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Los Angeles indie pop artist Jack Drinker is turning emotional whiplash into dancefloor catharsis on his new single “Adrenaline.” The track captures the complicated headspace that can follow heartbreak, when vulnerability starts to feel like a liability and the only thing that makes sense is chasing the rush of the moment. Originally from California’s South Bay, Drinker built his musical foundation singing in church choirs and performing in musicals before later studying music at the UCLA Herb Alpert School of Music. Those early influences still shape his work today, blending theatrical emotion with modern indie pop production and confessional lyricism. On “Adrenaline,” that emotional honesty sits beneath a glossy pop surface. The track moves with club-ready energy, built around shimmering synths, layered vocals, and a pulsing rhythm designed for late nights out with friends. But underneath the momentum is a deeper story about identity, heartbreak, and reclaiming personal power. Drinker wrote the song during a period when he felt himself shifting away from his usual hopeless romantic tendencies. After repeatedly leading with vulnerability in relationships, he found himself exploring the opposite approach: emotional distance, fleeting connections, and the temporary high of distraction. “Adrenaline” lives in that exact moment, the night out after a breakup when you tell yourself you’re fine, even if the truth is more complicated. The song also touches on an experience many queer listeners know well, particularly within the fast-paced dating culture of Los Angeles. While the track pulses with seductive, high-energy pop, its emotional core reflects the tension between wanting connection and protecting yourself from getting hurt again. Drinker hopes listeners can engage with the song on whatever level they need in the moment. “More than anything, I want people to have fun with this song and let it take them somewhere else for a couple of minutes,” he says. “Some people will connect with the story underneath it, and others might just want to lose themselves in the energy.” With his confessional songwriting style, growing live presence across Los Angeles, and a debut album on the horizon, Jack Drinker continues to emerge as one of indie pop’s most emotionally transparent new voices, proving that sometimes the most powerful songs are the ones that dance right on top of the pain. “Adrenaline” explores a shift from vulnerability to emotional distance after heartbreak. What moment in your life sparked the idea for this song? “Adrenaline” really came from a period where I felt like I was having a bit of an identity crisis in my love life. I had always been such a hopeless romantic—like, I led with vulnerability every single time—and it kept leaving me feeling kind of burned. There wasn’t one single dramatic moment, but more of a buildup where I realized I was tired of being the one picking up the pieces. I hit this point where I just flipped the script and started keeping people at a distance, leaning into more casual, surface-level connections. The song lives right in that shift—it’s not about becoming cynical, it’s about that moment where you decide to protect yourself and take your power back, even if you’re still figuring out what that looks like. The track feels like a dancefloor anthem but has a deeper emotional layer underneath. How did you balance those two sides during the writing process? That balance was really important to me from the start. I wanted it to feel like something you could lose yourself in on a dancefloor, but also have that emotional weight if you really listen to the lyrics. A lot of that came from how I naturally approach vocals—I grew up singing in choir, so I’m always thinking in terms of layers, harmonies, and dynamics to carry emotion. And working with Jaye Locke really helped bring that vision to life. He pushed the production into that house/EDM world so it hits hard, but we were really intentional about leaving space for the storytelling. So you get this track that feels euphoric and high-energy on the surface, but underneath it’s actually about avoiding your feelings and putting on a bit of a front. You mention that queer dating culture in Los Angeles influenced the song. How much did your environment shape the story behind “Adrenaline”? Honestly, a lot. Living in LA definitely shaped the emotional world of the song. The dating scene here can feel really fast-paced and, at times, a little transactional—like everyone’s always looking for the next best thing. I think especially within queer dating culture, there’s this really specific experience where you start out believing in this big, romantic idea of love, and then over time you become more guarded after getting hurt. “Adrenaline” sits right in that in-between space. It’s those nights of going out, getting ready with your friends, convincing yourself you’re unbothered—when really, you’re still processing everything underneath. Your music often blends confessional songwriting with polished pop production. Which artists or albums helped shape that sound for you? That’s so nice to hear. I’ve always been drawn to pop artists who can build a full world within an album—where every track feels different but still cohesive. I also grew up mimicking a lot of different artists, which