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Spotify is doing that thing it always does when the heat gets a little too hot: tossing out a new feature and hoping the headlines shift. This time, it’s in-app music videos, a flashy roll-out hitting the U.S. and Canada “soon,” meant to position Spotify as the new one-stop home for everything audio and visual. Cute. But let’s not pretend this is happening in a vacuum. This year, Spotify has been dragging a PR crisis like a ball and chain, from running ICE ads, to a wave of artist boycotts (Cindy Lee, King Gizzard, Deerhoof, Massive Attack… the list gets longer every week), to CEO Daniel Ek stepping down after backlash over his VC firm dumping nearly €600 million into a defense-tech company using AI for military targeting. Not exactly a feel-good year for the “music for everyone” company. So, of course, they’re flipping the script. Spotify says it’s bringing music videos into the app after testing the feature in 98 markets last year. No firm date yet, and no clarity on whether ad-tier users will get access or if this becomes yet another “premium perk.” The company framed the update as a win for independent musicians. And yes, in theory, giving indie artists more visual space inside the app could help them compete with the TikTok–YouTube machine. But the context… is loud. With Daniel Ek stepping out, Gustav Söderström and Alex Norström are set to take over as co-CEOs in January. Right on cue, Spotify has also announced a new partnership with the National Music Publishers’ Association (NMPA), allowing members to cut direct licensing deals with Spotify for expanded audiovisual rights, supposedly leading to bigger royalty payouts. “This new partnership with the NMPA will increase revenue for songwriters and independent publishers who are the heart of the industry,” Norström said. NMPA president David Israelite echoed the sentiment, praising the new revenue opportunities for indie publishers. And honestly? It sounds great. But the timing feels… strategic. When dozens of respected indie and alternative artists publicly pull their catalogs, it hurts, not just optically, but financially. Spotify knows the cultural backbone of music discovery doesn’t come from the big majors; it comes from independent artists, niche communities, and word-of-mouth cult followings. So rolling out a shiny “look, we care about indie creators!” music video feature right after a mass exodus and an ethics scandal? Feels less like innovation and more like damage control. The Bottom Line Will in-app music videos actually help indie artists? Maybe. Is Spotify trying to win back trust after a year of self-inflicted chaos? Absolutely. But indie artists are tired of performative support. They want transparency, stability, and fairer payouts, not a new feature designed to patch a bruised reputation. And this winter, the biggest question hanging over Spotify isn’t how good the new features are. It’s whether the artists who walked away are willing to come back.

Iluka takes over Moroccan Lounge on December 4 Look, the holidays in L.A. hit different. Half the city is escaping their families at concerts, the other half is dragging their out-of-town relatives to a show so they can prove we actually do  have culture beyond Erewhon. Luckily, the city delivered this year. From K-pop chaos to indie sleaze revival and flat-out legendary acts, these are the 10 must-see concerts closing out 2025 and carrying us straight into the new year. Let’s get into it. Iluka — Moroccan Lounge — Dec. 4 If desert-witch rock and emotional truth-bomb pop had a love child, it would be Iluka. She’s giving fierce lyricism, piano-driven heartbreak, and the kind of feminist bite mainstream pop wishes it had. Her new single “ Hard to Love Me ” scratches the current Adele-shaped hole in pop ballads, and this album release show could easily be her L.A. breakout moment. Catch her before she’s unavoidable. KIIS-FM Jingle Ball — Intuit Dome — Dec. 5 Yes, the Jingle Ball is chaotic. Yes, it’s also stacked. This year’s lineup mixes chart darlings Alex Warren, Jessie Murph, Zara Larsson, and Reneé Rapp, with a rare holy-sht* moment: Ejae, Audrey Nuna, and Rei Ami, aka the trio behind “Golden” from KPop Demon Hunters, a song currently eating the Grammy conversation alive. Add Conan Gray, Feid, Jackson Wang, Kid Laroi, and Sean Paul? L.A. loves drama, and this show is full of it. Ben Folds — Blue Note — Dec. 11 Freshly unattached from the Kennedy Center (you know why), Ben Folds is sliding into the Blue Note for a cozy, holiday-coded piano night. Expect songs from his anti-Christmas Christmas album Sleigher  plus deep-cut favorites. After the year L.A. just had, this is probably the softest landing we’re getting. Katseye — Hollywood Palladium — Dec. 13 Katseye is having a Grammy-level glow-up, and honestly? It’s deserved. They’re structured like a K-pop group but