The track introduces her forthcoming EP What’s After “I Love You?” as a collection of R&B songs that feel laid back and sexy in spite of their patently unsexy subject matter, which surrounds a familiar post-breakup self-reflection and the ennui it inspires. “I think most humans want love and to experience a mutual partnership,” she shares of where the lyrics came from. “No one is owed love by their partner, but what a beautiful thing for someone to want to choose you.”

Hear the track below ahead of the EP’s March 4 release date.

The track arrives ahead of her newly announced Luna EP, set for release on March 4 via her new label home of Park the Van Records. “It’s actually funny because I recorded myself performing this song and then I lost the recording,” she explains, noting that she finally came across it again six months later. “Eventually I showed it to my guitarist and he loved it and encouraged me to put it on the next EP. I love this song because anyone can imagine this chance encounter with someone who takes your breath away. The song has a magic to it that the listener can believe in. I automatically thought of a ’50s doo-wop feel on the bass while writing this song, so I’m happy that vibe intensified on the final version. Probably my favorite song off the EP.”

The single arrives with a video of Chief Cleopatra performing the track in the sunny outdoors in front of a very-Austin mural before taking things indoors to a dimly lit venue that matches the track’s intimate vibe. Watch it below.

As has become the norm since that 2014 debut, the new album is a tidal wave of sounds and ideas fused together from disparate influences and contrasting genres. Two tracks into Heterosexuality we get “Cisgender,” a booming, five-minute track which hints at dubstep’s bygone wubbings before opening up into the type of epic arrangements you hear on the local ’80s adult contemporary station. By the next track, you’re immediately bludgeoned by a Nine Inch Nails industrialist instrumental before Shamir’s voice starts rapping bars far outside the lyrical wheelhouse of Trent Reznor.

With all these jumbled influences in mind, we asked Shamir to put together a playlist of the tracks he took inspiration from on the new album, which sees cult lo-fi group Beat Happening alongside present-day pop monoliths like FINNEAS and BLACKPINK’s ROSÉ, Nicolás Jaar’s Against All Logic project abutting the moody new wave of Echo & the Bunnymen. Stream the whole playlist below, and pre-order Heterosexuality—out this Friday via AntiFragile Music—here.

The Raincoats, “Off Duty Trip”

Palmolive is one my absolute favorite drummers, and she’s at the height of her powers on this song. The drums are beautifully primal.

Against All Logic, “If You Can’t Do It Good Do It Hard”

In a very different way the drums in this song are also beautifully primal. I also love the Lydia Lunch sample.

Beat Happening, “Bewitched”

Most people know I’m a Beat Happening stan (I have a K Records tattoo). I love how this song is equal parts dark and simple in an almost adolescent kinda way.

Scrawl, “Prize”

I think Scrawl is an incredibly underrated band. This song has one of my absolute favorite riffs.

Echo & the Bunnymen, “Seven Seas”

I mean, who doesn’t love Echo & the Bunnymen? If you don’t like Echo & the Bunnymen don’t talk to me.

Velocity Girl, “Pretty Sister”

This might be my favorite Velocity Girl song. I love how lo-fi the production is and how vicious the guitars are after the chorus.

The Stone Roses, “I Wanna Be Adored”

Not much to say about this one other than it’s literally one of the best songs ever made. This is a hill I will die on.

Gracie Abrams, “I miss you, I’m sorry”

Gracie is one of the new artist I’m always excited about. This song is absolutely gorgeous.

ROSÉ, “On the Ground”

This is my favorite out of all the BLACKPINK solo singles. ROSÉ is extremely powerful and talented.

Arlo Parks, “Eugene”

Arlo is an absolute angel and deserves all her success. I cannot wait to see what she does next.

Lauv, “Dishes”

This song is so very vibey, it’ll always be my quarantine jam.

FINNEAS, “The 90s”

Obviously FINNEAS is already goated, I’m always happy when he gets a moment to shine.

A Place to Bury Strangers

Since their inception in New York City in the early 2000s, A Place to Bury Strangers have created a certain expectation when it comes to their post-punk sound. Even without any knowledge of their music, the name of the band speaks volumes as far as communicating the darkness they tend to evoke. What their sixth album, See Through You, does is expand upon the electronic, warehouse-rave-set, live sound quality introduced on last year’s Hologram EP, creating a bliss-out effect within their harsh original songwriting formula.

See Through You is an album rich with detail that explores the possibilities and limits of post-punk, with elements of electronic music prominently woven in. Heavy use of bass and electro beats as heard on “So Low” and “I Disappear (When You’re Near)” create forward-looking vibes—like glimpsing into a dark, edgy future—while maintaining the same gritty sounds of decades past the band’s always toted. That noise-rock and industrial aesthetic the band’s come to be known for also lends See Through You elements of Berlin-era Bowie and Iggy—songs like “Let’s See Each Other” feel like a return to vocalist Oliver Ackerman’s native New York in the days of CBGB. 