honestly helped me discover my own voice and how I like to tell stories. Because I rely more on my ear than formal training, I pull inspiration from all over—different genres, different vocal styles—and then filter that through a really personal, confessional lens. That combination of big, cinematic pop production with very honest, sometimes messy emotions is what feels the most natural to me. Troye Sivan was definitely a huge inspiration for me in 2018 when I began making my own music. I went to his Bloom Tour at the Greek Theatre, and I genuinely felt the feeling that that was going to be me one day, or that I would die trying. The artists that I love the most are the artists that pave their own way and don’t shy away from being different or telling the hard truths in their lives. Other albums that have really inspired mine are Ryan Beatty’s ‘Calico’, Conan Gray’s ‘Kid Krow’, Melanie Martinez’s ‘K-12’, Billie Eilish’s ‘Happier Than Ever’, Role Model’s ‘Kansas Anymore’, and so many more. With a debut album on the horizon, how do you see your songwriting evolving from the themes explored in “Adrenaline”? “Adrenaline” definitely feels like the gateway into the album. It introduces that more confident, high-energy side of me, but the storytelling is still very personal. The album as a whole goes a lot deeper—it moves through different phases of relationships, growing pains, and self-reflection. “Adrenaline” is deep, but you have to piece that together a bit. There are other songs on the album that are a lot more specific and feel almost like open-heart surgery. Some songs are very introspective, almost like my inner thoughts spilled out, while others lean into a more fun side, like “Adrenaline” and a song I love called “Blurry Vision”. Compared to my earlier work, it feels more expansive and a bit more self-aware. I think I’m still exploring how to be as vulnerable as possible while also making songs that are interesting, but from a place that feels self-assured and more grounded than ever before.

Some songs are meant for headphones. K-Victoria’ s “DJ My Body” is meant for movement. The U.S. Virgin Islands-born singer leans fully into dancefloor energy on this track, blending glossy R&B pop with Caribbean rhythm in a way that feels both nostalgic and fresh. From the opening seconds, the production pulses with intention. The beat slides in smooth, letting the groove breathe before the track fully locks into its hypnotic rhythm. Then K-Victoria’s voice arrives. Her vocals carry a clear, confident tone that sits somewhere between classic late-90s R&B sensuality and modern pop polish. She does not oversing the record. Instead, she lets the tension build naturally, riding the beat with a playful restraint that makes the song feel seductive without trying too hard. The concept is simple but effective. A late-night dancefloor. Chemistry building. A DJ controls the energy in the room. K-Victoria flips that idea into something flirtatious and cinematic, creating a moment where attraction, rhythm, and anticipation collide. Producer FinS keeps the production clean and spacious, allowing subtle Caribbean textures to weave through the groove without overwhelming the pop structure. The result feels like a throwback to the era when dance records still had soul, the kind of track that would have lived comfortably in a late-night club set beside classic R&B slow burners. What makes “DJ My Body” stand out is the energy behind it. K-Victoria performs the song like someone who actually believes in the joy of the dancefloor. That authenticity carries into the music video as well, where she moves confidently between Los Angeles and Toronto nightlife scenes, radiating the same charisma she has been known for since her early days performing in the Virgin Islands. And that confidence is not random. K-Victoria has been building toward moments like this for years. From performing at the Ritz-Carlton in St. Thomas to opening for artists like Wyclef Jean and Maxi Priest, she has spent her career refining both her voice and her stage presence. “DJ My Body” taps into that late-90s R&B dancefloor energy. What elements from that era did you intentionally bring into the sound? That’s interesting, you caught that! I was a fan of how artists like Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera would release songs [like “Crazy!” and “Genie in a Bottle,”] and have the crowd just vibing off that inhibited energy. That is the same vibe I see happening with ‘DJ My Body’ when I perform live. It’s so freeing and fun, it’s like a dance break in every hook, and really, that’s what DJs are supposed to do! They’re supposed to make you lose it a little bit, or get lost in the moment, and that is what the song is about. The concept of the DJ controlling the chemistry of the room is interesting. Have you experienced moments where music genuinely changed the energy between people? Oh yes! Almost every time. When you’re at a party, and you hear the record coming on that hypes up the whole crowd, or times I was with my best friend in the car, and the right song dropped! Music is so powerful and influential, and that’s why I like to tailor it for the right reasons, which is to inspire people, make people happy, make them let go, or even get caught up in the moment, a good moment! Laughs You’ve performed everywhere from the Virgin Islands to international