Ainsley Costello’s debut album EXLESS plays like a confident, hook filled mission statement, one that pushes back against the tired narrative that you have to be in love to be complete. “I wanted EXLESS to be the album I didn’t hear growing up,” Costello explains. “I was so tired of only hearing songs about how sad it is if you’ve never been in a romantic relationship.” Instead, she wrote an album that celebrates self possession, independence, and the messy beauty of being in between. It is a concept that feels rooted in her generation’s values, and honestly, it works.

By the late 90s, I was already an adult, and I remember that era of pop and alt rock being unselfconsciously optimistic. This record taps into some of that same energy. The opening track, “EXLESS,” sounds like something I would have heard on the radio back then. It has a tight, melodic verse and a chorus that punches through clean and bright. There is a clarity to it, no irony, no posturing, just a young artist going all in.

“People Pleaser” is one of the early standouts. It leans more into the ballad lane but still feels driven by guitars. The hook is undeniable. “Can’t Say I’m Not Trying” shifts gears into synth pop territory. It is not my favorite production style, but there are strong melodic choices that carry it through. “Change Your Mind” brings the guitars back, and I really liked the textures here. Her vocals hit especially well on this one, earnest and a little defiant.

“Up For It” is one of the catchiest tracks on the record. It is the kind of pop song that feels ready for a live crowd to scream along with. On “Anywhere But Here,” Costello sings openly about therapy, which caught my attention. That kind of emotional transparency wasn’t common when I was her age, at least not in pop music. It made me realize how different the cultural context is now and how refreshing it is to hear someone lean into it.

“You Problem” is the slowest track here, a more reflective ballad, while “THEREGOESMY!” flips the energy completely. It is the closest thing to a dance track on the album and feels like a stylistic detour, but a fun one. The closer, “Alchemy,” ties things up on a solid note and was really well written.

What stands out most about EXLESS is how clearly it reflects the voice of someone in their early twenties, curious, searching, and unafraid to try on different styles. The themes feel timely, even generational, and that is part of the album’s charm. This is a pop record through and through, but it is one that dips into rock, electronic, and ballad territory with ease. Take a listen!

Matare’s “Attach Your Memory,” the lead single from the upcoming Extinction Burs, is a hazy beam of light that lands somewhere between shoegaze nostalgia and coastal daydream. Based in Atlanta but recording in Sarasota, Florida, Matare taps into a breezy, salt air energy that feels worlds away from the city. The song carries a sense of ease, not in a lazy way, but in the way memory sometimes softens the edges of everything. From the first listen, I felt like I was being pulled into a warm, slow motion flashback that somehow belongs to me even though I know it does not.

The track opens with washed out synths and reverb heavy guitar tones that immediately place it in a late 80s to early 90s context. I was hearing shades of The Cure and The Jesus and Mary Chain, maybe even a bit of Ride or early Slowdive. It is not just the textures, it is the mood: romantic, a little detached, and humming with a quiet longing.

Structurally, “Attach Your Memory” is pretty straightforward. The rhythm sticks to a reliable 4/4 pulse, the guitars ride a lot of root notes, and the bassline does exactly what it needs to do, hold everything together without drawing attention to itself. There is something comforting in how simple it all is. Nothing pushes too hard, but it also never gets dull. It just floats along, carrying you with it.

What I appreciated most was how cohesive the whole thing felt. Matare knows what kind of song this is and does not try to make it more than it needs to be. It is dreamy but grounded, familiar but not derivative. It fits neatly into the lineage of post punk and shoegaze without sounding like a throwback. There is clarity in the production that gives the track some lift, but it still keeps enough haze to feel emotionally loose around the edges.

If you are into shimmering guitar tones, melancholic melodies, and that particular kind of emotional ambiguity that defines the best shoegaze and dream pop, this song will sit right with you. “Attach Your Memory” does not reinvent anything, but it does what it sets out to do with style and a quiet confidence. I am looking forward to hearing where Matare takes it from here.