The addition of new elements and perfection of familiar qualities make See Through You a special album from A Place to Bury Strangers. Even as its attributes rewrite and reject sonic ideas from previous releases from the band, each song on this album sounds quite different from the next. A Place to Bury Strangers went out of their way to make this record an eclectic and diverse range of sounds within a specific style, leaving room for innovation and rewarding unpredictability.

“The general meaning of the song is kinda like the phrase ‘that’s life,'” the LA-based singer and producer explains. “It’s a reminder to myself and anyone who listens that life is life; you can’t control the way things happen or the way people react to your actions. You can only control yourself and your own actions. It’s an almost-cheesy motivational message, but that’s the point,” she adds. “It’s fun for me to slip into cliches once in a while.”

“In the Real World” builds toward a blissed-out bridge containing this instantly iconic address: “And to my old lover / Don’t miss who you are / Just want your guitar.” But this isn’t really a grudge song—it’s an I’m-going-keep-living-my-life song. The music video plays into that carefree vibe, showing Gengos and friends eating and drinking and dancing their way through Copenhagen.

Gengos considers this the “poppiest” song on her forthcoming record Mechanical Sweetness, which makes sense given its prominent synths and gliding melodies. But her vocals—cool, distant, knowing—carry the song, just as her vocals carry previous singles. Check out “In the Real World” and read a Q&A with Gengos below.

Mechanical Sweetness is out February 25 via Egghunt Records—you can pre-order it here.

When and where did you write the songs on Mechanical Sweetness?

Most of the songs were written in my apartment in LA, but a few date back to my time living in New York. I suppose they were all written between 2019 and 2020. I write best when I’m alone in my bedroom. Solitude is very important for me in the recording process, too. I recorded everything (except for the drums) by myself in my living room.

How did “In the Real World” come together?

I had recently gotten a Juno-106 synthesizer, and wanted to lean into the ’80s sounds. I was listening to a lot of Todd Rundgren at the time, and was trying to write a classic pop song in that ’70s style. I wrote most (if not all) of the instrumental before the melody or lyrics, which is rare for me—usually I write them simultaneously, or write the melody and lyrics first. I remember sitting on the floor of my bedroom just ad-libbing to the instrumental while it played off my laptop speakers. I had pulled some books off my shelf for inspiration: one was about ’80s fashion fabric, and the other was a Dorothy Parker biography I found on the stoop of a brownstone in New York, titled You Might as Well Live after a line in one of her poems. That became the chorus.

What was the vision for the music video?

I tried to capture the feeling of stepping out during the middle of a party or house show at the end of “In the Real World,” which kickstarted the brainstorming for this video. Right around the time I planned to shoot it, I booked a last-minute trip to Copenhagen, where I lived in 2019. I hadn’t been back since then, and I thought that the trip would be the perfect opportunity to capture a diary-like record of whatever I got up to with my friends in the city. It’s sort of a parody of a tour diary. My friend Philip Hededam helped me direct and shoot the video, and he was on the exact same page as me in terms of what I wanted it to look like.

What are some recent musical influences? 

While writing the songs, my heavy rotation consisted of The Mamas and the Papas, Melody’s Echo Chamber, The Supremes, Weyes Blood, Lana Del Rey, and The 5th Dimension. I definitely took influence from all of them. I wanted to focus more on my voice than I ever have before, so I learned a lot from those artists. I also had the ever-present influence of The Beatles and The Beach Boys in terms of melody and instrumentation. I don’t know how much these influences came through to the outside listener, but they’re there for me.

How does your 2019 album Cut Through compare to Mechanical Sweetness?

Cut Through was sorta like a hairball I had to cough up—I’m really proud of those songs, but they all came out pretty quickly and I didn’t overthink them at all. Overthinking is what gets me to realize my best ideas, even if it drives me insane. I spent a lot more time writing the songs on Mechanical Sweetness, and let them unfold naturally throughout a long period of time. I also experimented with a lot more synth sounds on Mechanical Sweetness, and taught myself more about drums. Even though a lot of drums on the album were recorded live, I wrote all the parts digitally.

Cut Through was much more of a “relationship album” than Mechanical Sweetness. Most of the songs were about the relationship I was in at the time, and how it took a toll on me. Mechanical Sweetness is a self-reflective, solitary journey. It was greatly inspired by my return to my hometown of LA. I think I’m a lot more mature and confident now—wiser, even—and that comes through in the lyrics. I also wanted to be more playful and explorative with these lyrics, dipping into the imaginary and the surreal.

ME REX

When you release an album with no fixed start or end, you run the risk of pulling the rest of your catalog into its corona. London indie rock band ME REX made their full-length debut in 2021 with Megabear, an album constructed as a deck of cards—52 tracks, 30 or so seconds each, with no fixed order, so that each shuffle is its own unique, cohesive experience. It was a monumentally original use of digital streaming as a medium, and that’s the only reason it even bears mentioning that their latest release, Pterodactyl—four songs, three to five minutes apiece—is just an EP, but a very good one.

