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There are albums that aim for vibes, and there are albums that aim for meaning. Sam Stokes ’ The Tale of Gaia very clearly chooses the second lane and floors it. The folk rock songwriter’s newest project is a full-body meditation on what it means to be alive right now, on this planet, in this messy human era. It’s philosophical without being pretentious, intimate without shrinking its scope, and ambitious in a way that feels earned after four years of slow, deliberate creation. Framed as a love story between Earth and humanity, The Tale of Gaia plays out like a spiritual coming-of-age arc. It’s universal and deeply personal at the same time. Stokes writes from the perspective of an innocent soul waking up to the beauty, absurdity, pain, and forgiveness that define the human experience. The result is an album that feels less like a collection of songs and more like a guided journey. The title track, “The Tale of Gaia,” opens the record with a thesis statement wrapped in warmth. It’s a song about compassion, about the constant exchange of giving and taking that shapes our relationships with each other and with the planet itself. Gaia, another name for Mother Earth, becomes both symbol and character: creator, protector, and forgiving parent. Stokes frames growth as an act of grace, suggesting that learning from our mistakes is how we carve out space for others to evolve, too. Sonically, it lands in a sweet spot between folk rock sincerity and cinematic lift, setting the emotional stakes for everything that follows. That gravity dissolves into sunlight on “ Lay on Grass ,” a playful pop-rock burst that celebrates being fully present in the physical world. It feels intentionally offline, a reminder to touch the ground, breathe real air, and exist beyond screens. Then comes the sharp turn. “Green Beans” represents the dark night of the soul, the moment innocence collides with the reality of suffering. Stokes doesn’t dramatize pain for spectacle. Instead, she frames it as a universal initiation, the point where awareness hurts but also deepens empathy. From those ashes rises “I’ll Still Hold Up,” a psychedelic-leaning anthem co-written with Hannah Johnson and produced by Analog MP3 . It carries the swagger of resilience, channeling a scrappy, tomboy energy that refuses to stay down. The album’s midpoint arrives with “Dinosaur Bones & Petrified Wood,” a deliberately silly, carefree release valve. It’s light-hearted, chantable, and almost childlike in its joy, functioning as a somatic reset after the emotional weight of the earlier tracks. The emotional core returns on “He Forgave Me Again,” a meditation on the rare, transformative experience of being fully forgiven. Co-written with Mark Dolin and produced by Whetsell, the track captures the dizzy relief of grace. It’s about the elation that comes when love survives damage, when someone chooses compassion over resentment. That theme of redemption bleeds seamlessly into the final act of the album. The last third drifts skyward. “Just Lovely” is a tender piano-and-strings ballad that feels suspended in calm, embodying the peace that comes after internal storms settle. “We’re All The Same,” inspired by Beatles-era communal optimism, expands that peace outward. Co-written with Avrim Topel and James Templeton and produced by Templeton, it frames unity not as a slogan but as a lived recognition that we mirror each other more than we differ. The closing anthem, “Like a Feather,” ties the entire arc together. It’s a rock finale that reconnects the innocent soul to consciousness, suggesting that enlightenment isn’t escape but integration. Every hurt, every laugh, every forgiveness becomes part of a larger pattern. The matrix cracks open, and what’s left is lightness. Behind the scenes, the album’s creation mirrors its themes of connection and intention. Stokes overfunded her crowd-funding campaign with legendary Boston studio Plaid Dog Recording, allowing her to record six of the nine tracks there with producer Mike Davidson. The remaining songs emerged from collaborations spanning North America, reinforcing the album’s cross-border sense of shared humanity. Donors to the campaign weren’t just funding music. Those who contributed $50 or more helped plant trees with the LA nonprofit Tree People, resulting in nearly 40 new trees in the Los Angeles mountains. The project literally leaves roots in the ground. Stokes describes the album as a gift. “If anything, I hope people are able to get lost in the music,” she says. “I hope they are able to live with it and be excited by all of the little nuggets of love and goodness sprinkled in each and every track. It is my gift to humanity.” That generosity is the album’s throughline. The Tale of Gaia isn’t trying to impress with complexity or chase trends. It’s reaching for something older and riskier: sincerity. In a moment where distraction is endless, and cynicism is easy, Sam Stokes offers a body of work that insists on wonder, forgiveness, and connection as survival tools. It’s folk rock as philosophy, grounded in the dirt but always looking up. The Tale of Gaia frames Earth almost like a living character and a parent figure. When you were writing, did you feel like you were telling a story about the planet, about humanity, or secretly about your own life the whole time? My favorite songs are those that exist on multiple levels. The planet Earth is our home and, in many ways, is our Mother Earth. Similarly, I find myself at an age where I am balancing what it means to be a daughter and looking at the ways life will change once I step into the role of motherhood.  We, humans, are in a moment of indescribable greed and overconsumption. We often take more than we give, and we are seeing the grand scale impact of that through climate change and pollution. We don't necessarily make choices based on what would cause harm to the planet or not.  And still, I can see the ways in which I have been greedy or self-centered in my own life. I also see moments in which I gave more than I received. It is as personal as two people and as cosmic as a planet and its inhabitants.  The album moves from innocence to pain to forgiveness to peace. Was there a specific personal moment that forced that emotional arc into focus for you, or did it slowly reveal itself over the four years of making the record? The album is very much a reflection of my own journey as it was happening. A very transformative, painful, and honest time in my life. A time that was also filled with tremendous joy.  The album didn't have a story arc before I started, but instead, it was built based on what felt honest to my experience, and then as it came together, the arc became abundantly clear.   You balance playful, almost childlike tracks with songs that stare directly at suffering and karma. How do you protect that sense of wonder while still being honest about the darker parts of being human? I find that our spiritual journey is not a cave, but a tunnel. The deeper you dig, the more you come out to light on the other side. I have had my dark night of the soul and the feeling of immense weight and suffering, but as I kept digging and kept sitting with that discomfort, I found indescribable love and hope on the other side of it.  For me, to be playful and childlike is an honor and an incredible act of rebellion. When a population (or a single person) is so depressed that they've given up, they have become lost. When we are secure and loved within ourselves, we are free to engage with the world one new moment at a time. And that is the wonder and discovery we can explore each and every day.  Crowdfunding the album and planting trees with your supporters ties the music to real-world action. Do you see your art as a form of activism, spirituality, or something else entirely? I feel as though our collective consciousness and awareness are rising each and every day. It's awakening from the inside of each and every person on Earth - even if just 1% a day, people are becoming more and more aware. My art is merely there to help guide and nourish those as they awaken.  We're living through a time where people have felt so disconnected from decisions being made and their autonomy to make those decisions. Something breaks, and instead of you and your neighbors being able to fix that thing, you have to fill out a form and wait three weeks for someone to do it for you. It's disempowering. So we're seeing now, especially since the start of this year, people getting involved in their government, communities, neighborhoods, and families in a way that I think we forgot we are able to do.  There is no singular path to activism or revolution - every person will be called to a different action. It could be meditating and praying. It could be planting trees. It could be delivering food to your neighbors. It could be running for office. It could be inventing something. It doesn't matter what a person does - we all have different ways to get involved. My hope is that this music and this album are an invitation to be fully immersed in your own life. To feel empowered and understand that being alive IS the reward. This planet can be Nirvana for each and every one of us!  After finishing such a big existential project, do you feel lighter, changed, or emptied out? And where does a songwriter go creatively after making a record that tries to answer what it means to be alive? This album, in many ways, has felt so effortless to make. It almost stumbled out of me (even though I flew to Boston twice to record at Plaid Dog Recording and I had years of preparation for this) - it still felt natural. I don't know if the process changed me, or if I changed on my own, and the art was merely a reflection of that change. Maybe a little bit of both.  I genuinely feel more like a channel than a creator in the sense that I try to tap into what others may need or want to listen to, and use my life only as a frame of reference for the storytelling. This is definitely my most expansive and creatively all-encompassing body of work to date.  I don't know what I will make from here, but I know that when it's time to do so, the channel will be open and I'll let it flow through.

