TRACK PREMIERE – Page 2

NYIKO Unveils Details of New ’80s-Inspired LP with Premiere of “Make You Feel”

The experience of burgeoning love is bittersweet, and nothing captures that feeling like “Make You Feel,” the latest single from LA-based singer-songwriter/producer NYIKO. Chock full of twinkly synths, falsetto interludes, 100 percent digital drum sounds, and ’80s nostalgia, the song musically illustrates the manic thrill of falling in love, as well as the longing and anxiousness.

“I will kiss you as if/You and I/were the only ones left,” he sings in a voice that conjures up bands like The Cure and The Smiths. “I want to love you as if/We had been together/Since we were kids.”

“It’s essentially the beginning of a narrative of someone who is a little impatient to fall in love,” he says. “The tentpole of the song is that we could be the last two people on Earth, so it’s that feeling of, when you’re with that person, nothing else exists or matters.”

Given the nostalgic feel of the song, it’s unsurprising that NYIKO wrote it with ’80s movies like The Breakfast Club in mind. “When you watch these classic coming-of-age films, there’s this feeling of joy, but there’s also a pain in nostalgia,” he says.

The final post-chorus, where he repeats, “I just want to make you feel alright” in a gentle, high voice, particularly captures this wistful feeling. “When I did that and played it back, it really gave me chills, which is great — that’s something you don’t always get from your own work,” he says.

“One thing I do and one thing I want to normalize for people is to be proud of themselves and to say it out loud — to tell themselves that they did a great job,” he says. “It’s so often that artists, or just people in general, are modest or sell themselves short more often than not, but when you do something you’re really proud of, it’s good to say, I’m really proud of this — I did a good job. And that’s how I felt when I finished ‘Make You Feel.’ I got so inspired and excited.”

“Make You Feel” is the first track on NYIKO’s upcoming debut solo album, Honesty, which comes out on April 9. The LP explores the titular theme not only in regards to relationships but also with oneself, which includes “being honest with what your goals are, with what your desires are, and checking yourself when you might be dishonest because you’ve tricked yourself into thinking there’s this idea of a relationship that you want or this idea of success that you have,” he explains.

The album also includes NYIKO’s previous single “Call the Boys,” which was written in 2018 in reaction to a series of news stories about school shootings. “Call the boys inside/Tell them it’s alright/There’s no use for abuse,” he sings in long, powerful notes against similarly ’80s-inspired synth and guitar.

“It just seemed like, at that time, there was another school shooting every week, and most if not all the cases these shootings were carried out by young white men, and I was kind of just grappling with this,” he remembers. “It made me start thinking about just how outdated so many of the stereotypes are, gender roles and gender stereotypes and this idea of what masculinity means. It made me really inspired to write a song that crystalizes that we are able to redefine this for this generation and the next generation of male-identifying kids.”

He wrote, produced, and recorded everything on Honesty, and also played synths, enlisting the instrumental skills of guitarist Niles Gregory and bassist Stone Irr as well as the feedback of producer Kyler Hurley. The process began with 30 demos he had written and produced on his laptop in his room with one keyboard, then selected his favorites to finalize.

“I was still learning how to be a better producer, how to be a better mixer, so it was almost like the production process was a practice of teaching myself and growing as a producer,” he says. “I think it’s really exciting to have a project that I can look at now and see as this place and this time that I was learning.”

NYIKO, who also works as a music licensing manager, played in several folk bands before beginning the solo electro-pop project that evolved into his current act, taking inspiration from post-punk, synth-pop, and new wave music. He’s also produced music for Hasbro, Amazon, and Disney — he produced and raps in the six-episode Oh My Disney series “Disney Raps,” in which re-imagines Disney classics like Winnie the Pooh and Hocus Pocus through rap songs.

Through the emotional vulnerability in his music as well as his everyday actions, NYIKO hopes to model “ideas of masculinity that are not about toughness and not about being loud or angry, but instead showing an example of masculinity that really emphasizes empathy, raising other people’s voices up and being sensitive,” he says. “I hope people can listen to a song like ‘Call the Boys’ or my work in general and feel understood or feel like they are learning or having space to think about something differently, like how they play a part in the world and how they play a part in the expectations that they set for themselves or other people in their lives.”

Follow NYIKO on Instagram and Facebook for ongoing updates.

Paulina Vo Premieres Video Valentine for “Sweetie”

They say that home is where the heart is, and after a year of sheltering in place, singer-songwriter Paulina Vo is starting 2021 with a fresh-faced ode to her partner of 10 years. Her new single “Sweetie,” premiering today via Audiofemme, follows her 2020 EP Call You After; it continues Vo’s journey from guitar-slinging solo musician to electronic singer-producer. Her process is simple: “Find the chords, get the vibe, then lyrics,” she says of the straightforward approach that has served her blend of pop, R&B, and indie rather well.

“I’m generally a happy person, but my music is so sad,” Vo says with a smile. But “Sweetie” runs counter to much of Vo’s back catalogue, with its emphasis on satisfaction and ease. Like a cat curling up in a sunny spot, Vo revels in pleasure of an everyday love. In a year in which our daily domestic pursuits have taken center stage, “Sweetie” is a valentine to those people in our lives who are holding it down.

Vo wrote the song on a trip away from her partner; it brings to mind the bittersweet delight of scrolling through happy photos, of missing someone that’s usually there to touch, but is currently too far to reach out to. The accompanying music video, which features Vo as a Little Mermaid-like character, continues the wholesome narrative of two people finding each other in spite of their differences and coming together happily ever after in the end.

That transitory longing is partly a hold-over from her nomadic childhood. As the daughter of Vietnamese refugees who fled their country following the Vietnam war, she was born in New Orleans but spent time in New Mexico, Los Angeles, Florida, Arizona, and New York. Vietnamese was Vo’s first language; she says she “hated it back then, but I appreciate it now.” Her family struggled financially during her childhood – their many moves were due to “a mixture of jobs and little bit of family drama,” Vo explains. “My mom is a gambling addict; I can laugh about it now, cause it’s a past thing. We Bonnie and Clyded it as a family sometimes.”

By age 10, that had decided she wanted to become a musician, and asked her father for a guitar. “He was like, ‘No, do you see us? We are broke,'” Vo remembers. Her dad promised to buy her a guitar if she still wanted it in a year’s time. “In my tiny child brain, I do not know if it was a year or a few months, maybe a few weeks. But a ‘year’ later, I was like ‘Dad! I still want a guitar, can I get one?'” Vo says. Though her dad reacted with surprise, he followed through, teaching her the first few chords. During those early lessons, she learned that her dad had been in a Beatles cover band in the 1960s – a little piece of the mystery that is her family’s past in Vietnam.

Vo’s first songs were inspired by her ’90s idols: Michelle Branch, Christina Aguilera, and The Spice Girls. She joined choir in middle school because she “kinda identified that I could belt at an early age, probably because of Christina’s album,” she says. In high school she began listening to indie rock, a genre she had complicated feelings about from the start. “Back then I was a very angsty sad Asian girl in a very white neighborhood,” Vo remembers; the music inspired her, yet didn’t feel like it spoke directly to her. She didn’t feel as though she fit the mold of indie singer-songwriter, but in 2011, she moved to New York City and began playing gigs. Her first albums feature many of the attributes that make Vo stand out from the crowd: her voice is direct and strong, with little vibrato tomfoolery, while her lyrics twist in delightful ways.

In spite of that raw potential, Vo wasn’t pleased with how all of her early albums turned out. That dissatisfaction led her to begin producing her music on all fronts, from the writing to the stage to the sound booth. “I did an album and it pissed me off because it was nothing like I wanted it to be,” Vo recalls. “At that point in time I was like, I guess I have to do this myself.” From 2016 on, Vo took the wheel on her records and she’s been driving ever since.

Lately, Paulina Vo has noticed contentment seeping into her work, which may be why her next project tackles a harder subject: she’s planning a series of concept albums investigating the complicated feelings of displacement she’s experienced around her family’s journey to the U.S. and her trip back to Vietnam in 2018, some 25 years since she’d last visited. “I had that moment: you go back, you hear your language, you just feel like you’re home kind of – not in that way, cause I’m not from there,” she says. “You’re sitting on this line. I don’t really have a home like that. There’s no old high school bedroom. That doesn’t exist anymore. So it’s that weird feeling of, I feel really at home here, but I’m just a stranger, just a tourist.”

It’s strange to imagine bedroom pop with no bedroom. For now, Paulina Vo is content to plot her future journey from the confines of her NYC apartment – and her sweetie holds it down beside her as she dives into uncharted waters.

Follow Paulina Vo on Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Andrea Clute Dials Up the Heat with “Red Light”

“There is nothing more intimate than giving everything that you are to somebody you love,” says singer-songwriter Andrea Clute. Her latest track, “Red Light,” zeroes in on her long-term relationship, simultaneously depicting emotional vulnerability, confidence, and the importance of sustained passion.

“I’ve been with the same person for a few years now. [When the song was written] we had been together for five years so the lyrics ‘even after five years, this is all I want dear’ literally means that no matter how much time passes, my love for this person is endless,” the Vancouver-based musician tells Audiofemme.

Growing up in the High School Musical-obsessed world of the late ’00s, it’s no surprise that Clute used music and performance as an outlet growing up. A self-confessed Belieber, the 23-year-old had her sights set on honing her craft, experimenting with atmospheric sounds and cinematic elements. “I’ve been learning how to write [songs] through trial and error and learning how to sing better by practicing every day and learning new techniques,” she says. “This is the only thing I ever want to do. Of course there are moments where I’m like, I don’t know if I can do this, this is not a stable path. But then I think, screw it! Just go for it and make the best of it.”

Through a combination of gaining more confidence with each single and the general increase in more time spent at home (courtesy of the pandemic), Clute has become more and more involved in the production process. “I was in a rush before, but this period has encouraged me to enjoy my time now,” Clute explains. “With my music, I’ve taken it one day at a time rather than thinking months in advance. I know COVID is stressful, and it has certainly taken its toll on me, but it has also made me appreciate life more and the process of making music is more fun now.”

Music runs strong within her family – her brother Chris Clute creates his own electronic pop, typified by tracks such as “Darkest Hour” and “Special To Me.” Naming her as one of his inspirations for 2020, the two share a supportive relationship which has led to a number of collaborations. “I was definitely inspired by Chris because he was already ahead of me in making music. I was always in awe as to how he came up with all those ideas,” Andrea Clute says. “When we do come together we always show each other the new songs that we made and share ideas. We have a couple songs together that we’ve written and I hope that we can write more together – it’s really interesting to see how we write differently and have different styles.”

Having a support base of like-minded friends, family, and collaborators has helped Clute push herself in more musical ways than she ever thought possible. Canadian production duo Sound of Kalima worked with Clute on “Red Light,” and she says her encounter with them helped demystify music production. “I’ve had more input on beats and I just feel more involved and more connected to the music that we’re making,” she says.