built for Western pop dominance, choreography tight, vocals sharper than your ex’s excuses. With the Recording Academy finally taking K-pop seriously, this show is going to feel like the start of something big. KROQ Almost Acoustic Christmas — Kia Forum — Dec. 13 The top of the lineup is a nostalgic fever dream. Evanescence, Papa Roach, Rise Against, Yellowcard, but don’t sleep on the undercard. Wet Leg (UK post-punk chaos sisters) and The Paradox (Atlanta pop-punk kids blowing up off a few viral clips) are the acts that make this show worth showing up early for. Expect mosh energy with a side of time-travel. Cameron Winter — Palace Theatre — Dec. 13 & 14 Fresh off an L.A. show attended by Bono, Beck, and Chappell Roan (yes, really), Geese frontman Cameron Winter is returning solo for two nights that already feel legendary. His album Heavy Metal is slacker-rock brilliance wrapped in art-school weirdness, and with Coachella on deck, these shows might be the last time he feels “underground.” 4 Non Blondes — Roxy — Dec. 15 “ What’s Up ?” refuses to die, and honestly, we’re better for it. Linda Perry resurrected the band this year for festivals, and now they’re bringing that energy to the Roxy ahead of a 2026 reunion album. With Cardi B, Lizzo, Nicki Minaj, and TikTok all fighting over the song’s legacy this year, this show hits like a full-circle moment for alt-rock history. Allman Betts Family Revival — Orpheum Theatre — Dec. 20 If you want musicianship , not spectacle, this is the pick. Devon Allman, Duane Betts, Berry Oakley, Alex Orbison… it’s basically a Southern-rock Avengers lineup. Add guest appearances from Robert Randolph, Dweezil Zappa, Jimmy Hall, and the Dickinson brothers, and you’ve got a holiday show built for guitar nerds and nostalgia junkies. Leon Thomas — The Wiltern — Dec. 22 & 23 Leon Thomas is in his Grammy-nominated era, and The Wiltern gets to host his victory lap. Mutt blends retro R&B, alt-soul, and the kind of songwriting flex only someone who’s worked with Ariana Grande and SZA can pull off. Expect theatrical vocals, real musicianship, and a crowd full of people who absolutely brag about knowing him “before this.” The Roots — Walt Disney Concert Hall — Dec. 31 If you want NYE plans worth bragging about, this is it. Questlove, Black Thought, a catalog deep enough to run two shows without repeats, and an L.A. crowd ready to lose it. Add Questlove’s roster of celebrity friends and the Disney Hall acoustics? This is the most musically elite way to end the year. Whether you’re trying to dodge your holiday obligations or drag your friends into one last sonic adventure before the year resets, L.A.’s end-of-year concert calendar is stacked enough to keep you out every night. Pick your show, pick your chaos, and let the noise carry you straight into 2026.

When a band shows up with jazz chops, folk-pop softness, video-game textures, and the chaotic delight of childhood wonder… you don’t expect it to make sense. But LOBE isn’t here to play by your genre rules, they’re here to play with them. The Bay Area ensemble drops their debut album 'was that on purpose?,' a nine-track trip through improvisation, friendship, and the kind of musical chemistry you only build by growing up together creatively. What started as casual hangouts inside Stanford’s jazz program turned into a collective obsessed with rhythm, experimentation, and the weird beauty in mistakes that accidentally become magic. The record feels like a memory box cracked open, flute lines that sound like Saturday-morning cartoons, violin sweeps that feel like rain hitting a window, polyrhythms that snap you sideways, and arrangements that jump between jazz, alt-folk, disco brightness, and Ghibli-soft balladry without blinking. Every track feels like a question with two answers: one intentional, one instinctive. Rather than anchoring themselves to a single bandleader, LOBE writes like a brain with six minds plugged into it. Their sessions blur the line between rehearsal and therapy, crafting pieces that stretch, contract, and evolve every time they play them. It’s high-level musicianship wrapped in a wide-eyed, playful soul, serious music that refuses to take itself too seriously. Songs like “Sucker Punch,” “Hummingbird Dances,” and “Moon Jelly” capture that dual spirit: meticulous composition sparked by improv-driven chaos, shaped by the trust of a group that genuinely grew up together. And their reimagined “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da," rooted in a children’s bossa version Daiki Nakajima loved as a kid, sums up LOBE’s whole ethos: nostalgia, experimentation, and a willingness to follow an idea until it gets weird in the best way. 