Following the Triceratops and Stegosaurus EPs the band put out in 2020, Pterodactyl is an anti-formalist return to form. ME REX can take big conceptual swings in the first place because of their great talent for writing hooks of prehistoric proportions and snappy rhymes that, even in an intentional order, capture a feeling of cosmic dislocation somewhere between childlike whimsy, post-adolescent angst, and grown-upness. On “Never Graduate,” playing in 10/8 time, relishing the crescendo, they sound fresh, liberated from conceptual constraints. At the same time, in light of Megabear, it’s easier than ever to pick out 30-second chunks of goodness (a verse or some buoyant “doo-doo-doos”). Once the band shows you the arbitrary fashion in which songs mete out the parts that get stuck in your head, you sometimes have to will yourself to unsee it.

Knowing how far out ME REX’s ambitions can reach, I’m tempted to think of the slate-cleaning moves and experiments—a key modulation on “Giant Giant (Destruction Story)” or guitar tapping on “Skin, It Itches”—as sketches and studies for whatever might be next (to their credit, that’s what EPs are good for). I also tend to forget all that past high-mindedness when the band joins in on an emotional, belted refrain (“It hurts a lot! It hurts a whole lot!”). ME REX can make you feel like an alien trying to understand pop music for the first time, then turn around and make you feel like a teenager learning how much heart can be crammed into one chorus on one single.

The video, on the other hand, channels the goofiness-in-the-face-of-chemical-mutilation of The Toxic Avenger,  with animator Arutro Baston (who’s worked with Oh Sees, as well as Death Valley Girls and Frankie & the Witch Fingers) taking the reins. “The concept for the video is that a lab flushes some chemical waste, which starts affecting the ecosystems of the local lake and eventually the entire world,” the band adds. 

Check out the video below, and grab a copy of the 7-inch here.

The Reds, Pinks & Purples

Mark Twain once quipped, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” It’s apt, then, that February brings Summer at Land’s End, the fourth LP from Glenn Donaldson’s polychromatic kitchen-pop project The Reds, Pinks & Purples. Donaldson isn’t referencing the rainy caravan parks of Southwest England, but rather the lookout point adjacent to San Francisco’s Richmond district. His beloved city imbues every hazy strum and Casiotone purr—which is natural, considering he writes these songs in his head while ambling around the neighborhood. 

A pastel-green townhouse decorated the cover art of last year’s Uncommon Weather. Heading into the back garden, Land’s End instead features a blurry snap of a flower. It’s the sort of image a photography major litters his Insta with, though so does Donaldson, his heart on his sleeve, and beating through Balboa Street as he mainlines Pacific breezes and floral color bursts to create unhurried echo-pop reminiscent of The Magnetic Fields, R.E.M., and Robert Smith. 

Sitting at his dining table with a hollow-bodied guitar, a drum loop fluttering away, Donaldson dribbles plaintive lullabies about fighting his feelings, elusive dreams, and yet more uncommon weather (“The cold air doesn’t suit me”). He coats the arrangements in morning breath, trying to keep the delivery as floaty as it sounded in his head, though it grows on you like a mauve wisteria twining its way up the garden wall. 

The album unfolds in roughly two parts, split by a languorous seven-minute intermission in which slowly chiming chords circle the same city block as the sun melts them into the pavement. Jolly janglers such as “Pour the Light In” and “New Light” score sunnier days, whereas it literally rains over the album’s back half. “Dahlias and Rain” is wordless and subdued, a buzzing organ line articulating feelings without words (a concept that inspired Donaldson during the writing process). “Upside Down in an Empty Room” is similarly grey-skied, lamenting the impermanence of good times as an E-bow guitar sways like a fading memory of an endless summer. On the sparse denouement “I’d Rather Not Go Your Way,” Donaldson sighs as the summer rain “rolls down the windowpane.” Rather than basking in it, as on “Pour the Light In,” he’s now recalling “the times that hurt the most.” (How can feelings be consistent when the weather isn’t?)

Summer at Land’s End is a rewarding release in an increasingly saturated jangle-pop landscape. Remember when you were 14 and you swam with your cousins off the coast of Nantucket before being wrapped in a towel, a paper plate of barbecue pressed into your water-wrinkled hands? No? Listening to The Reds, Pinks & Purples will bring it all back. 

Anaïs Mitchell

What do you do after you’ve been part of a culture-shifting Broadway musical and your name isn’t Lin-Manuel Miranda? If you’re Anaïs Mitchell, the folk-country songwriting singer behind the Tony Award–winning Hadestown, you head back to the nearest blackboard and re-schematic the elements of what made your start point, and albums such as The Song They Sang… When Rome Fell and Hymns for the Exiled, so bracing. In fact, the Vermont-based singer, on her new eponymously titled album, even looks toward the optimism that made 2007’s The Brightness a moody beam of light filled with specks of emotional, ruminative silt.

As she has in the past, Mitchell—a lovely cross between the ramshackle Ani Di Franco and the genre-shifting Erin McKeown—lets the delights of vocal harmony and opulent melody with a raw, silken edge shine through. The love letter to her former home, “Brooklyn Bridge,” the welcome wagon for muses that is “Bright Star”—as open and poetically thorough as its lyrics are, the album’s songcraft flies equally as provocative, enticing, and far-flung. That’s how Mitchell got to make an endearing, world-weary musical in the first place: dramatic structure. She knows how to send a song up, and let it do its busy work. Plus, she has a backing band to make the melodies soar alongside a wide variety of unique instrumental accompaniment, with guitars contributed by The National’s Aaron Dessner bolstered by mellotron courtesy of Thomas Bartlett and harmonium from Bonny Light Horseman’s Josh Kaufman.

