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Alternative indie-pop artist Paxson Chase  has never been one to hold back. Known for pairing raw storytelling with unflinching vulnerability, the American rapper, singer, and songwriter returns with his latest project, Pink 3 . The record continues his exploration of love, pain, and healing, digging into the chaos of a breakup and the haunting space it leaves behind. Since his 2018 debut,  I want to kill myself, but now is not the right time.  Paxson has built a reputation for music that stares directly into life’s most uncomfortable truths. His projects,  It Hurts, Doesn’t It? ,  Walk With Me , and the ongoing  Pink  saga, highlight his ability to confront subjects most artists shy away from, from mental health struggles to heartbreak to the gray areas of human connection. Drawing inspiration from 50 Cent, XXXTentacion, Kid Cudi, Hopsin, and even Michael Jackson, Paxson bends genres with ease, merging rap, pop, and soul-baring lyricism into a sound entirely his own. With Pink 3 , he turns the lens on heartbreak in its most disorienting form. It’s about replaying moments you can’t forget, wrestling with the weight of knowing you gave everything, yet still questioning if it was enough. The result is a sonic diary that feels equal parts devastating and cathartic. The album unfolds like a story in chapters. “Blend (Intro)” sets the tone with an atmospheric entry point, a hazy prelude to the emotional storm ahead. From there, “Slow Down” explores the difficulty of pulling back when your emotions push you forward too quickly. “I Think I’m Worse With or Without You” delivers the record’s most gut-punch honesty; the contradiction of missing someone while recognizing their absence may be healthier. On “I Won’t Be Here Tomorrow,” Paxson wrestles with impermanence, hinting at the finality of walking away, while “Save Me 3” is his cry for rescue, fragile, raw, and pleading. “Things I Do for Love” highlights the sacrifices we make even when we know they might break us, contrasted with “I Really Miss Silence,” a meditation on longing for peace when noise and chaos take over. Later in the record, “Runaway” channels escapism, fueled by the desire to leave the wreckage behind, while “Play Pretend” captures the fragile façade we put on when pretending everything is fine. The cinematic “Somersault Blvd.” elevates the atmosphere, offering a wide-lens view of the heartbreak narrative, before the album closes with “Messy Reality,” a stark, unfiltered reflection that ties the entire emotional journey together. “Sometimes love isn’t enough,” Paxson admits, a phrase that frames the entire project. It’s not just a lyric but a truth that reverberates across every track. With Pink 3 , Paxson Chase doesn’t just deliver another breakup record; he documents the vulnerability, contradictions, and lessons that come when you dare to love deeply, even if it ends in loss. Pink 3 feels like such a raw and unfiltered take on heartbreak. What moment or experience first inspired you to put these emotions into music? I think the first week you cut ties in any relationship kinda feels like the worst part of it all, it’s like a distinct feeling of emptiness you experience, and that’s when I initially started the process. You’ve said this project reflects both the good and bad memories of a breakup. How do you approach writing in a way that doesn’t shy away from the ugly parts, but still leaves space for reflection and healing? I just try to be as transparent and honest as I can be. Obviously, there are some things I kept private, but I did my best to be as vulnerable. It’s a process that brings a lot of emotions, but I feel it helps with the healing process  Across your catalog, there’s a recurring theme of survival—whether it’s through heartbreak or struggles with mental health. How does Pink 3 connect to that larger story you’ve been telling through your music? Definitely in the beat selection, a lot of the beats I feel they would, and in the way I structure Pink 3 to feel. I f fans walk away from Pink 3 with one thought, one lasting emotion, what do you hope it is? That it’s okay to let go, and you can do all you can, and things still won’t go your way. I mean that in a good and bad way; there are some things we want so bad, but it doesn’t always pan out. You gotta forgive yourself and all parties involved and keep going.