Pop music loves a glow-up. Bigger chorus. Louder drop. More drama. Isabella Chiarini did the opposite. With “Gotta Be (Stripped),” the Hamilton, ON singer-songwriter pulls the production back and lets the emotion breathe. And honestly? It lands harder this way. The original “Gotta Be” carried that polished pop energy. The kind that makes you want to roll your windows down and sing it like you’re in your own coming-of-age movie. But the stripped version slows everything down and shifts the spotlight to what actually matters: the lyrics and her voice. This song cuts into a painfully relatable theme. Everyone around you is putting themselves first. Feeling overlooked. Feeling like you are the afterthought in someone else’s priority list. It is not dramatic. It is real. Especially for young adults navigating friendships, relationships, and the constant pressure to measure up. By stripping the production back, Isabella forces you to sit with those words. There is no glitter to hide behind. Her vocal sits front and centre, textured and controlled, but vulnerable enough to feel lived-in. You can hear the training. Starting at eight years old with renowned vocal coach Teresa Nocita and later co-writing with Nocita and Canadian Idol winner Brian Melo gave her technical precision. But this track is not about flexing technique. It is about intention. And intention is what makes this version work. The pacing allows the emotional weight to sink in. When she sings about being pushed aside and made to feel small, it does not feel like a generic pop complaint. It feels specific. Personal. Like a journal entry turned into a melody. What makes “Gotta Be (Stripped)” resonate is the shift from frustration to empowerment. Isabella is not staying in victim mode. The message is clear: even when people bring you down, you still get to choose yourself. That is the takeaway she wants listeners to feel, and it translates. The full-length music video on her YouTube channel doubles down on that vulnerability, visually amplifying the rawness of this reimagined version. Isabella Chiarini is not chasing trends under the pop umbrella. She is testing her own depth within it. “Gotta Be (Stripped)” proves that sometimes the strongest move an artist can make is to quiet the noise and trust their voice to carry the weight. When you decided to strip “Gotta Be” back, was there a specific moment where you realized the original production was hiding something emotionally important? I knew from the very beginning that I wanted to create two versions of this song because when I first wrote the lyrics, I was struggling with which direction I wanted to take it in! After thinking about it, I thought that if the song was strong enough to be both upbeat and stripped back, it should be both! I feel now that the vocals are the forefront of the track, it really forces the listener to connect to the song on a deeper level, which was the goal of creating this version!  The song deals with feeling overlooked and put last. Was this written from one specific experience, or does it reflect a pattern you’ve noticed in your life and relationships? This song stems from a lot of different situations, but one in particular that I have been dealing with for a few years really sparked my creativity when making this song! I love how this topic is so universal, though, because unfortunately, at some point in everyone’s life, they have felt not good enough or overlooked! So the lyrics to this song are a great example of how even though you started off feeling bad, there is always something better that comes along!  You’ve trained vocally from a young age and worked with established writers. How do you balance technical perfection with emotional rawness, especially on a track like this? I find that when I connect to a song, especially as emotionally deep as this, my body aligns itself! I feel the emotion, I feel the authenticity, and it all just pours out! I find that if I think too much about how I’m singing, or about how I’m coming across, it messes with my mind, and I don’t get the takes I want! If I let the music flow naturally, I get a better feeling, and I can go back and tweak from there if needed!  Your audience includes a lot of young adults navigating identity and pressure. What conversations are they having right now that you feel mainstream pop isn’t addressing honestly enough? With the way the media has been going, I feel that body image and self-esteem are major problems in young adults! We are constantly comparing ourselves to photoshopped people on the internet and feeling unworthy because we don’t look like these people! Especially with AI now, it is nearly impossible to escape it! I love uplifting and empowering music, and I think that more of these types of songs should be showcased and celebrated!  If someone listens to “Gotta Be (Stripped)” alone at 2 a.m., feeling like they’re not enough, what do you hope shifts in them by the final chorus? I really hope listening to the final verse really shifts their opinion! It talks about how they will not be left behind, and they will stand up for themselves! It is important to feel tough emotions, but we have to come out of it and show the people who think we are not good enough that we can stand on our own two feet!