This connection shows in the final product – “Red Light” is markedly different from the singer’s past work. Previously released racks such as “Haunted” and “Xoxo” have a more upbeat pop feel, demonstrating the ways Clute experiments with her expression. With “Red Light,” she manipulates space, letting the lyrics breathe with each chord as the melody washes over the listener. Clute’s latest single opens the door to a new side of her personality, a harbinger of continued evolution as Clute enters into the alt-R&B realm.

Andrea Clute · Red Light

“Red Light” begins with a melodic introduction that conveys an off-kilter feel before a sensual beat comes in – the effect is similar to waking up from a dream – and Clute begins to narrate intimate scenes from her relationship. Airy flutes, angelic harp, and sinewy guitar samples drift in and out of the production, cementing the track’s meditative, dreamy feeling.

Though “Red Light” can be taken as a quintessential slow jam, with Clute consumed by the emotions she’s experiencing and the vulnerability that loss of control brings, she embeds dual meaning into the lyrics, using physical descriptions to convey emotional feelings and thought processes. “The lyrics sound pretty physical, but the imagery is more spiritual,” Clute points out. “When I say ‘Imma take it all off for ya’ it can mean I’m going to take off my clothes, but in my head it stands for me wanting to be my true self. Everything has a deeper meaning in this song.”

By the close of “Red Light,” Clute repeats the line “I just wanna love you,” conveying a poignant, visceral yearning. The soul connection Clute seeks may be expressed by the physicality between she and her partner, but their bond seemingly goes much deeper, making “Red Light” a compelling study of human desire in the emerging singer’s catalogue.

Follow Andrea Clute on Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Wrené Emerges From the Ashes with “Phoenix”

During a time when many are longing for renewal, the symbol of the phoenix is a beacon of hope, creating something beautiful from what seems to be destroyed. Toronto-based experimental artist Renée Mortin-Toth, known professionally as Wrené, employs this image in her latest single “Phoenix,” describing the experience of regeneration: “I’m a little songbird/if I shed the last tear, I’ve won!/My heart unlocks the cage/and I rise from the ashes.”

Wrené wrote “Phoenix” about the process of leaving an abusive relationship and “finding ways to empower yourself in these times of manipulation where you feel a lot of pressure is on you,” she says. “What I hope people can take away from it is that message of empowerment – so it can be for young women, it can be for people who are stigmatized, people who feel their feelings and worth are diminished by other people.”

The song combines an upbeat ’80s synthwave pop sound with darker melodies and lyrics, beginning with erratic synths, loud drums, and theatrically sung lyrics: “Sometimes it feels like I have no choice/and so I’m stripped of my voice/I can’t let my woes carry me through the wind.” She goes on to sing about finding independence and carving out a new life for herself.

Co-producing with her friend Joash Mendoza, she broke from her usual routine of using Logic and utilized the program Ableton, incorporating EDM elements. Many of the drum sounds are samples of organic drums that they sequenced themselves, but other than the vocals, everything is electronic.

Mortin-Toth has been singing her whole life, though she previously worked as an actor. After finding the roles available to women her age limiting, she threw herself into music and released her first album, Unharmed, last year. “Phoenix” is off her second album, Live Wire, which comes out in February.

The album is “an experiment with pop sounds and different pop elements,” she says. “But they all hold a common theme of storytelling, and a lot of them are quite darker in their tone, even if they sound more upbeat.”

The title is inspired by lyrics from “Psycho Killer” by the Talking Heads, which Wrené adapts for her album’s title track with the passionately sung line: “Don’t you fucking touch me/I’m a real live wire.” Heavy guitars create almost a metal aesthetic as she stands up to mistreatment from a lover. The song is a response to “the misogynistic pressure to be the perfect partner,” she explains.

The album as a whole, she adds, “was a project to explore the many colors of a malfunctioning mind. I’ve always been someone who’s felt like an outcast, who’s felt like I didn’t really have places to belong, and I’m kind of vouching for the people who are shut down because of that.”

Embodying this spirit, much of the album defies musical conventions. Several of the songs lack a chorus, sounding more like one long, drawn-out verse. And rather than record the vocals line by line, she went through each song in its entirety, making the vocals intentionally imperfect and rough around the edges in places.

The minimalistic “Unravel” mixes an R&B-like beat with theatrical, despondent singing — “it’s never good enough/everything is all out of place” — that focuses on the emotional impact of being shamed and gaslighted by a partner.

“Marionette,” a cinematic song influenced by ’90s rock, critiques society’s rise-and-grind mentality with powerful guitar riffs, atmospheric percussion, and lyrics like “I’m stuck in an endless search/my feet can’t seem to grow tired.”

The last song, “Secret Garden,” has an airy pop sound, using the metaphor of planting a seed to represent recovery from addiction and self-harm. “This album has a journey within each song, but as a collective, it starts off with being angrier and more defiant, and it comes around to being forgiving for yourself,” she says.

Even as she gears up to release Live Wire, Wrené is already at work on her next project, a self-produced concept album focused on string and synth sounds and aimed at creating a surreal landscape. “This one is kind of an experiment in melding the sort of classical organic sounds with very odd dark synth or electronic elements,” she says. “I like to delve into the area where lightness and darkness coalesce.”

Disparate as her music may seem, it all revolves around the central concept of self-empowerment. “I really want to get across the notion of finding empowerment within yourself,” she says. “Especially in dark times where you feel trapped, you feel weakened or invalidated, or you feel your most vulnerable, it’s really important for people listening to understand that, whatever hardship or difficulty you’re facing in your life, you have to be the one to overcome it; you have the power within yourself to do that.”

Follow Wrené on Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: EVVAN Takes Pride in Individuality With “Wolf”

Long Island, NY-based folk singer-songwriter EVVAN always felt like the oddball out – a lone wolf breaking away from the pack. This used to affect her self-esteem when she was younger, but on her latest single “Wolf,” she celebrates the independence that comes from not fitting in.

“You are in a world so loud/Affected by the crowd/who don’t see you right/only want to fight,” she sings in a deep, rich voice over haunting guitars. The chorus is full of long notes containing drawn-out “oohs,” escalating into a wolf howl at the end, and poses the question: “What will you do/when the wolf comes out in you?” — EVVAN’s way of asking, “are you gonna follow the pack or be who you truly are?”

“Wolf” began as a “moody kind of soundscape song,” she says. When her drummer Jorge Balbi added a drum part, her vision for the song completely changed, and she had her engineer and guitarist Sean O’Brien laid down a lap steel guitar to help “give it that haunting spooky vibe with that flare of folk.”

The inspiration for the song began when EVVAN was watching a National Geographic documentary about wolves. “I was so fascinated by the howls and how, when you have a group of wolves, like a pack that just starts howling, it’s so musical and it’s haunting, and the song kind of builds off that,” she says. “I wanted to see what it would sound like if I put those howls to a melody, and I started crafting around that idea.”

EVVAN · Wolf

The song also stems from EVVAN’s experience as a non-binary, pansexual person. “Ever since I was a kid, I was never one to kind of follow the norm, even down to the way that I dressed,” she says. “There were so many times I would get bullied because girls my age wore skirts and colorful clothes where I wanted to wear jeans or shorts and black.”

EVVAN’s debut EP Home, out April 30, deals in different ways with these themes of self-acceptance and belonging over the course of five tracks. In the warm, soothing “I’m Not Done Yet,” she sings about coming to understand her own gender and sexuality and open up about it even as the people around her warned her to “stay in the dark” or that “it’s not the right time” to come out.

“It’s never the right time to come out and say ‘I’m pansexual,'” she says. “We are either afraid of it or we want you to hide it. We don’t like that you’re different from the norm. And through this song, I was able to use what people told me to create this anthem [that says] keep throwing whatever you have at me, but I’m not done yet. I still carry who I am with me, and it’s gonna stay with me forever.”

Perhaps the catchiest song on the EP is bluesy single “Hurricane,” where EVVAN sings about a relationship that starts off fairly calm and then surprisingly blows up like said natural disaster. “You have that honeymoon phase and you think nothing could ever go wrong, but the doors were blown off, the windows were blown off, it was just a house in the middle of a hurricane,” she explains. “It was really just a song that allows me to express the kind of pain that I felt, but also the cathartic revelation where I’m actually okay with this — I have my moment of hate but I’m fine now, I’m refreshed, I’m over you.”

The influence of Fleetwood Mac is evident in EVVAN’s voice, while her love of Milo Greene is more audible in her folky instrumentals. Milo Greene, in fact, ended up co-producing the album after EVVAN emailed them and asked to work with them.

EVVAN got her first guitar when she was 12 and has been writing, playing, and singing nonstop ever since. She began her musical career performing under her given name Evan Petruzzi, releasing several singles, videos, and covers before changing her act’s name to EVVAN, a name that felt in line with her goal of promoting individuality.

“Evan for a female is kind of a rare name,” she says, “so I liked the idea of going with that, and I wanted it to be a little more unique, and EVVAN with two Vs is quite unique. So I decided on that, and once I did, it felt right and it felt like my full music persona was whole in a sense.”

As she channeled the resolve that went into this decision into her music, it began to sound more mature and confident to her. “I was going back and forth and there was that anxiety – should I even do it? Maybe this is just a silly idea,” she says. “And then I kind of just said, no, this is who I am. This is what I want. I should be able to do that.”

Follow EVVAN on Instagram and Facebook for ongoing updates.

Premiere: Cari Hutson Defines Emotional Limits With “Take The Day”

Cari Hutson is stepping out into the world as her most authentic self. Her new EP, Salvation & Soul Restoration, arrives next month (Feb. 12) and captures her grit, resilience, and tremendous growth since the release of 2018’s Don’t Rain on My Sunny Day. The singer-songwriter works through the death of her mother (“The Rescue”), seeks to offer change in the world (“Blame”), and comes to understand mental and psychological limits, as she does with the new song “Take the Day.”

“This song was generated from the new balance in the pandemic and figuring it out with new anxieties and stresses,” Hutson tells Audiofemme. More than anything, the kickstarter to her new EP centers around knowing when you “need to take the time to really absorb how you’re feeling. That’s the biggest thing I’ve learned during this time at home… truly trying to find a balance of joy and the anxieties that happen in life.”

Cari Hutson · 01 Take The Day

Based in Austin, Texas, Hutson has had plenty of time for deep reevaluation of her life. Her mother died in September after a very long battle with alcoholism, and the new EP threads together acceptance of sadness and the joy wrought out of personal growth during life’s darkest times. “I watched my mom for years be an amazing professional,” she reflects. Her mother was a registered nurse, who, towards the end of her professional career, worked in home health hospice care.

“I watched her give of herself to her limit and then beyond. I saw how that affected her. Now that I’m a mom, I don’t want to step into her shoes and have [my daughter] Hazel see the same things. The growth happens in having the determination to not recreate history,” says Hutson. “You don’t get any more different shift in perspective than the finality of [death]. You have to really really dig down deep in your gut and say, ‘I’m not going to live my life with some of the same choices that I watched her live with that in the end took her.’ Stress kills, and it brings you down. You have to find those moments when you say ‘enough is enough’ and take care of yourself. I want better for myself.”