Houston-based duo  Breathing Space , made up of producer Emi Salinas and vocalist Maura Dooley, has carved out a reputation for crafting music that feels like a late-night conversation with your closest friend. Their work is equal parts tender, confessional, and sonically intoxicating. Their latest release, “ Bad Posture ,” continues that tradition while pushing their artistry into deeper emotional terrain. At its core, “Bad Posture” is a character study, a portrait painted through sound. Emi describes the inspiration as seeing Maura through fresh eyes at the start of their friendship. She appeared far beyond her years, carrying lifetimes of weight, yet still shimmering with vulnerability and humanity. That image becomes the spine of the track. Maura’s smoky, blues-soaked vocals bend around phrases that feel lived in, while Emi’s lofi textures and nostalgic chords create a soft canvas for her words to land. The title itself is a metaphor. Bad posture here is not just physical, but emotional, the way trauma and unspoken hurt can weigh down a body over time. Instead of flattening it into cliché, Breathing Space delivers it with an honesty that feels both intimate and universal. The arrangement is stripped but purposeful, letting every subtle crack in the vocal delivery resonate, while warm production flourishes flicker like streetlights in the background. What makes “Bad Posture” so compelling is its humanity. It is not just about one person, but about the way we see ourselves in others. The tequila drinker, the cigarette holder, the smile that hides grief, the eyes that carry storms. The song dares listeners to look closer, to notice the small signs of pain in those around them, and to choose empathy over indifference. As the final single from their forthcoming EP JAMSANDWICH, “Bad Posture” sets the stage for Breathing Space’s first true era. With its blend of lofi production, R&B warmth, and soul-baring lyricism, it is clear the duo is not just making background music for playlists. They are building worlds you want to live inside. With “Bad Posture”, Breathing Space invites us to slow down, see people fully, and recognize that hurt is something we all share. It is a reminder that connection, even in brokenness, is still sacred. “Bad Posture” feels like such a vivid character sketch. What was it like to write about someone you are so close to? Honestly, it makes it a whole lot easier, but all the more scary. In songwriting, it sometimes feels like you’re called to write in extremes and absolutes, and there was always this constant fear that she would feel I wasn’t really painting her accurately, or that I was trivializing the weight she feels all the time. The title is both literal and metaphorical. How did that concept take shape during the songwriting process? I really always wanted to make a little anthem for all my fellow slouched backs and anyone who’s always getting reminded to stand up straight. And so from that silly, literal idea, I, of course, wanted to dig deeper and find some sort of significance within it and the thread that maybe connects all of us with these crooked spines. Your sound sits at the intersection of lofi, R&B, and soul. How do you balance intimacy with polish in production? We always prioritize intimacy in the production, and what is perceived as polish likely exists as a byproduct. Letting things breathe as openly as possible grants us so much space in a mix that it might sound polished. But in truth, polish is never our intention. We’re always trying to age and beat up our sounds, so it’s quite gratifying to hear it be referred to as polished. JAMSANDWICH  is about to mark a new era for Breathing Space. How does this EP define where you are headed? This EP is going to serve as a kind of signpost for what Breathing Space has always been at its core, and a representation of our sonic identity up to this point. Just two Texas kids trying shit in their bedroom with no expectations, just making things we’d want to vibe to. Think of it as an entry point into our discography for any new listeners. You have described this track as a way to see humanity in others. How do you hope listeners carry that into their own lives? I just want people to recognize the pain in one another. I just want to offer another reason for people to approach one another with kindness. Be open to people. That’s all, really.

California and Danish dream pop quartet Moon Panda return with “ Superstore ,” the latest single from their forthcoming third album Dumb Luck , via Moon Panda/Virgin Music Group. Equal parts hazy, heartfelt, and chaotic, the track shows the band at their most sensuous and emotionally sharp, capturing the fragile micro-moments that define intimacy. Vocalist Maddy Myers describes the song as “about the micro moments of wanting to convince your partner of what you can be for them,” with a chorus that embodies chaos and longing. She asked the band’s producer to make it feel like the Challengers scene where debris blows wildly through the streets, messy, vulnerable, and cinematic. Musically, “Superstore” swirls between delicacy and turbulence, layered with shimmering guitar textures, hypnotic rhythms, and Myers’ featherlight but emotionally charged vocals. The final production, refined by Adam Thein (Djo), brings a lush polish while preserving the organic warmth of the band’s home-studio recordings. Echoes of The Cardigans and even The Carpenters thread through the track, yet Moon Panda’s approach feels distinctly modern, pairing nostalgic dream pop with sharp-edged emotional honesty. As a preview of Dumb Luck , the single perfectly sets the tone for what Myers calls the band’s most collaborative project yet. Each member’s influence is woven into the record: Myers’s introspection, Gustav Moltke’s bursts of energy, Josh Cabitac’s precision drumming, and George Godwin’s left-of-center production sensibility. The result is a collective effort brimming with intimacy and care. Thematically, Dumb Luck carries the weight of transformation. Myers’ recent move back to California and her experience of new motherhood deeply shaped the lyrics, infusing them with both darkness and renewal. Songs grapple with the tension between mourning old selves and embracing the future, turning personal upheaval into lush, cinematic soundscapes. With “Superstore” and the promise of Dumb Luck , Moon Panda proves they are masters of dream pop’s duality: crafting music that floats like a cloud while cutting deep into the human condition. The band is set to tour North America this fall, bringing their new era to life on stage.