stages. How did growing up in that environment shape your musical identity? Growing up in the Virgin Islands helped build an amazing versatility for me as far as a foundation. It was packed with Caribbean cultural tunes [Like Calypso, Soca, and Quelbe] and influences like being an actual ‘Moko Jumbie’ and playing the steel pan. Being a part of such a melting pot, like the US mainland, but with a focus on Caribbean, Hispanic, and other international communities. This made the Caribbean and Caribbean-Hispanic nuances stick with me, and I know they are peppered into my creative choices in unique, sometimes unassuming ways. The video moves between Los Angeles and Toronto nightlife. How do those two cities influence your creative mindset differently? Los Angeles is like the belly of the Beast, so to speak, ha! I became my best, fiercest, most amazing self here, mixed with the nightlife, dynamic energy of the city, and the swarm of personalities. It’s super intricate! Inspiration comes in so many ways here. I love this city for that. Also, Toronto gives me that energy of just straight flavor, style (music, fashion), and positivity. Every time I’m in Toronto, I become a big ‘People-person’, whereas anywhere else, I can be naturally more selective socially, but I become so inhibited and outgoing in Toronto. These two energies inspire the energy in my tracks—that is, the fierceness, the freedom, the openness, and the party/socially expressive vibes. You balance music with acting, fashion, and wellness advocacy. How do you protect your artistic identity while expanding your brand in multiple directions? Thanks for that question. That is such a great question. It is so important for me to be true to myself and my identity. The way I protect it is by making it a priority in my creative process. The only thing that can challenge that is when I’m involved in a team effort, and my progress moving forward depends on my ability to have a great team and a team I can trust. So yes, I try to have the right council, supporters, and friends in my life, which in turn is a form of protection as well, because they are always concerned with protecting me.

Most songs are begging for your approval. “Homunculus” doesn’t care if you like it. It wants in your head, and once it’s there, it’s not leaving anytime soon. BUNNIES have been doing their own thing for over 20 years, and this track feels like the purest version of that mindset. No nostalgia bait, no artsy-for-the-sake-of-it nonsense. Just tension, discomfort, and intent. The song lives in a cold, boxed-in atmosphere where everything feels slightly off. The guitars don’t ring out, they scrape. The drums feel less like rhythm and more like something lurking. Synths smear across the track like fingerprints you can’t wipe away. Over nearly six minutes, BUNNIES build a space that feels claustrophobic on purpose, mirroring the track’s focus on modern evil, complicity, and the way we passively consume it. There’s no spoon-feeding here. You’re dropped into it and left to sit with it. Vocally, it moves like one body. Performances overlap and shift in a way that feels intentional and a little unsettling. It leans theatrical, but never crosses into gimmick. It’s closer to spoken word dragged through post-punk noise, where every line feels like it means more than it’s saying outright. Hooks aren’t the goal. Atmosphere is, and they fully lock into it. The Piper Preston–directed video pushes it further. Masked figures, harsh reds, chaotic edits. It’s uncomfortable in a way that feels deliberate, not messy. The kind of visual that sticks with you, whether you want it to or not. “Homunculus” isn’t background music. It’s a challenge. And honestly, most artists wouldn’t have the nerve to make something this uninviting. That’s exactly why it works. “Homunculus” tackles evil as a collective system rather than a single villain. What conversations were happening inside the band while you were writing it? We were thinking and talking about many different aspects of evil from a wide spectrum of viewpoints.  When we write lyrics as a collective group, it starts with conversations that can just sort of ramble and go down some winding paths.  We have been friends for so long that when we are writing, we are also just chatting and joking and debating, all the things that friends do when they are communicating.  Someone mentioned the idea of a Homunculus, and we thought that could be some interesting ground to cover in terms of the greater explorative conceptual exercise of writing about  "evil".  Once we had that spark to go from we honed in on more of the specifics of this song, the exploitation of people, power dynamics and how they do or don't corrupt, why evil things happen, who is responsible for "evil" in certain situations, is it societal, is it personal, are we all implicated through our participation in modern rituals, who gets to judge, how are they judgin ya.  Fun stuff like that.   The track feels intentionally claustrophobic. How did you approach production to create that sense of surveillance and psychological pressure? We like to pack the sounds in there.  Wall of sound kinda style.  Like Wall of Sound meets prog, psych, punkyness (lowercase punk) art rock.  