky kind of cult music movie that lets people know it's ok to be your idiosyncratic self. Own it, live out of the center of your own joy! Throughout the album, there's a balance between humor, rebellion, and genuine emotion. What do you hope listeners are still thinking about after the final track, "My Favorite Flavors," comes to an end? The final track is Sell Your Blood. I hope they are encouraged to stand up to the noise and pollution of data centers. It's like, aren't these people rich enough? They've got to use up all the water and drive people up the wall? The people united will never be defeated.

Meztli is officially entering a new chapter with the release of "Taxi," the lead single from her upcoming debut album, Love in Stereo. Following a complete artistic rebrand, the Mexican-American singer-songwriter trades her previous sound for dreamy indie pop, introducing a cinematic style that feels equally inspired by late-night city drives and classic romance films. From its opening moments, "Taxi" pulls listeners into a world where ordinary experiences feel larger than life. The song captures the excitement of falling for someone who makes even the simplest moments unforgettable. Whether it's city lights reflecting through a car window or the anticipation of seeing someone who makes your heart race, Meztli transforms those emotions into a soundtrack that feels intimate and effortlessly romantic. The production is one of the track's biggest strengths. Airy guitars, pulsing drums, and layered harmonies create a warm, nostalgic atmosphere without overpowering the songwriting. Every element works together to support the story, allowing the emotion to remain front and center. It's the kind of song that feels just as fitting during a midnight drive as it does soundtracking a quiet moment of reflection. Vocally, Meztli delivers a performance that matches the song's dreamy mood. There's a softness in her delivery that draws listeners in, while her lyrics paint vivid scenes that make it easy to picture yourself inside the story. Rather than relying on grand declarations, she finds beauty in the small details that make new love feel unforgettable. As the first taste of Love in Stereo, "Taxi" does exactly what a lead single should. It introduces the album's romantic world while giving listeners a clear sense of Meztli's artistic identity. With its blend of indie pop, cinematic production, and heartfelt storytelling, "Taxi" is an inviting start to what promises to be a memorable debut era, proving that sometimes the most magical love stories begin with the simplest ride home. "Taxi" captures the excitement of falling for someone who makes ordinary moments feel unforgettable. Was there a real experience that inspired the song, or is it a blend of memories and imagination? Definitely a blend of both. I pull inspiration from real emotions, little moments I've lived, and the romanticized versions of them that exist in my head. I've always had a really vivid imagination, and I'm such a daydreamer, so when I was writing Taxi, I envisioned love through this cinematic lens where even the most ordinary moments feel magical. I'm the kind of person who turns a late-night drive or a simple conversation into this huge movie scene in my head. It's less about one specific relationship and more about chasing that feeling…that kind of love that makes the whole world seem brighter. Carrie Bradshaw's way of romanticizing everyday life definitely influenced Taxi. She finds magic in ordinary moments, and I've always related to that. Taxi became my own version of that idea-a love story where a simple cab ride feels like the most unforgettable scene in a movie. You've described Love in Stereo as a cinematic world where reality and fantasy blur together. What inspired you to build an album around that concept, and how does "Taxi" introduce listeners to it? I've always experienced life through a cinematic lens. I grew up obsessed with films where the soundtrack became part of the story, and I've always been drawn to music that makes everyday moments feel larger than life. Love in Stereo is really about seeing the world through that perspective-where memories, dreams, fantasy, and reality all blend together. The title also represents the many different channels of love we experience. Each song explores a different frequency of love - falling in love, heartbreak, longing, nostalgia, and hope. Love isn't one emotion. It's a whole spectrum of experiences, and I wanted the album to reflect that. Taxi is the perfect introduction because it invites listeners to believe in love again and romanticize the little moments that often mean the most. It feels like the opening scene of a romantic film: you're in the backseat, city lights are passing by, and for a few minutes, it feels like you're living inside your own movie. That's exactly the universe I wanted to create with Love in Stereo. This marks your first official production credit. What did co-producing "Taxi" teach you about yourself as an artist, and how did having that creative control shape the final song? Co-producing "Taxi" taught me to trust my creative instincts in a whole new way. Before this record, I'd usually make a simple