Los Angeles-based indie rock outfit SHEEP aren’t here to follow the herd; they’re here to lead it. With their latest single “Lil’ Jimmy,” the four-piece drops an unflinching tale of a restless dreamer, equal parts tragedy and triumph, wrapped in the kind of alternative rock grit that makes you feel like you’re speeding down a highway at 2 a.m. with too much on your mind. Formed in late 2024 and already making noise on the L.A. circuit since summer 2025, SHEEP quickly built “the flock,” a loyal community of friends and fans who show up not just for the music, but for the shared experience. Their sound leans into introspective lyricism while building out immersive walls of sound that echo the psychedelic ‘60s, the groove of R&B, and modern-day influences like The Shins, Wilco, and Mac DeMarco. In short: it’s both familiar and new, comforting and unsettling, like a fever dream you don’t want to wake up from. “Lil’ Jimmy” is where SHEEP put their ethos on full display. The track tells the story of a young dreamer moving too fast for his own good, chasing something bigger than the life he knows. But as with most cautionary tales, Jimmy’s pursuit is blurred by substances, anxiety, and a society that doesn’t make much room for sensitive souls. It’s part fiction, part lived experience, pulled from lead singer Clarke Hallum’s own upbringing in Olympia, Washington, a town where the rain never seems to stop, and dreaming often feels like the only escape. The track doesn’t just wallow, though. Beneath the haze of self-doubt and chaos, there’s a current of hope, a cautious optimism that things can still turn around. As Hallum puts it: “I hope listeners connect with some of the lyrics or the mood of the track—but also feel the subtle hopefulness woven into the instrumentation. I was hoping to touch on that part of us that still dreams big, even when things feel uncertain. And maybe, in that space, feel a little more empathy for those who are still trying to find their way. If it leaves a cautiously optimistic dream in someone’s mind, then it’s done its job.” With “Lil’ Jimmy,” SHEEP prove they’re not just another indie band in L.A.—they’re storytellers, community-builders, and sonic wanderers, inviting anyone who’s ever felt lost to join the flock. “Lil’ Jimmy” feels like a mix of fiction and lived experience. How much of Jimmy is really Clarke, and how much is the character you created? That's true; I would say that "Lil' Jimmy," the character, is sort of an amalgamation of my own lived experience, the experiences of close friends, and stories drawn out of the popular imagination. The story of the song is certainly set in my hometown of Olympia, WA, and dives into specific memories from my youth. However, I feel there's a broader story arc that draws the song to its conclusion that is not limited to that specific time and place. I thought about bringing the song towards a more hopeful end that reflects how my friends and I, who drew inspiration from this song, have flourished past that era of angst, confusion, and grandiose aspirations for the future. I wanted to say that I'm proud of the work that those close to me have done to push through many of life's challenges to find contentment or a little more ease on a life path that is fulfilling to them.  Your sound pulls from ‘60s psychedelia and R&B but runs it through a modern indie lens. What’s been the biggest challenge in balancing nostalgia with something fresh? Our sound definitely pulls from the warmth and texture of ‘60s psychedelia and the soul of classic R&B, but one of the biggest challenges has been making sure it doesn’t feel like we’re just recreating the past. Nostalgia is powerful, but we’ve always wanted to use it as a starting point, not the destination. The key has been leaning into those vintage influences for their emotional weight and sonic richness, while being intentional about our production choices, songwriting structure, and lyrical themes to reflect the world we're living in now. You talk about building “the flock” instead of just having fans. What does that community actually look like at your shows, and how do you keep it growing? I think that term naturally developed from our choice of band name. "The flock", "sheeple" or the "band of sheep" (which, if you didn't know, is actually the legit term for a flock of sheep that is larger than a thousand) reflects our hopes to develop a big, open, yet tight-knit community of friends and fans who connect with us and each other through the music and at live shows. I think by choosing the name, SHEEP, we were aware of the pressure of conformity that can wash over many up-and-coming bands to give into popular trends, but also not afraid to embrace that reality and pose ourselves as something that is completely new and original. We do follow our influences, recreate sounds and styles that appeal to us, and take the examples of the past as signposts for how we can develop our own unique take on this indie/alternative rock thing. Sheeps get a bad rap, but sometimes we all just wanna rock with the flock and have ourselves a good time.  