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Some songs are polished to death. Others show up with grit, groove, and something real to say. Hai Def ’s latest single, “Any Old Man,” falls firmly in the second category. Pulling inspiration straight from the bones of blues while weaving in soulful R&B textures, the duo leans into raw musicality, gritty guitar licks, punchy organ stabs, and a stripped-down bassline that keeps the track grounded. At the center of it all is Dre’s vocal performance, delivering a fed-up but self-respecting message to a partner who’s forgotten his worth. The song may move with an upbeat swagger, but underneath the groove sits a clear statement: being down on your luck does not mean you deserve to be treated like you’re disposable. “Any Old Man” has this classic blues attitude but still feels modern. What drew you to that blues foundation for this record, and how did you translate that influence into your own sound? Dre: I came up on the blues and am heavy into it. Taylor told me he had started digging into the blues and had an idea to make this a blues record. So the foundation was the bass line and the drums, which had a kind of hip-hop feel. So from there, the question was how to turn this into a 1-4-5 blues. Then the lyric just started coming out. By the time we got to the first chorus, I was trying to see if it would work to just stay on the 1 through the verse and then go to the 5,4,1, turnaround on the short chorus. I just kind of hummed the chord progression, and we recorded it. Then sang over it. We ended up liking the sound of it that way and never came back and laid the bass line over the chorus.  The song balances humor, frustration, and self-respect. Was this track pulled from a real-life moment or more of a storytelling exercise? Dre: It was one of those songs that just poured out. Once the first line was written, the rest came immediately. I think it is kind of a blend of personal experiences and observations. It's very relatable because a lot of people have been undervalued in relationships. Taylor’s bassline and the organ/guitar interplay give the song a very live, almost vintage feel. How important is musicianship and live instrumentation to the Hai Def sound? Taylor: I would say live instrumentation is definitely important to the Hai def sound and to my production as of late, the last 3 or 4 years.  For years prior I remember producing a lot from in the box which I love to, but I wanted a bit more control and mastery of the sound, so I dove into actually learning the theory behind what I was playing. So that mixed with Dre coming from the world of gigging and live singing, it always seems to find its way in. Your quote mentions that every Hai Def release sounds different. Is genre-bending a deliberate creative strategy, or does each song naturally decide its own direction when you start making it? Taylor: Usually, our process starts with a beat idea and maybe a concept that I have. Those ideas or concepts usually come from something I’ve been inspired by lately or newly listening to, I might have a hook in mind that we roll with, or Dre will just hear the idea, he’ll suggest some instrumentation or bridge, and write the whole song then and there. Then we record a rough. I would say it’s about 90% feel but 10% deliberate. Sometimes I’ll be in a vibe and will intentionally try to make my interpretation of whatever genre. The title line, “don’t treat me like I’m just any old man,” hits hard. What do you hope listeners, especially people in complicated relationships, take away from the message of this song? Dre: Love yourself enough to demand respect. It doesn't matter if you have 2 dollars or 200k in the bank. You have your honor, integrity and dignity.  And nobody from outside of you can take those things away from you. Which may all be a very complicated way of saying "no matter what you got going on, don't let nobody get you f*cked up"

Some artists write about conflict. Others have lived it. On his upcoming single “Love & War,” Tryg Strand makes it clear he’s done both. Hailing from British Columbia’s Columbia Valley, Strand’s story does not read like a typical “bedroom-to-Spotify” arc. Before the streaming era grind, he was touring BC and Hawaii in a middle school ukulele band. While most kids were figuring out stage fright, he was already chasing applause. That instinct for performance never faded, even as hockey took center ice. A university scholarship, high-level competition, and eventually professional play in Sweden could have been the full story. But songwriting kept running parallel, waiting for its moment. When the pandemic sidelined hockey, Strand did not spiral. He pivoted. Hard. He doubled down on open mics, tightened his songwriting, and refined a sound that now blends rock, blues, country, and folk into something that feels less genre and more identity. “Love & War” is the result of that sharpening. It is gritty without being performative. Emotional without being dramatic. The guitars carry weight, not flash. There is texture in the way they swell and pull back, mirroring the emotional tension in the lyrics. At its core, “Love & War” explores duality. Passion and pride. Vulnerability and ego. The quiet battles inside relationships and inside yourself. Strand does not overcomplicate the concept. Instead, he leans into honesty, letting the hooks do their job while the storytelling adds depth. It is the kind of track that feels built for both a live stage and a late-night drive. And make no mistake, this is an artist who understands the stage. With performances across Western Canada and festival slots at Flats Fest, Snowflake Festival, and Steamboat Mountain Music Festival, Strand is building a reputation that goes beyond a single release. You can hear that confidence in the delivery. Nothing feels rushed. Nothing feels accidental. “Love & War” does not sound like a gamble. It sounds earned. Tryg Strand is not reinventing roots-driven rock. He is refining it through lived experience. And if this single is any indication, he is stepping into a chapter where heart and grit are no longer at odds. They are working together. You’ve lived two very intense paths: competitive hockey and music. What did hockey teach you about pressure and discipline that now shows up in how you approach songwriting and releasing records? In regards to songwriting, the biggest thing that I feel like translated well was knowing you gotta show up and do the work. Not every practice, not every song I write is going to be good, or even something that anyone will hear, but it's part of the process. When it comes to releasing songs, I think the most important thing I've taken with me is being comfortable with failure, understanding that it's part of the process vs a final outcome, there will always be something positive to take and learn from it.  “Love & War” leans into emotional duality. Was there a specific real-life moment that forced you to confront that push and pull in yourself? There wasn't a specific moment when I automatically sat down, and the song poured out. It was more a series of events over a period of years, where I learned that anxiety and the highs and lows of life are something universally dealt with and not isolated. Realizing the best way to take away the control and effects it can have is by acknowledging it, turning to face it head-on, versus suppressing it or neglecting it, where it can fester.  When the pandemic shut down your hockey career trajectory, did music feel like a backup plan at first or did it immediately feel like the thing you were always meant to double down on? I wouldn't say it felt like a backup plan, cause I never thought hockey would be my whole life forever; it was more like "okay, that was an amazing chapter of my life, now what's next!" Really, let me be excited about throwing myself fully into my creative side, my love for the arts (songwriting and performing). It's cliche but I do believe we only grow in places of discomfort vs comfort. So to dive into something that I loved, but that kind of scared me (which was sharing my music), really laying it all out there just seemed like such a natural thing to pursue.  Your sound blends rock, blues, country, and folk. Do you consciously shape that fusion, or does it just happen naturally when you sit down with a guitar? I never write songs with the mindset of ok, this has to fit 'x' genre. I have a hard time defining my genre, to be honest, which is why when people ask, I always list so many. I actually wrote Love And War on the piano (where I write about a third of my songs), but it was really more of a ballad when I first wrote it than it is now. The switch to the guitar, with more of the rock and driving beat, happened fast when I started to play it on the hollow body with the band, and it just clicked like "ahh, this is where this song is supposed to live" from a sound perspective.  You’ve been building momentum through live performances across Western Canada. What do you want people to feel when they walk away from a Tryg Strand show, especially after hearing a track like “Love & War” live? I mean, really, all I can hope for when people leave our shows is just that they feel like they were part of something real. What drew me to perform and share my music in the first place was really just about playing a role in that shared energy in the room, where there's a connection between the band and the crowd, just feeding off each other. To me, it's just one of the coolest things. With Love & War specifically, no different than any of our songs, is that people resonate with the honesty, the vulnerability, but with the kick of that bass drum that really drives the song, we want people dancing and really adding to the energy in the room!

Last year, 2ŁØT were everywhere. Collaborations with Steve Aoki, Albert Harvey, Michael Kang, and Paul Oakenfold. Dance charts. Major festival stages. A Dim Mak release that expanded their reach far beyond their roots. On paper, that kind of momentum usually means doubling down on singles and streaming algorithms. Instead, the genre-blurring electronic-soul collective is pivoting. With the announcement of their sophomore album RE/SOLVE and the release of its first single “Favorite Star,” 2ŁØT are stepping away from the quick-hit energy of club cycles and returning to something more intentional. More narrative. More inward. The band’s origin story matters here. 2ŁØT came together during a period of personal upheaval, when several members were confronting relapse, self-doubt, and the reality of rebuilding their lives with intention. Frontman Rudy Love Jr. became the anchor in that process. As the son of Wichita soul legend Rudy Love Sr., whose work has been sampled and recorded by artists from Jay-Z to Little Richard and Eric Clapton, Rudy carries a generational weight in his songwriting. His grandfather penned “Good Morning Little School Girl,” later covered by Clapton. That lineage is not trivia. It is a responsibility. You hear it in the way 2ŁØT approach groove and melody. Even when electronic textures pulse and improvisational sections stretch outward, there is something rooted underneath it. Soul, not as aesthetic, but as inheritance. The band’s name references the Second Law of Thermodynamics, the principle that systems naturally move toward disorder. On their debut, Entropy, they leaned into that concept, confronting chaos head-on. RE/SOLVE flips the lens. This album explores what they call a “Second Hero’s Journey,” the chapter that begins after survival. When the adrenaline fades. When the harder work of recalibration begins. “Favorite Star,” produced by Ry-X, sets the tone. It feels expansive yet intimate, blending electronic atmosphere with emotional clarity. The project also features guest appearances from multi-GRAMMY winners Jon Batiste and Robert Randolph, reinforcing the band’s commitment to musicianship over trend. But 2ŁØT’s impact is not limited to the studio. The group actively supports addiction recovery initiatives, mentors young artists in Wichita, and aligns with criminal justice reform efforts, often using their live shows to spotlight and fundraise for those causes. The themes of relapse, accountability, and rebuilding are not just lyrical motifs. They are lived commitments. RE/SOLVE feels like a reset, not a retreat. After a breakout year, 2ŁØT are choosing cohesion over chaos and narrative over noise. In an industry that rewards constant output, that kind of intentional slowdown might be their boldest move yet. After a breakout year filled with major collaborations and festival stages, what made you decide to pivot toward a more introspective, album-driven statement with RE/SOLVE instead of chasing more singles momentum? I believe that the contrast is what tethers real life and honest art. We’ve seen some amazing success, but some