demo or even just a voice memo of me on piano and hand it off, trusting the producer to take it from there. Even if I had certain sounds or little moments in my head, I didn't always think of them as something worth holding onto. With "Taxi," I started building the production around the world I was already hearing and brought that vision into the room from the very beginning. Working with Daniel over the years has taught me so much, especially that great production comes from curiosity, experimentation, and following what feels right instead of chasing a "correct" answer. But the biggest shift happened within me. I stopped seeing myself as just the songwriter and started embracing production as part of my artistry. I realized my role doesn't end when the lyrics are written; it extends to shaping how a song sounds, feels, and ultimately comes to life. That experience was incredibly empowering because it made me realize the sounds I hear in my head aren't just ideas - they're part of my artistic voice and the stories I'm trying to tell. Co-producing "Taxi" gave me permission to fully trust those instincts and take ownership of my creative vision from the very beginning. That mindset carried throughout Love in Stereo, and I feel like I'm only just beginning to discover what's possible when I fully trust myself as an artist. You've rebranded from Latin pop to dreamy indie pop. What gave you the confidence to make that shift, and do you feel "Taxi" is the song that best represents who Meztli is today? The biggest shift wasn't changing who I was…it was finally trusting the music that had always felt most like me. I've always gravitated toward dreamy, romantic pop. Even as a little girl, those songs made me feel like I was living inside a movie, and I've always been drawn to music that creates that kind of world. I'm bilingual, and being Mexican American will always be a huge part of who I am. I love Latin pop, and I don't see this as leaving it behind. It's absolutely a frequency of Meztli, but it's not the entirety of my artistic identity. Around the time I started writing Love in Stereo, I had also just gotten married, and I found myself in this beautiful season of life where I wanted to write about love in a way that felt hopeful, cinematic, and deeply romantic - in my lover girl era, I like to say! That's where these songs naturally wanted to go. I've always believed the song should lead, so whether that's English, Spanish, indie pop, or maybe even a cumbia one day, I want to follow whatever feels the most honest. As for "Taxi," I do think it's the perfect introduction to who Meztli is today. It captures everything I love about making music: storytelling, romance, nostalgia, and creating a world that people can step into. More than anything, it feels like the first song where every part of my artistic vision - from the writing to the production to the visuals—came together in a way that truly reflects who I am today. Many songs about love focus on heartbreak, but "Taxi" celebrates the thrill of falling for someone. Why was it important for you to capture that feeling of hope, excitement, and possibility instead? I love a good heartbreak song; in fact, they're some of my favorites. I'm a sad girl at heart, but I think that's what makes me the ultimate lover girl too. When you've experienced heartbreak, you learn just how beautiful it is to have loved someone in the first place. There's something really bittersweet about knowing you felt something that deeply. But I don't think we celebrate falling in love nearly enough. There's something so magical about those first moments when everything feels possible, and you're looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. I wanted to bottle that feeling before it disappears. At its core, Taxi is about allowing yourself to believe in love again. It's for the hopeless romantics, the daydreamers, and anyone who's ever wanted their life to feel like a movie for a moment. I hope people hear it and remember that falling in love can be just as worthy of a soundtrack as falling out of it. Many songs about love focus on heartbreak, but "Taxi" celebrates the thrill of falling for someone. Why was it important for you to capture that feeling of hope, excitement, and possibility instead? I love a good heartbreak song. In fact, they're some of my favorites. I'm a sad girl at heart, but I think that's what makes me the ultimate lover girl, too. When you've experienced heartbreak, you learn just how beautiful it is to have loved someone in the first place. There's something really bittersweet about knowing you felt something that deeply. But I don't think we celebrate falling in love nearly enough. There's something so magical about those first moments when everything feels possible, and you're looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. I wanted to bottle that feeling before it disappears. At its core, Taxi is about allowing yourself to believe in love again. It's for the hopeless romantics, the daydreamers, and anyone who's ever wanted their life to feel like a movie for a moment. I hope people hear it and remember that falling in love can be just as worthy of a soundtrack as falling out of it.