L.A. is packed with indie bands trying to break through. What do you think separates SHEEP from the noise? It’s true—L.A. has more indie bands than taco trucks. But what separates SHEEP from the noise is that we’re not trying to be the coolest band—we’re just being ourselves, having fun, and making music that actually means something to us. We mix ‘60s psych vibes with soul and modern indie, but we also bring a ton of energy and weirdness to the stage that makes our shows feel more like something of a kick back or backyard hang than a performance. If “Lil’ Jimmy” leaves listeners with one thing, whether it’s a feeling, an image, or a thought, what do you hope that is? I hope that listening to "Lil' Jimmy" is fun, somewhat of a journey, and the lyrics strike a chord with anyone who has felt like they have dreams or aspirations that are larger than life. I wanted to reflect on my childhood, remember my friends, and share a piece of what we all collectively went through. We were finding our place, dreaming of the future, and also struggling with the weight of those moments in our lives. Maybe anyone who has battled with addictions or depression might hear some words that resonate with them? I wanted Lil' Jimmy to be a character that is relatable - a rocker and a dreamer, but also a flawed kid skirmishing with his own inner voice.

Holly NuRock has arrived with a sound built for the after-hours. The Los Angeles-based artist, producer, and songwriter just dropped his new single “ Phantom Lights , " and it’s an intoxicating ride through electronic, dark R&B, and 80’s-inspired energy. More than just a track, it’s a mood, the kind of song that feels like a film score for neon-lit city streets at 2 a.m. From the jump, “Phantom Lights” pulls you into its atmosphere. The production is heavy on vintage synths, dirty basslines, and a fusion of trap and ’80s drum patterns that hit like a heartbeat in the dark. It’s sleek, moody, and cinematic, yet still raw enough to keep your head nodding. The vibe recalls elements of The Weeknd’s brooding R&B, Mike Dean’s synth-driven landscapes, and Kavinsky’s retro-futuristic pulse, but Holly manages to push it somewhere fresh, somewhere unmistakably his. This release is more than just a single; it’s a statement. For years, NuRock has been the force behind the boards, shaping sounds for artists like Lara Wilson, Kidd Conez & Stevie Stone, Sweatson Klank, and more. But “Phantom Lights” shows him stepping fully into his own artistry, taking center stage with a vision that refuses to be boxed in. With a visualizer and a vocal remix already on deck, it’s clear this is just the first glimpse of what’s coming. What sets Holly apart is his ability to fuse worlds. He doesn’t just blend genres, he builds immersive spaces. “Phantom Lights” isn’t background noise; it’s the kind of track you put on when you want to escape, reflect, or simply lose yourself in sound. It’s moody enough to soundtrack heartbreak, but driving enough to fuel ambition. That duality, dark yet electrifying, heavy yet freeing, is what makes this release stand out. As the founder of NuRock Entertainment, Holly has already proven he can shape culture from behind the scenes. But now, with “Phantom Lights,” he’s shifting the spotlight onto himself. And if this track is any indication, Holly NuRock isn’t just chasing a sound, he’s carving out a new lane in the electronic/R&B space. "Phantom Lights" feels like it was written for those late-night, cinematic moments. What inspired the mood and atmosphere of the track, and what do you hope listeners feel when they hear it? Phantom Lights  came from those nights whe n the world feels quiet, but your mind is racing. I’ve always been inspired by the energy of driving late at night; it’s been one of my go-to escapes for as long as I can remember. I wanted to capture