Early in the pandemic, another switch happened. While her daughter was on vacation, visiting grandparents in Galveston, lockdowns swept the country. The family naturally had to quarantine for 14 days before Hazel returned home. “It was very strange to be away for my daughter for that long,” she offers. “As much as I missed her, it was in those moments of just sitting in the backyard ─ and it was during springtime here, so it was rather beautiful out. The world was upside down, but in my backyard, I found this oasis where time stood still. I was able to really hear the birds chirp. I noticed things I never would have noticed.”

Salvation & Soul Restoration sheds light not only on such revelations but her wealth of experience ─ from fronting bands like Remedy and Blue Funk Junction in the 1990s and brief musical theatre studies at Texas State to a recent collaborative endeavor as part of a supergroup called PAACK. Hutson has also performed as rock icon Janis Joplin in the touring production A Night With Janis Joplin. “There’s a lot of self-doubt that happens out there,” she muses of the long, winding road which brought her here.

Hutson released her first record in 2011 and the follow-up in 2018. But neither found her nearly as self-assured and vocally muscular as on the forthcoming five-song project. She reclaims her worth as both a woman and a musician, offering up sharp messages about accountability, pain, and breaking toxic cycles.

“In writing this EP, there’s a whole lot of self-realization and growth as a person. It’s creating that balance between being a mother and a musician. Enter pandemic, and the balance shifts again,” she remarks. “I’m a bold woman, and I have a perspective.”

Salvation & Soul Restoration is Hutson’s first proper foray into releasing her music. Previously, she would simply post the albums to Spotify and let them do whatever they were going to do. Now, she takes the reins firmly in her grip and demonstrates renewed strength, command, and determination to take up space and make some noise. “It’s a big deal for me. It’s really me stepping into my own,” she says.

Hutson will celebrate the release of her new EP with show livestreamed from The Saxon Pub via the venue’s Facebook page on February 12 at 9 pm CT.

Follow Cari Hutson on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: VISSIA Captures the Excitement of New Romance in “On My Mind”

The thrill of a night with a new love interest may be a distant memory for some of us, but VISSIA’s latest single “On My Mind” will allow you to re-experience that feeling. The flirty track opens with ’80s-inspired synth, electric guitar, perky percussion, and sassy singing reminiscent of an old Madonna hit as Alberta, Canada-based alt-pop artist Alex Vissia sings about the kind of encounter that lets you completely surrender to the moment.

“‘On My Mind’ is a song about having a nice time with another person as intimately as you want, and it’s about really being in the moment and embracing that,” says Vissia. “You don’t have to worry about what’s happened before or what’s going to happen. You don’t have to hold back, and you don’t have to worry about crazy attachments happening with it.”

VISSIA worked with producer Nich Davies on the song, with the goal of making it light and fun to dance to. After demo-ing it on her phone’s Garage Band app, she built lyrics off a simple beat, then added breathy layered vocals to give the song a sexy feel, with Robyn in mind as an inspiration. “The way your body moves, I just want to feel it too/we don’t got a thing to lose/just take your time/you keep me coming back/I can hardly handle that/thought you would never ask what’s on my mind,” she sings in the energetic chorus.

VISSIA · On My Mind

The single comes from her forthcoming sophomore album With Pleasure, whose tracks run the gamut from motivational songs to breakup songs — as Vissia puts it, “there are some songs to cry to, songs to dance to, and songs to forward to a friend who might need to hear them.”

The genres of the songs, like the topics, cover such a wide span, you wouldn’t guess they were on the same album, beginning with “Doorway,” which melds country and rock. The next track, “My Wom,” is a bluesy ode to the strong women in VISSIA’s life, followed by the soul-inspired “The Cliffs,” the R&B ballad “Walk Me Home,” the electropop “Take It Apart,” and more.

The sonic diversity is largely due to the fact that VISSIA’s influences are quite varied, ranging from Motown to hip-hop. “I’m listening to a lot of different things these days because I’m just so inspired by the things being created,” she says. “I think With Pleasure definitely touches on a lot of my influences because the production does kind of vary. It sounds like a full album for sure, but I think if folks were to ask me specifically about each track, I could probably dig up an influence I was going for.”

With Pleasure marks a departure from VISSIA’s last album, 2017’s Place Holder, which mainly drew from roots influences and felt more solemn. In fact, the most recent album started off along these same lines, but evolved into something different. “When I started writing this record, I had a completely different idea for it that was maybe more introspective and serious,” she says. “As I started to write it, I kind of decided, no, this doesn’t make sense for me right now. This is a time to experiment and have fun with it. So [the title] With Pleasure is cheeky and it’s just about enjoying yourself.”

Vissia had already written a few of the songs by late 2019, when she began writing the bulk of the album in earnest. She continued writing some of them right in the studio in January and February 2020. This was the first record where she didn’t play the guitar, instead enlisting guest musicians while she focused on the vocals. Thanks to arts funding that allowed her to devote time to the project, she had the master tracks in her hands by August. “It was a process that was a lot quicker than what I’d done in the past,” she says.

VISSIA performed in a band with her two sisters when she was little, then went off to college and recorded her first album, 2011’s A Lot Less Gold, as soon as she got out. Last year, she began an Instagram series called Tuesdays Together, where she interviewed other musicians on Tuesday evenings. It was a way for her to facilitate interactions between artists that fans could watch during a time when such opportunities were limited. At the moment, she’s developing a podcast with a similar concept.

“It was just a really nice way to keep connecting with other people and kind of see how they were coping, see how they were making out, especially with 2020 being so difficult for creatives,” she says. “I was fortunate enough to spend time working on a lot of projects related to my career and work, but people struggle finding motivation, which is understandable. It was good to open up to these people and get to know them better and have artists open up.”

Quarantine has inspired her to take more walks and read more books, but mostly, she’s “living and breathing the work thing,” she says. “The place I live in, it’s like my bedroom is basically my studio and my office and where I sleep and rest. Maybe one day that’ll change, but right now, it’s an all right scenario.”

Follow VISSIA on Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Mountainess Eulogizes Songs Ruined by Bad Break-Ups With “Soundtrack”

It feels almost like a cruel fate for anyone who cares deeply about music: we tend to build entire relationships with like-minded individuals around the songs we bond over. From attending concerts with loved ones to sharing mixtapes that say what we can’t, or even just putting on a record while making dinner (or making out), music helps us build stronger connections. It’s not until those relationships deteriorate, souring memories and ruining those songs in the process, that we see just how disastrous this can be. When a song brings back the memory of love lost, sometimes it’s too painful to ever listen to that song again.

Emily Goldstein, who releases her solo work under the moniker Mountainess, has experienced this all-too-common scenario firsthand. Her latest single, “Soundtrack,” premiering today via Audiofemme, unearths the artist’s long-buried aversions to Sam Cooke and Mount Eerie, artists she couldn’t listen to for years following a bad break-up with a former bandmate. “‘You Send Me’ had been our song. It wasn’t even just that song – I couldn’t listen to Sam Cooke, who has one of my favorite voices ever. It just brought me back immediately,” Goldstein remembers. She started writing “Soundtrack” years later, when she was finally able to revisit that music, and could reflect on its effect over her without the residual pain of the break-up. “I recognize that some of that power – well, all of that power – is kind of given in a way, but it can feel like [an ex can] take the things you love,” she says. “You don’t just lose them and the relationship, you lose anything that you associated with the relationship.”

She felt immediate validation when she shared “Soundtrack” in a songwriting workshop at Brown University, and the other attendees said they’d been through it, too. “That was a very lovely feeling to have. It’s really easy to write stuff and feel like other people are gonna connect to it because they share your experiences, but then they don’t all the time,” Goldstein confides. “I feel like when you have that moment with a song that becomes such an important form of connection.”

Over warbly synth, with crystal-clear delivery, Mountainess expresses relatable nuggets of wisdom: “I let you build the soundtrack/I wish I hadn’t done that/You claimed and gave those tunes with a reckless abandon/Now even when they’re droning low in some department store/You’re there insisting the songs are yours.” A visualizer by longtime Mountainess co-conspirator Hope Anderson scrawls Goldstein’s poignant lyrics across the label of a cassette tape, the perfect hit of heartfelt nostalgia for those pre-streaming days, when personalized mixes stood in for love letters.

“Soundtrack” is the third single from Goldstein’s second Mountainess EP, out February 12. Its five tracks center on the empowerment she felt after moving from Boston to Rhode Island and completing her first EP as a solo performer, which she released in 2017. The ambitious self-titled debut saw her exploring a lost family history over a backdrop of swooning string arrangements, a decision she pursued in an effort to differentiate her musical output from the “dramatic, sort of theatrical rock” she played with her previous band.

Striking out alone was exciting, but scary at first, she says. “I’d always had collaborators – and they’d always been male collaborators. And I just didn’t feel very confident in my ability to produce anything without their feedback,” she admits. “Ultimately, [Mountainess] has grown to have collaborators in it, but it started out just as me playing keyboard in the various folky venues around Providence.”

Though proud of her debut and what she’d learned from the process, the emotional weight of the material and the belabored process of adding strings prompted a shift in direction. “After doing it, it was like, oh wow, I wanna write things that feel a little more pop,” Goldstein says. “I wanted to move toward [themes of] empowerment, cause I think I was a feeling more empowered after writing that [first EP]. I had to get that out of my system, but it was very heavy and emotionally raw.”

Goldstein’s hard-won confidence is apparent from the first track on the new EP, which kicks off with “Attention,” a single she released in September. Her straightforward, triumphant vocal emphasizes her background in musical theater, while she sings clever turns of phrase about the travails of performing for a living: “For every guy who thought I’d die without his bland suggestion/To be less or more or something for his dubious affection/Well, I won’t apologize/for chewing the scenery/Your attention, please!”

“I had this experience a lot, but playing alone kind of amplified it: every time I played, I would get unsolicited feedback, always from white dudes. I actually started keeping a little journal of it. Sometimes it was even positive, but none of it felt good to receive,” Goldstein says. “Being a performer, being also a bit of an introvert in my private life, I am asking for attention – that song is about exploring what I want out of that attention and setting my boundaries within that.”

Another single from the EP, the doo-wop infused “Vacation,” was written during a residency in Martha’s Vineyard, which Goldstein spent creating an as-yet unproduced musical based on Lady Chatterley’s Lover. “It was such a surreal experience. It was February [2019], I was completely alone for that whole week, and being around that kind of wealth created this character that could just vacation [on a whim],” Goldstein explains. Normally composing on keys, “Vacation” was the first song she’s written on guitar, which she says freed her up to go in a different direction with it. The kitschy, light-hearted lyric video was shot by her partner, Anthony Savino, who also plays on the EP alongside drummer John Faraone and producer Bradford Krieger.