Some records don’t ask for your attention; they command it. “ Storm ,” the latest release from Toronto-based artist Basha , unfolds slowly and deliberately, building tension without ever feeling forced. No rush. No filler. Just restraint, honesty, and the silence that follows hard decisions. The song was written after Basha left Canada’s East Coast for Toronto at 21 with no connections and no safety net, just belief and work ethic. What followed was isolation, unhealthy coping habits, and the slow collapse of a long-term relationship strained by ambition. Trying to build a career in a new city left little room for anything else, and the damage was unavoidable. Instead of narrating the fallout from his own perspective, Basha makes the sharper choice of writing from hers. The one left behind. The one absorbing the emotional cost while he chased something bigger. Lines like “Blame your job for the ways you can’t commit… bet it all say you’re gonna make it big someday” don’t sound self-indulgent. They land like accountability. This isn’t an artist asking for sympathy. It’s someone confronting consequence. The production reflects that emotional control. Intentionally minimal and structurally unconventional, the track avoids clean pop formulas. After a single chorus, it shifts into a more rhythmic, almost rap-leaning second verse before collapsing into a cinematic outro. The final drum drop, distorted through broken analog pedals and left imperfect on purpose, feels unstable and raw. It mirrors the emotional break the song represents. Vocally, this is Basha at his most exposed. Not louder. Not grander. Just more honest. There’s no hiding behind effects or overproduction, which makes every lyric hit harder. “Storm” has already surpassed 100,000 streams and secured Apple Music playlist support across New in R&B, Mood., Tearjerkers, and Breaking R&B. It builds on the foundation of his debut project Logan Ave, which crossed 850,000 streams and earned Canadian radio placements, along with a co-writing credit on GOT7’s “Karma.” What separates Basha is control. He writes, produces, and executive produces his work, treating each release as a chapter in a larger arc. Alongside Logan Ave, In Her Words, and A Place Like This, “Storm” feels like the volatile midpoint, where ambition and consequence finally collide. Basha doesn’t glamorize sacrifice. He documents it. And that honesty is what makes “Storm” stick long after it ends. “Storm” is written from her point of view, not yours. What was harder ,  admitting your mistakes privately, or putting them on record from the person you hurt? Definitely coming to terms with and admitting mistakes personally. That can sometimes be hard to see in the moment, but it really becomes clearer with time. The actual process of making records is much more exciting and enjoyable. No one likes to admit they’re wrong, but it is a necessary step for growth - you have to dig deep and be willing to explore a certain level of self-reflection. You’ve said this song came from your lowest point after moving to Toronto. Looking back now, do you think that isolation was necessary for your growth, or just damage you had to survive? I do believe that it was necessary. It forced me to grow up pretty fast, and I learned a lot about myself during that period. When you’re isolated, there are no distractions from your own personal thoughts. That can be both freeing and terrifying, but it does usually force you to ask yourself tough questions. And oftentimes, if you approach them with an open mind, the realizations can be a huge step forward for growth - and in my experience, that translates both personally and artistically. In regard to the music, a lot of these ideas probably wouldn’t have come had I not been working in isolation; there was complete freedom to be as vulnerable and honest as possible - no judgement, just a sense of truth and openness. The production stays minimal until it finally collapses at the end. Was that structure intentional from the start, or did the song teach you how it wanted to end? That was intentional. Sonically, I wanted the song to resemble how a storm would sound - not literally, but structurally. For example, there is always a calm before, a moment of peace and tranquility. Followed by a subtle sign of what’s to come - whether that’s dark clouds appearing, occasional tiny drops of rain, or wind rustling through trees, the energy is slowly ramping up. That eventually starts to escalate and build into a more intense environment, dark and gloomy shades, and you begin to anticipate what’s to come. All of these stages are apparent throughout the song; it’s intentionally meant to feel like it’s slowly building towards something. That something is the beat drop at the end of the track. The sonic climax that we’ve been building towards the whole record, but it also very much is meant to represent the chaos of the storm when it finally hits. You’re fully independent and control every part of your process. Where’s the line between discipline and obsession ,  and did you cross it during this chapter of your life? That’s a great question, and one that I’m not sure I’ve found the answer to yet, if I’m being honest. I’ve definitely crossed it at times, though, I’d say all artists have. I believe the most rewarding art comes when you’re obsessed, and excitement is the best fuel. It’s a willingness to go above and beyond. To do anything it takes to see something through. The challenge lies in knowing when it’s finished. You want to remain excited for the sake of being creative, but also have the discipline not to add more than is needed. It can be a tricky line to navigate at times. “Storm” was made with a reasonable level of discipline. I originally wrote the song on guitar and knew that I wanted to keep the stripped essence as the main backbone of the production. Minimal but intentional. The whole goal was specifically to not add too much; I wanted to let the song breathe and keep the vocals front and centre. Because there was such a clear vision directionally, it was a relatively quick process. “Storm” doesn’t romanticize the grind. If you could talk to your younger self right before leaving home, would you still tell him to make the same sacrifices? 100%. In fact, I think it’s vital. You have to be willing to sacrifice everything if you’re truly invested in chasing your dream. Nothing worth having comes easy, and I believe it’s important to pay your dues. Years of grinding and getting beaten down behind the scenes can give you thick skin; it can help prepare you for success. So when things finally do hit, you’re in a position to appreciate it more.

There’s something risky about writing a song about getting back together. Most artists lean into drama, blame, or cinematic heartbreak. Lofi Legs go the opposite direction on “A Dream I Had.” They treat reunion like a quiet miracle. The track doesn’t explode. It glows. Born out of the Bay Area DIY circuit and anchored by songwriter Paris Cox-Farr, Lofi Legs have always lived in that in-between space where romance, psychedelia, and emotional honesty overlap. “A Dream I Had” feels like their thesis statement. It’s a rock song that drifts more than it charges, wrapped in shimmering guitars and a rhythm section that moves like a slow pulse instead of a march. The production leaves air in the room. You can feel the space between notes, which makes every lyric land harder. The heart of the song is its meditation on reconnection. Cox-Farr writes about returning to a love that never fully left, and the tone is strikingly gentle. There’s no sense of possession or desperation. Instead, the track carries a mature acceptance that love can disappear, reshape itself, and still come back recognizable. That emotional nuance is rare in rock, a genre that often prefers extremes. Here, the drama is internal. The thrill is in the quiet realization that something broken can still be beautiful. Vocally, the performance feels intimate, almost conversational. Cox-Farr sings like they’re letting you in on a memory rather than performing for a crowd. The guitars shimmer around the melody, creating a dreamlike texture that matches the title perfectly. It’s nostalgic without being stuck in the past, modern without chasing trends. The band understands restraint, and that restraint becomes the song’s power. Lofi Legs say they hope listeners “feel solace in the beauty of love,” and that mission is fully realized here. “A Dream I Had” doesn’t promise fairy tale endings. It offers something better: the comfort of knowing love can survive distance, time, and change. In a culture obsessed with burning bridges, Lofi Legs write a soundtrack for rebuilding them. That alone makes this single feel quietly radical. “A Dream I Had” treats reunion like something soft and almost sacred instead of messy or dramatic. What shifted in your life or perspective that allowed you to write about reconnection with that kind of maturity? That song is about two people I have loved deeply, and I don’t think I could have fallen in love that way when I was younger. I think when you love someone at all costs, you always have strong feelings for them, even if you aren’t together, because the love was so beautiful and true.  The song feels suspended between memory and present tense, like it’s happening in a dream and real life at the same time. Do you see your songwriting as a way of documenting moments or reshaping them into something new? That’s a good question! In a way, I’m documenting moments, but not in a linear way. I’m not interested in the history of my life. Like, this song is about two people I love, but the song could be interpreted as one person. So I’m interested in putting similar things together and meshing them to see what comes from it.   Reunions can be romantic, but they can also reopen old wounds. Did writing this song feel healing, risky, or both? It definitely felt healing. I was able to recognize my own feelings without them wounding me.  How does the rotating nature of Lofi Legs influence the emotional core of the songs? Does bringing new people in change how older material feels when you perform it live? It doesn’t really influence the emotion because I still write all the songs and lyrics, which is where the emotion comes from. Each iteration has a different vibe.  This one is way healthier, chiller and more musically sophisticated. We don't normally play old songs; my band tends to prefer playing the material that we created together.  When listeners walk away from “A Dream I Had,” what do you hope lingers with them longer: the nostalgia, the comfort, or the ache? The comfort- because falling in love is in and of itself a beautiful thing. I hope to offer that space.