that feeling of being caught between reality and a dream. My hope is that when people listen, they feel transported, like they’re in their own movie, free to reflect, escape, or just vibe out in the moment. You’ve worked behind the scenes for years as a producer and songwriter. What was the biggest challenge in stepping into the spotlight as an artist in your own right? The biggest challenge was letting go of perfection. When you’re behind the scenes, you’re not front and center — you’re shaping other artists’ visions and helping them shine. But when you step forward as your own artist, it’s vulnerable. You’re no longer just producing or writing; you’re sharing your story and your energy directly. For me, it was about trusting that my unique sound and perspective were worth putting out there. The track fuses dark R&B, electronic textures, and 80s-inspired synths. How do you approach blending genres without losing that signature NuRock identity? I think it comes down to intention. I never go into a session thinking, ‘I’m going to make an R&B track’ or ‘this needs to feel 80s.’ I focus on channeling whatever emotion I’m feeling in that moment, and I spend a lot of time searching for sounds to create that emotion, and then I let the production follow that feeling. My signature comes through in the choices I make: the textures I love, a cinematic atmosphere, the way I layer melodies and rhythms. It’s like building a world where all these influences coexist but still feel authentically me and unique. As the founder of NuRock Entertainment, you’ve collaborated with a wide range of artists. How have those experiences shaped the way you crafted Phantom Lights? Working with so many incredible artists and writers has taught me how to listen — not just to music, but to people’s stories and emotions. I’m always learning something new in a session, and I love working in a variety of genres because it really stretches me musically. When it came time to make Phantom Lights , I pulled from all of those experiences, but I also allowed myself to let go and break free from expectations. With a visualizer and remix on the way, what role do visuals and storytelling play in your vision for this single, and how do you see them elevating your sound? Visuals are a huge part of my creative process. When I make music, I see the notes as individual colors, it’s a phenomenon known as Synesthesia — and I’ve experienced this since I was a kid. With Phantom Lights , the visualizer plays into the colors I see. Expect it to be a trippy late-night ride with wild colors and vivid lights. It’s meant to be an immersive experience — where the listener isn’t just hearing the song, they’re seeing and feeling the world it exists in.”

Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter Sadie Miller  is back, and this time, she’s pulling no punches. Her latest single, August might be her most vulnerable release yet, capturing the ache of heartbreak that you see coming but still choose to walk through. Sadie’s always thrived on raw, emotional storytelling, blending it with the dream-pop and alt-pop edge of her generation. Since debuting with Yours  in 2018, she’s built a cult following off tracks like Pretty Boys , Dangerous , and 21 , as well as her debut album Internet  in 2022. More recently, singles like Puff n Pass , Liar , and Boy Is a Gun  have cemented her as one of indie pop’s most magnetic voices. But August  feels different; it strips away the armor and goes straight for the gut. Built on atmospheric production and lyrics that read like an open diary entry, August  is both devastating and empowering. It’s a plea for honesty in love, an anthem for anyone who’s been burned but refuses to look away. Sadie’s vocals glide between fragile and fearless, creating a track that’s as much about acceptance as it is heartbreak. True to form, Sadie isn’t just dropping music; she’s creating moments. Alongside the release, she’s rolled out limited-edition merch (tank tops and hats) through her Spotify and Shopify storefronts, giving fans a tangible piece of the August  era. And while details of her next live shows are still under wraps, one thing’s certain: the stage is calling. With August , Sadie Miller proves once again that vulnerability is her superpower. By turning her heartbreak into sound, she’s given her listeners not just a song, but a mirror for their own stories. August  is available now on Spotify, Apple Music, and all major streaming platforms.