When Mitchell isn’t busy looking at her own fourth decade on this earth with her eyes on the prize and the pains of her childhood (“Big Little Girl” and “Revenant”), she’s taking to the embrace of her fifth decade (the spare ballad “Watershed”) with cool curiosity and hope. She may touch lightly on sour issues such as racist cops (“Backroads”) and sexual violence (“Little Big Girl”) for a dash of bittersweet, but Mitchell’s hopefulness and charm are the stars here.

Eels

By this, his fourteenth album as Eels, Mark Oliver “E” Everett is probably tired of being darkly acerbic pop’s most obsessive stalker, its noisy, never-too-folksy Nick Drake, its vulnerably bleak and beautiful freak. Eels may have made warmer music in the past (2005’s Blinking Lights and Other Revelations comes to mind), but for the most part, distance, drama, and discord meant to enhance his most gorgeous melodies—while oftentimes actually hiding them—has been his long lot in life.

Co-creating Extreme Witchcraft with PJ Harvey producer and guitarist John Parish (with whom Everett also made Eels’ 2001 album Souljacker) is no way to change the dial, shift the sonics of sorrow, or skirt one’s obsessions, if that was ever a goal. So no change there. No problem. Therefore, Everett and his ever-shifting coterie of Eels are glad to be unhappy with bits of Bo Diddley–lite tremors (“Amateur Hour”) and the spare and soul-strewn likes of “Grandfather Clock Strikes Twelve” and “Steam Engine” bathing the emotional terror of Everett’s lyrics in drippy amniotic fluid–like tones. While slower songs such as the character-driven “Strawberries and Popcorn” do their best to lift Eels’ mood, Everett even appropriates the aforementioned folky pastoralism of Nick Drake into something yearning and ever-so-slightly optimistic (or at least hopefully forward-thinking) on “Learning While I Lose.”

With positivity’s slight return, maybe Eels’ fifteenth album will move from Vantablack to cobalt blue.

“Gutterball” is a twinkly eyed track that incorporates UK dance music and intergalactic pop. Over fast-paced percussion and upbeat synths, Jay’s voice is soft and airy. “Tried to rewrite a beginning / Where I’m able to shake my upbringing,” she sings at one point. Alongside vivid lyrics and charming production, details like sampled childish laughter woven into the background prove Maddie Jay is an up-and-coming artist to get excited about.

“I had been sitting on the ‘Gutterball’ track for months and eventually showed it to my friend Dom [Internet Boyfriend] hoping we could crack into it,” Jay shares. “We ended up diving into all this deep emotional stuff about our upbringings and how it factors into the way we live and pursue our careers. The song came together really fast once I had that core concept. It was really cool to try and find that emotion and depth in what essentially started as a banger drum-and-bass instrumental.”

She goes deeper into the song’s metaphor, detailing how she needed to change patterns from her childhood. “Something about going into my mid-twenties made me realize that there were some things I was going to have to actively change in the way I approached the world, if I ever wanted to become the adult I envisioned. I imagined it like I am a bowling ball and I have been pitched into the world at a weird angle. If I don’t recognize that, I’m in a gutter, just rolling where my patterns take me, I’ll never get out.”

Listen to “Gutterball” below.

The remastered version includes audio by Pete Lyman and rare April 1982 live performances of material from the band’s first two albums, captured at the Elite Club in San Francisco. What makes it deluxe? Well, lucky buyers will be getting a 20-page, 12-by-12-inch booklet that features exclusive photos and club flyers, along with interviews from members Keith Morris, Greg Heston, and Lucky Lehrer as part of an  in-depth essay by LA journalist Chris Morris.

Like any great punk song, the music video for “Wild in the Streets” is the soundtrack to a skateboarding video. The visual switches between a 1982 live performance by the band and clips of tricks by skaters including Tony Hawk, Lance Mountain, Christian Hosoi, Eric Koston, Kevin “Spanky” Long, and Victoria Ruesga.

“I grew up on ‘Wild in the Streets,’ so to be asked to direct this video was a huge honor,” Jefferson said of the video. “I wanted to capture and preserve 40 years of history, but also celebrate 40 years of punk rock and skateboarding history.”

Watch below, and pre-order the reissue here.

Lyrically, the track deals with the dichotomy of “how we’re always alone, perpetually, our whole lives, and the equally resounding truth that none of us are alone, and none of us ever will be,” D’Agustino shares. “I was definitely in an angsty place because the early demos of ‘Wino’ are pretty in-your-face rock versions,” he recalls. “I would scream and shout these pretty self-indulgent choruses that, looking back, didn’t really do the heart of the song any justice. I’m not exactly sure what that ‘heart’ is, but I enjoy the prospect of the listener putting themselves into the wino’s shoes, letting some of the loneliness of the song and that character seep into their lives.”