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R Sheaves is another one of those band names that sounds like a person! Based in Newfoundland, this “experimental folk group” is helmed by Robert Humber (from whence the “R” comes from) who writes, performs and mixes his music along with several guests. His newest release is titled MARY SPINS, which is structured like an extended conceptual album. Humber hopes to create a listening experience both tender and transcendent, blending “nostalgic textures of bedroom folk with the haunted, otherworldly tones of experimental music.”

The album’s musical foundation is described as featuring “sweeping finger-picked guitars, delicate violins and ethereal falsetto vocals, with clarinet interludes and frenetic guitar solos punctuating its narrative.” Humber’s musical arsenal also includes an upright piano in a cabin, his Dad’s double bass, a friend’s accordion and a singing saw. He doesn’t mention banjo but there’s a lot of it! Lyrically Humber aims to create audio snapshots of lived experiences, boldly confronting life’s complexities. Mastering was performed by Louis McDonald at 62 Broadway.

“Mary spins” is the opening salvo in a conceptual cycle that will include four different versions of the title track. It begins in unforgettable style with hushed vocals, resonator acoustic and singing saw, which is a sound you rarely hear outside of old cartoons! Humber’s vocal duet with the saw is a thing of wonder. Zamm Kenoby is credited as guest drummer, which is clearly evident when the track goes into Rock Overload Mode. Both this amazing track and the rest of this iconoclastic album remind me of Sirens NW, an indie band who received Top Album honors here on Pitch Perfect. That’s just track one, and already there were enough ideas for a full album!

“Peering over edges” is an uptempo confessional folk tune, with rapid acoustic picking and dramatic percussion. The sound has an exciting, overdriven quality that flirts with Lo Fi without actually going there. When the 70’s Beach Boys vocals and organ kick in, you just gotta throw your hands up in wonder! “new dark” is heralded with groaning double bass which leads into gentle banjo-picked verses. That these two unique arrangements slam against each other (and that it works) is certainly unexpected!  

“Mary spins II” is a short clarinet interlude, followed by “les adieux” which has a Fleet Foxes-like arrangement. If Humber got his string section in any manner besides live performance, I’m totally amazed and jealous. It’s cheating to mention Brian Wilson again but the creative expanse of this work is giving me total “SMiLE” vibes. “It gets better” features guest Holly Winter (bass clarinet) along with the haunting background vocals of Victoria, Kate and Jessica Pereversoff. This is a deep, dark but lovely folk track that belies Steve Martin’s joke that banjos are only for happy music. The lyrics offer a clue: “I think you were right when you said hope is a string pulled tight/ Only so many times that I can tell myself that it gets better.”

“carp” recalls the minor-key genius of Elliott Smith crossed with medieval melodies. This short track showcases Daniel Rowland (english horn) and Daniel G (cello). “Mary spins III” features haunting pipe organ by Emery van de Weil. “why didn’t I” is a moving remembrance of losing someone (your father?) to death and wondering “why didn’t I cry?” Humber again creates a bed of ghostly, vaguely distorted tones and sounds for this airy, acoustic track that even welcomes glockenspiel. “weave” brings the banjo very close to the microphone along with an intimate vocal and clever lyrics (“talked to the leaves, told me to leave…”). 

Incredibly, there’s even more here I didn’t get to! What I will mention is that this album is going into my collection right now, and if you check it out you’ll see why!

The name Snowden River evokes Winterscapes with snow-covered mountains and silver trout swimming upstream, but actually belongs to a self-described bedroom artist from Maryland now based in Toronto whose real name is Lukas Roselle. His music is rooted in folk but also inspired by psychedelic, country, rock and pop. First releasing music in 2023, Snowden River’s newest album is titled Sea Glass. 

River recorded most instruments himself, using GarageBand as his DAW and mastering through BandLab. These include vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, pedal steel guitar, drum machine, percussion, various keys and harmonica. His sound can best be described as gentle and sincere, a rare quality that I’ve also heard from the songs of indie artist Jim France (they even have similar voices) but not too many others. 

