Suris make the kind of music that first strikes me as elegant but grows stranger and more alluring the longer I sit with it. Pertinax is built around Lindsey Mackie’s textured, expressive vocals and the duo’s atmospheric production, drifting through art rock, dream pop, and alt-folk with a calm assurance. 

Lindsey handles the writing and keys, Dave shapes the guitars, bass, and production, and together they bend structure to mood rather than the other way around. The title, meaning “to persist stoically,” makes sense once you realize how much of this record is built by the two of them alone. Pertinax feels like a fully realized statement from artists who trust their instincts and push at the edges of their own sound.

“Mended” opens the album with a brooding swell that eventually cracks into a full rock track, complete with these gothic, bell-like textures that grabbed me right away. “Last Train Home” brings a bit of ’70s swing; I loved the rhythm section here and how the atmosphere deepens around it. “Now” moves like a ballad, its keys and orchestration merging into something soft but purposeful.

“Eruption” gives me flashes of The Beatles, especially in its buoyant melodies. It’s one of the catchiest songs here and one of the most immediate. “Whole” leans into a lush, almost orchestral elegance, while “Take All She Brings” hits with a sharper edge, carrying a Radiohead-like tension. “Huma” brings one of the record’s best sax moments, and “Still Life” taps into another distinctly ’70s palette.

“Wayman” rides on a killer groove, and “Armour of Love” carries a Bowie-style cool that never feels forced. The band doesn’t lose momentum either “Listen” hits hard, and “Born To Be With You” brings things into a more reflective place. They close with “Fugue,” a proper finale built on swirling textures and a slow-burn intensity.

​There’s a lot to latch onto in Pertinax. The mood stays shadowed, but there’s plenty of brightness threaded through it. There was a lot of attention to detail and also thought the vocals sounded unique. I came away with a sense that this is a duo fully inhabiting their sound, and the more time I spent with the album, the more there was to uncover.

​Rotterdam drummer and composer Ruud Voesten recently released the album Ambrosia. Drawing on the opening section of The Divine Comedy, he uses the capital sins as loose architecture, letting the band move through tension, restraint, and sudden volatility. It is both literary and physical, an album that treats jazz as a space where ideas can flicker into flame.

One of the first things that grabbed my attention is the way Ambrosia II turns improvisation into an emotional landscape. Each piece settles into a different emotional zone but nothing feels locked down. The group constantly shifts shape, opening space for eruptions, fractures, and unexpected recombinations. The result is a record that balances discipline with risk, built on sharp instincts rather than rigid direction.

“Strand” opens the album and immediately pulled me in with its organic production and the way every instrument breathes. The horns, drums, and upright bass interact with a looseness that never loses precision. “Good things come to those who ...” stretches toward the ten minute mark  as a slow burn that demands full attention. The jump in momentum halfway through hit me like a scene change, almost as if two pieces were stitched together in real time.

“Icarus” is a standout, thanks to horn work that feels full and commanding in the mix. “But what if I'm Watson?” pushes further into experimental territory with long cello passages that give it a cinematic pull. “Luchtig” is another highlight, and the timing twists and rhythmic playfulness made it one of the most exciting moments for me.

The upright bass on “The best at marshmallow test” is fantastic, anchoring the track with a deep and nimble pulse. “Klatergoud” surprises with synth pads tucked into its groove, while “Raw beans” drifts into a more contemplative sadness. “Lure” carries a regal tone, and “Tuin” closes things out with an off kilter and exploratory energy.

I really appreciated the  balance between traditional jazz language and the less predictable and more exploratory passages. It feels wired for listeners who appreciate jazz in any form, classic, modern, or free leaning. Ambrosia II is a great jazz album that is well worth your time.

Belgian indie artist Nikki Roger writes with a kind of unguarded openness that I rarely encounter in albums chasing sharp edges or studio polish. His debut Dream On feels anchored in the quiet rooms of everyday life, where family routines, brief flashes of hope, and the heavier parts of memory sit side by side. Across its eight songs, the record moves with the ease of someone jotting down thoughts in real time. I kept hearing the sense of a person documenting their inner landscape without cleaning up the smudges.

Dream On carries a full DIY spirit, and the limitations are part of its identity rather than obstacles. Acoustic sketches broaden into full band arrangements, and the charm comes from the unfiltered textures. The guitars glow with a handmade warmth, the vocals waver in a way that feels human, and none of it reaches for gloss. It hints at the spirit of 90s indie, yet the writing itself feels entirely present tense.

“Dream On” opens the album, and I immediately locked into the bass line and the relaxed vocal phrasing. The song gradually tightens, and the shift in the midpoint adds energy without breaking the flow. “Lose It All” stands out right away. The harmonies and bass give it a steady lift, and I kept thinking of Local Natives in the way everything interlocks as well as the vocals. “See You Again” slides into a pulse that reminded me a bit of Tame Impala, while “Look At Your Mother” brings one of the most striking hooks here.