There is something universally bittersweet about knowing a perfect moment won't last forever. On "Golden," Julian Hunt embraces that feeling with open arms, transforming fleeting romance and fresh beginnings into a shimmering pop anthem that radiates optimism without ignoring life's inevitable changes. The Toronto-born, Vancouver-based independent artist continues building an impressive catalog of emotionally driven pop, and "Golden" feels like his most fully realized release to date. Blending polished synth textures, sparkling arpeggiators, electric guitars, and an irresistibly warm chorus, the production captures the feeling of summer in motion. It is the kind of song that belongs on long drives with the windows down, spontaneous beach trips, and nights that stretch well past sunset. What elevates "Golden" beyond its infectious production is Hunt's songwriting. Rather than presenting love as something permanent, he leans into its temporary beauty. The song acknowledges that every honeymoon phase eventually fades, but rather than mourning that reality, it celebrates the excitement, hope, and personal growth found in those fleeting moments. There is vulnerability woven into every verse, balanced by an empowering chorus that feels both reflective and liberating. Hunt's background in musical theatre, creative writing, and classical vocal training shines through in his attention to detail. Every lyric feels carefully considered, inviting listeners to return for repeat listens where new emotional layers continue to reveal themselves. It is thoughtful pop that never sacrifices accessibility. "Golden" also marks another important milestone ahead of Hunt's upcoming EP, 23, arriving this August. With a music video set to follow later this summer, the single serves as an exciting preview of an artist continuing to refine his voice while staying true to his storytelling instincts. Warm, heartfelt, and undeniably catchy, "Golden" captures the feeling of believing anything is possible. It is a celebration of possibility, romance, and the courage to embrace life's brightest moments, even when you know they cannot last forever.

As anticipation builds for his upcoming album Keep That Energy, Inglewood artist, songwriter, and producer Son Kuma is making one final statement before the full project arrives. His latest single, “=,” is an intimate alt-R&B ballad that trades flashy production for emotional honesty, exploring what it feels like to give everything to someone who seems impossible to replace. Built around warm, drum-less instrumentation, “=” creates space for Kuma's reflective songwriting to take center stage. Rather than chasing grand declarations of love, he leans into quieter moments, questioning whether a relationship can ever feel balanced when one person occupies such an overwhelming place in your life. It's a concept many artists attempt, but Kuma approaches it with restraint, allowing vulnerability to carry the weight instead of theatrics. His lyrics feel lived-in, especially during the song's closing moments, where dreams of forever become grounded in the simple act of appreciating the present. That perspective gives “=” its emotional pull. Instead of romanticizing an ideal future, Kuma reminds listeners that lasting relationships are built through the everyday memories happening right now. The song also serves as a thematic bridge into Keep That Energy, showcasing the introspective songwriting that has become a defining trait across Kuma's catalog. Since beginning his musical journey in 2017, he has consistently blurred the line between thoughtful lyricism and deeply personal storytelling, and “=” feels like one of his most refined offerings yet. The accompanying artwork reinforces the message, depicting Kuma reconciling with his own reflection, a visual metaphor for self-love before romantic love. It's a fitting image for a song that ultimately argues love isn't about perfect equality on paper, but about becoming whole enough to genuinely give yourself to someone else. With Keep That Energy arriving this August, “=” is a compelling final preview that leaves listeners with something increasingly rare: a love song that's less interested in fantasy than emotional growth. Your new single “=” explores the idea of imbalance in love. What inspired you to tell this story, and was there a specific moment that sparked the song? I think loving someone can become really complicated when they don’t love themselves. It can give your partner a kind of imposter syndrome because they may not feel as though they deserve your love. This song was really me trying desperately to convince the person I love that they are, in fact, worthy of it. Your music often balances emotional vulnerability with thoughtful songwriting. How do you know when you’ve found the right balance between telling your own story and creating something listeners can make their own? Honestly, I never really know. I just put my music out into the world and see who it resonates with. All of my music is created quite spontaneously. I rarely know what I’m going to write before I get on the mic and start freestyling. For this song, I knew most people have experienced falling in love, so I didn’t overthink whether listeners would relate. I believe that once an artist starts overly considering how an audience might perceive or connect with a song, the music can become less authentic. The best artists trust their pen, and the right listeners naturally gravitate toward what they create. “=” is the final single before Keep That Energy arrives. How does this release set the tone for the album, and what can fans expect from the project as a whole? This song is a vibe, and I think it follows naturally from the previous singles. Most of the singles have served as windows into a larger love story, so the album's tone has been established holistically across them. I intentionally saved some of the more story-driven songs for the full album. Fans can expect a lot of genre-blending. There are moments on this album that prompt listeners to reflect deeply on their roles in society and their purpose in life. There are moments that compel them to dance like nobody's watching, and there are moments that I hope will inspire them to go out and achieve the impossible. I’m incredibly proud of this body of work. The artwork features you reconciling with your reflection, symbolizing self-love before loving someone else. How has your own relationship with yourself evolved while creating this new era of music? For me personally, it has always been more about finding self-acceptance, and creating this new era of music has reinforced that. I was able to combine my seemingly distant passions for music, physics, and manga within this album. In doing so, I learned to embrace and accept every part of myself.