There are often multiple competing things happening in a song; we're not afraid to have stacked, weirdly harmonized out-of-time vocals going over the instrumentation that might also be working on multiple time signatures or no time signatures at all... we find that exciting and challenging, and we hope that potential listeners might as well.  I do see how that could be interpreted as claustrophobic, intentionally or not, that is kinda how we do alot of our compositional work.  Psychological pressure, the signs of our times.   You’ve been making boundary-pushing music for over two decades. What keeps experimentation exciting instead of exhausting? Progression is life, stagnation is death.  Someday we'll all get to die, but until then, we want to explore, we want to experiment, we want to try it all out.  We're lovers of good music, and genre is just a word. We like to play music freeform and jam and make weird noises and just connect in that way, physically letting the music just spill out, but/and we also like to be very cerebral and contemplative about how we are putting our music and lyrics together. Like puzzle makers.  Like improvisational puzzle makers.   It's a dance between the two approaches, while always holding onto that excitement of experimentation.   We don't usually set out to make a specific-sounding song; we find the sound along the way.  That's the fun.  We won't ever be explorers of the olden times, but we can find an equivalent in the imaginative process.  Can AI do that?  I don't know.  Maybe.  Probably not.  I think we also feel a sense of like, we don't have anything to prove to you, but we've got something to prove.  We are like the Energizer Bunny, just gonna keep on tickin', and if people don't get it or don't like it or can't get down with where we are coming from, well, we're just gonna keep on movin' along anyway, and the times will roll on down.  The visuals are just as disturbing as the song. How closely did the video concept evolve alongside the music? The video concept was completely put together and executed by the fabulous Piper Preston.  We have been wanting to work with Piper for a while now, and we were just so excited that it finally happened.  The video was conceived long after we finished writing and recording the song, but it is so very apparent that Piper was fully keyed into what we were putting down with the sounds and words of the tune.  Piper had a great crew of people working on this project, and we thoroughly enjoyed what they all came up with.  We have been extremely fortunate to work with some fantastically out there visual artists on all of our videos for this album.  Up the punx up the freaks.    Do you see BUNNIES as observers of modern culture, participants in it, or antagonists pushing back against it? Oh, all of it.  Outside of BUNNIES, we as people are humanists, we want to be helpers, we want to be part of a vibrant world where everyone has the right to live the life they want to live.  We want to see society continue to progress in joyful and positive ways that support and show love to the marginalized and less fortunate.   We hate bigots and plastic ghouls.  There is a rise in the overall ghoul population in this world, and we systematically oppose that.  Fuckin mind your own fuckin business, you ghouls.   Crawl back into your holes, you evil ghouls.

There’s a difference between artists who make music and artists who build worlds. Lilithzplug is very clearly the second type. “Code Lyoko” doesn’t feel like a single; it feels like logging into something. From the first few seconds, you’re dropped into this icy, glowing soundscape that somehow feels warm at the same time. The production sits in that sweet spot between house bounce and electro-pop shimmer, with subtle Jersey club energy sneaking in through the rhythm. It’s giving Kaytranada influence, but filtered through something more personal, more digital, more her. Amara Robins, the mind behind Lilithzplug, isn’t just making songs. She’s splitting herself into characters, Claudia, Amara J, and Melody, and using them like emotional extensions. It could’ve come off gimmicky. It doesn’t. It actually makes the music hit harder because you can feel that these personas are tied to something real. Vocally, she floats. Not in a boring, ambient way, but in that controlled, intentional way where every layer feels placed. Her ad-libs act like their own instrument, weaving through the production instead of sitting on top of it. It’s hypnotic without trying too hard. Lyrically, “Code Lyoko” hits two lanes at once. On the surface, it’s smooth, sensual, almost detached. But underneath, it’s calling out something way more grounded and stop running back to people who don’t show up the way they say they will. It’s that quiet realization moment, just dressed up in neon and glitch effects. The Code Lyoko inspiration isn’t just aesthetic bait, either; it actually shapes the experience. There’s this underlying tension between reality and simulation, like you’re half in a memory and half inside a game. It taps into that early 2000s “future” we all thought we’d be living in by now, and flips it into something emotional instead of just visual. “Code Lyoko” feels like a turning point. You can hear the shift from “Cybergirl” into something bigger, more defined, more immersive. Most artists are still trying to go viral. Lilithzplug is out here trying to make you feel like you’re inside her brain, and honestly, she’s getting close to pulling it off.