Of working with Greenbaum, D’Agustino adds: “David genuinely enjoys trying new things, and being surprised and experimenting. He is the least rigid creative I’ve met, and that meant so much to me when crafting these songs. He let me run wild with these songs but questioned my intentions thoughtfully and earnestly in a way that did not make me feel threatened or controlled, but rather he was speaking to me in a creative language that can be so rare to share with another human being.”

Hear the results of the collaboration in the lyric video below, or stream the track here.

“‘time and time again’ was written a couple of summers ago,” says Everheart. “I was going through a challenging period of healing, feeling staggered, trapped, and apathetic to the pattern of emotional upheaval I was in (fitting, considering this song was written off a guitar loop). I wrote ‘time and time again’ to reflect on those slow-seeming moments. Since revisiting this song last year in a different headspace, I pushed myself to try something different with the production, giving the song a new perspective,” she adds. “I hope listeners hear that new outlook; progress is still being made, even when you can’t see it.”

“time and time again” is out February 2. You can pre-save it here.

With Combo Chimbita providing the latest whiff of that summer’s pepper-spray-soaked warm breezes, IRÉ, the mystical New York–based group’s third LP, channels two years of pent-up energy into playful Afro-Caribbean rhythms and psych-cumbia textures with the resulting record proving to be considerably more fun than most others of its ilk. Packed with musical and cultural reference points ranging from Ecuador to Yuruba, the Caribbean Sea to Cape Verde—and perhaps most pertinently: Puerto Rico, Colombia, and New York City, the three locations wherein the record came together—the collective cites Fela Kuti, Burna Boy, Kali Uchis, Ecuadorian musician Polibio Mayorga, and Spanish trap music as inspo for the project.

With the record dropping today via ANTI-, all four members—vocalist Carolina Oliveros, guitarist Niño Lento Es Fuego, bassist/synthesist Prince of Queens, and drummer Dilemastronauta—walked us through the album track by track, spelling out the influences on each individual song. Stream the record below while reading, and purchase a copy here.

Carolina Oliveros: “Oya” is a very powerful feminine deity, goddess of storms and winds, guardian of cemeteries, and an entangled duel between calm and despair. So this song animates that reminder of a nuanced life where many of us share a calm external facade while facing an internal whirlwind of uncertainty. It’s the meditative sigh that precedes moving forward toward our desires and dreams with conviction.

Niño Lento Es Fuego: “Oya” draws a lot of inspiration from Ecuadorian musician Polibio Mayorga, who was known for sustaining indigenous melodies through his interventions with the organ and synth. His introduction of these instruments to Ecuador, along with sonic textures of tropicalia, were popularized through his interpretation of albacitos, a repertoire of indigenous rhythms you’d hear at dawn and sunset. 

2. “Babalawo”

Carolina Oliveros: A Babalawo is similar to a priest in Yoruban culture, and this song narrates a dream I had in which an eggun (deceased person) calmed my fears and encouraged me to listen closely to the rhythm of the drums and mentors that were appearing as revelations around me. The dream evoked very specific messages and visuals—seashells, altars, flowers—and at one point, “Ponte pa lo tuyo,” a directive to follow my intuition on this path to enlightenment. It’s a reminder to keep my heart and mind open, to let go of the doubts and taboos, and be receptive to the lessons that line our journeys.

3. “Me Fui”

Carolina Oliveros: “Me Fui” is a completely visceral song, putting all my vulnerability up front, and directing it toward this character who’s had a hold on me. It speaks from the heart, despite the discomfort of revealing all these emotions to someone who doesn’t deserve me. Stopping that vice, that toxic relationship between all the waiting and half-assed presence, and eventually making the difficult decision to leave. 

Dilemastronauta: “Me Fui” is sentimental but rhythmic, and it was the first song we created while in Puerto Rico. It has a ternary rhythm that connects to the cycles Carolina was referencing through her lyrics, and I remember it was our first effort to make music in front of the sea. One of those ideas that arrives because the environment around you is so beautiful, it invites you to create. 

4. “Memoria”

Carolina Oliveras: “Memoria” is, without a doubt, a song that narrates a moment from my childhood: the passing of my grandfather, an important figure in my life who propelled me to sing. That moment breathes into this track’s rhythms and loops, a melancholic moment that repeats itself into my memory and evokes the ephemeral nature of life.

Dilemastronauta: “Memoria” is the first time we used a sample in our music, based on one that Prince of Queens brought with a Lucho Bermúdez–style cumbia and from the big band orchestras of the 1940s on the Colombian coast. The song is divided into the first part with cumbia and a hip-hop beat in the style of The Roots, and the second part is a pure sonidera cumbia in the style of Andrés Landero with the slowed voice of Prince of Queens.

5. “La Perla”

Carolina Oliveros: “La Perla” is a song I composed for our people, the streets, and the party: the party of the people in the streets! It’s like that embrace after being locked up for so long and wishing to be outside in the sun, at the beach, or anywhere really, but sweating happily with our people. It makes me feel that the street is waiting for us, calling us to feel the rhythm more intensely and with a deeper desire to live our life. Near the end I call on Yeye, considered the orisha of the festival, of the drum, of sensuality and love; the euphoric moment that wakes our spirits and lets us celebrate on and on and on.