Independent alternative pop artist MAK MAR is back with a release that refuses to settle for surface-level storytelling. His latest single, "Cigarettes For Breakfast," arrives alongside a striking cinematic music video, offering a deeply symbolic examination of modern ambition, routine, and the quiet compromises people make in pursuit of stability. Rather than delivering a conventional pop anthem, MAK MAR uses the track as an invitation to reflect on the systems we willingly participate in and the dreams we often leave behind. Musically, "Cigarettes For Breakfast" balances moody alternative pop production with an understated emotional weight. The arrangement leaves room for its message to breathe, allowing MAK MAR's introspective songwriting to take center stage without sacrificing atmosphere. There's a cinematic quality throughout, unsurprising given Michael Kumar's background as a filmmaker, with each lyric feeling like another carefully framed scene in a larger narrative. The song's greatest strength lies in its layered symbolism. While the title immediately evokes addiction, MAK MAR expands the idea beyond cigarettes, using it as a metaphor for unhealthy routines, comfort, financial dependence, and the habits that slowly shape our lives without us noticing. Instead of pointing fingers at corporations or society, the song turns inward, encouraging listeners to consider the ways they may unknowingly contribute to the lives they've grown dissatisfied with. That same philosophy extends into the accompanying visual, where surreal imagery replaces literal storytelling, inviting multiple interpretations rather than prescribing a single message. It's a creative decision that rewards repeat viewings and reinforces MAK MAR's commitment to storytelling across multiple artistic mediums. With "Cigarettes For Breakfast," MAK MAR proves he's interested in creating more than memorable songs. He's building conversations. It's an ambitious release that demonstrates how independent artists can blend compelling visuals, thoughtful songwriting, and meaningful social commentary into a cohesive artistic statement that lingers long after the final frame fades. "Cigarettes For Breakfast" uses addiction as a metaphor for comfort, routine, and sacrificing our dreams. What personal experiences inspired you to explore that idea in this song? It wasn't inspired by one specific moment. It came from years of watching people around me, including myself at times, slowly trade pieces of themselves for comfort and security. Addiction can be routing, money, approval, or anything we become dependent on, even when it no longer serves us. I wanted to write about that because I think it's something almost everyone experiences, but we rarely stop to question it. As both a filmmaker and musician, how did your background in visual storytelling influence the way you wrote and developed the accompanying music video? As a filmmaker, I don't think visuals should explain the song; they should expand it. If the music video just mirrors the lyrics, I don't think it's adding anything new. I wanted the film to explore the same theme from a different perspective so that the song and the visuals could have a conversation with each other rather than saying the exact same thing. I like giving people room to interpret things for themselves. The song encourages listeners to reflect on the systems they willingly participate in rather than placing blame elsewhere. Why was it important for you to approach the message from that perspective? I don't think meaningful change starts by pointing fingers. It's easy to blame companies, society, or other people, but we also make choices every day that keep those systems alive. It's about recognizing that we have more control than we often believe. I wanted people to leave asking themselves uncomfortable questions instead of simply agreeing with me. Your work consistently aims to challenge perspectives instead of simply entertaining. How do you balance delivering a meaningful message without overshadowing the music itself? The message only works if people actually enjoy experiencing it. If the music isn't something you'd want to listen to on its own, then the message probably won't reach many people. I want someone to connect with the song first, then discover another perspective through the visuals. Looking beyond this release, what kinds of stories or themes are you most excited to explore through future music and film projects under the MAK MAR name? I'm interested in exploring everyday human behavior. The decisions we make, the lives we build, the things we normalize without realizing it, but explored in more surreal ways. Whether through a song, a music video, or eventually a feature film, I want every project to leave someone seeing the world a little differently than they did before. At the end of the day, I'm not attached to one medium. I'm attached to telling stories that stay with people.