Pimmer has been moving fast. The Boston indie rock outfit formed in 2024 and has already released enough music to make most bands feel sluggish — with TRANS AM, their new seven-track EP, they're showing no signs of slowing down. The EP follows I Wish I Could Care , last year's LP that drew real attention for its urgency and melodic sharpness. TRANS AM doesn't break from that blueprint so much as push harder into it — the hooks are bigger, the energy is higher, and the whole thing runs on a kind of forward momentum that most bands spend years trying to find. Lead single "Feelin' A Rise" is the right entry point. The drums establish the pace immediately and hold it, giving the song a locked-in center that the guitars open up around — big amps, wide and unguarded, the kind of sound that rewards volume. It's melodic but not soft about it, landing in the territory where Bob Mould's instinct for noise meets the Foo Fighters' sense of scale. The song shouldn't feel as effortless as it does, but that's kind of Pimmer's whole thing. That starts with Sanford Schaffer. The band's singer and primary songwriter has music spilling out of him — three releases in eighteen months, and nothing sounds like it was wrung out of anyone. TRANS AM is another entry in what's becoming a genuinely impressive catalog, and the pace of it only makes the quality more striking. Whatever he's tapped into, he's not close to done with it. Follow PIMMER here

After more than a decade within the major label system, Lorde has confirmed she is now operating as an independent artist. The New Zealand singer-songwriter revealed that her contract with Universal Music Group quietly expired last year, marking the end of the label partnership that began when she first broke onto the global stage as a teenager. That deal helped launch one of the most distinctive pop careers of the last decade. With the release of Pure Heroine in 2013, Lorde quickly became one of the most talked-about new artists in music, redefining minimalist pop production and youth-driven songwriting. The album’s breakout success was followed by Melodrama and Solar Power, projects that continued to push her sound and artistic identity forward. Now, for the first time since her debut, Lorde is no longer tied to a major label contract. The shift places her among a growing number of high-profile artists exploring independence after building their careers inside the traditional label system. For established musicians with global audiences, going independent can offer greater control over release schedules, creative direction, and ownership of their work. Lorde has not yet announced whether she plans to partner with a distributor, sign a new deal, or remain fully independent moving forward. But the expiration of her long-standing agreement with Universal signals the start of a new chapter in her career. For artists across the industry, especially those watching from the independent side, the move is another sign that even globally recognized names are reconsidering the traditional label path.

Book/Spirit have been doing their thing quietly in Brooklyn, and "Hammock" is the kind of single that makes you pay attention. Built around a dead-simple refrain ( We're just coasting along ) and the image of the earth as hammock, it shouldn't work as well as it does. But it does. The track is leaner than anything on their 2024 debut Easements , which moved at the pace of a long walk through the city. Sprawling, jam-rooted, in no particular hurry. This one pushes the chorus up front and gets out. It feels immediate in a way that recalls used CD bins more than algorithmic playlists. Drummer Garrett Troy brought in the melody and chorus lyric; the band shaped the rest around him. Producer Colin Mohnacs (The Roots, Lee Fields) recorded it at GB's Juke Joint in Long Island City. Bassist Micah Evans makes his full-member debut here, his post-punk sensibility giving the low end more shape and push. There's also a 12-string guitar and a guitar solo from former member Pierre Ratzki — his final session with the band. The upcoming LP apparently pushes further. On the strength of this, that's worth tracking. Follow the band here !