On “ NON-FICTION ,” the Minnesota-born, Chicago-rooted singer-songwriter MOYANA steps directly into the fire. Prison abolition. ICE. Trans rights. Reproductive rights. Gun control. The stuff most artists water down into vague metaphors so they do not lose playlist placements. MOYANA says it plainly. Then she harmonizes over it. Produced by 7VNTH and fully crafted at studioSHAPES Chicago, the track opens with an eerie layer of TV static. Not aesthetic static. Anxiety static. The kind that mirrors doom-scrolling at 1:37 a.m. when your brain is fried but you cannot look away. It is a subtle production choice that hits harder than a dramatic string section ever could. The message is clear. We are overstimulated. We are distracted. And we are complicit when we tune out. Vocally, MOYANA does not oversing. She glides. Her tone is warm, controlled, and almost conversational, which makes the lyrics land with greater weight. When she references interconnected struggles in the spirit of Octavia Butler, it does not feel academic. It feels lived in. Personal. Urgent. You can hear the grief that fueled it, from the murders of Melissa and Mark Hortman to the shooting at Annunciation Catholic School, to the surreal image of salt trucks lining Chicago streets after Lollapalooza. That contrast between festival lights and systemic darkness is baked into the record. Culturally, “NON-FICTION” matters because protest music right now is either hyper-abstract or algorithm-chasing. MOYANA refuses both. She performed this live at SOB’s in New York during the Biggest Little Festival Ever, and the energy reportedly shifted the room. That makes sense. This is not background music. This is accountability music. If you are exhausted by the news but also tired of artists pretending everything is fine, this is for you. If you believe R&B can still be radical, this is required listening. MOYANA is building a living archive in real time. And she is daring you to pay attention.

There are breakup songs. There are love songs. And then there are songs about not even making it to the date. On “First Date Ghosted,” Craig Greenberg takes one of the most painfully modern rituals of romance and does what any seasoned New York piano man would do: he turns it into a theatrical, self-aware rock-pop confessional that feels equal parts catharsis and comedy set to keys. The track is the fourth single off his upcoming sixth full-length album, and it lands with the kind of seasoned songwriting confidence you only get after 15 years and over 1,000 shows deep. Greenberg has long been praised as one of NYC’s most compelling post-millennial piano storytellers, carrying the spirited ivory lineage of icons like Billy Joel, Ben Folds, and Randy Newman into something sharper, more self-aware, and distinctly his own. “First Date Ghosted” is based on a true story, though Greenberg leans into humorous exaggeration. The narrator is a self-proclaimed sad sack, spiraling in real time after being left hanging before a first date even begins. But instead of wallowing, he goes meta. In the lyrics, he openly sings about turning the experience into a song. It is heartbreak processed through craft, frustration filtered through melody. Recorded at The Ice Plant in Long Island City by Wayne Silver and produced and mixed by Silver alongside Greenberg, the track sounds tight but alive. Hiroyuki Matsuura’s drums give the song its pulse, Tony Tino’s bass keeps it grounded, and Greenberg handles piano, vocals, synth, and percussion with theatrical flair. The mastering by Alex Psaroudakis adds a polished edge without sanding down the emotional texture. Lyrically, the song taps into something culturally bigger. Ghosting is no longer an exception. It is standard operating procedure. Romantic, professional, and even friendships. Messages left on read. Plans evaporating without explanation. Greenberg does not just lament it. He calls it out. The frustration with unclear communication runs through the track, but so does defiance. By the final stretch, the narrator refuses to be crushed. There is a wink in the warning, too: ghost someone, and you might end up immortalized in a song. With “First Date Ghosted,” Craig Greenberg proves that even in an era of disappearing acts and digital detachment, sharp songwriting still wins. The date may have vanished, but the story stuck around long enough to become a hook. “First Date Ghosted” is funny, but it also hits on something culturally bleak. Do you think ghosting has changed how we handle conflict emotionally, or has it just exposed how bad we’ve always been at communication? Hmm, well ghosting isn’t a new phenomenon (I’m old enough to remember when it was called being “stood up”….  “Ghosted” is definitely a better word for songwriting, btw..lol), but for sure in the current cultural landscape it seems to be pretty endemic and everyone has been ghosted at some point, if not romantically, then in friendship or professionally.  And I have always had a hard time when people can’t communicate clearly, and rather than just being honest, avoid dealing with a situation entirely.    For sure, modern technology, smartphones, and social media have only exacerbated things, b/c the sheer volume of other people we’re in contact with is larger than at any point in human history.  I think that can have the effect of reducing people’s sense of empathy . You literally wrote a song about writing a song about being ghosted. Was that meta angle intentional from the start, or did you realize mid-spiral that the art was becoming the revenge? Great question! I actually wasn’t sure about when the meta angle became part of the song, so I just went back to look at the lyric draft and see that it didn’t come in until a few revisions in, and then the final twist, when it almost becomes “super-meta”, came at the very end.  But I think having it in there gives the song a certain existential oomph, and for sure makes it unique in my catalogue.  You’ve played over 1,000 shows and built a reputation as a modern NYC piano storyteller. How does a track like this fit into the larger emotional arc of your upcoming sixth album? Well, I think it’s probably the most intentionally humorous song I’ve ever put out, and most of the new record has a somber tone, so I think the bit of humor is a nice contrast.   It also stands out because it’s very specific and situational, whereas many of the songs on the record deal more with universal themes.  The narrator in the song starts off defeated but ends defiant. Was that shift something you consciously crafted, or did it reflect where you actually landed emotionally after the experience? Well, first, I think just the writing of a song to process an upsetting experience is a defiant act. I was certainly pissed off in the moment, and that came through in the song’s emotional feel, and channeling the frustration helped me avoid a meltdown that day.  But like often in my songs, there's a part that's real and personal, and there's a part that's exaggerated for artistic effect.  I consciously made the subject more of a dramatic and slightly pathetic character, like having him "wait another 20"..  But it felt right to give him a proud moment of sticking his fist up in the end, and it also kind of tied the song together in a nice little bow.   You’ve shared stages with legends and carried that classic piano tradition forward. In a dating world driven by apps and disappearing acts, do you feel like old-school romantic songwriting still resonates, or are we in a more cynical era now? Well, from the times I’ve performed this song live I can say for certain that it definitely still resonates, b/c people really connect with it, and maybe as quickly as any song I’ve ever done.  But speaking more generally, while listening audiences may be more cynical or detached these days, it’s the job of a songwriter to work hard to push against that, and I still truly believe that a great song, in any style, will be able to cut thru people's defenses and short-circuit that cynicism.