“Empty Room” is built on a dream-like folk pattern with lots of backing strings and an open, expansive sound that recalls artists like Tim Buckley. As mentioned, Roselle has a sincere voice that sits in a lower register, barely crossing the line between speaking and singing. This song might be about a breakup, but as a fellow home taper I get distinct glimpses of what it’s like to “feel the speakers boom (without) much shoulder room.” Cole Allen guests on backing vocals. “Open Tab” continues the warm, welcoming sound with the addition of dreamy pedal steel and ringing acoustics, and again also seems to touch on the life of a solitary muso (“I wear songs like a uniform / Let the words show off til I’m adored”).

The title track “Sea Glass” seems to go deeper into Roselle’s heart, with both guitar and vocals playing even lower with church-like reverence. The lyrics are somewhat parallel to the classic construct of Harry Nilsson’s “Now Think About Your Troubles” as we watch a glass statue get created, broken and finally washing up as sea glass. Musically it’s a second cousin to the Zevon classic “Hasten Down The Wind”. In “Blue (Interlude)” Roselle takes a short track to offer solace and acceptance to the ocean, building a Brian Wilson-like vocal chorus in the process. “Blitzed” is the second song in a row to cast aspersions on mountain living (“Upper Appalachia ain’t for me”) and has a breezy, mid-range Bob Dylan feel including left-and-right harmonica. 

“One More Time” is the big track where Roselle welcomes lots of guests: Ian Mackenzie on lead guitar with Ray Hawkins, Emma Kate Bates, Sarah Kaisar, Norah Jackson and Eric Martins on backing vocals. It’s to Roselle’s credit that five extra singers don’t overwhelm the track: he mixes them to his own vocal almost as tight as a shrink-wrapped package, and then has them sing by themselves in a cute coda. Mackenzie’s fuzz solo changes up the sound, and Roselle is kind enough to give him co-writer credit!  “Evergreen” has a classical acoustic piano and organ at its center in waltz time, creating a magical aura for its remembrances of a visiting lover who soon must depart. Amazing vocal overdubs by Mr. Roselle here. The reverence of “Let Me Know” certainly lets the listeners know that this ode to a troubled friend weighs heavily on the narrator’s heart. Great interplay between guitars and electric organ here! “Christopher” closes the album with more Dylan-like harmonica and a final jangly guitar solo by Mr. Mackenzie.

Sometimes you need songs and music of a more comforting style, and Roselle has that aspect more than covered. See what he’s about!

​Kilravock’s Tyranny of the Clock is less a cohesive release and more a jagged mirror, fractured, raw, and intentionally difficult to parse. Based in Omaha, Kilravock delivers three new solo tracks as a preview of an upcoming full length, along with a John Lennon cover and two contributions from his collaborative projects: the post punk leaning The Alliterates and the experimental noise collective Lucid Fugue. The result is a chaotic, disorienting sampler that seems more interested in testing boundaries than drawing you in gently. I found myself confused, intrigued, and at times completely overwhelmed, but I kept listening.

The opener, “Who Killed Saint Monday,” sets the tone with a four chord groove that wobbles in and out of time. It is rough around the edges in a way that feels deliberate. The vocals jump between monotone and something more performative, almost cartoonishly villainous. The mix is murky, the lyrics buried so deep I could barely make out a word, but somehow that worked in its favor. The song spirals fast, and I had to stop trying to hold on to anything. It is messy and wild, and that is part of its pull.

“Solidarity Forever” takes the chaos even further. Everything is drenched in reverb to the point of abstraction. I could hardly distinguish the elements, just waves of noise and occasional vocal fragments that disappear as quickly as they surface. There is what sounds like a second vocalist, possibly female, but again, the effect is so heavy I was left guessing. It felt less like a song and more like wandering into a dream where everything is distorted and a little menacing.