of us still play in bars for tens of people to make a living. Some of us have kids and family that ground us. I’m happy about all of the amazing recognition we’ve received, but we are still relatively unknown, and that makes it necessary to attempt to convey who we are. In life, the time between shows will always be filled with joy, heartbreak, loss, gain, self-doubt, and self-actualization. depression, recovery. If we didn’t make art that was introspective and, at times, bleak, we would not be telling the whole truth. The band’s name references the Second Law of Thermodynamics and the idea that systems move toward disorder. How has that concept personally shaped the way each of you navigates relapse, rebuilding, and accountability? The Second Law says systems naturally move toward entropy and disorder, unless you put energy back in. We named ourselves 2ŁØT because we’re intentionally pushing back against that idea. All of us came together during moments when life felt was breaking down with loss and tragedy across our families. We’ve seen what entropy looks like up close. The crossed-out law in our name is a reminder that disorder isn’t inevitable and we can overcome it. For us, the power of bringing us together through music and community enabled us to heal and build something new. This is the driving force behind 2ŁØT. Rudy, you come from a deep musical lineage in Wichita. How does carrying your family’s legacy influence the responsibility you feel when writing songs that confront addiction, self-doubt, and recovery? Well, because behind that musical lineage is a legacy of Love. My family is rich with unsung musical heroes who also struggled with addiction, loss, and self-doubt. But they never lost their passion; they remained resolute. We were taught to use the pain that life gives us and turn it into joy for others. My father once said to his father “I’m crying, I can’t sing,” my grandfather said to him, “then sing *that.” That is what I mean when I say Re/Solve. That is what guides me to the projects I work on. With 2ŁØT, I feel it is truly a testament to my father’s genre-bending influence on me. And a group of guys that understand what it means to be broken and still keep going. You’ve collaborated with dance and electronic heavyweights, but now you’re working with artists like Jon Batiste and Robert Randolph. What did those collaborations unlock creatively that pushed this album further? I really don’t see much of a difference. A heavyweight is only a heavyweight because they are great at what they do; they challenge us to be better. I think Mr. Batiste and Mr. Randolph helped bring out different parts of our sound. But the feeling I get working with them or working with Steve Aoki is the same. I am getting the opportunity to watch a master at work (or play, really.) You’re active in addiction recovery initiatives, mentoring, and criminal justice reform. How do you make sure that activism stays authentic and connected to the music rather than becoming just part of the brand narrative? Music and social change have always been connected for me. I realized early on—especially through live music- that it has a unique ability to bring people together and build community. During COVID, we started Stand Together Jam Together, where artists played music and talked about issues like addiction and mental health, and it showed me how naturally music can open the door to personal transformation. So with 2ŁØT, the mission isn’t something we add onto the music—it’s why the band exists. The issues we care about come from real experiences in our lives, and the goal is simply to use music to bring people together, raise awareness for the most effective organizations making a social impact, and hopefully inspire people to take action in their own communities. You will see 2ŁØT continue to experiment with new methods and projects that combine our music and social change to make a difference.

Dallas’ underground rap scene has been buzzing for a while, but Trippychidi  is approaching things from a different angle. His new EP Arkham  does not feel like a quick streaming play chasing trends or algorithm-friendly rage beats. Instead, it feels like a psychological dive into the headspace of an artist navigating pressure, ambition, and the emotional weight that comes with rising visibility. The title alone sets the tone. Arkham references the infamous fictional asylum from the Batman universe, and the project leans heavily into that unstable atmosphere. This is not a polished, radio-ready rap release designed to sit comfortably in playlists. It is darker, moodier, and far more immersive. Across the EP, Trippychidi experiments with cinematic production that blends haunting melodies, rumbling 808s, and atmospheric textures that feel slightly otherworldly. His delivery moves between controlled calm and explosive bursts of energy, creating the sense that multiple emotions are fighting for space in real time. It gives the project a restless edge that separates it from the usual underground trap formula. The tracklist itself unfolds like different chapters of the same internal story. The EP moves from the introspective tone of “Within” into the hardened mindset of “No Love / No Trust,” before sliding into the gritty energy of “Muddy Bby.” From there, “Racks On Racks” leans into ambition and momentum, while “Life’s Challenges” slows things down enough to hint at the weight behind the persona. By the time the project closes with “Rich Manifestations,” the message becomes clearer: the chaos, pressure, and ambition are all part of the same transformation. That emotional tension feels especially real given the context surrounding the project. The passing of Trippychidi’s father in late 2025 cast a heavy shadow over his life, and while the EP never turns into a direct confessional, that grief quietly lingers beneath the surface. The result is a project that feels intense without being forced. You can hear echoes of artists like Chief Keef, 21 Savage, and XXXTENTACION in moments of aggression and emotional unpredictability, but Trippychidi ultimately feels like a product of the internet era, where vulnerability, rage, ambition, and isolation all collide at once. What makes Arkham interesting is that it does not try to smooth out those contradictions. It leans into them. For listeners paying attention to Dallas’ evolving underground rap scene, this EP feels like more than just another