'was that on purpose?' holds onto that tension between craft and chance, a studio album built on the energy of moments you can’t recreate twice. It’s a debut that doesn’t just introduce a band; it lets you sit inside their friendship for 40 minutes. We sat down with LOBE to talk about the album’s strange origins, the joy of improvisation, and why embracing the unpredictable became their creative north star. This album embraces improvisation as a core philosophy. How do you balance structure with spontaneity when writing together? LOBE would for sure not be LOBE without improvisation, and we always include sections of songs that are vehicles for allowing ideas to flow in the moment. In some ways, our songs are similar to a lot of jazz compositions. We have written-out, defined ideas and freer interpretive sections where we improvise over the chords and related structures that the written-out sections help establish. Perhaps different than a lot of jazz artists is that our songs often have longer written-out sections for developing ideas, though even these contain parts that are largely open to interpretation by the rhythm section (bass, drums, guitar, piano). Because of that, it was really important to us to record the album live, with full-band takes as much as possible, because of how each of us plays influences the rest.  Each member brings a distinct voice. How did you shape songs around individual strengths without losing cohesion? Because we know each other on a personal level really well, and because we’ve been playing together for so long, the compositional ideas we generate are already bespoke for the members in some sense: the way we write already keeps each person’s voice in mind from the start. We tend to write for the people, and not just for the instrument. Oftentimes, when we bring our songs into rehearsal, the band makes the songs sound ten times better than what we initially imagined in our heads, and this is always a magical feeling. This willingness to change our ideas during rehearsal allows for our compositions to grow organically around each musician’s input and abilities. Childhood nostalgia shows up in both sound and concept. What early musical memories influenced the album? One thing that interests us in the music we make is playing with the concept of play. We aim to make songs that are fun to play and fun to listen to; we emphasize inviting our audience into our music rather than presenting it for consideration. During our improvisations, we have the privilege of childlike freedom because we know we can trust each other when we take playful musical risks. Music is mischief!  In terms of childhood influences, we played a lot of video games growing up (think Final Fantasy, Kirby, Pikmin, Zelda, Pokémon, Sonic, Animal Crossing… ), and that harmonic language definitely permeates our sound (lots of ♭VI chords). Otherwise, what we listened to as kids ranged pretty wildly, for some of us, jazz (John Coltrane, Pat Metheny, Bela Fleck/Victor Wooten) was a common sound growing up, whereas for others, J-Pop (Perfume, DREAMS COME TRUE, SPITZ) and Motown/soul (Stevie Wonder, Earth, Wind and Fire, Tower of Power) proved formative influences. Reimagining “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” in 11 is a bold move. How did that arrangement come together? Though the rhythms and harmonies differ greatly from the original, this arrangement actually came very naturally. We tried to be maximally playful in this song and make it full of surprises, so it’s constantly shifting and morphing in and out of the core 11-beat feel, even moving between different groupings within 11 beats (4+3+4 and 5+6). We also focused on not only making the arrangement really creative but to also make all these sections feel cohesive and obvious, like “oh, of course the LOBE version of Ob-La-Di sounds like that!”  The final groupings and feel came together after a rehearsal that only Daiki and Michael could show up to, at which Daiki brought in an early version of the song in some odd meter that we don’t remember. Michael suggested another feel (9 beats split in 5 and 4) which we didn’t end up going with, but it helped Daiki figure out the final Ob-La-Di version you hear on the album.  After three years of collaboration, what moment made you realize that this project had found its true identity?   When we started our first recording sessions, we didn’t really consider the prospect of an album: we just wanted to immortalize the compositions for our own listening. As our group continued to grow together, we kept recording, listening, and learning until we eventually had one recording session (around March 2023) that we felt just wasn’t good enough.  This called into question what these sessions had to be “good enough” for: ourselves? Sharing with friends? With the world? We eventually realized that the compositions and our playing warranted the effort to improve and make recordings we are proud of. Our standards for these recordings had evidently reached some kind of threshold, and we eventually wanted to share this music with the world.