Dilemastronauta: “La Perla” feels like one of the most dynamic songs on the album. Niño Lento’s guitar work is really incredible because it has a Cape Verdean and Angolan feeling with the synths layered on top. Caro’s melody and lyrics are a celebration, a reunion, and for us it’s that desire to play again and share our music with the public.

6. “Sin Tiempo”

Carolina Oliveros: “Sin Tiempo” is definitely one of my favorite songs on this album. Both the melody and the lyrics have been a new and different path for me, a ballad of sorts. I wanted to pay homage to a clandestine love, the process of deciphering body language, and the intimate tenderness that connects our souls. 

Dilemastronauta: It’s a slow, romantic, and nocturnal sort of song. Those moments that last in our memories because they’re timeless, they don’t expire or they don’t end. They are always with the heart.

7. “Yo Me Lo Merezco”

Carolina Oliveros: I wrote this song as a gift to myself as I try everyday to better understand who I am, my worth, my calling, and what I have to offer in this world. It’s a healing proclamation to firmly believe in oneself and walk headstrong with the radiance we know shines deeply through our spirit. That revelation is something I had to summon yesterday, remember today, and will continue to honor tomorrow.”

Prince of Queens: This was the second song we wrote in Puerto Rico for the album, and it’s overflowing with different influences. We were listening to a lot of newer Afrobeat, like Burna Boy and Tekno, and blending it with the music of Fela Kuti and Tony Allen, which we’ve studied for many years. In this song we try to connect those worlds in our own way and undoubtedly the energy of the Caribbean and the sea is felt.

8. “Indiferencia”

Carolina Oliveros: This is a very reflective song, like a double-edged sword, in which we recognize that our paths are at times filled with so much indifference, lack of empathy, and a competition of egos. But, on the other side, it shares resilient hope and growth, without giving in to the no-no-no-no-no, and creating a mantra for when the process becomes too heavy.

Prince of Queens: I love this song! It feels very close to me. We have always been greatly influenced by Jamaican music, especially dub and bass lines, which have always been part of the elements and techniques I lean into. It was one of those special moments where Dilema and I got up in the morning and after breakfast we started jamming a rocksteady beat while listening to the sea behind us. It felt like the song had a sense of non-complacency with a dreamy tone, and talks about the dysfunctional systems around us.

9. “De Frente”

Carolina Oliveros: For a while now, I’ve enjoyed listening to typical Dominican merengue, which are very rhythmic, at times with very particular melodies and high-pitched timbre, quite a few choirs, and I can connect with that through my love of bullerengue. La Banda Real inspired me in particular, and so it’s an ode to that Caribbean flow where you can throw satire at the tigueres on the block, or folks gossiping behind your back. Instead, do it face-to-face, be upfront and direct with your words.

Prince of Queens: This song started as an idea to make a “classic” Combo Chimbita sound with a merengue influence, but more eclectic. I remember after jamming with the idea for several hours, I realized that what I thought was going to be something relatively simple ended up being the longest to understand and play. Sometimes what seems simplest is the most difficult.

Niño Lento Es Fuego: “De Frente” is a tribute to merengue, but with that punk twist we like to explore infused with old school rips and synthesizers that lend themselves to rock.

10. “Lo Que Es Mio, Es Mio”

Prince of Queens: For me, electronic music has always been a big part of everything I do. I love working with sequencers and machines, and for this song we wanted to experiment and find out what Combo Chimbita would be like with a sampler mentality, as if we were little machines. The guitar is a loop throughout the song, and the rest of the elements were created with that idea, as if we were using Ableton but without a computer—just our minds! It was a very cool exercise that greatly marked the influence of this album in general.

Niño Lento: This track belongs to this batch of songs that are an exploration and collage of the music that we were listening to while recording: a lot of Spanish trap, artists like Fuego from the Dominican Republic, definitely some Afrobeats and reggaeton, and even some Kali Uchis. We were thinking about how to make a reference to this from our instruments and our way of playing as a rock band.

11. “Mujer Jaguar”

Carolina Oliveros: The roaring is largely a crying out from the soul, a connection to our deep desire to construct a different world. It’s a nod to the strength of our youth, a new fearless and forward-thinking mind, whose nonconformity with our socio-political status fills us with hope.

Niño Lento Es Fuego: It has such a strong energy—more punk, with explosive drums and the guitar riffs are simple but groovy. When we created it, we were using Caro’s vocal improv and sounds as guides to eventually write lyrics, and when we went into the studio there still were none. We tried, but they just wouldn’t fit. However, that howling was transmitting an incredible vibration that was beyond words: a deeper message that arrived for us to share. 

12. “Todos Santos”

Carolina Oliveras: It’s an homage to how the town revealed messages and energies for us to latch onto in this next phase for Combo Chimbita. When we found an altar for Yemaya built by local fishermen between the ocean and the surrounding mountains, we knew this song would be healing, purifying, and hopeful. Those maternal characteristics are something we wanted to evoke through the single and its video, recognizing that the young girl who roared in Mujer Jaguar had a process of learning and unlearning, of guidance and autonomy, which she uses to confront life.