February is short. No filler. No room for mid. Either you show up, or you get skipped. And somehow, in the middle of grey skies, industry burnout, and algorithm fatigue, a handful of artists actually delivered. Not background-noise drops. Not trend-chasing singles built for 15-second clips. Real releases. The kind that made us pause mid-scroll. The kind that reminded us why we care about this in the first place. This month felt less like a numbers game and more like an energy shift. Artists leaned into vulnerability without sounding rehearsed. Production felt intentional instead of overcrowded. Hooks stuck for the right reasons. Whether it was an independent breakout refusing to water themselves down, a genre-bender bending expectations, or a slow-burn record that demanded headphones at midnight, these releases did more than exist. They elevated. These are the 10 releases that showed up in February and made the month feel bigger than 28 days. 10 Releases That Showed Up And Elevated Us In February Bekka Dowland - "Be A Little Kinder" Western Massachusetts country-pop artist Bekka Dowland enters February with a message that feels refreshingly grounded. Her latest single, “Be A Little Kinder,” blends classic country storytelling with modern pop polish, reinforcing what she does best: writing songs that feel personal, relatable, and rooted in real life. Known for her emotionally honest lyrics and strong, warm vocals, Bekka has built her artistry around themes of love, heartbreak, resilience, and growth. This release narrows the lens to something deceptively simple: the small, everyday choices that shape the world around us. A door held open. A smile to a stranger. A moment of patience instead of frustration. “Be A Little Kinder” highlights the unseen battles people face and reminds us that even the smallest gesture can create a ripple effect. There is a quiet perspective at the core of the track. We are all just a speck on a spinning rock in space, sharing limited time. If that is true, kindness becomes less of a grand statement and more of a daily responsibility. Bekka’s message lands softly but powerfully. In a season often defined by big declarations of love, she reframes connection as something simpler and more universal. Sometimes, the smallest actions make the biggest difference. Connor Nelson - "Red Mountain Light" Vancouver pop artist Connor Nelson steps into the spotlight with Red Mountain Light, a debut EP that feels both cinematic and deeply personal. A true student of pop, Connor approaches the genre with intention and precision, crafting songs that balance polished production with emotional weight. His music has already made serious waves, landing on Netflix’s Ginny & Georgia, charting on Shazam in eight countries, including the Top 100 on Shazam Australia Pop, and earning airplay on CBC Radio One. But Red Mountain Light is where the full picture comes into focus. At its core, the EP is a coming-of-age record shaped by heartbreak, grief, obsession, and self-doubt. Connor does not shy away from the mess. Instead, he walks straight into it. Across the project, he confronts emotional “monsters” head-on, tracing the chaos that follows a breaking point while threading in the clarity that eventually emerges. Sonically, the EP blends sleek alt-pop textures with raw, hook-driven storytelling, capturing both the spiral and the strength that follows. Chloe Mayse - "Horoscopes" Toronto’s Chloe Mayse continues carving out space in alternative pop with vulnerability at the center. A queer singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, Chloe’s journey began early, from singing at two years old to winning a competition that placed her onstage backing up Tegan and Sara at the JUNO Awards. That moment helped shape her vision, not just as an artist, but as a voice within Toronto’s queer community. Advocacy, identity, and emotional honesty are not side notes in her career. They are the foundation. Featured on her debut EP Dear Love, the track “Horoscopes” captures Chloe at a crossroads. Written during a period of unemployment and deep self-doubt, the song wrestles with purpose, insecurity, and the fear that no one outside her inner circle was truly listening. In search of reassurance, she weaves in metaphors of seeking signs from the universe, from psychics to lottery tickets to bingo halls, reflecting that very human desire for confirmation that we are on the right path. “Horoscopes” feels like an open journal entry set to melody. It does not pretend to have all the answers. Instead, it sits inside the discomfort of uncertainty and allows space for it. Chloe’s message resonates deeply: it is okay to question yourself. It is okay to feel lost. Growth does not always arrive with immediate clarity. Sometimes, the strength is simply in staying present long enough for the light to find you. Marcus Alland - "EYES ON YOU" Christian Hip-Hop artist Marcus Alland brings conviction and clarity to this February edition with his latest album, EYES ON YOU. A 2× Grammy-considered artist and voting member of the Recording Academy, Marcus stands at the intersection of artistic excellence and spiritual purpose. His music does not blur the line between faith and culture. It confronts it directly. Known for pairing bold lyricism with Christ-centered messaging, Marcus delivers hard-hitting production layered with transparent testimony. EYES ON YOU is rooted in one central idea: maintaining focus on God in the middle of distraction, pressure, and spiritual warfare. Across the album, he wrestles with identity, obedience, perseverance, and the tension between cultural noise and divine calling. The project moves with range. Some tracks arrive with intensity and declaration, driven by confident flows and sharp production. Others slow down, creating space for vulnerability and reflection. Marcus balances street-influenced cadence with scripture-grounded truth, building a body of work that feels both contemporary and spiritually anchored. At its core, EYES ON YOU functions as more than a collection of songs. It is a posture. A reminder that direction is not found in trends, applause, or external validation, but in steady focus. Marcus Alland’s message is clear: no matter the pressure or the fight, keeping your eyes on God is what keeps you aligned. Gregory Tan - "Zenith" Composer and producer Gregory Tan continues to prove that cinematic music does not just live behind the scenes; it drives the moment. Specializing in emotionally charged, trailer-ready production, Gregory has built a career crafting large-scale soundscapes that amplify some of the biggest franchises in entertainment. With placements spanning Fast & Furious 9, Jurassic World: Dominion, Star Wars: Andor, Kung Fu Panda 4, World of Warcraft, and more, his work thrives where tension, impact, and storytelling collide. For this feature, the spotlight turns to the official trailer for A24’s Ne Zha 2, which uses Gregory’s track “Zenith” from start to finish. Published and represented by Grooveworx Trailers, “Zenith” anchors the entire visual arc, underscoring the scale and emotional gravity of the film’s rollout. It is the kind of placement that reminds audiences how powerful music can be when paired with striking imagery. The right composition does not just support a trailer. It elevates it. Beyond the spectacle, Gregory’s journey highlights something equally important: the strength of sync licensing as a creative and financial lane for producers and composers. Film, television, gaming, advertising, and trailers all present opportunities