Then comes “Incompatibility \[2025 mix],” which immediately stands apart with more clarity and volume. The fidelity shift is jarring but welcome. It actually sounds mixed, and there is enough shape here to latch onto. It is easily the most listenable track in a traditional sense and the first time I felt like I could meet the artist halfway.

The cover of “Working Class Hero \[2025 mix]” was surprisingly straightforward. After the first three tracks, I expected it to be unrecognizable, but it plays like someone set up a mic in a living room full of people singing along. It is raw, rough, and communal. It does not try to reinterpret Lennon’s message so much as channel it through a lo fi lens. It sounds great.

“The Alliterates – Labor Day \[2025 mix]” veers into snarling punk rock territory. It has the energy of the Sex Pistols but filtered through something more industrial and aggressive. The drums hit like metal on metal. It is not polished, and it does not want to be. Then there is “Lucid Fugue – Beg For Scraps \[2025 Remaster],” which might have been my favorite track of the bunch. It plays like a descent into a psychedelic nightmare, full of abrasive textures and haunting noise. It does not offer resolution. It just drops you in and leaves you there.

Tyranny of the Clock does not pretend to be a traditional record. It is more like a sonic sketchbook or a warped mixtape, each piece revealing a different angle of Kilravock’s world. There is no through line, no clean arc. But that scattershot approach feels intentional. If you are trying to understand what Kilravock is about, this release gives you multiple entry points, though none of them are easy. And that, I think, is the point.

Mary Oz’s latest track, “Joy In Sorrow Groves,” is a gentle but piercing folk rock song that hit me in that quiet place where reflection lives. Based in Cebu, Philippines, she approaches songwriting with a sincerity that feels unforced. This one in particular felt like it came from somewhere personal, but not closed off. It reaches outward. The song wrestles with the ways we hurt, physically, emotionally, mentally, and the questions that rise up in those moments. And maybe it is just me, but I have been noticing more and more artists writing about healing lately, which makes me think we are all carrying a little more than usual.

The song begins with soft guitar picking and Mary’s voice arriving almost like a thought you are just starting to articulate. I liked her tone immediately. It is clear and intimate, but not overly polished. As the track unfolds, more instruments ease their way in, some subtle piano lines, a faint second vocal that sounds like a filtered version of her own voice, whispering underneath. It creates a kind of inner dialogue, like the version of yourself that speaks when things are quiet enough to hear it.

When the drums finally come in, they do so softly, but they carry a gentle sense of forward motion. There is a lift in the rhythm that feels like a turning point. The track builds, layer by layer, but it never overpowers the vocal. Everything remains centered around her voice, which holds the weight of the song with ease. There is a short breakdown near the end, a brief exhale, before the final return of the main vocal line. It felt earned.

The song reminded me a bit of Feist, not just in the tone or arrangement, but in the way it walks that tightrope between melancholy and comfort. There is a lot of space in the song, both musically and emotionally. It lets you breathe. It gives you room to bring your own meaning to it.

“Joy In Sorrow Groves” is a well crafted song that is worth your time to check out.

Pleasure, the fifth album from transatlantic duo Young Gun Silver Fox, Andy Platts and Shawn Lee, is a lush, unapologetic love letter to the 1970s. Released through Blue Élan Records, it feels less like a modern record and more like a portal to a time when sunshine pop, soul infused disco, and velvety ballads ruled the airwaves. I found myself double checking the release year more than once. That is how convincingly they channel the sound. And while originality is not necessarily the point here, the execution is so tight and joyful that it rarely matters.

From the jump, the Bee Gees influence is unmistakable. Not subtle, not implied, loud, proud, and falsetto forward. “Stevie & Sly” and “Born To Dream” are so steeped in that late era disco glow that I half expected to find them buried on an unreleased Spirits Having Flown reel. They are polished, impeccably arranged, and delivered with the kind of precision that only comes from deep respect for the source material. These are not pastiche songs. They are crafted with care and full of little production details that make them pop.