Prince of Queens: The track’s hypnotic drumming was done in collaboration with GRAMMY-nominated percussionist Philbert Armenteros, a Cuban-born Babalawo who helped perform this special homage to Yemaya with his batás. “Todos Santos” generated a peaceful and tranquil energy, which reflects our capacity to heal and to forgive, something we often lose sight of through the hustle of day-to-day life. We constructed this song in phases through Mexico, Puerto Rico, and Colombia, so the Abya Yala state of mind reminded us that we can transcend the borders and boundaries placed upon us to musically reach a space without time, without physical lines, where we can mend our spirits.

One thing that mattered to Williams for the single’s Sebastien Nuta–directed visual was her wardrobe, with celebrity stylist Marco Milani outfitting the songwriter to match the production design’s moody orange- and red-hued backgrounds. “The wardrobe looks began with the image of a woman on top of the world, tackling any obstacle thrown at them in this fast-paced life,” Milani explains. “Whether it be a sleek A.W.A.K.E. Mode skirt suit or a shimmering sequin dress inspired by the frenzy of being a performer, the outfits give us a range of different powerful women striving for harmony.”

Watch the video below.

We’ve already heard a couple singles that indulge in the musician’s love for collaboration, including “New Shapes,” which featured Christine and the Queens and Caroline Polachek. Today, she shared a third single from the project called “Beg for You,” which features Rina Sawayama. The club-ready song samples 2006 dance hit “Cry for You” by September but takes it further into the UK garage realm.

The single’s release comes a day before XCX’s documentary Alone Together, which delves into the creation of how i’m feeling now.

Hear “Beg for You” below.

beg for you out now lol. love you @rinasawayama stream it https://t.co/trwajtuHqB pic.twitter.com/gk5Ea2lm8d

— Charli (@charli_xcx) January 27, 2022

“I wrote and recorded this song entirely in one night,” recalls Becker. “I met up with our drummer Andy [Polito] at our rehearsal spot that day, recorded him drumming along to a simple MIDI chord progression, had the chords on a loop, and recorded him drumming into the TASCAM five minutes at a time. I got really excited by the idea of having strong contrast between intimate, small vocals and massive synths and drums. Vocally, I was really going for a Sparklehorse vibe: up close, super dry, not double-tracked. Not something I’ve really tried much before, but I love how it came out.”

The accompanying visual is a sun-baked blur of glinting water and colorful projections. “This video was basically conceived, shot, and edited all within the span of one week,” says Becker of the production, which centers on the LA River. “I knew going in that I wanted it to be completely devoid of narrative, and to just basically be an interesting series of pictures that provides a setting and aesthetic for the song. Also, being our first new music in over two years, it felt right to try and visually depict the new things we’ve been trying in the music. It was a super DIY vibe. Our brilliant friend Josh Drew filmed and shot everything. I edited and colored it in, like, 48 hours, and turned it in right at the deadline. It came out of the oven so recently that it’s still warm.” 

“Garden of Our Neighbor” is the first glimpse of Goon’s forthcoming Paint by Numbers, Vol. 1, due February 25. You can pre-save/pre-order it here.

The singer-rapper (and recent FLOOD cover star) takes on X and Harlow’s parts with ease. She’s got a full brass band backing her, and sits alongside her creative partner Ori Rousso. Check it out below.

In addition to the comp, we’re also getting a podcast hosted by Gibbard. In the trailer, Japanese Breakfast’s Michelle Zauner says of Ono: “She was the most—sort of—hated woman in music for a while—so unfairly—that I think, obviously, as an Asian woman, I sided with her, and saw her as a very deep and complex artist that was being unfairly judged by the world and how difficult that must have been. And it became very symbolic for me.”

Hear Zauner’s version below, and pre-order the comp here.

After signing to Father/Daughter Records last year, Blackman is preparing to release her debut album on the label. It’s called All of It, with a release date of April 8, and it features last year’s set of one-off tracks. “It feels more like a collection than an album in that the songs span a five-year period,” she says, “and have seen me through college, COVID, and my first three months living in Brooklyn.”

Today, Blackman shares the video for the slowly gutting single “How.” The track begins with melancholic acoustic strums that intertwine with swirls of electric guitar, giving it a country ping. “Call me crying please / Beg me not to leave you, now / I’ll say on the other line / ‘I would but I don’t know how,'” she sings during the chorus. Blackman’s voice is crystal clear as she sings about the last breaking threads of a relationship.

If it wasn’t already poignant enough, the new visual for “How,” which was directed by Katrina Peterson, gives us that raw, humorous perspective. Two clowns fall in love; one cruelly messes up, and the other is forced to confront them. It’s a wonderfully obvious metaphor for how we humans are all clowns walking around, responsible for our emotions and how our actions affect others.

We chatted with Blackman about the release, which you can read below, after checking out the video for “How.”

First off, can you tell me about “How”‘s origin?