Toronto’s own Specyal T  has built a career on being unapologetically herself, and her new album After The Applause  is her boldest truth yet. The Caribbean-Canadian artist, musician, songwriter, composer, and executive producer doesn’t just make records; she makes statements. This time, she’s tearing down the curtain on what it really  means to be an indie artist when the lights cut and the crowd goes home. Where others chase the gloss, Specyal T thrives in grit. After The Applause  is a diary written in real time, about resilience, identity, and the weight of chasing dreams while carrying every role on her back. Each track feels like a different lens into that world, giving listeners the reality that usually gets silenced. The album kicks off with “Ben’s Girlfriend,” a tongue-in-cheek cut that fans will recognize from Chasing Sunday . It sets the tone with playful storytelling and Specyal T’s trademark blend of relatability and experimentation. From there, she switches gears with “Automatic,” a slick, layered track that feels like motion in sound, capturing the grind of moving forward, even when you’re running on fumes. The record’s centerpiece is the standout single “Acid Wash.” Gritty, infectious, and emotionally charged, it’s the anthem of the project. With a sharp pop/rock edge, it nails the mission of the album: showing that the battles offstage are just as defining as the ones under the spotlight. “Sent You A Postcard” slows the tempo, delivering one of the album’s most vulnerable moments. It’s bittersweet and stripped-back, like an open letter written in melody. The honesty hits hard, reminding you that behind every hustle there’s a heart that’s lived through it. Closing with “Motel Melody,” Specyal T ties it all together in a way only she can. The track captures the late-night solitude of life on the road, balancing grit with intimacy. It’s the perfect curtain call for an album that refuses to sugarcoat the reality of independence. What gives After The Applause  its weight is the storytelling woven across these five tracks. It’s more than music; it’s a map of the struggles, triumphs, and lessons that come with daring to go all-in on your art. With this project, Specyal T proves yet again that being indie isn’t about following trends, it’s about torching the mold and carving your own path. Fearless, visionary, and deeply authentic, she’s not just chasing applause; she’s rewriting what comes after. After The Applause  explores the realities behind the music industry, what was the hardest truth to put into words? I’d have to say that this entire album was refreshing and therapeutic, allowing me to express my truth in a creative and free way. “Acid Wash” is a standout track. How did you approach its creative process differently from your past work? The moment I heard the instrumental, I was hooked! A similar process, where my love of word play paired with some hard truths, naturally emerged. How does this album represent growth from your previous project , Foresight ? This album is unique in that it is a band project done solely by the band. I delved into a different genre while staying true to my vibe. What do you want indie artists specifically to take away from  After The Applause ? I hope that indie artists will appreciate and relate to this album, but also just celebrate and vibe with it.  As both artist and executive producer, how do you keep control of your vision without burning out?   My passion fuels me; it’s like a calling. When inspiration hits, the creativity flows.

Vancouver’s rising indie folk-rock artist Kate Yahn delivers a deeply personal yet universally resonant story on her new single “Graceland.”  Known for powerhouse vocals and a stage presence that blends raw intensity with vintage allure, Yahn channels the influence of seventies icons like Stevie Nicks and Linda Ronstadt while adding her own modern spin. With “Graceland,”  she proves that sometimes the best detours are the ones we never plan. The track was born after Yahn’s first trip to Nashville in late 2022. On her way home, she landed in Memphis, where her grandfather had urged her to visit the iconic Graceland for clarity during a time of uncertainty. Instead, a chance encounter with a local musician rerouted her journey, sparking a whirlwind of emotions that became the foundation for the song. The result is a lush, diary-like narrative that weaves together longing, desire, blurred intimacy, and bittersweet nostalgia. Produced by Benjamin Millman and Jon Anderson, and co-written with Jared Manierka (Carly Rae Jepsen), Michaela Slinger, and Vox Rea, “Graceland”  shimmers with layered guitars, driving percussion, and Yahn’s striking vocal delivery. The production nods to Fleetwood Mac’s golden era, while its crisp, modern polish ensures the track belongs squarely in today’s indie folk-pop landscape. Each verse reads like an unfiltered confession, and when Yahn belts the chorus, her voice soars with both conviction and vulnerability. At its core, “Graceland”  is less about a physical place and more about an emotional state. The missed pilgrimage becomes a metaphor for the unpredictable paths love and identity often take. The push and pull of sweetness, desire, and longing capture the experience of being drawn to someone who feels close but never fully within reach. It is messy, confusing, and achingly human. “What I really hope for, with every song I write, is for the listener to be able to see, or hear themselves in the song,” Yahn explains. That relatability is exactly what makes “Graceland”  so magnetic. Whether listeners are rekindling a romance, acting on a crush, or reflecting on their own detours, Yahn’s song leaves the door open for self-discovery. “Graceland”  solidifies Kate Yahn’s place as one of Vancouver’s most compelling emerging voices, combining retro sensibilities with sharp emotional clarity. If she keeps delivering songs like this, she won’t just be visiting music landmarks. She’ll be creating them.