Let’s cut straight to it: modern dating is a circus, and a lot of people out here are clowns acting like they’re the main event. Asmi Aderay clearly got tired of the half-love, half-ghosting, half-effort era (yes, that’s too many halves, and that’s exactly the problem), so she wrote “Someone Real.” And honestly? It’s the anthem that every emotionally exhausted romantic needed yesterday. This isn’t some flimsy, butterflies-and-brunch pop fluff. This song is for the people who are done pretending that “it’s not that deep” when it actually is. Asmi comes in with a voice that sounds like longing, clarity, and a little bit of “don’t play with me” all rolled into one. Adult Contemporary Pop meets Pop/Rock, but with a sharp edge, elegant, but absolutely fed up. “Someone Real” basically says what a lot of us are afraid to admit: wanting genuine connection is not desperate, embarrassing, or old-fashioned. If anything, settling for the bare minimum is what’s embarrassing. Asmi’s vocals hit like an open diary entry from someone who refuses to be an optional extra in someone else’s life. There’s vulnerability, sure, but it’s served with backbone. She’s not crying on the bathroom floor, texting paragraphs. She’s choosing herself. And in a world where a lot of people are addicted to almost-love, that’s revolutionary. A recent Berklee College of Music graduate, Asmi Aderay, is no amateur. Her artistry is intentional, polished, and aimed right at the soft spots people try to hide. She sings for the romantics who still want to feel something, not just swipe something. Her music is drenched in self-worth, heartbreak, and emotional honesty, and clearly, listeners are resonating. With features on Breaking Sound Radio and rising airplay, shares, and saves, “Someone Real” pulled 1.2K streams in its first two weeks. Not bad for someone doing love songs in a world allergic to sincerity. If you’re tired of performative passion and people who want intimacy without accountability, this track hits home. Asmi Aderay is making music for grown feelings, not placeholder situationships, and thank God, because the bar has been underground. “Someone Real” is proof that romance isn’t dead; it’s just waiting for people who don’t run from their own hearts. Stream it. Feel it. And if it hits too hard… maybe text a therapist before texting your ex. Your quote draws a line between waiting for real love and self-respect. What moment in your life made you realize you were done accepting half-formed, half-present relationships? I think those standards were in me from a young age - honestly, since I was about fifteen. But they solidified once I actually lived through situations that hurt more than they should’ve. I realized I was giving too much and receiving too little, and that imbalance made me shrink myself just to keep something alive. That’s when it hit me: I’m worth more than half-presence and half-efforts. I stopped lowering my guard for people who hadn’t earned it. “Someone Real” doesn’t shame vulnerability; it defends it. Why do you think modern dating culture treats genuine emotion like a liability instead of a strength? A big part of it is technology - especially social media. People are trained to fall in love with what they see, not who someone actually is. Everything is so visual and instant that real emotion feels “inconvenient”. I admit I fell for it myself, and in the process, hurt myself way more than I expected. I even gave dating apps a fair chance just to check, and it played out exactly how I expected: quick connections, rarely any depth. I always encourage people to be social in the real world, make friends, build something naturally, and let love grow from there. You can feel chemistry in one glance, sure - but fall for who they are, not the image. You write for people who feel deeply in a world that rewards detachment. How do you protect your own heart while asking listeners to stay open with theirs? My heart is open too - that’s why I can write the way I do. The important message is not to abandon love altogether. Feeling deeply is a strength. Whether it’s with friends, family, or a partner, that softness is what makes us resilient. The key is to stay open, but move with intention: don’t give your heart away recklessly, don’t lose yourself trying to prove your worth, and only invest in people who give that same love back. And if someone pulls away because they can’t match your heart, let them go. One day, you’ll be proud you protected yourself. You’re a Berklee graduate with strong technical skills, but emotion leads your music. When you hit the studio, what wins: craft or instinct? For me, they move together. My instinct guides the emotion, and my training shapes how that emotion becomes music. I don’t see them as a battle - more like a partnership. Whatever I create has a purpose behind it. And once the song is out, people feel it based on their own stories, not mine. That’s the magic of it. Your song already has support from Breaking Sound Radio and early streaming traction. What does success look like for you beyond numbers? How do you know a song truly reached its people? Success, for me, is the day I’m touring full-time - that’s my biggest purpose. But beyond that, I look at impact. How is the song moving through the world? Are people talking about it, sharing it, connecting with the emotions behind it? Radio play, social media reactions, messages from listeners - those things show me whether a song has truly found its people. When someone feels seen because of something I created, that’s success.

Chris Strei does not just talk about redemption, he walks it every day. His new single, “ One Day at a Time ,” is not a polished sermon; it is a confession put to music. The Brantford-born singer-songwriter marks his fifth year of sobriety with something deeper than celebration. The track carries the weight of someone who has rebuilt their life brick by brick and knows the work is never finished. The sound sits somewhere between country folk grit and the quiet honesty of a church pew. There are echoes of Chris Stapleton and Tom Petty, yet Strei brings a spiritual core that refuses to pretend the darkness was not real. Produced by Iain McNally, with Randy Cooke of Smash Mouth on drums, the song feels crafted, not manufactured. Every line feels lived in, every chord grounded. What separates this from most recovery anthems is Strei’s refusal to divide faith and struggle. Scripture appears, but never as a lecture. He sings like someone who has cursed at heaven and leaned on it in the same breath. It plays like testimony, rough-edged and real. You can hear the relapse fears, the miracles, the nights he nearly broke, and the mornings he got up anyway. The central image of life as a mosaic of light and dark rings true because Strei does not pretend to have solved anything. Pain and peace coexist, and both have a place in the story. You do not need to share his faith for the message to land. “One Day at a Time” hits as a reminder that strength is not a moment, it is a choice you make again tomorrow. In a music world obsessed with glossy perfection, Strei’s sincerity feels rebellious. He is not chasing a trend. He is documenting a life. “One Day at a Time” is designed for anyone who needs a reason to stay, to breathe, and to try again. It is a song for heavy nights and fragile mornings, and it might be one you reach for when the world feels too sharp to hold. "One Day at a Time" feels deeply personal. What specific moment or realization inspired its creation?  