The EP was recorded at Big Nice Studio in Lincoln, Rhode Island, right before the pandemic hit. It just so happened that around the same time, Goldstein moved again – this time to Los Angeles, to work in animation. As surreal as it was settling into a new city during lockdown, in some ways it mirrors the escapist fantasy baked into the sun-kissed verses on “Vacation”: “Do you even miss me?/Everything is new here, but it’s somehow dreary/I sent you a postcard with no return address/I haven’t heard back yet…”

What’s clear across all three singles is Goldstein’s gift with words. “It’s just the way I’m most comfortable expressing myself; I think I’m more comfortable writing my lyrics than I am talking! It feels very natural,” she says with a laugh. “I have an English teacher mom, so I do have a family that’s big on expressing yourself with your words. I have a pretty non-musical family, so music was definitely like a second language, and I think that’s why lyrics come first – that’s the first path towards expressing myself.”

However wise Mountainess sounds as she dispenses her cautionary tale on “Soundtrack,” she recognizes that certain pitfalls are hard to avoid. “I have not followed my own advice at all! I had this idea that I was just going to maybe pursue people whose lives didn’t revolve around music, but I have not been successful in keeping that,” she laughs. “If music is what you love, it’s really one of the major driving forces towards connection. I do think, just like the break-up itself, it takes time – but eventually you will be able to come back to the songs. They’ll maybe hold a little bit of an ache, but sometimes, that ache is good. Maybe it actually ends up adding some good weight to those songs.”

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PREMIERE: Cindy Latin Searches for Distractions in Jazzy, R&B-infused “I Am Looking”

Pretty much the whole world can relate to the words of NYC-based singer-songwriter Cindy Latin when the chorus of “I Am Looking” hits: “I am looking for something to help me forget/looking for a way to make the pain less/looking for a way to pass the time/looking for a way to make life bright.” And sadly, just like her, many of us have found candy, Disney movies, baths, and other remedies she tries in the song to be inadequate distractions against the state of the world and our own minds right now.

Latin actually wrote “I Am Looking” about a year ago, before the pandemic, as a general account of those times when you don’t want to sit with your emotions but realize there’s no way around them. “There maybe are ways you can distract yourself from it, especially socializing with other people,” Latin says. Now, though, the song has taken on a different meaning in the necessary solitude brought on by current events. “Having more time to yourself exacerbates that – when you don’t have other people around and you can’t think about anything else, those feelings are more dominant.”

Latin enlisted an 18-person band to help her tell this story – including a horn section along with guitar and piano players – which gives “I Am Looking” a decidedly jazzy feel, while the drum beat and vocals also draw from R&B influences. And despite the somewhat traditional nature of the band, the song also incorporates produced elements; when Latin sings “I get stuck with my thoughts/my least favorite sound,” you hear a deep voice echo her words, illustrating how loud our thoughts can be.

The duo Brasstracks, which uses brass and horns along with R&B and hip-hop production, was an inspiration for her, along with several funk tunes. “I just love when people combine genres in fresh ways,” she says.

“I Am Looking” is the third in a series of four songs recorded with a big band. The first two, the soulful “Running Out of Love” and the theatrical “We Don’t Get Along,” were released in 2020, and the another, “I Don’t Know What’s Worse,” is coming out within the next few months. So far, Latin has released a video spotlighting the band for each song in the series.

“It’s cool when you write something down, black ink on a piece of paper, and it becomes this huge sound,” she says. “The first time, I was nervous — it was a lot to lead — but the musicians are so wonderful and talented, and they all made me feel comfortable and were all patient with me. They were very quick to read what I wrote, and if something wasn’t clear, they let me know. We had a good relationship.”

Latin graduated from the Berklee College of Music just a year ago, but released her first album, With You, back in 2017, followed by more than a dozen additional singles since. Like her latest single, most of her music incorporates jazz as well as more modern R&B and pop influences, along with her signature singing, which gives off the impression of someone reflecting and daydreaming out loud. Though she plays guitar and keys and is beginning to learn saxophone, she often calls on a talented community of musicians she knows and went to school with – not only for recording dense instrumental arrangements (like in “I Am Looking”), but also for live performances.

In order to acquire and entertain fans, Latin makes use of social media. Her Instagram is full of little clips of her singing works in progress, with candid lyrics about things like being touch-deprived during quarantine, feeling stuck in her career, and dealing with the ending of a non-relationship. She posts the same clips on TikTok, along with clips of songs she’s already released, which she says has helped her get followers and Spotify streams.

“What I do is write in the morning, and whatever song I write that’s decent, I record it the next day and then I post that one, so it becomes a cycle of write, record, and post,” she says. “The more you do it, the more they help you out to get people to view your stuff.” She’s written many other songs that she hasn’t put out yet, so she plans to spend this year recording and producing her favorites.

It’s evident from Latin’s videos as well as her social media clips that she has a background in musical theater. The personality she infuses into her performances through her facial expressions, body language, and outfits makes them engaging and gives viewers an intimate glimpse into her life and thought process. Even if she can’t find “a way to make the pain less” right now, she can share it with her audience and help them feel less alone, and in the age of social distancing, that’s worth just as much.

Follow Cindy Latin on Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Elizabeth Moen Makes Space for Reflection with “Studio Apartment”

“The best way to break a habit is to call it what it is,” says Chicago-based singer-songwriter Elizabeth Moen. Over the last several months, she’s taken some time to examine her own holding patterns – especially those that have held her back – as she settles into city life, having recently relocated from Iowa City. And she has the receipts, in the form of a six-song EP, Creature of Habit, out December 11. Whether it’s falling into relationships of convenience, mindless snacking, or ordering takeout as though the world isn’t on a swift decline, Moen uses her witty, relatable lyricism to unravel the most tangled parts of her persona and braid them into something more beautiful.

So far, Moen has released the EP’s languid, minimalist title track, the twangy “Eating Chips,” and a contemplative folk ballad, “It’ll Get Tired Too.” Premiering today via Audiofemme is her latest single from Creature of Habit, “Studio Apartment,” a bluesy play-by-play of the “bad day, bored night, good timing” that leads to meeting someone at the bar and taking them home. “Oh wow, you seem just my type/Push me away if you loved me/Sure, we can head over to mine/Finish that thought in the morning, or the afternoon,” she sings, in a tone as casual as the affair she describes: “I’d like to think I know better than I do, but I do this all the time too.” She’s seemingly resigned to what’s about to happen, until she lets it all burst operatically forth in the first chorus: “No worries, I won’t fall for you/If we go back to my studio apartment/No view of the bridge or my dreams.”

It’s easier to coast when it’s so exhausting – and possibly disastrous – to want or work for something more. Potential creates complications; better to keep things simple, enclosed within four walls. While the song seems like a specific, personal glimpse into a moment of Moen’s life, we’ve all lived that same moment, felt that same feeling, down to the shit-show details in which Moen, having locked herself out, searches for a spare key while her love interest sways drunkenly in the hall.

That holds true across the entire EP – her intimate confessions make the songs easy to connect with, particularly for young women, whose ambitions and desires are often frowned on should we dare speak them aloud. But lying to yourself, Moen says, in an effort to convince yourself that everything is fine, dooms you to stay in your rut. “You can also be upset. I’m just realizing that now,” she says. “You do have to laugh at things, like, oh shit, I left my keys inside, wow that was dumb. But it’s also okay to not be okay and be mad. I feel like I, especially as a woman, never really had the space for those emotions.” And when you don’t have that emotional space, the four walls of your studio apartment can feel like they’re starting to close in on you.

For the most part, though, Moen hasn’t stayed in one place long enough to let that happen, living a nomadic life instead. She studied French and Spanish at the University of Iowa in the hopes of teaching abroad or working in international business, but also began singing covers at open mic nights. “It’d be me and my guitar, singing Johnny Cash and stuff,” Moen remembers. “Eventually, my friends were like, why don’t you write your own songs? And I was like, I can’t do that. And then one day I was just like, actually I can. You just stop telling yourself you can’t do it, and then you do it. I let go and I just started writing lyrics.” Moen finished her program, but the minute she graduated she set about learning to book shows and toured as much as possible, headlining Lincoln Hall in Chicago and supporting artists like Lake Street Dive, Margaret Glaspy, and Buck Meek.

She released three albums in as many years – her self-titled debut in 2016, followed by sophomore effort That’s All I Wanted in 2017 and A Million Miles Away in 2018. Constantly on the road to promote them, Moen crashed with random folks while touring, or friends and family if she needed an extended stay between gigs. She had another LP ready to go – a big, glossy, studio affair – and had even dropped a few singles from it (“Headgear” and “Ex’s House Party“); she was scheduled to head to SXSW and launch another tour from there in March when the pandemic took hold, dashing those plans.

For a musician like Moen, whose identity and career trajectory was wrapped up in playing live, the blow could have been devastating. But Moen took it as a sign that it was time to pause and maybe put down some roots. “Impostor syndrome is real, and the one time I’ve never felt impostor syndrome is when I’m on stage,” she says. “Quarantine has been a bit of a beautiful awakening of owning it more, [saying] you are still doing what you do, and you are more than just a show machine. It’s been kind of a necessary chapter in my life – really hard, but also, there are some things I’m thankful for, like learning more about my own brain and just being a person.”

After a brief stay in an attic room with spotty Wi-fi, Moen temporarily moved into her aunt’s basement. The two are close in age – Moen says it felt like staying with an older sister – and because her aunt is a therapist, the singer took the opportunity to learn more about the inner workings of her own mind. “She would never therapize me when I was staying with her. She’s very good about that,” she says. “But whenever I was feeling low or like, just curious about therapy, I would ask her questions. I think mental health is an important and fascinating subject, and I was living with a therapist, so I was like, well, this is a perfect person to talk to about this sort of stuff.”

Moen was also inspired by hanging out with her aunt’s three young sons, and says tender EP cut “It’ll Get Tired Too” was inspired by the way even their most ardent feelings seemed to come and go. “Their emotions are pretty straight forward – they can’t really hide their emotions yet,” Moen points out. “As a touring musician I haven’t been around kids a lot. Being with three kids during quarantine was intense, but I really got back in tune with how awesome kids are.” Moen also took long walks in the woods, examining some complex emotions of her own and staring down her most dysfunctional tendencies. Though they weren’t necessarily affecting her life in a negative way just yet, she knew that letting those habits take root could spell trouble.

“That’s what the EP is about. The song ‘Creature of Habit’ is definitely about realizing you can’t just be single, you’re always dating someone. Realizing I am so focused on finding someone else to be with [because] I’m trying to not be with myself,” she explains. “Late at night I like to drink, and I use it as an excuse to text and flirt, maybe hop on the apps. There’s nothing wrong with the apps, but it’s like, why do I have to have a couple glasses of wine before I do that, you know? I’m realizing that was a pattern.”

While “Studio Apartment” narrates a one-night stand, it’s not just about the guy she’s settled for that night, or the beer that’s just alright, or the too-cramped living quarters – it’s the life she’s settled for, the mediocrity we all settle for as we stumble toward our dreams. “A habit of mine – and I was also thinking about habits of other people too – we need quick fixes because maybe we’re scared of the real thing,” Moen says.