Fresh off her national television debut on The Voice, 17-year-old South Dakota artist Bijou Belle is proving she's more than a breakout talent. Her latest single, "Blind Crush," is a bright, carefree indie-pop anthem that captures the exhilarating irrationality of falling for someone new, embracing every awkward, chaotic, and butterfly-filled emotion that comes with it. Rather than overcomplicating the experience, Bijou leans into its universal charm. "Blind Crush" isn't trying to dissect love or offer profound revelations; it simply celebrates the thrill of letting your guard down. That playful approach gives the song an infectious energy, inviting listeners to relive the excitement of their own first crushes without taking themselves too seriously. Sonically, the track blends polished alt-pop production with indie sensibilities, allowing Bijou's expressive vocals to effortlessly carry the melody. There's an undeniable confidence in her delivery, balancing youthful excitement with an artistically mature understanding of pacing and dynamics. It's the kind of feel-good single that naturally belongs on summer playlists, windows-down road trips, and repeat listens alike. While many first impressions of Bijou Belle came through her memorable run on The Voice, "Blind Crush" demonstrates that her artistry extends far beyond the television stage. Growing up performing with her family band, The RathCo, has clearly shaped her instincts as both a songwriter and performer, giving her the confidence to step into her own spotlight while maintaining an authentic voice. If her debut EP introduced listeners to her emotional depth, "Blind Crush" reveals another side of her artistry, one that's witty, lighthearted, and undeniably fun. It's an effortless reminder that not every great pop song needs to carry the weight of the world. Sometimes, all it needs is a catchy hook, a relatable feeling, and an artist confident enough to enjoy the ride. Blind Crush" is intentionally playful and fictional. What made you want to write about the excitement of a crush rather than the heartbreak that so often dominates pop music? I love the thrill! I think it’s so relatable to have a crush and be on the edge of your seat, not knowing what comes next! This song kind of touches on the place where harmless flirtation leads to consequences, which I think we need more stories about. It leaves us with suspense, which is always fun! You grew up performing with your family in The RathCo before stepping into your solo career. How has that experience shaped the artist you’re becoming today? It honestly shaped everything. I started touring when I was 13, so I grew up on stage. It taught me way more than just how to perform! It taught me how to connect with people, work with a team, and become comfortable being myself. I wouldn’t be the artist I am today without those Midwest tours and experiences. Competing on The Voice introduced your music to a national audience. What was the biggest lesson you took away from that experience? The biggest thing I learned is that the scariest opportunities usually end up being the ones that help you grow the most. Going on The Voice pushed me so far out of my comfort zone. I got to sing genres and styles I’d never really explored before, all on national TV, and it gave me so much confidence. It reminded me that if you don’t take the chance, you’ll never know what you’re capable of. I also gained friendships that felt like family rather than competitors. Your grandfather helped co-write the iconic “Rocky Mountain Way.” Has growing up in a musical family influenced your songwriting process or creative ambitions? For sure. My grandpa, Rocke Grace, has always been one of my biggest inspirations. He was a kid musician just like me. I have always felt kindred to him because of that. Music has played such a huge part in our family, so I honestly can’t remember a time when it wasn’t part of my life. Watching my family perform made me realize really young that this is what I wanted to do. Songwriting has become my favorite way to process life, and I think growing up around so many musicians naturally inspired that. You’re only at the beginning of your career, yet you’ve already released an EP, performed on national television, and continue building your own sound. What do you hope defines the next chapter of your journey? I just want to keep putting out music that’s real and connects with people. I write about my own experiences and made-up stuff from dreams! If someone listens to one of my songs and feels seen or understood, that’s the coolest feeling ever. I hope this next chapter is all about reaching more people, playing bigger shows, and just continuing to grow into the artist I hope to be.