release. It feels like the moment an artist stops trying to prove himself and starts building his own world. And inside Arkham, Trippychidi makes it clear he is not asking for permission to do it. You frame “Arkham” as stepping inside your mind. What part of your mentality right now would shock people the most if they really understood it? It’s not the chaos. It’s not the anger. It’s not even the darkness. It’s how calm I am inside it. “Arkham” isn’t me spiraling. It’s me architecting. Everybody expects madness from the loud ones, but what would really shake them is realizing how intentional it all is. Every scar is cataloged. Every betrayal is bookmarked. Every loss is fuel I rationed instead of burned. The shocking part? I don’t feel haunted anymore. I studied my demons until they started taking notes from me. People think the asylum metaphor means I’m trapped in my head. Nah. I run it. I know which voices are trauma, which ones are ego, which ones are hunger. And the one running the intercom right now? That’s discipline. After losing your father in November 2025, how did grief reshape the way you approach music? Did it make you more reckless, more focused, or something else entirely? After I lost my father in November 2025, something in me stopped flinching. Grief didn’t make me reckless. It made me irreversible. Before that, music was an ambition. Charts. Stages. Noise. After he passed, it became a séance. People keep asking if it made me spiral. No. It made me precise. When death sits at your table and eats with you, you stop pretending. You stop wasting bars. You stop making safe records. I don’t write for algorithms anymore. I write like someone carving their name into a headstone. I’m not afraid of death anymore. Not in the poetic way. Not in the “live fast” cliché way. I mean it literally. I’ve already felt the worst call a phone can ring with. I’ve already stood in the silence that follows. Once you’ve held your father’s absence in your hands, mortality loses its teeth. Death isn’t a threat now. It’s a reminder. It’s in the hi-hats. It’s in the distortion. It’s in the quiet between verses. I don’t glorify it, I just don’t run from it. My music got darker, yes. But it also got honest. There’s chaos in your delivery, but it feels calculated. How much of the madness is instinct and how much of it is strategic branding? They always wanna split it in half like it’s math. Instinct on one side. Strategy on the other hand. But chaos doesn’t work like that. When I step in the booth, I’m not thinking about branding. I’m thinking about sirens harmonizing with 808s. That energy? That’s instinct. That’s survival talking. But survival is strategic. The cracks in my voice? Placed there. The pauses that feel like I’m about to spiral? Measured. The moments where it sounds like I might lose control? I already mapped the fall. Madness without direction is just noise. I don’t make noise. I, an architect, collapse. People call it “dark.” I call it honest. The world is chaotic. I just refuse to sanitize it so it fits into a playlist next to something safe. If the delivery feels unhinged, it’s because I let you hear the hinge creak before the door comes off. So how much is instinct? All of it. How much is strategy? All of it. You’ve had controversy, speculation, co-signs from artists like The Game and Ace Hood, and rising buzz in Dallas all at once. How do you separate noise from purpose when everything is loud? “Noise is for people who need witnesses. I don’t. Controversy doesn’t shake me. Speculation doesn’t define me. Co-signs from real ones like The Game and Ace Hood? I respect it. But I don’t build my identity off cosigns, I build it off pressure. Dallas buzzing, blogs talking, people guessing… that’s surface noise. Noise is temporary. Purpose is permanent. If “Arkham” represents your alter ego, who is Trippychidi without that armor and is that version of you ever going to show up on a record? They always wanna peel the mask off like it’s Halloween. You call him “Arkham” like he’s a costume I hang in the closet. Arkham ain’t fabric. Arkham is pressure. Arkham is what happens when silence gets tired of being quiet. He’s the armor, yeah, but he’s also the scar tissue. Trippychidi without that armor? The kid who couldn’t sleep. The kid who had no support system when starting out making music. The kid who had to go figure it out on his own. The kid who had to grow up fast and see how cruel and self-centered the world really is. He’s the one who still remembers every door that didn’t open. Will that version of me ever show up on a record? One day…

Abe Yellen is an artist that was born in Petaluma, California, raised in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and let his musical pursuits take him to Los Angeles. His track “I Love, U Loved” calls back to the love songs of decades ago where the sentiment was pure and devoted. Music of the past is near and dear to Abe and its constant presence in his life growing up has led to it inspiring the music he makes today.  Creating music is never an easy process and for “I Love, U Loved” it was truly a journey. Written three and half years ago, Abe shared he went through over 30 versions of the song with different vocals, melodies and arrangements. He struggled with not only what he wanted to say but how he wanted to say it. But, after all of that, he found something that he was confident in. “When it finally did come together, it was really rewarding and it ended up being one of my favorites on the album.” he said.  The track has a strong nostalgic tone to it as it sways and drifts with Abe’s airy background vocals floating in sync with the tranquil production. He has a strong inspiration from the soul musicians of the past and this is apparent with every fiber of the track. The subject matter of love is common throughout all of music but for Abe, singing about it like this has a completely different intention behind it. “Love is a universal language and it’s something we all experience in multiple ways. The tone in which artists would sing about love in the past is so different than it is today. There was so much more at stake because you couldn’t send texts and couldn’t call them as easily. You had to say exactly what you meant and how you felt on the song in a way that was truly captivating.” he said. Whether using voice memos or sometimes even a journal, most of Abe’s musical inspirations come from experiencing life in real time. The power of human connection also applied during his time spent working and producing with other artists. The musical inspiration between them came from the conversations they had.  “A lot of my own music comes from internal dialogue. But when working with other artists, you’re focused on where they’re coming from, what they’re feeling, what they're going through and putting their words to music. You want to create a space for them to be comfortable enough to speak from their heart instead of just their head.” he said.  Throughout school, Abe’s mind never could fully adapt to the structured curriculum format. He struggled but still made it through. When he graduated from high school, he saw many of his friends were going to college and the pressure of doing that crossed his mind. However, he knew that pursuing music was where his true passion was. Choosing to pursue music instead of college would lead Abe down a path of touring with his older brother’s band which led to him working with other artists as a career and now he’s made his own way with his own music.  Abe Yellen’s album titled The Long Goodbye  is set for a March release. He’s excited to return to the stage and share the songs he’s created with the world. “I Love, U Loved” is available on streaming services now.  You can see more of Abe Yellen’s pure love by keeping up with him on the following platforms. Apple Music  | Spotify  | Tidal  | YouTube | Instagram  | TikTok

Killa D is not easing into the room. He is kicking the door open. The Houston rapper’s latest single, “POP It!” featuring Louisiana Cash and 9th Ward Judy, is engineered for one purpose: energy. This is bounce-heavy, bass-forward hip-hop designed for packed dance floors, flashing lights, and DJs who know how to flip a crowd into overdrive. From the first drop, the track locks into a club-ready rhythm that feels tailor-made for mash-ups, transitions, and late-night chaos in the best way possible. “POP It!” thrives in movement. The production leans into Southern bounce influences with aggressive percussion and chant-like hooks that make it impossible to stand still. Louisiana Cash and 9th Ward Judy add to the momentum, giving the record a regional edge that feels authentic rather than manufactured. It is not trying to be introspective. It is not trying to be subtle. It is built to hit. And it is already moving. The record debuted in New Orleans during Essence Fest in 2025, powered by DJs like Hollygrove, Go DJ Phat, and GoDJ Jweezie. It has since earned spins on Shade 45 with DJ Hollygrove, DJ Tab, and DJ Kelly J, and made its way to Power 105.1’s The Breakfast Club. DJ Juvy ran it on 107.5 WCGI, while MediaBase flagged the track gold. In 2026 alone, “POP It!” received co-signs from Cupid and DJ BabyBass, who debuted it at Houston’s DBX Dirty Boxing Champions match. Add in recognition from DJs Nina9, Pharris, Drewski, and Swaggy Sie, plus a repost from TuneCore CEO Andreea Gleeson, and the momentum speaks for itself. Killa D has also earned a Webbie co-sign, performed in front of the Denver Dynasty women’s semi-pro basketball team, and secured nominations, including YO ATL RAPS Nominee for the One Mic Award and Best Male Hip Hop at the 2025 North Carolina Music Video Awards. Still, the mission is simple. “I want listeners to primarily use the track to build high-intensity energy in club settings, along with the DJs using it as a mash-up during their sets,” Killa D says. No deeper metaphor. No overthinking. “POP It!” is built to move bodies. And judging by the reception so far, it is doing exactly that. “POP It!” is unapologetically club-focused. What was your mindset in the studio when creating something strictly designed to move a crowd? My mindset was me wanting to come up with an catchy song, around this time (2020-2021: Covid) I moved to Kentucky temporarily due to Houston shutting down, where I continued networking with my good friend/bro (Dj Reezy) who linked me with this engineer named “Justin” who had this huge studio, my first time ever being in one. A lot of people didn’t know, but I had the hook for 10 years (just sitting on it) because I couldn’t find the right tempo beat for it, and that’s where my homie (Juston McDonald) - Trunkkillers sent me a beat pack, and from there, I knew it was going to have the crowds moving. You’ve received major DJ co-signs and radio spins across the country. How important is DJ support in breaking a high-energy record like this? As long as I been networking with DJs, Program Directors and Assistant PDs; I’ve always wanted to stand out from other artist and that’s from helping DJs by just posting their event on my social media (just because) attending wherever they are djing and get to know them on a personal level by waiting to network after club hours by introducing myself, after networking, building a relationship with them by just letting things be about life other than music 24/7 (which I am a caring person) as my personality, I never expect anything from a dj except networking and relationships (relationships mean more than money).  The track debuted during Essence Fest and later at a Dirty Boxing Champions match in Houston. How does performing in high-intensity environments shape the way you approach your music? My approach with the music is just continuing to be myself, be humble, gain fans, be open, have fun doing what I love doing, and that’s performing, leaving my mark on those who are infatuated with my work.  With recognition from platforms like Shade 45 and Power 105.1, do you feel pressure to evolve your sound, or are you doubling down on what’s clearly working? I never felt pressure as far as evolving my sound because I like to stay original, I don’t want to or plan on sounding like anyone else. I just feel like my sound & style is different; everything I’ve been doing lately has worked. If anything changes, delivery would improve each and every time!  Beyond the party energy, what do you want Killa D’s brand to represent in the long run within hip-hop culture? A lot of people don’t know that I’m a songwriter (versatile), I write songs about what I’ve been through, or what I've seen someone else go through. I feel like, as a true songwriter, you could create anything that comes to mind, and to me, that’s true talent! A blessing! I just want Killa D to be known for more than just party energy songs; I want him to be known as “The Talented Versatile Writer.”