The process for this song was quite fragmented. On my one-year sober anniversary, my Mother-in-law gave me a coin that says "One Day At A Time". Earlier this year, when I released my song "Somebody Else's Soul", I took a picture of the coin for the album art, but realized it wasn't the art for that song. I needed to write a song called "One Day At A Time"...although it still ended up not being the album art for this song either, just great inspiration. Often, after my small group at the time, I would stay late at the church and work on music, whether rehearsing, recording, or writing. One night, I was working with a verse I wrote in May 2023, "I've been on the wrong side of Heaven...", and as I continued to work with it, I found myself at the chorus. So I paraphrased a line from the Serenity Prayer that says, "Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it", and summarized it to say, "I won't take this world my way". Then I shot a video for it with Windecker Road Films, which led me to realize I needed to take this to my producer, Iain McNally, and make a full single of it.  How has your faith shaped your journey through sobriety and recovery?  In a way, my sobriety is one of the things my faith is built on. I tried many times in my 20s to quit or at least be more responsible about drinking. I stopped doing drugs when I started dating my wife in 2013, but drinking was my giant. I ended up with stomach and indigestion problems from the harder drinks I'd choose, and by the autumn of 2020, I was just getting bloated instead of even a buzz. Then, when I'd go to sleep, I'd get reflux and feel a weird body buzz in the morning. In September 2020, we started attending our church online. November 1st, 2020, was going to be our first time. I woke up from my worst night yet after only two tall cans throughout the evening before. I chose to bail on attending in person, and that was the day I gave it up. If the choice was between alcohol and God, it was an easy choice. When I look back, it was as if God called me to serve, but He needed me to be sober-minded. So, He healed me of that affliction, almost as a sign or wonder, which made so many people in the Bible believe 2,000 years ago. It's quite a blessing that it just lifted one day, so I can share my testimony and attempt to lead others with a clear mind.  You describe life as a "grand mosaic." How does that idea influence your approach to writing music?  I think my music actually proves my grand mosaic philosophy rather than the other way around, at least for my life. Some people have photo albums and home videos of different periods in their lives. Whether that's physical or on cloud storage, I have those too, but I also have songs that I've written about those moments and chapters. From being young and heartbroken to social struggles and various breakups, moving out of our first apartment, living like a wannabe country outlaw, welcoming and saying goodbye to our daughter, and then continuing to a faithful life and an even stronger relationship. I think the songs are another element that adds detail to mine. Some of my chapters are well-written, and others make me thankful I never published them. Regardless of how I feel, though, they still capture my growth as a person and songwriter, the various styles and skill levels I've explored, and the light and dark phases I've experienced. This is just the stuff we see as the main character in our story. Who knows what would be included if there were an actual, literal mosaic being made of moments in our lives. I imagine Buzz Music would have a really high-res image in the end after all the lives of musicians and their releases you've been a part of.  What was it like working with Iain McNally and Randy Cooke on this record?  Iain McNally is a great friend and mentor to have by my side. He produced my album "The Moonshine," which taught me a great amount about the recording process and also helped me finally grasp a proper singing technique. He's a great person for me to bring questions to, no matter how basic they may be, but we also have a great relationship as friends, which has given us lots of laughs during this project. I didn't really get to meet with Randy Cooke other than through email. He recorded the drums at a venue where he was playing in Kempten, Germany, but he was a professional and very easy to email back and forth with. As a millennial, I'm pretty excited to have the drummer of Smash Mouth on my track. I'm glad I'm much older doing this, so I was able to prevent being a fanboy or anything.  What message do you hope listeners take away from this song, especially those walking their own path toward healing?  I hope people find reassurance, perseverance, but most importantly, an opportunity for faith, from my testimony. I didn't really work to get sober; God changed my heart. Although I could have kept drinking and suffering through it, my heart was cleansed to make me feel it wasn't worth it, and I think that can be a great testimony of the miraculous, supernatural things that God can do. You hear of people being cured overnight of illness; I was cured overnight of alcoholism.  (I've been through some terrible things and things that I saw as terrible evil, yet it was something that was simply interrupting my peace and good times. It all depended on my perspective, and I'm a better person now through it all. In a way, the terrible things I've gone through in the past have given me peace later in life because I can say, "I've been through worse". I've even come to embrace hard times because, through my faith, I find strength, gratitude, comfort, and a constructive perspective. This allows me to look back on darker times and write a song that can hopefully help others realize that tomorrow can bring a sudden change for the better. While some changes take more work than others, some can be as simple as removing that element from your life and adding a healthier one, all because you've accepted the change of heart God is offering you. You never know where that one healthier choice can lead.)