At just 18, Joely Engelbert has already proven she’s more than a rising pop talent. She’s an artist with depth, conviction, and a voice that feels destined to matter. Her new single, “Until She Smiles,” written for the film What Tomorrow Brings  (directed by her father, Matt Engelbert), is both a cinematic finale and a powerful standalone track, carrying enough emotional weight to move even the most unshakable listener. Where her earlier singles (released under the name Jojo Engelbert) leaned into youthful angst and punchy pop charm, “Until She Smiles” introduces a more vulnerable, mature side of Joely. It’s a song of reclamation, an anthem born from brokenness, sung through the lens of Clara, her character in the film. Having endured trauma and unrelenting struggle, Clara’s journey culminates in this stripped-back performance, where every lyric feels like a lifeline pulled from the depths of survival. The production keeps things refreshingly minimal, letting Joely’s voice shoulder the emotional core of the song. Her delivery is raw and unguarded, soaring at moments when pain gives way to hope, softening when the weight of memory presses back down. The lyrics don’t overcomplicate. They don’t need to. They mirror the very essence of resilience: simple truths, sung honestly, with no filter. The accompanying music video (taken directly from the film’s climactic scenes) underscores this sincerity. As Clara reflects on her darkest hours, intercut with flashbacks of her bond with Ruby (played by Joely’s real-life sister, Phoebe Engelbert), the narrative unfolds with aching tenderness. These visuals aren’t just cinematic flourishes; they reinforce the song’s central heartbeat: that love, connection, and perseverance can carry someone through the worst storms. What makes “Until She Smiles” so impactful is that it straddles two worlds seamlessly. It is both a piece of a greater story in What Tomorrow Brings  and a deeply personal ballad that listeners can connect to outside the film. Its themes of trauma, survival, and healing transcend the screen, striking chords in anyone who’s ever had to claw their way toward the light. With “Until She Smiles,” Joely Engelbert officially steps into her own as a pop artist unafraid to get real. It’s a haunting yet hopeful song that positions her as not just “born in the spotlight,” but fully capable of commanding it. Joely, how did stepping into the role of Clara influence the way you approached writing and performing  "Until She Smiles" ? My sister, Zoey Engelbert, wrote the song. The director of the film required the song to be moving, emotional, and cathartic. As for performing the song, I performed it as Clara. Of course, when you are acting, the character is very much a part of who you are. It comes from within you. I lived with the role during the scriptwriting process and through eight months of filming. It took an emotional toll, and I think that was reflected in the song's performance. I think it was reflected, not only visually, but also vocally. The lyrics feel like a reflection of both Clara's and your own journey. How much of yourself do you see in this song? That's an interesting question, and I'm not sure I had looked at it that way. Of course, the music video, which is the last scene of the movie, shows those moments between Clara and her younger sister, Ruby. My younger sister (Phoebe Engelbert) played the role of Ruby. So every scene seemed real to both of us. We are, in real life, very close. As Clara would do anything for Ruby, I would do anything for Phoebe. What was it like collaborating with your family on a project that touches on such heavy, emotional themes? My dad is a brilliant writer, director, and producer. He had this very powerful story. He knew that Phoebe and I could handle the very dark subject matter. It involves the impact of suicide on a child. It explores those unbreakable bonds between sisters. Phoebe and I loved working with him. It was also great to have our older three siblings so much a part of the process. You may know that Ariel, Zoey, and Eli had two nationally syndicated television shows. They understand what it's like to be in front of a camera. They also know what's involved behind the camera. Ariel was my dad's assistant, and she also had a role in the film. Zoey is a licensed cosmetologist, and she was responsible for hair and makeup. She wrote Until She Smiles, and she also played a role in the movie. Eli was responsible for the sound and the soundtrack. He worked so closely with my dad on every scene. I'm not sure we would have been able to make the movie without each member of the family participating. My mom actually voiced the role of Dr. McAdams, and she did so much behind the scenes, from making meals to sewing outfits. The track leans into simplicity. Was that a conscious choice to mirror Clara's raw state of mind? This song is about the lyrics more than anything else. Zoey tells us a story that perfectly captures what Clara was feeling, looking back on her journey. The music was just right. It complemented the lyric and my vocals. As you transition from "Jojo Engelbert" to embracing your full name and identity, how does this song symbolize your evolution as an artist? Professionally, I never liked being called Jojo. I like my name. I don't mind when my friends and family call me Jojo; that's just a nickname. I was pushed into using Jojo early on by an agent and always looked forward to parting ways. As for symbolism, I suppose it is just me emerging as both someone who is no longer a child and as a singer and actor on my own terms.