Perfection is overrated. At least that’s the energy Queen Anne  is bringing with their latest release, “ Watch Me Win It .”  The indie duo, led by songwriter and vocalist Katie Silverman alongside writer and producer Sandy Chila, has built a reputation for making music that feels a little dark, a little chaotic, and weirdly addictive. Their sound blends the rebellious bite of ‘80s pop punk with modern alt-pop polish, layered guitars, and lyrics that walk the line between self-aware humor and emotional honesty. “Watch Me Win It” fits right into that lane. On the surface, the song carries the swagger of a victory anthem, but dig a little deeper, and it becomes clear this isn’t about the kind of success people usually brag about online. It’s about redefining what “winning” actually means. The track leans into the idea that life rarely plays out according to plan. Rules exist, sure, but most of them are made up anyway. Instead of chasing some perfect version of success, Queen Anne flips the perspective. Winning can look like anything: surviving a rough week, doing something small that makes you feel like yourself again, or simply refusing to measure your life against someone else’s highlight reel. Musically, the band continues to embrace their genre-blurring identity. The song carries a foundation of indie and alternative rock, layered with alt-pop sensibility and just enough grit to keep things interesting. The guitars feel punchy and energetic, while Silverman’s vocals float somewhere between dreamy and defiant. It’s the kind of track that feels slightly mischievous, like it’s inviting listeners to stop taking life quite so seriously. That playful edge runs through the message behind the song as well. According to the band, the idea for “Watch Me Win It” came from the reality that sometimes one part of your life is thriving while everything else feels like it’s falling apart. “We wanted to write a song people could listen to when one area of their life was going really well, and everything else was a disaster,” Silverman explains. “Life is messy, things aren’t going to be perfect, but winning is a mindset. Like, I haven’t cleaned my room in a very long time, and I don’t think it’s going to happen tonight. Maybe it’ll never happen. But I changed up my eyeliner today. That’s winning.” That kind of self-aware humor gives the track its personality. Instead of pretending everything is under control, Queen Anne embraces the chaos and turns it into something empowering. The song becomes less about proving anything to the outside world and more about claiming small victories wherever you can find them. It’s a refreshingly human perspective in a music culture that often feels obsessed with perfection and curated success. While plenty of songs celebrate big wins, “Watch Me Win It” celebrates the messy in-between moments that make life feel real. And if you want to experience that energy live, you’ll have the chance soon. Queen Anne is set to perform at SoCal Sound’s Woman Crush Wednesday on March 25, giving fans a chance to see the band bring their infectious, slightly rebellious spirit to the stage.

Some artists wait for the industry to open a door. Natalie Nichole kicked the door down a long time ago. The independent artist has been building her career with the kind of persistence most people only talk about in interviews. After surviving nearly a year of homelessness in Los Angeles, Nichole kept moving forward, launching her own label, designing her own merch, and carving out a lane that doesn’t rely on industry permission. Her fourth studio album, Mood Swings, feels like the natural result of that grind: bold, versatile, and completely uninterested in fitting neatly into one genre box. The title is not just a clever name. Mood Swings genuinely swings. One moment, Nichole pulls listeners into a stripped-back ballad where her voice carries the emotional weight, the next the energy flips into a rhythmic Afrobeat groove that feels built for movement. A few tracks later, the sound shifts again, bringing in pop sensibilities or even subtle country influences that add storytelling texture to the mix. Instead of feeling scattered, the album’s constant shifts mirror something much more real: the unpredictability of human emotion. The project opens with “The One,” a confident introduction that feels like a statement of identity. From the start, Nichole positions herself as someone who knows exactly what she brings to the table. “Gas Me Up” quickly follows with a burst of energy, leaning into infectious rhythm and self-assured charisma that feels designed for repeat listens. The album’s title track, “Mood Swings,” acts as a thematic centerpiece, capturing the emotional push and pull that runs throughout the project. Nichole moves between vulnerability and strength with ease, showing how conflicting emotions can exist at the same time. Tracks like “Waiting On Me” and “Schedules” shift the focus toward independence and personal priorities, reinforcing the idea that success sometimes requires stepping away from expectations placed on you by others. As the album unfolds, Nichole leans into more intimate territory. “Sheets” and “Turn Me On” bring a sensual energy into the mix, balancing smooth vocals with atmospheric production that highlights her R&B roots. Meanwhile, “Virgo Szn” injects personality and playful confidence, celebrating individuality with a sense of swagger. Songs like “Make It Special” and “Ride The Wave” keep the momentum moving, blending groove-driven production with uplifting themes about embracing the moment and trusting the process. Later in the record, “My Time” feels like a declaration, a reminder that Nichole’s rise is not accidental, but the result of persistence and belief in her own path. Toward the closing stretch, the album shifts into deeper emotional reflection. “Open Conversation” slows things down with a more introspective tone, allowing space for honesty and vulnerability. “Ready” feels like a moment of personal clarity, while the final track, “Missing You,” closes the album on a bittersweet note, reflecting on love and distance with emotional sincerity. What makes Mood Swings stand out is not just the