Scarlet Fever is not here to be labeled as a promising young band. With “ Gaslight ” and “Sublime,” the Vancouver alt-rock quartet basically asked, what if we made music for people who have been emotionally mangled but still wake up hot and self-aware? They delivered. Hard. Still barely old enough to rent a car, the band has already figured out something artists twice their age struggle with. Rage and softness can exist in the same body without canceling each other out. “Gaslight” hits like someone finally naming every lie you swallowed in a relationship you should have escaped months earlier. The distortion is not tasteful. It is messy, sour, suffocating. Exactly how psychological manipulation feels when you are trapped inside it. The percussion kicks like it is trying to break through the drywall. The vocal performance is not cleansed or pretty. It is honest. The way a bruised truth sounds when you spit it instead of whispering it. Scarlet Fever pivot and drop “Sublime,” the dreamlike counterweight. This one feels like lying on your bedroom floor at 2 AM, replaying every red flag you let slide and still feeling strangely at peace with it. The shimmering guitar layers create a slow-motion free fall. The vocal delivery floats instead of tearing through the mix. If “Gaslight” is the confrontation, “Sublime” is the recovery. Soft, heavy, and painfully self-aware. Together, these tracks do more than tease the debut album “Girl With Shank.” They promise an era. The band draws on 1990s alt-rock grit. Yes, there are fingerprints of Momma and Snail Mail and the faint ghost of Hole. They are not cosplaying nostalgia. They are building something feral and current, rooted in the emotional landscape of 2025. A landscape where everyone has become an unpaid therapist for people who do not even like them. Replay value is high. The songs linger like a scent you cannot wash out of your jacket. They make you want to confront someone. Or text them. Or block them. Possibly all three in the same afternoon.

Photo by Giovanni Calia We started BUZZMUSIC in Los Angeles, literally sweating through shows on Sunset, ducking into late-night donut runs in Highland Park, writing about indie bands from coffee shops we absolutely could not afford to be sitting in. So if we’re going to tell you where to go in this city, it’s not because Google Maps told us to. These are places we lived through, found ourselves in, got our hearts broken at, and occasionally healed from. These aren’t just outings; these are L.A. experiences that make you feel like the main character in your own life, not someone else’s B-roll. If you're done doing the same tourist loop as everyone who’s ever watched a TikTok travel guide, consider this your actual guide: from goth shopping and mariachi dinners to Malibu ocean energy and the donut that might convert you into a believer. 1. A Concert at the Hollywood Palladium Photo courtesy of The Palladium This isn’t just a venue, it’s a rite of passage. The Palladium has hosted everyone from punk legends to alt-heartbreakers that could soundtrack your quarter-life crisis in real time. The floor shakes, the lights feel too close, and suddenly you’re having a life epiphany next to someone in a band tee older than you. If you see a sold-out show here, congratulations, you’ve unlocked an L.A. core memory. 2. Donut Friend (The PB&J Donut Will Change You) Photo courtesy of Donut Friend Highland Park’s holy ground. Donut Friend is a plant-based donut shop that treats pastries like mixtapes, layered, nostalgic, and stupidly addictive. The Peanut Butter & Jelly donut? It’s a childhood sleepover and a first kiss and a sugar high collapsing into one perfect bite. If you leave with only one photo in your camera roll, let it be this donut. Yes, we said what we said. 3. Shopping @ Posers on Melrose   Photo courtesy of Posers on Melrose Welcome to your goth era. Posers is where fishnets, leather, platform boots, and eyeliner that says don’t talk to me unless you're in a band all find their true north. This is the kind of shop that awakens something in your soul you thought you had outgrown. Spoiler: you didn’t. Dip in. Become the 14-year-old you desperately wanted to be. 4. Griffith Observatory (The Classic, Obviously) Photo by Roberto Nickson Griffith is more than a skyline view; it’s where people go to remember that L.A., for all its chaos and choking ambition, is genuinely beautiful. Come at sunset if you want your Instagram story to do numbers without trying. Come at night if you want to feel small in a way that doesn’t hurt. 5. The Hollywood Sign (Not What You Think) Photo by Paul Deetman Let's be for real: the Hollywood Sign is kind of like watching the ball drop in Times Square, iconic, sure, but smaller and less life-changing than every movie told you it would be. Still worth seeing, but manage your expectations. Cute moment. Not a spiritual awakening. 6. DREAMS Los Angeles (Gone, But Still Holy) DREAMS LA was a metaphysical supply shop that somehow felt like walking into another lifetime. If an angel ever tapped you on the shoulder and whispered a secret, it probably smelled like this place. They closed their physical location after the pandemic and a brutal rent spike (very L.A. of L.A.), but the memory lives feral in our hearts. And yes, we will speak of it forever. 7. Santa Monica Pier Photo by adnorf Yes, it’s touristy. No, we’re not too cool for it. The lights, the ocean air, the Ferris wheel that somehow always feels safe even though it absolutely should not, it’s a vibe. Order something fried, walk the shore, let the Pacific slap you back into emotional alignment. 8. Paradise Cove Beach Café Photo by Paradise Cove Beach Cafe Paradise Cove Beach Cafe is where you go when you want to eat something incredible with your feet basically in the ocean. Malibu hits different. The energy is cinematic, warm, and just unhinged enough to make you believe your life is about to change. The food? Ridiculously good. The vibes? Better. Do these eight things and you’ll get why the rest of the world misunderstands L.A.: they think it’s a backdrop when it’s actually a character. A messy, brilliant, exhausting, addictive character you never totally get over. And honestly? We wouldn’t want it any other way.