for music to travel further than traditional release models might allow. When a track finds life in a major campaign, it introduces the composer’s work to audiences who may never have discovered it otherwise. Gregory Tan represents a different side of artistry. One where music fuels blockbuster storytelling, and where sync is not a compromise, but a powerful stage of its own. Traumatone - "Identity" Phoenix-based hard rock force Traumatone arrives in this February edition with Identity, an EP that lives up to the project’s tagline: “The Soundtrack To The Broken World.” Spearheaded by multi-instrumentalist Jesse Broniste, Traumatone is less a traditional band and more a full-scale emotional outlet. The sound fuses alternative rock, industrial metal, and post-punk textures into something cinematic and unrelenting, where ambient tension collides with hard-hitting riffs and resonant, urgent vocals. Identity dives straight into the internal war most people avoid naming. Across the EP, Traumatone explores the pull between light and dark, wrestling with anger, resentment, depression, and the constant pressure to let those forces take control. The production leans into that tension. Gritty guitars grind against atmospheric synths, creating a soundscape that feels both claustrophobic and expansive, mirroring the battle happening within the lyrics. Identity pushes listeners to fight for the parts of themselves that remain compassionate, grounded, and human in a world that often feels colder by the day. Traumatone stands as a reminder that confronting your darker side does not mean surrendering to it. Sometimes strength looks like refusing to become hardened by the chaos around you and choosing to hold on to who you truly are. Asmi Alderay - “Leaving Still Wanting You” Not every breakup ends in anger. Sometimes it ends in awareness. On “Leaving Still Wanting You,” LA-based singer-songwriter Asmi Aderay captures the quiet devastation of walking away from someone you still love. A 2025 Berklee College of Music Performance graduate originally from India, Asmi blends intimate lyricism with restrained alternative pop production. The track floats on haunting melodies and emotionally exposed vocals, mirroring the push and pull of desire and self-preservation. It lives in that uncomfortable middle ground, not bitter, not healed, just honest. What makes this release resonate is its emotional maturity. It validates the contradiction of missing someone deeply while knowing that leaving was the right decision. Strength here is not loud or dramatic. It is subtle. It is choosing yourself even when your heart is still attached. “Leaving Still Wanting You” feels cinematic but deeply personal, a reminder that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is be the one who gets away. Amar Miller – “FOUL 38” (feat. Wakai & Dre Wave$) Amar Miller doesn’t just rap. He builds environments. On “FOUL 38,” the Clemson-born, Dallas-based artist pulls from spacey jazz textures and modern trap rhythms to create something that feels less like a single and more like a late-night atmosphere you step into. Raised between Toledo’s proximity to Chicago’s music lineage and later shaped by time in Texas, Amar’s sound carries layered influences. You can hear the melodic sensibility inspired by artists like Curtis Mayfield, woven into production that nods to the fluid, genre-bending energy of today’s alt-rap scene. Instead of packing the track with bars for the sake of proving a point, “FOUL 38” leans into mood, restraint, and texture. Featuring Wakai and Dre Wave$, the song feels collaborative in the right way. No one is fighting for the spotlight. The verses breathe. The melodies stretch. The production feels intentional, atmospheric, and slightly futuristic, which makes sense coming from an Oklahoma State aerospace studies graduate who approaches music like exploration. “FOUL 38” marks a shift in Amar’s creative philosophy. It is less about over-explaining and more about letting the experience unfold. Instead of forcing listeners to dissect every lyric, he invites them to sit in the layers, the bounce, the subtle jazz accents floating under trap percussion. As he gears up for his upcoming project, Theme Music, this track feels like a statement. Amar Miller is not chasing a viral moment. He is refining his world. And “FOUL 38” proves he is learning that sometimes the strongest flex is knowing when to let the music speak for itself. Giselle - “SWEET BABY” Boston-born, Buffalo-raised, and now fully rooted in Los Angeles, Giselle has been building toward this moment since she was five years old. A true multi-instrumentalist who plays piano, drums, guitar, violin, and ukulele, she is more than just a vocalist with a good hook. She is a musician with range, grit, and the kind of stage presence sharpened by years of gigging across New York before taking the leap to LA at 21. Since landing in Los Angeles, she has performed at iconic venues like The Hotel Cafe, The Mint, Whisky a Go Go, Hotel Ziggy, and even iHeart Radio, proving she has both the toughness and talent to thrive in a competitive industry. Her latest release, “Sweet Baby,” flips a tired narrative on its head. Instead of pitting women against each other, Giselle reframes the story. The track is about reclaiming your voice, telling the truth, and refusing to fight over someone who was never honest in the first place. Rather than blaming the other woman, she warns her. She unites with her. The real accountability lands where it belongs. Sonically, the record balances emotional vulnerability with bold conviction. There is strength in the delivery and clarity in the message. No petty energy. Just empowerment. With “Sweet Baby,” Giselle is not just sharing a song. She is encouraging listeners to speak up, walk away from dishonesty, and let the truth be known. Terrence Esquire Huggins - "fck being famous" Terrence Esquire Huggins makes one thing clear: he is not here to chase clout. fck being famous lives in the space where authenticity matters more than algorithms. The project feels intentional from start to finish, like a late-night confession set against moody drums and soulful production. A Latin Grammy-nominated producer with deep DC roots, Huggins approaches the album with a sharp ear and steady control. The beats never overpower him. They leave space. On tracks like “fine with me” and “meditate,” warm chords and minimal percussion allow his lyrics to breathe. When the tempo tightens on “wow” and “never quit,” the hunger in his delivery rises with it. Ambition, doubt, loyalty, and exhaustion all sit side by side, creating a sound that feels honest instead of polished for approval. The closing track, “Dreaming Big,” brings everything full circle. Fame is not the destination. Growth is. Survival is. Self-respect is. That tension gives the album weight. With LDR Entertainment preparing for international festival performances in the UK and beyond in 2026, Huggins is focused on longevity, not headlines. As he puts it, “It's okay to be authentic in your creative process. Raw, unfiltered, and human.” This project proves he means it. February doesn’t hand out trophies. It just exposes who came prepared. The artists on this list didn’t rely on gimmicks or inflated hype cycles. They delivered records that felt lived-in, intentional, and replay-worthy. The kind you return to when the noise dies down, and you actually want to feel something. If this is the energy we’re setting two months into 2026, the rest of the year better keep up. We’ll be watching. And listening.