range of sounds, but the sense of intention behind them. R&B warmth blends with Afrobeat bounce, pop instincts, Latin influences, and storytelling elements without ever feeling forced. Each track has its own identity, supported by layered production and arrangements that allow every moment to breathe. Even the release strategy reflects Nichole’s independent mindset. Instead of chasing traditional label structures, she’s releasing Mood Swings first through EVEN, connecting directly with fans before expanding to wider platforms. In an industry that often talks about artist empowerment while maintaining the same old gatekeeping systems, that kind of move carries weight. At its core, Mood Swings is about range, emotional, sonic, and personal. It’s an album that embraces the contradictions of life, allowing confidence and vulnerability to exist side by side. Natalie Nichole isn’t just navigating the music industry. With Mood Swings, she’s proving she’s more than capable of rewriting the rules as she goes. Mood Swings jumps from Afrobeat to country to R&B without breaking a sweat. Was that a creative risk for you, or are you just allergic to being put in one box? I’m absolutely allergic to being put in a box. I’ve always believed that if God gives you a gift, it’s not meant to be hidden or limited; it’s meant to be used fully. For me, music is about expression without borders. I grew up listening to so many genres, so why not create in them? If it’s not hurting anyone, and it’s honest to who you are, then it’s worth doing. I want to show people that you don’t have to shrink yourself to fit into a category; you can take risks and still be authentically you. You released this album exclusively on EVEN before anywhere else. What made you go that route, and do you think more indie artists should stop chasing traditional release strategies? I chose EVEN because it’s about building real connections. When fans support the music there, they’re not just getting songs; they’re getting perks, experiences, and moments with me they can’t find anywhere else. I wanted Mood Swings to feel like a gift to my supporters before the rest of the world heard it. For indie artists, I think it’s time we stop thinking there’s only one way to succeed. The traditional routes are fine, but carving your own lane—finding ways to connect directly- can be just as powerful, if not more. You’ve gone from being homeless in L.A. to running your own label and touring. What’s the one piece of that journey you wish more people knew about? I wish people understood that every single step matters, especially the ones that feel slow, quiet, or pointless in the moment. Those seasons when you think nothing’s happening? They’re shaping you. The struggle, the late nights, the small wins; they’re all preparation. Without those “in-between” moments, I wouldn’t be the artist, businesswoman, or person I am now. Nothing is wasted if you keep moving forward. Which track on Mood Swings feels the most personal to you, the one you almost didn’t put out because it hit too close to home? Without a doubt, “Missing You.” It’s about my father passing away, a song I never imagined I’d have to write. When you create something from that kind of pain, it’s not just music, it’s a piece of your heart. It’s intense, it’s vulnerable, and it’s forever tied to a moment that changed you. Releasing it was difficult, but I knew someone out there needed to hear it as much as I needed to let it out. You’re not just making music; you’re designing sneakers, writing books, and earning a degree. How do you keep from burning out while juggling so many identities at once? “Put it on Schedule” just like one of the tracks on this album. I plan my life almost hour by hour. If I miss something, I give myself grace, but I always know where my energy is supposed to go. Intentionality is everything when you have big dreams in multiple directions. You can’t just “hope” it works out; you have to structure your time so your actions match your ambitions. When you live on purpose, burnout becomes less about exhaustion and more about balance.

Covering Metallica is a gamble. Covering “Welcome Home (Sanitarium)” is borderline sacrilegious. Daniel Martin & The Infamous don’t tiptoe around that weight. They lean into it, tear it open, and rebuild the song in their own theatrical, venom-laced image. This isn’t karaoke for metal purists. It’s a psychological reinterpretation that fits perfectly inside the darker universe they’ve been constructing with Gone Days of Silence. The original always lived in tension: quiet dread exploding into fury. This version amplifies the theatricality without losing the claustrophobia. The guitars feel heavier, yes, but the real shift is in atmosphere. The band treats the track like a stage production. Every dynamic change lands like a lightning cue. The softer passages don’t offer relief. They feel like the calm before a riot. When the distortion crashes in, it’s less about aggression and more about inevitability. You can feel the walls closing in. Daniel Martin’s vocal performance is where the cover earns its existence. He doesn’t mimic James Hetfield. He inhabits the narrator as a character trapped inside his own skull. There’s anguish, but also defiance. The delivery leans into the band’s anti-war, anti-silence philosophy. Isolation isn’t just personal here. It feels systemic. The song becomes a metaphor for being locked inside structures designed to break you, which aligns seamlessly with the album’s broader themes. What makes this cover work is respect without fear. They honor the skeleton of the classic while injecting their own theatrical metal DNA. It sounds like a band staring directly at its influences and saying, “Thank you, now watch this.” Releasing it on the 40th anniversary of Master of Puppets isn’t nostalgia bait. It’s a statement of lineage. Daniel Martin & The Infamous aren’t trying to outdo Metallica. They’re using the song as a mirror, reflecting their own era’s anxieties back at the listener. The result is unsettling, dramatic, and deeply intentional. Exactly what a cover should be. What emotional or philosophical angle did you want your version of Sanitarium to emphasize that the original only hinted at? Sanitarium is all about the mind. Our understanding of mental health has evolved leaps and bounds since this song was written; the guys in Metallica were a bunch of early 20-somethings in the 80’s, raised by the “suck it up” generation. In forty years, we’ve learned so much.  