Photo by Ekaterina Belinskaya Nepotism isn’t just a Hollywood buzzword or a TikTok talking point. It didn’t begin and end with “nepo babies” on magazine covers, being shocked that people noticed their parents own half the industry. It’s not only a top-40 problem, a pop-star pipeline, or a major-label engineering project. It’s alive and thriving in the so-called “independent” scene, too; we just pretend it’s not, because the branding tells us everyone here is grassroots, self-made, and living off oat-milk tips from gigs at coffee shops. Indie Doesn’t Automatically Mean “Earned” We love the mythology of the indie artist: broke, brilliant, building an audience one cracked vocal and one Bandcamp Friday at a time. But let’s be honest. Some “independent” artists are independently bankrolled by trust funds, industry parents, private school networks, and managers who only answered the email because of a last name. That doesn’t mean they aren’t talented. It means that we need to stop pretending everyone is starting the race from the same spot. If your dad’s an A&R, your mom runs distribution, and your cousin has a blog that magically premieres your first single, you’re not “building from scratch.” And again, that’s not a crime, it’s just context. Transparency shouldn’t be a threat if the art holds up. Connections Aren’t the Problem, The Silence Around Them Is The issue isn’t that some artists have connections. The issue is the weird industry gaslighting that happens when fans, journalists, or other artists point out the obvious. Suddenly, everyone gets defensive, and the narrative becomes: “Why can’t you just be happy for people who chase their dreams?” We are happy for them. But we’re also allowed to talk about a system where two equally talented artists release a song, and one gets playlisted, publicist support, and editorial coverage within 48 hours because their uncle played golf with somebody who mattered. That’s not jealousy, that’s data. Nepotism Can Kill Discovery When gatekeepers pretend there are no gatekeepers, independent music stops being a space for actual discovery and becomes a low-budget replica of the mainstream industry, just with better fonts and cooler merch. The result? We hear from the same circles of artists over and over. Journalists are pressured to cover whoever’s “bubbling” (translation: already connected). Fans miss entire universes of artists they would have loved if they weren't buried under the well-connected few. That hurts the culture, period. This isn’t about discrediting artists with privileged access. Some nepo-adjacent musicians are innovators. Some are making the kind of music that drags you through your own memories like a film reel. Talent can exist anywhere; privilege doesn’t cancel that out. But denying privilege doesn’t protect indie culture, it destroys it. What Accountability Looks Like Not cancellation. Not shame. Just honesty. If you came up through industry connections, say it. If you have safety nets others don’t, acknowledge it. If this were all easier for you because of your last name, own that fact. Because if indie music is going to remain a space for outsiders, misfits, genre-breakers, and people who don’t have anyone to open a door for them, then we need to protect that value by telling the truth about who gets in and how. It’s about lifting up the artists who don’t have industry parents, PR budgets disguised as “organic buzz,” or connections that come with blue checks and backstage laminates. It’s about making sure the indie scene doesn’t become the same closed loop, wearing thrifted jackets instead of designer ones. If we want real discovery, we can’t keep romanticizing a meritocracy that doesn’t exist.