Connecticut singer-songwriter Erik Rabasca has released his latest album, New Scrolls, an eight-song collection that blends Americana, country folk, and roots music into a thoughtful record about navigating life's highs, lows, and everything in between. As the founder of Highest Frequency Records, Rabasca continues to carve his own path, delivering an album that values honest songwriting and live musicianship over polished perfection. From the opening track, "Wise Up," it's clear that New Scrolls isn't interested in offering easy answers. Instead, Rabasca invites listeners to slow down, reflect, and pay closer attention to the world around them. His songwriting feels conversational, drawing from everyday experiences while touching on larger ideas about purpose, resilience, and human connection. The album's strongest moments come from its balance of personal reflection and universal themes. "Foolin' Yourself" explores the pressure of unrealistic expectations, while "First Time Before" reminds listeners that love is often what gives life's unpredictable journey meaning. "Better Than What You Gave" encourages self-reflection, and the standout "Rituals, Lies & Sin" challenges listeners to think about the values shaping modern society without becoming overly preachy. Musically, New Scrolls stays rooted in folk traditions while pulling inspiration from Americana, country, and classic singer-songwriter storytelling. Every performance feels natural, with live instrumentation giving the album warmth and personality. Rather than chasing modern production trends, Rabasca lets the songs breathe, allowing the lyrics and melodies to remain the focus. The closing stretch leaves a lasting impression. "Love Resounds" celebrates the strength found in lasting relationships before the live version of "Try A Little Kindness" ends the record on an uplifting note that feels especially fitting. New Scrolls is an album that rewards listeners willing to sit with its stories. Honest, grounded, and full of quiet wisdom, Erik Rabasca delivers a collection that reminds us some of the best songs aren't trying to impress; they're simply trying to tell the truth. The title New Scrolls suggests songs can become a record of how we live. What do you hope these "new scrolls" say about this chapter of your life years from now? A record indeed! Under both definitions! The ancient scrolls have always been mysterious to me. They carry study, intention, and a seriousness of their day for future discovery. And songs do that too. Some hit for only a moment; others we go back to time and time again. It's not just the literal word, rhythm and melody—the surface stuff. The mystery's in the energy and intention of a track and the feeling it invokes. Songs carry intention and documents of time, but what are artists saying, and how does that translate to those who want to get under the surface? Enter new song scrolls for those open to deeper listening and reflection. The songs on this album do contain some personal revelations, some clues on how life can be lived and seeing what's important and what's bullshit. But they're also living documents. The more I play them live, the more gets revealed. Paraphrasing Sun Ra... "music is a spiritual language. The state of the world is the state of its music." So I'm finding New Scrolls is more a reflection of the current existence than a personal chapter about me. There’s been way too much emphasis on “me” the last few decades. We need more “we” in hopefully finding a better way forward. That leads into our next question. Many of the songs wrestle with faith, self-reflection, and the state of the world, yet the album never loses its sense of hope. How do you strike that balance between acknowledging life's hardships and offering encouragement? Life is going to kick you in the ass… always and continually. Especially when you least expect it. What's in my control is how I respond. The bad moments will pass, but they teach us fortitude and give an opportunity for growth. And when we stop being willing to learn, that's going to cause suffering. So choosing to approach struggles with kindness and positivity, to ourselves as much as others, is vital for survival. Kindness is the ultimate strength. You describe New Scrolls as a "no-click" album, with live performances and perfectly imperfect takes. Why was it important for you to preserve that human element instead of chasing a more polished sound? Because life is imperfect. Emotions and energy are in constant motion. And how you express yourself when you hit record is all that matters. "Blue Sky" by the Allmans wouldn't give you that feeling of uplift as it speeds up throughout if they were playing to a click! They were playing together!! Today, most producers are too caught up in tech and use formulas that fit into a neat, marketable product. It's rare when warmth or spirit shine through the sameness of most popular songs, regardless of genre. All the "bad" human parts get polished to lifeless perfection in a nice, sanitized, perfect digital box of Hz, instrument balance, and loudness. It's created a lot of experts for content about how music "should" be. But for me, most, not all, but most of music today just sucks. Like AI music sucks and is soulless. I'll spare you the rest of my AI tirade on...but all of it is theft first and then novelty at best. Tracks like "Wise Up," "Rituals, Lies & Sin," and "Try A Little Kindness" encourage listeners to look inward as much as outward. Were you writing these songs for yourself first, or did you always have the audience in mind? My process has widened over the years. There can be intention, or I can just be open to the elements. These songs came through me, and I got out of the way to let them form. It was odd to me that they all fell mostly under the Americana umbrella. I had never written in this style before. I can only write for me and hope it connects. You've opened for Grammy-winning artists, led different musical projects, and now you're fully embracing your identity as a solo Americana artist. What does New Scrolls represent in your evolution, and how does it capture who Erik Rabasca is today? I think it captures growth, comfort, and maturity. I'm definitely older and more gray... (laughs). The album is mature, summarizing everything I've done before from writing to producing and recording. It feels like a book ending and starting a new one at the same time. I'm wide open from here. I'm finding that the better music I make is because I'm working at being a better person. Is that adulting? (laughs)