Photos by BFA The night before the Academy Awards always brings chaos, glamour, and a ridiculous amount of celebrity sightings across Los Angeles. But every year, one invite consistently lands near the top of the city’s most coveted guest lists: Darren Dzienciol’s annual Oscars Eve celebration. Held March 14, 2026, and presented by SEJARO, the black-tie affair once again took over the legendary Sheats-Goldstein Residence in Beverly Hills. The iconic architectural landmark, perched high in the Hollywood Hills, transformed into a candlelit, old-Hollywood-inspired playground where music, film, and fashion collided for one of the most talked-about nights of Oscar weekend. A Star-Packed Guest List As expected, the crowd leaned heavily on A-list energy. Guests spotted throughout the evening included Travis Scott, Damson Idris, and Diplo. As well as The Chainsmokers member Alex Pall, Sacha Baron Cohen, The Kid LAROI, Bronny James, Jeff Ross, Ryan Phillippe, Erin Moriarty, Patrick Ta, Suede Brooks, and Dixie D’Amelio. The mix of actors, athletes, influencers, and music industry players created exactly the kind of chaotic Hollywood chemistry the party is known for. The crowd moved between the mansion’s glass patios, the poolside terrace, and the estate’s underground nightclub space, “Club James,” hosted by the property’s owner, James Goldstein himself. Don Toliver and Diplo Bring the Music While the guest list alone could’ve carried the night, the music lineup pushed the energy into full party mode. Houston artist Don Toliver delivered a live performance that turned the venue into a full-scale concert moment, while Diplo followed up with a DJ set that kept the dancefloor packed well into the early hours. The night kicked off with an opening set from DJ Pookie, setting the tone for what quickly became one of Oscar weekend’s loudest celebrations. Inside the estate’s futuristic interior, the high-energy dancefloor pulsed under candlelight, blending classic Hollywood glamour with modern nightlife chaos. Beauty, Cocktails, and Late-Night Bites Beyond the music and celebrity sightings, the event also featured a handful of immersive brand activations. French cosmetics brand Vivienne Sabó unveiled its newest mascara with an interactive beauty installation, while guests fueled the night with specialty cocktails from LALO Tequila and ALB Vodka. Late-night food offerings kept the party running smoothly, with Butter Bun burgers, Dear Caviar, and Camellia Cannoli Parlor serving up snacks throughout the evening. A Hollywood Tradition That Keeps Getting Bigger In a city flooded with pre-Oscar parties every year, Dzienciol’s celebration has managed to maintain its reputation as one of the most exclusive stops on the circuit. Between the surreal setting of the Sheats-Goldstein Residence, a guest list that reads like a movie credits roll, and live performances from some of music’s biggest names, the event once again proved why it’s become a staple of Oscar weekend. And if the crowd dancing inside Club James until sunrise was any indication, Hollywood clearly has no plans to tone it down anytime soon.