There is a specific kind of nostalgia that doesn’t just hit; it lingers in your chest like a memory you swore you were over. That is what Sunset Blush captures on "Never Lose Your Colours", the latest release from the Australian artist and self-declared pioneer of Purpleslam. This track does not beg for attention with synthetic shine or chart-chasing hooks. It earns it through soul. Purpleslam is not just a genre. It is a mood, a temperature, a late-night reflection in the rearview mirror. Think shimmering melodies, painfully honest lyrics, and that low ache that shows up when music feels too real for a Tuesday afternoon. Never Lose Your Colours is steeped in gratitude, the messy kind. The kind you hold for the people who loved you, shaped you, or broke you in ways that still made you better. Maybe they are still around. Maybe they are a ghost you keep alive by telling stories no one asked for. Either way, Sunset Blush reminds you that the world fades, but a real connection does not wash out. The track hits like a soft punch to the heart because it makes you feel seen. It's warm and immersive, carrying emotional weight without turning into a downer. It feels like a hug you did not ask for but needed anyway. Never Lose Your Colours is not on Spotify. Sunset Blush plays by their own rules and we respect it. The song is out everywhere else, so do yourself a favor: lights low, headphones on, and let the Purpleslam do what it does best. Purpleslam is such a unique term. How would you describe it to someone hearing it for the first time, and what inspired you to create your own genre identity?  I want my music to be defined by its colour and feel, as well as how it makes the listener feel overall when they're listening to it.  Never Lose Your Colours feels deeply emotional yet comforting. Was there a specific moment or person that sparked the writing of this song? It's a song about being grateful for someone who has made a big difference in our lives. And being really thankful for the great things they have given us. I believe we all have at least one or two people who have positively impacted our lives. Many people can relate to that. You've been gigging across Australia for years. How has performing live shaped the kind of artist you've become today? It's definitely taught me a lot. And it has certainly made me a wiser writer and musician. And the audience benefits from that. Hopefully, it shows up in my music.  You mentioned wanting people to feel "less alone" through your music. When did music make you feel less alone in your own life? I want to write and release music that resonates with people, allowing them to hold onto something meaningful when they need it. And wrap a warm blanket around you when you're cold.  You've chosen not to release this track on Spotify. What was behind that decision, and do you think more indie artists should take control of how and where their music lives? Spotify rips off musicians, among many other offenses. However, as a fully independent musician, I have the freedom to decide where my music is distributed. Tidal, Apple Music, YouTube Music, and all the other streaming platforms. All are great, you can find all my music in there.

Rock fans, grab a napkin because things are about to get gloriously messy. Vinnie Paul , the late Pantera/Hellyeah/Damageplan legend who didn’t just dominate on drums but also at the grill, is being honored in the most delicious way possible. Z2 and The Rainbow Bar & Grill have teamed up to bring Vinnie’s actual recipes, yes, the same ones he cooked at his famous Sunday Funday gatherings, straight to the Rainbow’s menu for the entire holiday season. The historic Sunset Strip haunt was one of Vinnie’s favorite spots, so it’s only right that fans can now sit where he sat and devour the dishes he once served to friends, family, bandmates, and road crews. The lineup includes his Epic BBQ Sauced Cheese Burger, a Texas Style Cheese Steak Sammich that isn’t playing around, and the Lemon Pepper Wings that probably deserve their own spot in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. The Cookbook Vinnie Always Wanted to Release This culinary tribute comes alongside Z2’s release of Drumming Up an Appetite With Vinnie Paul, a cookbook Vinnie talked about for over a decade before his passing. This isn’t some label-manufactured nostalgia hustle. The recipes are authentically Vinnie, seasoned, messy, loud, and full of heart. In Vinnie’s own words from 2015, the goal was always simple: cooking should make people say, “G-damn, I love this sh*t!” Just like his music. The book divides recipes into cheekily titled chapters, main courses in “Reinventing The Meal,” sides in “Far Beyond Kitchen,” and desserts in “A Vulgar Display of Flour,” because, of course, Vinnie named them after Pantera lore. With photography by Justin Borucki, illustrations by Danny Hellman, Steve Chanks, and Rob Schwager, and an afterword from his best friend Brian “Bridog” Jones, the book captures the spirit of a man who never did anything halfway. Whether he was behind a drum kit or a grill, he fed people, body and soul. Deluxe Editions, Aprons, and Everything You Need To Cook Hostile The cookbook drops March 11, 2026, in hardcover for $29.99, with a Deluxe Edition available for preorder exclusively from Z2, complete with a butcher-paper dust jacket, a Vinnie Paul “Cooking Hostile” apron, a 25-piece “Hellyeah!!!” napkin set, and a Hellyeah University Cooking Diploma. Limited standalone aprons will also be available. Z2 President Josh Bernstein says publishing the book fulfills a promise: “We hope his recipes, stories, and passion fill hearts and stomachs for years to come.” For a man whose rhythms shook arenas and whose hospitality fed half the touring metal scene, this moment isn’t just a tribute, it’s a revival. Vinnie Paul’s legacy isn’t only in the music that changed metal forever, but in the meals that made even the loudest crowds feel like family. This season, fans get to taste that legacy. Turn up the Pantera, raise a glass, tear into those wings, and getcha’ pull.