There are albums that aim to escape reality, and then there are albums that embrace it in all of its contradictions. On Backroom Blight, indie alt-pop rocker Jay Madera leans firmly into the latter, delivering a collection of songs that wrestle with uncertainty while never losing sight of hope. Built on the idea that beauty and hardship coexist, Backroom Blight explores the emotional terrain between grief, self-reflection, reinvention, and acceptance. Madera doesn’t present life as a series of easy answers. Instead, he acknowledges the weight of growing older, letting go of expectations, and learning to find peace in unexpected places. Lead single “Forty Winks” captures that philosophy perfectly. Rather than dwelling on loss, the track reflects the quiet relief that arrives after carrying emotional burdens for far too long. It’s a meditation on waking up to a different version of yourself, where forgiveness, acceptance, and possibility begin to replace fear. That emotional honesty gives the song an understated power that lingers well beyond its runtime. Musically, Backroom Blight balances driving indie rock energy with atmospheric guitars, thoughtful piano arrangements, and moments of folk-inspired intimacy. Co-produced alongside Alexandre Hirlinger, the album never feels confined to one style, allowing each song to find the sonic landscape that best serves its story. What makes Madera’s songwriting particularly compelling is its literary quality. His lyrics invite listeners to sit with uncomfortable questions rather than rush toward easy conclusions, creating an album that rewards repeated listens as new details continue to emerge. Released as his second record with Pop Cautious Records, Backroom Blight feels like another confident step forward for Jay Madera. It’s an album that recognizes the world can be both beautiful and broken at the same time, and reminds us there’s meaning to be found in both. Backroom Blight explores the tension between hope and hardship rather than choosing one over the other. What personal experiences shaped that perspective while writing this album? Getting older and realizing that life never gets easier. It only gets stranger. Everything piles onto each other. You meet new people, live in different places, wear new hats. But it’s all really the same. That ‘sameness in newness’ definitely shapes the mood of Backroom Blight. That sounds depressing, but honestly it’s sort of cathartic to just realize that and let it go. To be present and comforted by the sameness. "Forty Winks" feels like a turning point centered on acceptance and emotional release. Was there a specific moment in your life that inspired the song, or did it evolve from a broader reflection? I wrote the lyrics to Forty Winks while standing at a gas station in the early morning. I had just gotten a terrible night's sleep, like one to two hours max, and I was focused on just getting through the morning. Sometimes when your body isn’t quite functioning, you let everything in your brain go and just focus on the basics. I can’t stress about the daily anxieties when I’m worried about the mechanics of the day. Making my body work. You can feel your brain stem trying to figure out square one. What a relief. Your songwriting often leaves space for listeners to interpret the meaning instead of offering clear answers. Why is ambiguity important to you as a songwriter, and what do you hope people discover in those quieter moments? My songs are rarely about one moment in time, and it’s not so biographical. I try to poke fun at myself, my misfortunes, my good luck, and that’s sometimes hard to pin down. I write observationally, but I also write politically and philosophically. I like facts, I like actual examples, and I like tangible details. But still, I am writing about anything from horrible moments I can't get over to wonderful, funny circumstances I come across. Ambiguity isn’t just how i write, it’s how the world is. There isn’t one day where I’ve woken up and thought, “I’ve got it worked out.” My songs are like those word magnets you break up from the package and spread out all over the fridge. And I like it that way. The album moves fluidly between indie rock, atmospheric pop, folk, and piano-driven arrangements. How did you and Alexandre Hirlinger decide what each song needed sonically to best tell its story? Through the recording process, I explored far more with instrumentation and production than I did with my first album, Anxious Armada. I picked up random instruments in the studio, tried out a lot of things that didn't work, and generally felt unpressured by studio time. That's a huge credit to my co-producer for the album, Alex Hirlinger, who didn't rush me on anything and explored alongside me. We did crazy things like buy an upright piano on Facebook Marketplace for the studio that we wanted for one of the songs, and I learned how to play musical saw for one of the tracks. I took a crack at producing my own tracks too, which was new to me. All of that’s to say, I had no plan. Well, we had a ‘plan,’ but we didn’t have a script. We just dicked around, acted intuitively, and kept what felt right. Now that Backroom Blight is out in the world, what do you hope listeners carry with them after spending time with the album from beginning to end? Every second of our lives matters in tiny imperceptible ways, even when we are sitting around killing time. It’s dumb and also special at the same time: brushing our teeth, commuting to work, going out to dinner, watching a movie. Some moments are shinier than others, more complete or less. Realize their beauty and feel their power in the moment.