I wrote “How” a few years back, during the first semester of my junior year of college. It was written at the end of a kind of shitty weekend, I think. But I honestly don’t totally remember. I tried recording it with a few friends around then, but it didn’t feel right. It was really nice to finish “How” super far away from the moment in time it represents.

Can you tell me about the phone recorded bits that are interwoven in the song?

Crazy as it sounds…sometimes I’ll record a voice memo of myself telling my friends a story so that I can remember it accurately and write it down later. This was one of those. My roommates/best friends and I had just reunited at our apartment after class, and I was frantically sharing the day’s events with them. It’s special to me because I miss the ease and excitement of being with them everyday and the way we advised each other so earnestly.

There’s a devastating tension in the song where I feel like many of the lyrics point to the multifaceted nature of heartbreak—letting someone go because of their wrongdoing but also wanting them to beg for forgiveness. Was that intentional?

Definitely. I think that’s largely what the song is about.

Another part of the song that really struck me was the lyric “Somebody willing, somebody weak / She’s letting you have her / She’s thinking of me.” It redirects the situation and gives the song a whole other dimension. I’m curious how narratives and characters—whether personal or not—affect your songwriting.

Every song is a narrative in that something happened, someone was involved, and I’m recounting it. I wouldn’t use the word “character,” though. It’s all real, and I feel like thinking of the people in the stories I tell as characters can become self-serving pretty quickly. Objectivity isn’t realistic when talking about one’s feelings, but I want to tell the truth as much as I can. It’s a fine line.

“How” is so vulnerable and realistic about the desire and the inability to see past hurt. It’s a bit of a leap in terms of a question, but I’m curious if and what you learned from yourself after writing this song since it seems so raw.

I wrote this song a long time ago, so even the things I learned about myself have probably been unlearned and evolved since then hopefully. But maybe I didn’t learn anything. I think something can just feel bad without it being useful.

I love how the video balances the intensity of relationships with humorous, poetic imagery—like we’re all sort of clowns for putting our hearts on the line and others taking advantage. I’m not sure if that was the thinking.

Yeah, for sure. Having a sense of humor in my videos is important to me, but I also want to allow for symbolism and emotional depth. The silly/sad juxtaposition gives me and my collaborators room to find those pockets of opportunity. Since the concept for this video is so goofy on paper, I wanted to elevate it with a more cinematic edge. My director and cinematographer, Katrina Peterson and Zack Richemier, did it perfectly.

Also, congrats on your forthcoming album! Can you tell me about how “How” fits into it as a whole?

The album is a collection of the songs I’ve released over the past year, plus a couple more. It feels more like a collection than an album in that the songs span a five year period, and have seen me through college, COVID, and my first three months living in Brooklyn. “How” fits into the album because it’s a captured moment, and this album is really just a big emotional collage. Most of the songs were written without an album in mind.

Did you have any specific influences for this project?

The songs were written over such a long period that the influences end up innumerable. Phoebe Bridgers was there through all of it, though.

What are you hoping people take away from your debut album?

Honestly…anything. Maybe that’s a bad answer. It’d just be cool if people give it a chance, listen closely, and feel something. That’s all I can ask for.

In fact, the album’s latest single “Let Me Let It Go” addresses the relief of starting over head on, with the upbeat, often Spoon-like anthem relishing in a sense of freedom. “I was inspired by Dante and Beatrice and the concept of courtly love,” Sullivan adds, “and I think for me personally, it’s about writing my own version of that kind of love.”

The video for the track demonstrates a different kind of freedom—one of Sullivan freeing himself from the dictates of directors Jeff Davenport and Cooper Kenward. About a minute into the visual, Sullivan finishes singing the first verse to the camera before scampering off as the filmmakers beckon him back, spending the rest of the video sprinting through LA. “I think we just wanted to offer a sense of escape and abandon that comes with both loving someone and also surrendering our attachment to a certain outcome in regards to that love,” Sullivan explains, tying everything together. “I’m just trying to get at the proper expression of a feeling; in this case, a deep yearning. So I think visually, you want to complement that sense. A desire to see and feel everything and escape from the smallness of your own thoughts.”

Watch the clip below.

Here and throughout the record, Farees speaks from experience with international pop culture and the “world music” industry. Before striking out on his own as an independent artist, he collaborated with Saharan rock bands like Tinariwen and Terakaft, and in 2015 he released his debut solo record Mississippi to Sahara, a collection of Delta blues standards in the Assouf guitar style. In his time, he’s seen firsthand the way the business exploits African artists. 

“The world music system is a neo-colonial system,” he says. “I was in that system for years, so I know what I’m talking about. I could talk about a lot of things going on with African musicians and how ‘world music’ is still a colonial system based on a shallow brand of exoticism. Africans rarely profit off of it (even GRAMMY winners or famous artists that do big tours).”

Farees’ 2020 record Border Patrol was spurred in part by racial profiling and discrimination he’s experienced touring the world. Forging the worldly grooves of Galactic Africa, by contrast, brought him back to where his music originated. “Spoken word and rap were always part of the Tuareg tradition,” he says. “We have different rhythms to heal you, mentally and physically…I reconnected with all my roots, coming back to Africa, and it cured me.”

Hear the new track below.