But Creature of Habit is also notable for the new practices Moen picked up while she was making it. She started exploring synths and keyboards; better suited for bedroom recording than guitars and amps, Moen felt more freedom to “make weird and horrible noises, alone in my headphones.” Avery Mossman, a friend who plays some additional synths on the EP, gave her some quick tutorials, and she was off to the races, noodling around and layering sounds. “I just didn’t have the mics and stuff that I felt comfortable using to track guitars and vocals at home, but with the keys and synth I borrowed, I could just plug it into my interface. I also never had an interface before quarantine!” she says. “It kind of reawakened [my creativity]. It made me feel the way I felt when I first started playing guitar.”

Ultimately, it gave the EP more electronic flourishes than her previous releases. Playing around with ProTools also taught Moen enough about engineering to be able to explain what she wanted to achieve with production and mixing when she was able to get studio time. And because she had to sing quietly so as not to wake her little cousins, Moen embraced her lower register, singing in the melodramatic style she imagined the male country stars she’d admired in the past might. When she posted an early version of “Creature of Habit” to Instagram, her friends asked why she didn’t sing that way more often.

“Sometimes I feel like as a singer, the higher I can go and the stronger I can belt that high part of my register, the more impressive it is, but actually, I think people honing that low part of their voice – particularly female voices – is cool,” she says. “I finally did that with this EP. But ‘Studio Apartment’ was definitely the one where I was like, nah, I’m still gonna belt it up there though.”

Follow Elizabeth Moen on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Laura Carbone Captures the Magic of Live Music with “Tangerine Tree”

With the coronavirus limiting our ability to participate in large events like concerts, artists have had to innovate to continue bringing their fans the magic of live performances. Some have offered live-streamed concerts, while others have recorded covers of their quarantine comfort songs, and others still have performed at socially distanced venues. Meanwhile, Berlin-based alt-rock artist Laura Carbone came up with her own solution: to dig up footage from a past live performance that was near and dear to her heart and turn it into an album.

The performance in question is her 2019 show at Harmonie Bonn (in Bonn, Germany), which was broadcast on Rockpalast (Rock Palace), a German TV show that films and airs live rock performances. Carbone grew up watching Rockpalast, which has featured the likes of Radiohead, Sonic Youth, The Smashing Pumpkins, and David Bowie, so it was a dream come true for her to be counted among them.

“I grew up in Germany in a teeny tiny town where 500 people were living there, and I didn’t have much to stay in contact with the sonic world, but I knew Rockpalast,” she remembers. “I started dreaming about one day being able to play on this stage as well.” After obtaining Nirvana’s Nevermind, she became hooked on rock music and started playing the guitar, then began performing covers before releasing her first solo album, Sirens, in 2015.

She released another LP, Empty Sea, in 2018, and was planning to record a new one this spring when COVID hit. Because she was no longer able to go into the studio, the plans got cancelled. Then, Carbone got a call from her drummer Jeff Collier suggesting that they ask Westdeutscher Rundfunk, the TV station behind Rockpalast, if they could use the recording from the show. “I had so many moments when I could not think, when I was not positive toward the future, and receiving this call and idea was a no-brainer,” she recalls. “We were blessed in receiving this.”

Smack in the middle of the album, titled Laura Carbone – Live at Rockpalast, is “Tangerine Tree,” a warm, melodic song full of fantastical imagery about meeting up with someone in a dream. “Silver linings, fading rainbows/Come take my hand tonight/I’m your blackout at your sunrise,” Carbone sings against dreamy electric guitar.

LC · Laura Carbone – Tangerine Tree

“‘Tangerine Tree’ is a vivid dream inviting you to dive in and float in it for a while,” she says. “Like the comfort of familiar good feelings that keep on visiting you every now and then in your sleep. Temporary, falling for a moment, and letting go again.”

The influence of ’90s grunge is evident in Carbone’s vocal style and heavy instrumentals, but there’s also a positivity and beauty to her music that shines through in the live recordings. On “Swans,” another highlight from the album, she builds dark, almost gothic lyrics like “I’d give my blood plasma/Noise kills the silence silent” to an uplifting chorus with an enchanting melody: “It’s just a new phase/new phase of the moon.”

It was important for her to include the whole setlist on the album “to give the impression of being present at the show,” she says. “It’s so beautiful how we can feel when the band is warming up — I can hear it in my voice and how tense it was when we started — and I think it’s such a nice flow when the audience joins in and we start getting into the flow of the music.”

Another feature of the album that captures the feeling of a live performance is the interludes — a highlight for Carbone is the improvised guitar interlude between “Lullaby” and “Tangerine Tree.” She recounts, “We had so much time that was given to us and not enough songs, and so we chose to go even more with the flow in between the songs.”

In addition to songs from Sirens and Empty Sea, the album includes an unexpected cover of Aretha Franklin’s “I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You).” The song starts off slow with dark guitar riffs, then escalates to passionate belting and erupts into haphazard yelling, drumming, and guitar.

Despite the wide range of subject matter covered in the songs, Carbone considers the overall theme of the album to be “bittersweetness and melancholia and a beauty that’s very often reflected through what surrounds us.”

Carbone, also a photographer, is keen on letting her fans in on her process — she currently shares her music in progress, essays, and photography on her Patreon, and in response to subscribers saying they appreciated learning what happens behind the scenes of her music, she started the podcast What It Takes to Create a Record, which contains insights from her band and production team, including the last album’s mixer Scott Von Ryper, guitarist for The Jesus & Mary Chain.

She hopes her latest album can offer some relaxation to listeners during a stressful time. “They should chill the fuck out for the whole set, close their eyes, and just lead themselves to wherever they need to be in this moment,” she says. “Maybe they need to time-travel back into a live music scene, or maybe they just have to be up in space or dive into water. I just hope they take their time and pause from what’s going on. If they put it on and a shower of blissful sound is streaming through them, that would be beautiful.”

Follow Laura Carbone on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Subhi Searches for Silver Linings on “Wake Me Up”

When Indian-American singer-songwriter Subhi went to LA to record a new song in March, she’d just begun hearing news about COVID-19. Tasked with improvising a song in the studio, she began offloading her feelings about the rising pandemic. The result is “Wake Me Up,” a meditative, vocoder-enhanced single about coming to terms with a rapidly changing world.

“We were in these dark times where everyone was quarantined and we were going to have to wear masks,” she remembers. “I knew that would close things up for a bit, so that was a song about what was happening around us.”

Even though the chorus — “wake me up, wake me up, wake me now/pull me out from the dark” — may sound like a plea to escape the situation, she also considers it to be a hopeful message, anticipating the process of emerging from the COVID era. “‘Wake Me Up’ is really about how these are dark times, but I also am realizing that I will wake up,” she explains.

Subhi · Wake Me Up | Subhi | Original

This mixture of darkness and hope characterizes the in-progress EP on which “Wake Me Up” will eventually appear. “They aren’t feel-good, happy songs, but they are songs with a silver lining,” she says. “I’d like to believe my goal is to create meaningful songs, but songs that also have hope and shed some light on good stuff happening in the future.”

Subhi’s 2017 debut, Shaitaan Dii, is very different from her recent work, incorporating elements of Indian folk music, American pop, and jazz. It was recorded in collaboration with a jazz band, and on it, you can hear an unlikely combination of scatting and Hindi.

During this phase of her career, Subhi was leading an all-male band, and she remembers dealing with a band member who was bullying her and bossing her around. “He would try to shut me down and discredit me and discredit my songs,” she remembers. “It took me two years to figure out what was going on. [Then] I got the courage to stand up and be like, ‘This is my band, and this is the way I want to do it, and everyone needs to respect everyone.'”

After that, she went through a period where she was reluctant to collaborate with anyone out of fear that the same thing would happen again. Though her combative band member was no longer in her way, she was getting in her own way — which inspired “In My Way,” a slow, synthy single about the effects of hanging on to past hurts. Once she came to that realization, she picked herself back up and collaborated with a variety of producers and other artists, which ultimately became corrective experiences that opened her up again.

She also considers “Wake Me Up,” which was recorded with producer Taylor Sparks, a testament to this transformation. In addition to waking up from the dark times of COVID, the song is about “waking me up as an artist,” she explains. “And really, these collaborations did pull me out of the dark, so it’s really symbolic of what was happening in the outer world and what was happening with me internally.”

Subhi’s path to becoming a musician has been long and winding. After growing up in India and attending high school in the U.S., she went to college for finance and minored in music, then began working on Wall Street by day and covering Indian entertainment as a TV news reporter by night. Through the latter job, she met Indian-American filmmaker Mira Nair, who was looking for a music intern, and ended up getting the position.

“After that whole project, I realized, ‘Oh, my god, this is what I could see myself doing my whole life — music is it,” she remembers. “So, I usually say it took me three careers to realize music is my true passion.” Her husband lived in Chicago, so for a while, she split her time between there and Mumbai, working on music for Bollywood films. Soon, she realized she wanted to be a full-time artist, so she planted herself in Chicago and forged ties with its jazz scene.

In the past, she’s experienced internal conflict between her Indian and American identities, especially with regard to her music. One of the upcoming songs on her EP, “Better,” is about reconciling these differences and choosing both sides of herself. “I was dealing with this whole conflict of ‘which one do I choose?'” she says. “And now, I’m more settled, it’s kind of resolved — I’m two sides of this coin.” She’s continued to sing in both English and Hindi, and even though her new EP is primarily inspired by American pop, she considers it Indian-influenced simply because it’s inspired by her life.

“Every song on my EP is very personal to me,” she says. “There’s a story behind every song, and everything written in the EP is an observation for my own personal life. Everything is something I have personally experienced. There are a lot of different themes in the EP, and I hope people resonate with it and can take something from it. The EP in general is not happy-go-lucky, but I’d like to believe it’s meaningful, and it’s an EP with hope, where there is a silver living to everything that I’ve written about.”

Follow Subhi on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

Danielle Cormier Eases Holiday Heartache with “This Time Last Year”

From what we typically see on TV and hear on the radio, the holidays are supposed to be a happy time. But for many people right now, that’s just not the case, largely because they’ve had to reassess the safety of long-held family traditions due to the pandemic, or, more tragically, have lost loved ones to COVID-19. Every winter for the past two years, Nashville-based singer-songwriter Danielle Cormier has written a Christmas song, and this year, she chose to sing about the sadness of celebrating the holidays after the death of a family member.

Cormier co-wrote the song, “This Time Last Year,” with singer-songwriter Karlie Bartholomew. Both of them had unexpectedly lost loved ones this year — Cormier lost her father, and Bartholomew lost her grandfather — and though neither of those deaths were due to COVID, the song was written with those who lost family members to the pandemic in mind.

“After my father passed away, I knew this was what I wanted to write a Christmas song about. A lot of people unfortunately can relate to not having a loved one there for them during Christmas, especially this year,” she says.

The single shares many typical elements of holiday songs: minimalistic piano and strings, lyrics about stockings and snow angels, and even sleigh bells. But unlike the cheery mood of your usual Christmas music, Cormier somberly sings about holidays that “aren’t the same” and “presents wrapped without your name.” Perhaps the most poignant line is, “I keep expecting you to walk through the door/Just like every winter before.”