Photo by The Syn If you are sleeping on sync, you are leaving money and exposure on the table. Straight up. Streaming revenue alone is not a sustainable plan for most independent artists. Touring is expensive. Social content burns you out. But sync licensing? That is where songs can quietly change your financial situation. One placement in the right TV show, trailer, brand campaign, or video game can outperform months of playlist hustle. Before we get into the agencies, let’s break down what sync actually is, how artists get paid, and why pitching the right partner matters more than blasting your Dropbox link to 50 random emails. What Does a Sync Agency Actually Do? A sync agency represents music for use in visual media. That includes film, television, commercials, trailers, video games, streaming series, sports broadcasts, branded campaigns, and sometimes influencer-driven digital content. They act as the bridge between music supervisors and artists. When a Netflix show needs a moody alt-pop track for a breakup scene, they do not scroll TikTok for six hours. They go to trusted sync agencies and ask, “What do you have that fits this brief?” A good sync agency does three core things: They pitch your music directly to supervisors and brands. They negotiate licensing fees and terms. They handle contracts, usage rights, and payment collection. The better the agency’s relationships, the more serious the opportunities. Do Artists Actually Make Money From Sync? Yes. Real money. There are typically two revenue streams in sync: The upfront sync fee for the license. Performance royalties are collected when the show airs or streams. Fees vary wildly depending on the project. An indie web series might pay a few hundred dollars. A national commercial can pay tens of thousands. A global campaign or trailer placement can reach six figures. Even modest TV placements can generate meaningful backend royalties over time. The key difference between sync and streaming is scale. One placement can outperform millions of streams. That is why serious independent artists treat sync as a business strategy, not a bonus. Why Connecting With the Right Sync Agency Matters Not every sync company is aligned with every artist. Some focus on indie rock. Some lean cinematic and trailer-heavy. Others dominate advertising and branded content. Some work primarily with one-stop music, meaning they prefer tracks where the master and publishing are cleared in one place. You also need to be “sync ready.” That means clean instrumentals, high-quality production, clear ownership splits, and metadata organized properly. If your paperwork is messy, supervisors will skip you. The goal is not just to get placed once. It is to build long-term relationships with agencies that understand your sound and can pitch you repeatedly. Now, let’s get into 14 sync agencies independent artists should absolutely have on their radar before their next release. 14 sync agencies independent artists should absolutely have on their radar before their next release. 1. Crucial Music Crucial Music is a Chicago-based sync agency known for curating strong independent artists across indie rock, pop, hip-hop, electronic, and alternative genres. They work heavily in television, advertising, and trailers, with placements across major networks and global campaigns. For artists with polished, emotionally resonant tracks that translate well to visual storytelling, Crucial is a serious contender. They prioritize quality and are selective, which means if you are in, you are in for real opportunities. 2. That Pitch That Pitch operates as a modern sync pitching company connecting independent artists with music supervisors and brands. They emphasize building relationships and providing hands-on pitching rather than acting as a massive catalog warehouse. Artists who are proactive, organized, and ready to collaborate on brief-specific submissions may find That Pitch a strong strategic partner. 3. The Syn The Syn focuses on pitching forward-thinking independent music to film, TV, and advertising projects. They are known for working closely with artists to ensure tracks are properly prepped for sync use. If your music leans alternative, moody, or emotionally cinematic, The Syn can be a strong fit, particularly for artists looking for curated representation rather than volume-based distribution. 4. UnitedMasters UnitedMasters operates as a distribution platform with a strong brand and sync partnerships. They have secured placements and collaborations with major sports leagues, gaming brands, and lifestyle companies. While not a traditional boutique sync agency, UnitedMasters offers independent artists access to brand-facing opportunities and sync-style deals without signing away ownership. For artists with momentum and a strong digital presence, it can be a powerful hybrid model. 5. Musicbed Musicbed is one of the most respected platforms for cinematic and commercial sync licensing. Their catalog is widely used in film trailers, brand campaigns, wedding films, and online content. Musicbed is known for quality control and emotionally powerful music. If your sound is atmospheric, indie-folk, alt-pop, cinematic, or instrumental, this platform is particularly strong. 6. A&G Sync A&G Sync specializes in pitching music for advertising, film, and television. They are known for boutique-style representation and personalized pitching strategies. Artists with strong hooks, dynamic production, and clean masters may benefit from A&G’s targeted approach. 7. Sandbox Studios Sandbox Studios operates as both a music and creative studio with strong ties to visual media production. Their approach often blends composition, production, and licensing. Artists who are comfortable collaborating, creating custom work, or delivering brief-specific edits may find Sandbox to be a strong creative partner rather than just a licensing outlet. 8. Third Side Music Third Side Music is a global music publisher with deep sync relationships across film, TV, and advertising. They focus heavily on publishing representation and have secured placements for a wide range of independent and legacy artists. For songwriters who control or co-control their publishing, Third Side can be a powerful long-term sync partner, particularly in indie, alternative, and cross-genre spaces. 9. Audio Network Audio Network provides high-quality music for film, television, advertising, and corporate clients worldwide. Their catalog spans multiple genres and includes both commissioned composers and independent artists. Artists who create versatile, production-ready tracks with broad appeal may find Audio Network to be a strong volume-based licensing platform. 10. Marmoset Music Marmoset Music is known for its boutique, taste-driven catalog and strong presence in advertising and branded campaigns. They curate carefully and often work with distinctive indie artists whose sound stands out. If your music feels authentic, cinematic, and emotionally nuanced, Marmoset can position it effectively within the advertising world. 11. Position Music Position Music operates at the intersection of artist development and sync licensing. They have built strong relationships in trailers, sports broadcasts, and television placements. For artists whose music has high energy, dramatic builds, or strong lyrical themes that translate to sports and action visuals, Position Music is particularly relevant. 12. Secret Road Secret Road functions as both a publisher and sync agency, working closely with songwriters and artists to secure placements across major networks and streaming platforms. They focus heavily on songwriting strength. If your catalog includes well-written, emotionally compelling songs with clean rights, Secret Road can offer substantial sync access. 13. Lyric House Lyric House focuses on music supervision and sync strategy across film, TV, and branded media. They are known for working closely with creative teams and aligning music with narrative tone. Artists with cohesive branding and storytelling-driven music may benefit from pitching to Lyric House, particularly if they are open to strategic collaboration. Final Thoughts Photo by The Syn Sync is not a lottery ticket. It is a strategy. If you want placements, treat your music like a product that needs to fit a brief. Have instrumentals ready. Own or clearly document your publishing splits. Register your works properly. Make sure your production quality is competitive. The right sync agency will not just pitch your song once. They will keep you in rotation for future opportunities. That is how real money and long-term exposure happen. If you are releasing new music soon, do not just think about playlists. Think about scenes. Think about trailers. Think about moments where your song could soundtrack someone’s story.