Chilean artist Niad  is stepping into the Latin R&B spotlight with his latest single “No Volvió,” a track that focuses on the emotional aftermath of heartbreak rather than the dramatic breakup itself. Instead of leaning into anger or revenge, the Temuco-born artist explores the quieter side of loss, the late-night overthinking, unanswered questions, and lingering memories that follow when someone disappears from your life. The song pairs those themes with a stripped-back R&B production built around soft keys and subtle textures, creating an intimate atmosphere that lets the emotion sit front and center. Vocally, Niad keeps the delivery restrained and conversational, avoiding the theatrical heartbreak often found in mainstream R&B. The result feels more reflective than dramatic, capturing the slow realization that some relationships end without closure. “No Volvió” continues Niad’s growing presence within a new wave of Latin R&B artists emerging from South America. The singer previously received recognition at the Premios Latino, winning Best Mastering in an R&B Song in 2025 for his track “Do U?”. With its introspective tone and minimalist production, “No Volvió” positions Niad as an artist focused on emotional realism, the kind of music built for late nights, quiet reflection, and the moments when the past is hardest to ignore. “No Volvió” focuses on the emotional aftermath of a breakup instead of the breakup itself. Why did you want to tell the story from that quieter perspective? I think the most intense part of a breakup isn’t always the moment it happens, but what comes after. When everything gets quiet, and you’re left alone with your thoughts. That’s when the mind starts replaying memories, promises, conversations… almost like a loop you can’t turn off. With “No Volvió,” I wanted to capture that specific feeling, the moment when you realize something was real, but it’s already gone. It’s not about anger or confrontation. It’s about the silence that follows and learning to sit with that absence. That's the most difficult part. Your production here is noticeably minimal compared to many modern R&B releases. Was it difficult resisting the urge to add more layers? In a way, yes, it was so difficult because I am a perfectionist when it comes to the sound design of my songs, especially because my previous releases leaned more toward R&B with Hip-Hop elements, which naturally invites heavier production. But with this song, I felt the story needed space. I wanted the voice and the emotion to carry most of the weight. Sometimes when you add too many layers, the feeling gets buried under the production. Keeping things minimal allowed the vulnerability of the lyrics to stay front and center, which felt more honest for this song. Latin R&B is still evolving compared to the U.S. scene. What role do you hope artists from South America play in shaping the genre’s future? I think Latin music has a huge opportunity to bring a new perspective to R&B. The genre has such a strong history in the U.S., but when artists from different cultures approach it, they naturally bring new emotions, stories, and musical influences. What excites me is the possibility of creating an R&B sound in Spanish that feels authentic to our experiences. I hope artists from South America can help push the genre forward by blending that soulful foundation with our own cultural identity and storytelling.  But I'm also working hard on "Spanglish," which is the fusion of Spanish and English. I have several projects in development that are entirely in English, too, so I won't just be focusing on the Latin American market. Some of the lyrics talk about memory, almost like a mental loop. When writing this song, did you think about how obsession and nostalgia blur together? Definitely. I firmly believe there is a direct relationship between nostalgia and obsession, since nostalgia arises from an obsession with the past. So they go hand in hand. I think nostalgia can slowly turn into something obsessive without you realizing it. At first, you’re just remembering moments, but after a while, your mind starts replaying them over and over again, trying to understand what happened or what could have been different. That blurred line between nostalgia and obsession is something I wanted to explore in the song. The idea that sometimes the hardest part isn’t letting someone go, but it is convincing your mind to move forward. Winning a Premios Latino award for “Do U?” put more attention on your work. Did that recognition change the pressure you feel when releasing new music? It definitely brought more attention, which I’m very grateful for. But I try not to let that turn into pressure. For me, the most important thing is staying honest with the music I make. Awards and recognition are amazing milestones, but they can’t be the reason you create. I see it more as motivation to keep growing and keep pushing my sound further.  There’s still a lot I want to explore artistically, there's still so much to achieve, the sky's the limit. There are so many things I want to accomplish with my music in the short and long term. The future is bright.

A professionally crafted music video that dives deep into the human mind through powerful sound, blending cinematic storytelling with the raw authenticity of a live band. Traumatone returns with their first visual of the year for “Darkness Dies,” a striking exploration of the tension between calm and chaos within the mind. This internal conflict is brought to life through lead singer Jesse Broniste, who embodies both extremes. The darker persona, dressed in black, delivers the verses with intensity, while a lighter figure in white takes over the chorus. The contrast is sharp, intentional, and emotionally charged, resulting in a visual that feels both personal and universally relatable. Hailing from Arizona, rock outfit “Traumatone” builds their EP Identity  around themes of strength and perseverance in the face of mental illness. Driven by hard-hitting drums, explosive guitar work, and emotionally charged vocals, their sound captures the weight of internal struggle without losing its sense of purpose. It’s heavy, but not hollow. There’s meaning behind every moment. What sets Traumatone apart is their refusal to lean solely on anger, a crutch often overused in rock. Instead, they channel something more grounded: resilience. Their music doesn’t just sit in the pain; it pushes through it. “Darkness Dies” reflects that shift, showing that survival isn’t about eliminating the darkness, but learning how to stand your ground against it. As the video unfolds, the lighter entity ultimately fights back to preserve itself. It’s a simple but powerful metaphor. Not just survival, but balance. The kind people don’t talk about enough.