Danielle Cormier · This Time Last Year

Writing the song was an emotional process for Cormier and Bartholomew. “We shared our experiences of what our holidays have been like in our families and just let it all out on the paper,” says Cormier. “And then recording it, especially singing it, I tried to not block it out but not let it get me too carried away while singing. But then every time I would listen back to the recording, it would feel really emotional. It was definitely therapeutic to create this song.”

She hopes that people who listen to the song feel less alone and know they’re not the only ones having a difficult time accepting that the holidays won’t be the same as before. “The lyrics themselves talk about how our traditions are changing for the holidays — nothing is traditional anymore because you’ve lost someone — so I hope there will be people who are able to find comfort in that and be able to relate to it,” she says.

Cormier has been singing and playing instruments since she was little and studied musical theater at New York City’s American Music and Drama Academy. She dreamed of starring on Broadway, until she realized she didn’t want to act anymore. So, she moved to Nashville and began releasing music in 2016, working with producer Adam Lester, who was Peter Frampton’s lead guitarist on tour. Her first full-length album, 2018’s Fire and Ice, features Frampton on the track “Can’t Quit You,” a country breakup song.

“My producer sent me an email one day and said, ‘here’s the final mix for ‘Can’t Quit You’ — by the way, Peter Frampton put a solo on it.’ And I was like, ‘Oh, that’s nice, thank Mr. Frampton for me.’ But my jaw just dropped,” she remembers.

Today, Cormier is continuing her education online through the New School and works part time processing shipments in the warehouse of a boutique in Nashville.

She began her annual tradition of writing holiday songs in 2018, after someone at a radio station told her they couldn’t play her songs unless they were either top 40 hits or Christmas songs. “Christmas songs have been the hardest for me to write, just to get into that mindset and trying not to repeat things,” she says. “I’d like to record a classic Christmas song as well, but it’s been really fun trying to create new Christmas songs or write a holiday song that hasn’t been said or hasn’t been done before while still carrying the message of the holiday spirit.”

Her first foray into holiday songs was “Christmas Is You,” which has gotten over three million plays on Spotify and was featured on the platform’s Christmas hits playlist in 2018. In it, she sings about her desire for the company of loved ones over Christmas, rather than material things. The following year, she released “Coming Home This Christmas,” a song about visiting family over the holidays.

She’s also hoping to release an EP next year consisting of five songs written in 2020. In the meantime, she’s compiled a mini EP called This Time Last Year consisting of all three of her Christmas songs, which each in their own way speak to the importance of spending time with loved ones over the holidays — and of appreciating any loved ones we will get to share the holidays with this year.

Follow Danielle Cormier on Instagram for ongoing updates.

PLAYING SEATTLE: Songwriter Tekla Waterfield Premieres “Trouble in Time”

The Alaskan-born daughter of a folk musician, Tekla Waterfield comes by evocative, poignant songwriting honestly. Waterfield has played music in various formations in Seattle since she moved to the area in 2010, but most recently, she’s stepped out on own to write and perform with her husband, multi-instrumentalist and producer Jeff Fielder.

Hunkered down together the last few months in their Seattle abode, watching the world unravel from the COVID pandemic and racial strife, Waterfield has wasted no time in taking to the medium she often uses to compute complex, emotional issues—her songs. For many months in the early phase of the pandemic, Waterfield and Fielder performed in many livestream concerts on Facebook and other platforms, including a virtual show called “Songs of Hope and Healing” put on by Seattle’s local music nonprofit, Artist Home.

Community members took notice of the pair’s hustle and heart—and that led them to the opportunity to record today’s premiere track, “Trouble in Time,” and the rest of their forthcoming record by the same name, which arrives January 7th, 2021.

“The guy that runs Doe Bay Resort and Retreat out on Orcas Island, he just happened to see [our] videos and he, at some point, decided he wanted to help artists. He extended us an invitation to come stay at the resort and pay us to play if we wanted to, or we could just hang out,” says Waterfield. “As soon as we got invited we were like, oh yes, we want to get out of our house and go somewhere peaceful. I was like, let’s just use this opportunity while we’re in this place and record.”

As the second single from the record, “Trouble In Time” serves as a perfect example of Waterfield’s unique ability to spin beauty and truth out of what she calls very heavy times. “When I allow myself to feel things, like when I turn it on and really react and listen to the news and watch what’s being said—people of color’s very real heartfelt expressions around how they’ve been treated—and really allow that to hit, it’s like a wave of just terrible, terrible, terrible sadness,” says Waterfield. “So you know, writing a song like that was just a way for me to have an outlet for some of that heaviness, some of that feeling.”

The track begins with the mellow growl of Fielder’s guitar, and Waterfield’s silky voice gently singing, “Watching days unfold, what each day will hold, it’s like a bad dream you can’t wake up from,” she sings. “Remember unity, remember grace, lead us to a better place.” There’s yearning here, and also despair.

The chorus is a repetition of the song’s title, which Waterfield says was originally “Troublin’ Times.” After a suggestion from her husband, she changed the phrase to honor of Representative John Lewis’ famous quote about causing change and making “good trouble,” which felt more representative of what the pair wanted to say.

“It felt like it encompassed all of that, and then disappointment with the way things are going in America and the sadness of the continuation of racism and people not being willing to talk about it,” says Waterfield. “And wanting to be out there and be heard, but how it got turned around, like ‘you guys are just a bunch of hooligans.’ People need to be able to call attention when things are going wrong.”

“Trouble In Time,” is Waterfield and Fielder using their voices in dissent and protest—but more than that, it’s also a balm. The haunting ear-worm of a melody, the slow waltzing groove, and the tender musical conversation between husband and wife gives the weary listener just enough time to pause, ponder, and look to the horizon for hope.

Follow Tekla Waterfield on Facebook for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Joyeur Makes Moves to Quell COVID Blues with “Motion”

These days, it’s easy to let a whole day go by without tearing yourself away from your computer screen. The isolation becomes a self-perpetuating cycle: you spend all day online because you’re lonely, and that makes you feel lonelier, so you turn to social media or Netflix. Joyeur, the LA-based electro-pop duo consisting of Anna Feller and Joelle Corey, has a simple message for people in this situation right now: get outside.

Their latest single, “Motion,” is about dealing with COVID-related stress by getting out into nature and finding peace amid the uncertainty. “Why don’t they leave me ‘lone/I’m not a hater/I need some trees and stones/I’ll call you later/I saw a sign that warned me it was over/I’m going to hang my phone up,” Corey opens the song with a strong, simple beat and breathy voice that give off Lykke Li vibes. More tracks enter the mix in the chorus, giving it a chaotic techno sound that belongs in a nightclub; you can almost see the colorful strobe lights as you hear the heavy synths.

“We started writing the song before the pandemic, but it really influenced the choice of sounds, which are darker than our usual sound, and the pacing of everything really reflects our emotions about what’s happening — everything happening at once,” says Corey.

In accordance with the song’s title, they also wanted a sound people could move to. “We’ll want people to move to it but also feel some catharsis from the music, a kind of cleansing of everything that’s bottled up inside the body,” Feller explains. “I was using a lot of synth that I wasn’t using before, and rhythmical patterns that were a little heavy and techno-ey, to kind of reflect that.”

Joyeur · Motion

The song is off their second EP, which comes out early next year. Much of this project was written during quarantine and explores “the feeling of confinement and breaking free,” says Corey. “That’s sort of what ‘Motion’ is exploring — it’s a constant pattern and struggle, where we truly are playing hide and seek with ourselves. I find myself, and then I hide from that, either by numbing myself with social media or finding myself distracted.” Perhaps the song on the EP that embodies the spirit of quarantine most is “Living Room,” a sultry, almost bluesy ode to dancing in the comfort of one’s own home.

Because of the personal, intimate feel of the EP, the production is simpler and less showy than that of their past work, says Corey. Another difference? On their last EP, 2018’s Lifeeater, Feller did all of the production while Corey served as a singer/songwriter. On this one, their efforts were more split, with Corey experimenting with production by sending Feller interesting sounds, like ringtones she found on her phone.

“She started making up cool beats and melodies and sending them over to me, and I’d work on that,” Feller recounts. On the flip side, Corey encouraged Feller to get out of her comfort zone and sing. “I love harmonies, so I started singing the harmony on the record, which I haven’t done before,” she says. “I feel like we merged into each other and the process was much more fun because it’s more unpredictable, which I think Jo and I like. We like the challenge, but it also gives us confidence.”

The two members of Joyeur — a portmanteau of “joy” and “voyeur” — met when Feller’s husband was mixing a song for Corey. Feller’s background is in classical piano and production, while Corey’s is in voice, and they clicked right away and booked a show together the week they met. It took them a while, however, to find their authentic image rather than catering to music industry norms.

“When I was starting out with Jo, we were just women in the industry trying to be cool and looking good and trying to convince everybody of that,” Feller recalls. “In that process, I was encouraged to not talk about the fact that I am a mother. Maybe people were scared that it would be a turnoff or not relevant. I kind of went with it, and as time went by, I started feeling like we should write our own identity and not be told what this identity should be. I am a mother; I am a musician; I am a DJ; I am millions of things, like everybody is.”

Right now, Feller is pregnant again, which she says has actually aided her creative process. “I’m not experiencing things the same, and I feel like it gave me a different perspective on things,” she says. “Being pregnant really gave me a lot of ideas — my dreams are more vivid, I hear things differently, and this urge to create got even bigger. My brain is kind of changing, too. I feel like I got so much more detail-oriented and am just enjoying creation musically.”

“For some reason, we thought we needed to be 20-year-old sex symbols,” says Corey. “But we’re not, and at the end of the day, we just need to be who we are, and that’s what people are going to connect to.”

Follow Joyeur on Instagram for ongoing updates.

Odette Announces Sophomore LP HERALD with Premiere of “Dwell” Video

Australian R&B artist Odette has a sound that’s as unique as her background. The 23-year-old, born to a South African mother and a British father who introduced her to punk rock, is simultaneously poppy and experimental, gentle and confrontational, catchy and political.

Odette is gearing up to release her second album, HERALD, the follow-up to 2018’s To a Stranger. The latest single off the album, “Dwell” — written in the studio with Pip Norman, Jantine Heij, and Nat Dunn — is a raw glimpse into the artist’s insecurities and emotional vulnerabilities. “Now I stand by the mirror and my fingers are shaking/lights are flickering darkness/please show me I’m changing,” she sings as her voice itself shakes with emotion before belting, “I’m getting high to hide the lows is what I do when I’m alone.”

“This song started as a wistful love song and ended up being a project that Pip and I took into the studio on our own to mess with,” she says. “It evolved into an absolute self-read, a reflection on my flaws and how I felt lost within them at that time.” She describes it as perhaps her most thoughtfully written song, and the only song she’s put on an album that took more than an afternoon to write.

Staccato instrumentals and pauses between verses spotlight Odette’s voice and give the song a sense of drama. “I wanted each section to be a vignette of different textures I associate with being overwhelmed,” she explains. “The verses are quite reserved, and then the bridge and chorus swell into these chaotic, sharp electronic sounds that remind me of not just the feeling of panic, but the urge associated with wanting to break free.”