After years of quiet, The Capsules return with “Machines,” a track that feels both like a tribute to their tools of the trade and a statement of revival. Julie and Jason Shields have long thrived on the textures of analog gear: pedals, processors, amps, and instruments that not only shape their sound but also become companions in the creative process. With this new release, those machines become more than background equipment. They are the heartbeat of the story. “The silence breaks / the circuits pulse / reverberate,” sings Julie Shields, her voice blending relief with urgency. It’s not just about cables and pedals. It’s about finding your way back after time away. “Machines” celebrates connection: between the musician and their gear, but also between the artist and their art, silence and sound, and absence and return. Sonically, The Capsules have leaned into a darker, more immersive palette. Longtime fans will recognize their synth-driven dream pop core, but the edges have been sharpened. Shades of shoegaze, darkwave, and post-rock swirl through the mix. Overdriven amps hum like living creatures, while vintage pedals add grit and unpredictability. The result is nostalgic yet modern, intimate yet expansive. The accompanying video further develops the theme. The band members dissolve into static, morphing into jagged human-shaped signals on a black background. Handwritten words flicker into existence above them, shaky at first before coming into focus, echoing the way music emerges from noise into clarity. The visuals mirror the song’s sonic tension: fragile yet powerful, mechanical yet deeply human. At its core, “Machines” isn’t just about gear. It’s about endurance. It’s about returning to what makes you feel alive and acknowledging the tools that have helped you get there. The Capsules aren’t the same as before, and that’s the point. Their sound now carries the weight of time and distance, charged with new electricity, buzzing with defiance. With “Machines,” The Capsules prove that analog still matters, and so does the band itself. The track hums with energy, ready to reverberate through anyone who plugs in. What inspired you to frame "Machines" as both a love letter to analog gear and a metaphor for renewal? The original idea for "Machines" stemmed from imagining what it would be like for our analog gear to come back to life. The feeling of electricity and sound pulsing through it all again. Our last two albums featured more synths and electronic drums, and this new one we're working on, which "Machines" was created for, is definitely more organic. When writing the lyrics, we noticed a parallel between the gear and ourselves, as we were coming off a brief break from releasing new music. It felt like not only the pedals and analog gear were coming back to life, but the band was too. How has your time away from releasing music shaped the sound of your return? We're actually more fearless than we were in the past. And we are trusting our instincts more and letting the music take its own course. The sound is a little darker overall, reflecting the challenges life has presented since our last album. Especially the loss of some important people in our lives, very close to us, that we each experienced during that time.  The visuals are striking. How did you come up with the static and handwritten elements? The idea for the music video started with trying to think of ways to make the band members appear as some sort of visual depiction of the music. It started by capturing the song's visual representation through a wide variety of audio processors. And the shapes that make up the interior lines of our silhouettes are actually screen captures of the song through a particular style of audio analyzer.  We were originally considering taking more of a traditional "lyrics video" approach with "Machines," but ended up with kind of a hybrid of an interesting visual for the band, mixed with some animated text in order to give the video some additional life and movement.  What role do vintage pedals and amps still play in your creative process compared to digital production? We use a lot of vintage gear when we play live and often write and record with a lot of that same gear. It's true that the recording has become pretty much a fully digital process, but capturing some of that analog magic, be it with guitars, pedals, synths, etc., on the tracks is fun for us. How do you see "Machines" fitting into the evolution of The Capsules' overall sound? It's interesting because the earlier albums that we released were a bit more on the organic side, and over time, swayed more towards synths, electronic drums, and loops, and now we're getting back to more guitar, bass, and live drums again.  We're still using plenty of synths, but I think they're less of a focus on most of the new material and are used more as textures. I think "Machines" is a good representation of some of those newer ideas of where we're heading.