Boston indie rock veterans The Sheila Divine have spent decades confounding expectations — releasing songs that deftly weave power-punching political criticism amongst mundane daily frustrations, that expose purest grief alongside deepest love. Frontman Aaron Perrino has never been interested in the easy read, and The Middle Ages , the band's sixth album due May 22 on Trash Casual, doesn't offer one. "I Climbed Inside a Whale" is the first taste, and it hits like a reminder of exactly why this band matters. Perrino's voice is front and center — that unmistakable belt, raw and unguarded, the kind that doesn't perform emotion so much as inhabit it. The song carries all the indie emo DNA that made The Sheila Divine essential in the first place, but it sounds like now: urgent, alive, and completely unbothered by nostalgia. This is a band that didn't come back to revisit anything. They came back because they had something to say. The Middle Ages  is a deeply human document of everyday life. Across ten new tracks, Perrino bares his soul and searches his heart in songs that navigate the wide gamut of lived experience: the wrenching loss of his mother, parental anxieties for his children's wellbeing, the strains of congested city life, fractured relationships, and rage at what his nation has turned into. "I refuse to live in a world where people trade empathy for apathy, curiosity for cruelty, humility for hubris," Perrino says. as been built up over time and an extreme desire to avoid current commercial dance music sensibilities. For more info head to the band's website Linktree !

Photo by Tanner Deutsch Los Angeles trio Kid Sistr aren’t easing into 2026 quietly. With their new single “American Teenage Prophecy,” the band leans hard into messy feelings, reckless attraction, and the kind of romantic chaos that only exists when you’re young enough to believe love can rewrite the world. But underneath the rush is a deliberate vision. Kid Sistr frames the song as a reimagining of teenage romance where queer love isn’t political or controversial, it’s just life. First kisses, prom nights, dorm room heartbreak, all the rituals that pop culture has historically reserved for straight love stories get reclaimed and expanded. Inspired by a late-night watch of The Runaways, the single imagines an alternate lineage of rock romance and asks a simple question with massive weight: what stories could exist if nothing stood in the way? Following their punchy previous release “Shitshow,” the new single signals a year where Kid Sistr is clearly done playing small. Having already shared stages with artists like K. Flay, Willow, and Carly Rae Jepsen, the trio channels that live-wire experience into a track that feels cinematic, rebellious, and strangely tender. “American Teenage Prophecy” isn’t nostalgia. It’s a rewrite. American Teenage Prophecy” imagines a world where queer love is treated as ordinary and celebrated. When you were writing it, did it feel more like fantasy, protest, or a glimpse of a future you genuinely believe is coming? Writing this song definitely felt like reaching into a fantasy of a different past. I had just rewatched the 2010 Runaways biopic. I was left with this vivid image in my head of two '70s-era American girls kissing under city lights. I combined that with an internal question I was struggling with at the time: how would my life be different if I had my first queer relationship at 17 instead of 27?   When I was coming into my identity in my mid 20s, it was really hard to accept that I would never have the thrill of a teenage romance with another girl. There was a lot of grief with that. So the song became a space where I could retroactively imagine it for myself. The other elements (of protest and global aspirations for queer joy) just came out naturally when I took myself to that place.  The song captures that reckless, instant attraction energy. How do you balance romantic chaos with emotional honesty in your songwriting without it turning into cliché? Clichés rock!! Honestly, trying to stay away from a cliché can sometimes be a death trap with writing. So many themes centered around love and attraction are cliché, but that’s what makes them so relatable and honest. I think the trick is to just trust yourself as a songwriter while you’re working, and you can always edit after. Anyone listening to the song will relate to it in their own specific way with their own specific memories.  You’ve cited The Runaways as inspiration. What does rock history get wrong or overlook about queer stories, and how are you trying to correct that through your music? The history of rock music and queerness is very entangled IMO. Artists were highly celebrated for adopting a gender bending style because it was counter-cultural. However, they were marketed as heterosexual sex symbols regardless of their queer appearances. Take KISS, for example; KISS was literally doing insane flamboyant drag, but all of their songs are about the graphic sexual pursuit of women. On the other end of the spectrum, tomboys like Joan Jett and Chrissie Hynde were sold to male audiences as sexy, left-of-center bad girls. It’s disorienting and disappointing to look back at this stuff, but luckily, we are living in a time of huge queer visibility in music. I think what has been really corrective is seeing archetypal queer images that in the past were marketed as hetero, now paired with queer artists. We are really hoping to accomplish that with the music video for American Teenage Prophecy, which is out now on YouTube! After “Shitshow” and now this release, there’s a clear sense of momentum. How has performing with bigger artists shaped the way you approach your sound and identity as a band? Thank you! Momentum is good, lol, and that’s definitely thanks to our amazing management and label team, as well as our incredible producer Suzy Shinn. Suzy is a complete genius and worked painstakingly with us to complete these songs. We sent her American Teenage Prophecy as a half-written voice memo, and she encouraged us to work on it; she walked with us every step of the way from voice memo to final master. The amazing thing about living in LA and doing music is that the work is collaborative in nature. Suzy, our team, and our incredible friends inspire us every day to do what we do. It’s an amazing ecosystem. If Kid Sistr could write the ultimate coming-of-age movie soundtrack for queer teens, what themes or scenes would absolutely have to be in it? It’s cheesy, but I’d love a prom scene. I imagined going to prom specifically while writing ATP. Getting drunk for the first time. I’d also love to see a girlie roll up on her girlie’s shitty boyfriend to rescue her so they could ride off into the sunset in her Chevy two-door.  Cutting each other’s hair with kitchen scissors. Femme girl cuts femme girl's hair, turning her into MASC BADDIE. Definitely a swimming scene, probably in undies and sharing playlists and headphones