The video conveys a sense of shame as Odette hides her face behind various paper cutouts and frantically reaches her hands around as if she’s trying to claw her way out of her body. Other shots show her dancing around outside, “a dance that is intended to express self-directed rage,” she says. “The shots inside are very much about the feeling of splitting, shedding, and becoming something new, which is a beautiful, natural process, but also deeply painful.”

Odette describes her album as “a catharsis and a huge change I went through as a human being.” Its release was planned for summer 2020, but got pushed back to February 5, 2021 – not just due to the usual COVID-related delays, but also to personal issues the singer was dealing with. “I was experiencing a lot during the time of creating this album and personally, I didn’t want to start the campaign before I knew I was strong enough to uphold my convictions,” she explains.

The album includes several slower-paced tracks that utilize melodious orchestral strings, like the folky “Mandible” and the rhythmic “Why Can’t I Let the Sun Set,” which shows off her vocal range. It also shows the technical growth she’s undergone since releasing To a Stranger; she was much more involved in the production and arrangement of HERALD, and she’s used the free time time quarantine has afforded her to further develop her production skills using the software program Logic, so we can likely expect even more experimentation and variety from her future projects.

“Things I was scared to try, I said, ‘Why am I afraid?'” she says. “I pushed myself with production and being involved in the technical nitty-gritty aspects of things. Before, I thought, ‘I don’t know how to produce?’ Now, I think I’m confident enough to produce something basic.”

Odette’s recent single “Feverbreak” (featuring Hermitude) is another example of that evolution. After opening with spoken word poetry describing a relationship in which a woman is treated like an object, Odette breaks into the soulful singing she does so well. “Feverbreak” attracted the attention of both the electronic group Northeast Party House and the DJ/producer Basenji, who created two separate remixes of the song.

Basenji’s sounds like it belongs in a nightclub, with warped echoes of Odette’s voice, a danceable beat, and energetic drops. Northeast Party House chose to highlight Odette’s spoken lyrics, particularly “two wrongs don’t make a right/two hands stay intertwined,” using a darker production style. “It’s so weird to hear my music in that kind of style,” she says of the remixes.

Odette has also experimented more with genre on her latest releases. “On the first record, I really stuck to this kind of light pop,” she says. “But now, I don’t really know what genre I would even consider my music.”

Thematically, she considers HERALD a documentation of her journey, of “realizing my own flaws and coming to terms with the fact that I’m not really who I thought I was going to be at 22.” It was also written after a breakup and deals with her finding her identity after that relationship.

“A lot of these songs are written out of anger and spite and really ugly emotions. I really feel almost nervous putting [them] out into the world because there’s a lot of negativity in some of these songs,” she admits. “There’s also a lot of positivity and trying to hold myself accountable.”

Follow Odette on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Ski Team “Photos”

Usually associated with the fleeting status of young love and and sepia-filtered high school summers, there is something intoxicating about sadcore Americana. Lucie Lozinski, who performs as Ski Team, dabbles in this genre on her latest track “Photos,” combining traditional folk and rock elements with a modern twist. The song works as a spoken letter to her former partner that incorporates themes of closure and change. A way of processing what she experienced, the track is elegantly simplistic so as to commune directly with the listener, encouraging her fans to reflect on their own experiences.

Coming from a family of a professional musicians, writing music has always served as an outlet for Lozinski; she’s been writing what she describes as “embarrassing songs” since the age of five. Her brother Ian had started creating music under the moniker Snacks Chapman, and when the pair started collaborating in their parents’ garage in New Jersey Ski Team was born. “I was like we could make a band and ‘ski’ would be the name because it’s two Lozinski’s together,” she explains. “My last name is kind of intimidating.”

Though Ian’s focus was on his own project, Lozinski continued Ski Team undeterred, making space for her to collaborate with others. She’s released a few singles so far, including a heartfelt tribute to her sibling, “Brother,” pleading ballad “Don’t Give Up (Yet),” and the tongue-in-cheek “Knicks Suck.”

The latest addition to her catalogue, “Photos” feels inherently raw and direct. Lozinski communicates a melancholic feeling with sparse acoustic guitar to create a feeling of space. Rightly taking center stage is Lozinski’s somber, crystalline vocal lilt; Lozinski purposefully kept the track void of other elements so as to retain that emotional vulnerability she was experiencing. “Every time you add stuff it turns kind of cognitive and less emotional,” she explains. “I went to add some sticks on it and just some gentle build or gentle recede, but it felt like it was taking away from that [emotion].”

Lozinski taps into the intimacy of performing with others around a campfire. “We’re not used to being in a room full of synths with a giant band that’s well produced – we’ve never had a campfire like that,” she jokes, addressing the track’s lo-fi appeal.

In the song, Lozinski narrates an attempt to put away mementos of old flame, stymied by her nostalgia for the good times depicted in snapshots she can’t let go of. She makes excuses: “I tried to include them in a letter/But the envelope was too small,” she sings, knowing it’s the relationship, not the photos, she’s unwilling to release. Throughout the track there is a repetition of this idea that she needs to move on, and each time counters this with the line “But it’s hard to look away,” in effect highlighting the strength of the emotions tying her to the person that she loves as she attempts to disentangle herself from them, mind, body and soul.

Like a message in a bottle, the song encapsulates both the history of the relationship and Lozinski’s writing process. “It just sort of happened. It was there and I wanted to get it out of my brain,” she says, adding that her songs are “like little vials inside of my body that are full and once they’re full I’ve gotta get them out. [‘Photos’] was a particular, potent experience of moving across country in his shadow, and I’m excited to pass that.”

As a tool for expression, songwriting has helped Lozinski take stock of the effect of her memories and experiences that at the time she doesn’t truly register. “I won’t consciously know how I’m feeling about a thing until I’m like ‘Oh I really have the itch to write this song down today’… and then I’m like ‘Oh this doesn’t look like a great situation! turns out I’m actually very disappointed about this thing that happened a year ago,’” she says.

Lozinski plans to continue releasing her work one single at time, saying, “It’s given me time to polish up the next one.” She’s also planning to record another version of “Photos” with the intention of releasing it in October.

Ultimately “Photos” is a tale of change and the resulting loss we all fear, because it means the outcome is unknown and therefore out of our control. For Lozinski, the track gives voice to the emotions she was processing, but she opens the door to allow for individual reflection based on the listener’s own experiences and apprehension towards change, regardless of whether it’s tied to a relationship.

Follow Ski Team on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

Jeni Schapire Reclaims Her Sense of Self with “What’s In A Name”

Jeni Schapire woke up one day and didn’t recognize her own life. Formerly known as Jennifer Rae, a professional moniker she had been using since she was 15 years old, the Nashville-based musician started to feel suffocated. Her stage name no longer felt true to who she had become, so she shed it completely. Reemerging clear-headed and much stronger with her debut single “What’s in a Name,” co-produced with Daniel Markus, Schapire reclaims her own narrative.

“It is the declaration that this is who I am and this is what I want to be called,” she tells Audiofemme. “Beyond that, when I wrote this song, I stopped to look at my life. I felt isolated, alone, scared, and I didn’t know the person who was staring back at me in the mirror. I had made choices for other people and didn’t know what I wanted.”

“What’s in a Name?” is a life-preserver, a way to uncover her identity and pull her safely back to land. “It isn’t too late for me to make the choices I want to make and to be the truest version of myself,” she says.

Schapire began writing her forthcoming EP (of the same name) nearly a year ago, and when COVID-19 hit, she, like many, turned inward to do some long-overdue soul-searching. “That’s when I was certain I needed to shed my stage name. So as any songwriter might, I wanted to write a song about it. No more hiding…. just pure authenticity,” she explains.

In taking stock of her life, she also realized how many toxic people she’d allowed into it, that truth be told, didn’t deserve her time or energy. “I was not putting myself and my goals first. I was choosing relationships and my partner’s goals over my own,” she admits. “Each song on this EP is an examination of myself in some way: looking at things I wish were different, ways I wish I could change, wanting to be someone else, loving someone who can’t love me back.”

With barebones lyrics that read as fleeting images flashing through Schapire’s mind, there’s a subtle sorrow etched into the song, a sorrow she must feel again if she has any hope of moving onward. And yet, “What’s in a Name” remains surprisingly textured and atmospheric. Synths thrash against organic instruments, including a brassy horn riff. It’s a delicious, hypnotic soundscape to give her sparrow-like vocals proper flight. “Another language/Lips moving/Shape shifting,” she chirps. “Say it again/Can’t grasp/Leave it.”

Jeni Schapire · What’s In A Name

By the song’s final frames, the music and vocals bleed together and fade, mirroring her personal journey to glorious enlightenment. “That’s not mine/What you call me/I’m someone else/Who you made me,” she sings.

“This song began with just experimenting with different sounds and plugins. Up until I became fluent with Protools, I felt like I couldn’t fully express myself. There was a powerlessness to having to rely on translating my vision through someone else,” she explains. “That power and clarity has made working with Daniel and other producers effortless. I lay a groundwork for what I’m imagining and then they can expand on it. Beyond experimenting and just really learning as much as possible, I listen to so much music. I’m so hungry to hear what speaks to people. It’s so informative. Everyone gains such a different emotional impact from music and that fascinates me.”

“What really unlocked it as a song was the piano part. It shifted the feel from C major to A minor, and from that point, the song kind of finished itself,” she adds. “But the outro did come from Protools freezing on the horn riff! A computer crash that I am actually grateful for.”

What’s in a Name is one of those wholly special records, culminated from a deep well of life experience. Playing piano since the age of five and growing up in Princeton, New Jersey (a “wealthy town with so many different kinds of people”) Schapire admits to having a pretty charmed life, while also navigating a broken school system. “The schools there pressure cook their kids until they either become astronomically successful or they burn out. It’s home, and I miss it, and I’m incredibly privileged to have been raised there, but growing up there was really hard.”

Schapire later studied at Oberlin College and eventually moved to Nashville. “People always say Nashville is a big city with a small town feel, and that is absolutely the truth,” she recalls of her early days there. When she first began actively recording, her style leaned heavily into the indie-rock and Americana arenas. Nashville’s in-built melting pot of influences was almost distracting, and to Schapire, the work never felt quite right. “I was still looking for the sound that felt like the truest expression of myself. That’s also why I’m so excited about this EP. It just feels like me,” she says.

What’s in a Name is about declaring her worth and staking her claim in the music world. One single in, and it’s apparent Jeni Schapire has something profound to say. As important as this moment is, she carries a bit of emotional weight on her shoulders. “I think the mistakes that I’ve made have cost me time. Making mistakes and learning lessons is a time consuming feat,” she says. “It’s so necessary, but I wish I never sacrificed myself, my goals, and my worth. I don’t regret the mistakes because they’ve brought me to where I am right now. But selling myself short ─ that breaks my heart.”

Follow Jeni Schapire on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram for ongoing updates.