“Late Night Last Train” pulls things back a bit. I loved this one. The more restrained instrumentation lets the groove breathe, and for a moment, I caught hints of something more contemporary. It has a faint Americana undercurrent that reminded me of The War on Drugs, like someone spliced a faded highway ballad into a soul track.

“Burning Daylight” is a standout. The bassline is thick and melodic, the harmonies glide across the top, and the arrangement is very well done. The song does not try to outshine anything around it. It just owns its space completely. “Holding Back The Fire” leans into that retro futurist funk space, somewhere between Daft Punk and The Jackson 5. It is glossy, fun, and full of energy.

“Just For Pleasure” drops into a deeper, more sensual groove. The funk here is slower, stickier, and more introspective. Then “Put Up Your Dukes” offers a curious mix of vintage funk and something almost homespun. There is a warmth in the production that gave me flashes of John Denver, but filtered through an R and B lens.

“The Greatest Loser” is the record’s most tender moment. A slow burning ballad with just enough restraint to avoid melodrama. It feels sincere and hits at just the right time in the tracklist. “Stealing Time” returns to the funk playbook but adds a little more bite. By the time we get to “One Horse Race,” the sun is fully up. This track feels like morning light pouring into a kitchen window. The vocals are bright and open, and the whole thing lands like a breath of fresh air.

To be honest, Pleasure plays like a deliberate pastiche, and it is clear the band is fully aware of it. But that is also what makes the record work. It does not need to be wildly original to be successful. It is an homage with heart, and the songwriting, production, and performances are all dialed in. This is the kind of album that you can put on at almost any time and feel better for it. It is easy to love, easy to revisit, and proof that doing something familiar can still feel deeply satisfying when done this well.

The debut album ...Is Forming by UK band The Crystal Teardrop is steeped so deeply in late 60s psychedelia that, from the very first note, it feels like you have stepped into a technicolor time warp. The band nods to multiple eras in their press materials, but aesthetically and sonically, they are locked in with a very specific vision. Even their press photos make it seem like they should be sharing a stage with Jefferson Airplane at some outdoor acid drenched festival in 1968.

The album opens with “Colours Changing,” and it immediately sets the tone. The track is soaked in reverb, with swirling guitar textures and live sounding drums that feel warm and unpolished in the best way. Everything about it, from the vocal phrasing to the pacing, feels period specific. But instead of coming across as imitation, it feels like they are channeling something. I was into it right away. The vocals sit in that perfect middle ground between clarity and haze, and the musicianship is tight without being showy.

“Through With You” is a burst of energy. It feels fast, loose, and slightly rebellious, like something you would hear blasting from a garage down the street. There is a real exuberance to it that caught me off guard. “Borrowed Time” might be the most Byrds adjacent track here, and I mean that as a compliment. The jangly guitar patterns and harmonies are so locked in that it is hard not to feel transported. It is also one of the catchiest songs on the record. I kept finding myself humming it hours later.

“The Rain Parade” is a standout. Something about the way it is mixed, the air around the vocals, the placement of the instruments, made it feel timeless. It has that rare quality of sounding like a song you have known forever even if you are hearing it for the first time. “Two Hearts” taps into that same energy, though it leans a bit more into The Doors territory. The way the organ and guitar weave together gives it a hypnotic pull that I really enjoyed.

“For One More Day” is lush and comforting. The Byrds came to mind again, but there is also a gentleness to it that reminded me of The Mamas and the Papas. Then “Into the Unknown” arrives with a surprising twist. There is a shoegaze quality to it, like they pulled their psychedelic palette into the 90s for a moment, and it works beautifully. It is dense, dreamy, and a little harder to pin down, which made it one of the more emotionally affecting tracks for me.

As the album continues, it stays remarkably consistent. There is no obvious filler, but a few songs did rise above the rest. “Turn You Down,” “Nine Times Nine,” and the closing title track all hit that sweet spot of nostalgia and freshness. The closer in particular feels like a final curtain call, wrapping up the record’s themes without overexplaining them.