I don’t know that we realized what a monster the mind can be - not just the unstable, but anyone. Everyone has varying mental health issues. I think our version really leans into the scope of despair that Metallica’s original explored. Also worth mentioning is that there’s lots of good emotional beats in the song that were very important for us to KEEP.  How did you decide what NOT to change in such an iconic song? There were MANY quality-control discussions about what not to change, virtually every step of the way. Metallica is a hard band to cover because they already put 100% into their music, so that lent to the discussions.  We really only changed a few things: a) changed key to D, b) replaced clean guitar with piano and added keyboards, c) added some harmonies, and d) a few performance changes like solos, the very ending, etc. I would say that we changed only within a happy percentile of the song - enough so that it stands apart from/accentuates the original, but not so much that all the good bits the fans enjoy are different/gone.  The cover directly ties into the themes of Gone Days of Silence. At what point did you realize this song belonged in that world? Very late in the game, actually. Production started on this album in January of 2024, and I was still demoing a rough draft of our cover in mid-December 2023. Paige definitely had her work cut out for her, cramming to learn that song AND preparing the rest of the album (as the drummer, she recorded first).  We mulled over some great ideas for covers - including Black Sabbath’s “Children of the Grave” and Iron Maiden’s “Fear of the Dark”. But Sanitarium was the one I kept coming back to. Not just because Metallica is my favorite band, but because I felt like Infamous had the most to offer this song.  Gone Days of Silence is about war, and what better war to add to the album than man versus the self? Your sound leans heavily into theatrical presentation. How much of that is planned versus instinct in studio? Most of the theatrics occur in writing/pre-production. While we have much respect for bands that go into the studio and “see what happens”, I’ve found that this band doesn’t work like that. We work best when we’re VERY organized and know more or less what we’re doing before we lay down a single note.  An example of one of our “instincts in studio” would be “Hey, the lead guitar line and the keyboard line are kind of fighting for dominance in the mix, let’s pick one to bolster and one to keep in the background” because sometimes no matter how pro active you are, you can’t predict some things and you have to be able to re act as well. What does releasing this on the 40th anniversary of Master of Puppets mean to you as artists shaped by that record? Master of Puppets  was one of the first records I listened to all the way through.  When I first heard it, the album was barely twenty years old - now it’s turning forty.  This record and others like it shaped who I am as an artist; and took me from a 17 year old kid writing songs on his first guitar in his room - to opening for Canadian icons like Finger Eleven and Fefe Dobson, having signature guitars made for me, and having other incredible experiences that I would have never otherwise had.  The album  Master of Puppets  is a certified BANGER front to back, and we are happy that we got to indirectly be included in the legacy of a band that’s inspired so many and given so much.  Closing thoughts: Thank you SO MUCH everyone who is reading this now, and for everyone who is helping this band move forward. That can be anything from following us on our socials, watching our music videos, spinning our music on your favorite streaming service, buying a shirt, coming to a concert, or telling a friend that there’s this cool Canadian band who is working really hard on things that hopefully you like.  We see you, we love you, and appreciate you.  Thank you for supporting Canadian music.  Love,  PxMxDxJxJxC

Let’s be honest. The older you get, the clearer it is: good people are hard to find. Nick Ryan takes that uncomfortable truth and turns it into a surprisingly addictive emotional release on “Good People Are Hard to Find,” a standout from the new remix LP ArchNemesis. Rather than hiding the message in vague pop poetry, Ryan boldly says the quiet part out loud and then cranks the volume. The chorus lands like a blunt confession. "Good people are hard to find, I'm losing my mind." It's simple, repetitive, and brutally relatable. Anyone navigating fake friendships, flaky relationships, or the ghosting culture of modern life will instantly recognize that feeling. Musically, the track rides a slick EDM pulse produced by Robert Eibach that never lets the energy dip. The beat hits with punchy house momentum while still leaving room for Nick Ryan’s alt-pop vocal delivery to breathe. Instead of drowning the lyrics in festival-sized drops, the production keeps the groove tight and slightly edgy. The verses show Nick Ryan’s personality. Lines like “Hey, I don’t like you, you ghosted me, so I ghosted you too” carry a petty honesty that feels weirdly refreshing. There is sarcasm in the delivery, but also a kind of emotional closure hiding underneath it. Nick Ryan is not begging for understanding. Nick Ryan is celebrating the freedom that comes from finally cutting someone out of his life. That emotional duality is what gives the song replay value. On the surface, it is a dance track. Underneath, it is a small therapy session set to a club beat. Culturally, the timing fits. In a world of curated online lives and shallow real connections, “good people are hard to find” isn’t pessimistic; it’s reality. Nick Ryan is not trying to sound profound here, just saying something most people quietly agree with. Sometimes the most brutally honest lyrics are the ones you scream to drown out the ache, alone in your car at full blast.