TRACK PREMIERE: Pine Barons Talk “Chamber Choir”

There’s a kind of yearning nostalgia in the songs of the Pine Barons, an earnestness that never feels forced even though it competes with an eclectic array of elements and influences. The Philadelphia-based band has a sound that meshes atmospheric rock and folk, with intricately layered vocals and a member assigned, in part, to sampling. Like the New Jersey woods they took their name from (though they’ve tweaked the spelling), their music is dense, mysterious and a bit dark.

We spoke to the band about what inspired their latest song (the moody but uplifting “Chamber Choir”), how a childhood keepsake inspired the name of their upcoming album, and how this release is different from anything else they’ve done.

AudioFemme: When I listen to your music, I hear hints of Modest Mouse, Dr. Dog, and Arctic Monkeys, among other things. Are any of these accurate? Can you elaborate on the band’s main influences?

Collin (drums, vocals): I’d say all three of those are accurate to an extent. We all share very similar tastes musically. Influences as far as writing span across many spectrums and genres, somewhat eclectically as individuals. That ranges anywhere from backgrounds in jazz and world music, to punk, indie, pop, hip hop, etc.

A few main influences we all share would be Tom Waits, Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys, Animal Collective, Dr. Dog, Daft Punk, Leonard Cohen, Of Montreal, Les Miserables, and many many more.

AudioFemme: Can you explain the meaning behind your album title, The Acchin Book?

Keith (lead vocals, guitar): I was sorting through boxes from a recent move and found a book that I made when I was about four years old, titled The Acchin Book. Each page had a different picture with a caption next to it. My spelling was horrid and there were even various different versions of recurring words throughout the book, but the only consistent one was ‘acchin,’ which is pronounced ‘action’ in the real world. So that’s where the title came from.

AudioFemme: Can you tell me about the recording process for the album?

Collin: The process was a bit different from our past approaches. There was a lot of pre-production. The Acchin Book was recorded from Spring 2015 to 2016. Up until that point, we’d recorded everything and basically did everything ourselves. [fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][For The Acchin Book,] we recorded everything with Kyle Pulley at Headroom Studios in Philadelphia, who also helped produce. This was, in all, a huge learning process for the lot of us because we’d never worked in a studio or with someone producing our work before. That brought us to be able to focus more on intelligently structuring these songs, and slowly weeding out the excess with what fit and what might be unnecessary. The process taught us a lot creatively, and also collaboratively on how to work differently together. I believe in the end, we only wound up cutting two songs off the final product of what is The Acchin Book, and we are extremely excited to finally be able to share what we’ve made with everyone! We’ve certainly learned more patience these past two years.

AudioFemme: Let’s focus on the song “Chamber Choir.” What was the inspiration behind the track? I get kind of sad, but hopeful vibes from it, and the noisy portion at the end is really interesting and unexpected.

Keith: The song was triggered by waking up in a panic after dreaming about someone dear to me being in some sort of emotional crisis and immediately feeling the need to reach out to them. I think if you care enough about someone you sort of share their emotions in a sense; I guess that’s called compassion. But that panic that you might feel after waking up from some nightmarish world is fleeting, so in that instance I didn’t actually end up reaching out to that person. Maybe they did need help, who knows? Thinking about fleeting emotions inspired the rest of the lyrics, because most extreme emotions are fleeting, like a glance at the sun leaving a bluish afterglow.

AudioFemme: I feel like the Philly music scene is often overshadowed by Brooklyn’s. Can you tell me about your connection to and experiences in your local music scene?

Collin: As early as the formation of Pine Barons, we’ve essentially always been a part of the Philadelphia realm of music. Our first few shows were in Philly, and shortly after we embarked on a short tour which brought us to New York and the upper half of the east coast. The end of that tour was the first time we actually played in New Jersey.

Past bands I’ve played in, as well as bands some of our family members have played in have all placed roots in Philly the past decade or so. It was easier to book shows, and play with bands we liked in Philly than it was in Jersey. [Starting there] made the most sense and created the most opportunity. Nobody knows where Shamong, New Jersey is. But most people have an idea of Philadelphia, PA. The Philly music scene has treated us humbly exceptional through our time playing and now living here, and we’re happy to be a part of it. Most of our closest friends all play in bands throughout the city, so in a way Philly has it’s own community of musicians aside from just “bands.”

AudioFemme: Your songs are incredibly layered. Do the studio versions differ from your live versions?

Alex (keys, percussion): There is a lot going on in these songs, indeed! Growing up with these boys has been an incredible experience, but one thing that always broke my heart was when they’d end up sacrificing their instruments to play another instrument. Since joining the band a little over a year ago, I’ve been able to take on most the multitasking by juggling between the Nord, microKORG, sampler, and aux percussion, and I really feel it’s helped balance out the live sound of Pine Barons. The live show will hit you hard in all the right places, whereas sitting down and listening to the recorded album will send you on a vast, euphoric journey.

AudioFemme: Do you have any upcoming plans for the band?

Collin: We’re currently working on another music video. We’re definitely planning to tour; where is the real question. We also have the skeletons written for an entire new albums’ worth of material, which we will start the demo process of this winter, and we are very excited about that!

The Acchin Book is out August 4 via Grind Select. Listen to “Chamber Choir” below!

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TRACK PREMIERE: Mimi Raver “Creatures Of Habit”

The album art for Mimi Raver’s upcoming LP ’06 Female will give you an insight into the songwriter’s knack for duality. At first glance, the cover for Raver’s imminent release bears the precious, painterly image of a grey tabby, sitting pretty by a Kelly green couch. On closer inspection: droplets of blood color the cat’s mouth…and then you see the dead seagull, punctured and pinned between kitty’s paws.

The same secretly sinister allure is at play on Raver’s new single, “Creatures Of Habit,” which digs far deeper than its “bedroom pop” branding suggests. Raver’s music has also been branded as “analog,” which is far more fitting given the warm tape hiss that greets you in the opening bars of “Creatures Of Habit.” Mimi Raver feels close. Very, very close. Her voice is too interesting to call a whisper, but it is made of a similar softness – gliding lithely on top of pitchy rhythm guitar. So it’s all the more surprising when she coos:

“Frank fell in the kitchen again/And he smashed his head on the window sill/Said he saw his wife at the door/But she’s been gone since 2004.”

Raver’s breed of “dream pop” plumbs far greater depths than songs about chilling at the beach. As for her approach to form, Raver has taken great care to convert her love of analog photography to an album exalting the messiness of tape recording. The entirety of ’06 Female was laid down on a Teac-3440 A 4-track reel-to-reel tape machine, which accounts for the wonderful graininess throughout.

Raver’s subtle songwriting is equally intriguing as her ability to harness discomfort so beautifully – and utilize the unexpected effects of her recording method. As “Creatures Of Habit” tapers off, warbling voices clamor in conversation – a result of radio signals the tape machine picked up from nearby broadcasting stations.

Raver is a quietly captivating songwriter; one that can merge the eerie and the intimate, the analog and contemporary, and a sordid sweetness that makes you want to hear more from her. Much more.

Stream our exclusive premiere of Mimi Raver’s “Creatures of Habit” below; ’06 Female arrives this April.

TRACK PREMIERE: Citrus & Katie “Sludge”

Citrus & Katie’s latest track “Sludge” embodies its title, dredging its way through your system and sitting contentedly in your ears. It’s parts garage rock, funk, soul, and pop, making for an upbeat fusion track that’ll leave you smiling. For the most part, “Sludge” is true to its name as a slow moving track, until the end when it really picks up pace, kicking up the rock ‘n’ roll vibes and ending on a fun note. Take a listen to it below! Their new album, NSTYLDY is out this month.

PLAYING DETROIT PREMIERE: Nydge “El Segundo (ft. Kim Vi)

What better way to express an impassioned, tumultuous romantic entanglement than through a tropical, pop whirlwind that is as torn and collaborative in its conception as the aforementioned relationship? “El Segundo” is the latest sonic story from Assemble Sound resident producer and synth-pop artist Nydge who is as masterful as a collaborator as he is a solo entity. With an impeccable flair for sophisticated and positively infectious hooks and shoulder-shimmying beats, here Nydge finds an accessibility without conceding his innately distinct auditory architecture. “I try and be as intentional as I can with making music and with the Nydge project, specifically. I want to make pop music as interesting as possible while still being consumable,” explains producer/artist Nigel Van Hemmye. “Often times I find myself trashing musical sketches early on, sometimes less than an hour in. I now find my way to be more akin to mining for ideas. Sometimes I go deep into the cave of creativity to come out with nothing. My job, then, isn’t to make something amazing every day, it’s to be ready, patient, open and excited to strike gold; pickaxe in hand.”

Featuring multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Kim Vi whose contribution aided the tracks rolling momentum and solidified Nydge’s commitment to concise layers, “El Segundo” is refined yet grinds with a untamed attitude. “I’ve never been to El Segundo. I didn’t even know it existed until Kim Vi spouted it out for the first line of the first verse. Kim is a welcome asset to any writing session.” Nigel says. “Throughout the song I used his arsenal of abilities, ranging from guitar, bass, singing, clapping and chordal changes.” The result? A textural playscape that is tender and frustrating with an intoxicatingly pop-purist bounce that could just as easily be a dance-floor groove or a fiery backseat rendezvous.

Listen to the latest from Nydge (ft. Kim Vi) below:

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TRACK PREMIERE: The Hamiltons “Take the Hit”

An instant pop classic with an old-fashioned twinge, The Hamiltons’ latest single “Take the Hit” is a timeless piece that’ll have you swooning. It’s a unique genre-mashing track in that it’ll transport you from smack dab in the 60s to the mid-90s over the course of a few lulling notes and jazzy vocals.

Based in London after relocating from Sydney, this sibling duo not only performs their own music, but also produce and write it. And their investment in their music is apparent in “Take the Hit”–it’s dripping with passion and affection, carefully honed to present you with an entrancing final product. With influences in jazz, folk, country, and cajan, it’s no wonder their sound is so eclectic.

TRACK PREMIERE: Yaysh “Wild One” (Madame Gandhi Percussion Edit)

L.A. based pop paragon Yaysh made a lasting impression when she recently dropped the R8DIO-produced “Wild One” via Young Hollywood. The initial single off of her upcoming record, it is a sweetly melodic track with glittering chart potential. The vulnerable pop song takes a dirty turn as Yaysh raps through the bridge. “Wild One” inspires listeners to dance, as the Shangri-Las would say, “close, very, very close.”

If the original cut is perfect for languidly swaying with a date, then Madame Gandhi’s percussion edit might make you break out in “Pon De Floor”-style daggering. Filled-out with dancehall inspired beats, Gandhi used a Caribbean soca beat as her foundation, making a feast of rhythm with staccato bongos and everyone’s favorite percussion instrument: the cowbell.

The percussion edit texturizes the track to the point that movement becomes involuntary while listening to it, hitting a node so primal within, that it’s no wonder the drum is the oldest instrument in human history. Yaysh commented in a press release: “‘Wild One’ is about passion, justice and just straight-up courage-” a fact that becomes all the more evident with the spicy new drum track supplied by Gandhi, whose approach to music is always unconventional.

Check out the Madame Gandhi Percussion Edit of “Wild One” below. I dare you to sit still.

Tag: TRACK PREMIERE