...Is Forming is not trying to be everything at once. It knows what it wants to be and it delivers on that vision with confidence and care. If you have even a passing affection for the psychedelic music of the late 60s and early 70s, you are going to feel right at home here. 

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This Is Water, the latest release from Memphis-based duo Light and Shade, feels like the kind of project made by musicians who genuinely love playing together. Jeff Williams and Josh Aguilar have been collaborating since 2012, and that long-standing creative chemistry is embedded in every track. The album is filled with sprawling arrangements, unpredictable left turns, and a clear reverence for the music they grew up on. There are traces of Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and Stone Temple Pilots throughout, but what is more striking is how committed the band is to building songs that feel like fully realized worlds.

The opener, “Storm in the Desert,” sets the tone immediately. It is cinematic and layered, moving through Eastern-influenced scales and shifting time signatures. At one point it settles into a rock groove, then veers into something jazz adjacent. On paper it sounds like too much, but in practice it holds together. There is a sense of structure underneath the experimentation, and that balance is what kept me interested. If this track clicks for you, the rest of the album likely will too.

“Twiddle” expands the palette even more. Horns, woodwinds, and a full rhythm section give the track a lush, almost theatrical presence. It never feels cluttered though. Each instrument gets its moment, and I especially loved the sax solo. It felt both unhinged and controlled, like it was teetering on the edge of falling apart but never quite did.

“Trilogies” brings a more subdued energy, though the arrangement is still dense. The lead guitar work is tasteful and well placed, but again, the horns feel like the dominant force. They carry the melody with a kind of weary elegance. “Heaven’s Bones” shifts the mood again. It is one of the heavier tracks, flirting with metal at points. There is also some delicate fingerpicked guitar that contrasts nicely with the weight of the rhythm section. The noirish touches from the horns give the song a slightly sinister atmosphere, which I really liked.

As the album moved along, I started to feel the songs bleed into one another a bit. The tonal palette, while rich, stays in a fairly narrow emotional range. That said, there were still moments that stood out. “Reggie B” felt especially tight in its construction. “Passenger” had a melancholy drift that hit me at the right moment. The closer, “The Other Robin Williams,” leaves the album on a somber, reflective note. It does not reach for a big finish but instead leans into restraint.

This Is Water feels like a record made by musicians for other musicians. There are no obvious singles here, no clean cut hooks or viral moments. Instead, it is about the arrangements, the performances, and the textures. There is a lot of care in how these songs are built and I think anyone who gives this album their attention will realize that.

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Grey Tower Heights returns with “Dolly,” a track that immediately pulled me into its dark and disorienting orbit. From the first metallic pulse, there is a sense of dread that never really lifts. The production feels cold and claustrophobic, but it is clearly intentional. It reminded me a lot of Xiu Xiu, not just in the texture of the sound but in the way it refuses to settle into any traditional shape or structure.

The vocals hover somewhere between speaking and singing. There is a theatrical quality to the delivery, but it never tips into parody. It feels measured, like each word has been placed with careful precision. The tempo slows midway through, and suddenly it feels like the lights have dimmed and you are watching something unfold on stage. I could see the scene in my mind. It was stark, unnerving, and strangely beautiful.

As the track moves forward, the haunting atmosphere only intensifies. The arrangement begins to strip itself back layer by layer. Sounds dissolve, melodies fragment, and by the end, you are left with little more than the voice. It felt like watching the frame of a memory fade while the feeling lingers.

The artist has cited Scott Walker, Björk, and Nick Cave as influences, and that tracks completely. There is drama here, but it is not overacted. It is restrained and unnerving, like something sacred breaking apart in slow motion. There is also a sincerity beneath the abstraction that makes it resonate even more deeply.

If you are drawn to music that occupies that strange space between beauty and menace, “Dolly” is worth your time.