“Little Bird” is a fascinating turn. There is a thread of 70s folk woven through it, although the production choices keep it grounded in a contemporary space. “Sweet Little Child” leans into an Americana warmth, and the sincerity in the delivery landed for me. “The Lonesome Road” is strong even with its lo fi roughness, and the imperfections almost add character. “Ride Along” closes the album with a wide and surprisingly rock leaning finale that feels like the project opening its lungs for a final breath.

Dream On is a great album that I throughly enjoyed. There is more than enough here to settle into and appreciate. Take a listen.

Prince of Sweden has quietly become one of the more distinctive voices coming out of the UK, the kind of songwriter who does not need volume to make a point. His debut and the EP that followed earned him early praise, but The Start of Something Beautiful feels like the moment he steps fully into his own world. I have always admired how he pairs countryside roots with the grit of South London, and here that mix comes through in a voice that feels intimate, slightly off center, and unafraid of the absurd.

The record is built around a loose concept about a woman who vanishes to Paris and the man who follows the outline she leaves behind. I found myself drawn into the odd tenderness of it all. The story becomes less literal and more about longing, distance, and the strange places imagination goes when someone disappears from your life.

“James, I Can't Stay” opens the album with a clear nod to 1950s American pop, though the production gives it a modern sheen. The melodies are sharp and the song wears its influences without sounding stuck in them. “St Pancras” shifts gears completely. It is a full bodied rock track, and the horn arrangements hit with real confidence. I loved the vocal delivery here. There is attitude in the guitar work too, which adds the right amount of bite.

“[sax like traffic]” works as a breath before “7.12,” which takes a slower, more introspective route. I really liked how the drums leave room for everything else to move at its own pace. The piano is a highlight, the vocals land with clarity, and the lyrics avoid predictable turns. It is one of the album’s more quietly striking moments.

“Points of View” might be my favorite. The tone is gorgeous, the breakdown feels natural, and the guitar lines are some of the best on the record. The vocals are catchy in a way that reminded me of The Shins without feeling derivative. “Role Playing Games” brings in a horn driven groove that is impossible to ignore, and “[staff call for tim burn]/Rememberings From No. 18” plays like an end of night ballad, loose and a little haunted and cut from the same cloth as something The Walkmen might have attempted.

​The run of songs that follow, “This Long Goodbye,” the accordion laced “Nights Like This,” and “Rue Des Martyrs,” only deepen the world the album builds. Each one feels grounded without resorting to easy sentiment. By the time I reached the end, the whole record had grown on me in that rare way where the details start connecting long after the first listen. It is honest, thoughtfully constructed, and full of songs that keep circling back in my head.

Jasio Kulakowski’s debut solo album Fantasy feels like the moment an artist decides to clear the slate and see what happens when no one else is in the room. Releasing music simply as Jasio, he writes, performs, produces, and mixes everything himself, and I can hear that sense of total control in the way the record moves.

​It leans toward the shadowy intersection of Linkin Park and Nine Inch Nails, which stirred something deep in me as a teenager. Now that I’m in my forties, the emotional pitch doesn’t hit quite the same way, but I still understand the appeal of a darker worldview, especially when the delivery feels honest.

“Fall” is where that nostalgia lands hardest. Lines like “everything is falling down” and “don’t even know what is real” sit inside a blend of electronic grit and guitar-driven tension. It’s the kind of teenage angst I remember carrying around like currency. “Cloudline” shifts the mood with sharper dynamics and a more contemporary pulse. I found myself drawn to the hook, which shines with a pop sensibility that doesn’t feel forced.

“Last One Standing” opens with a rhythm that almost suggests reggae before the track pulls itself into something more familiar to the album’s tone. The contrast caught me off guard in a good way, and the hook is one of the strongest here. The title track, “Fantasy,” swings toward spoken word drama and the emotional gravity that made those early-2000s alt-rock hybrids resonate so widely. “Okay” lands on the brighter end of the spectrum, with clever panning choices and a bassline that feels playful without losing the brooding core of the record. “Dear Future Me” dips into R&B colors, riding spoken lines and tight low-end work.

​What kept me invested throughout is how varied the record is. Jasio approaches each track from a different angle, and the production is the glue. The programming is sharp, the mixes are polished, and the melodies hit their marks. Fantasy is a moody, shape-shifting debut that keeps swerving when I expect it to stay put, and that unpredictability is its strongest trait.

mUmbo came together when guitarist and bassist Doug MacGowan, vocalist and string player Emma Semple, and drummer and percussionist Antonio Dalé crossed paths on other projects and recognized a shared pull toward experimentation. Each of them comes from a different musical world, but When It Was Quiet makes it clear how naturally their sensibilities lock together. The blend of guitar, strings, voice, and percussion creates a space that feels warm, open, and slightly haunted.

The music lands somewhere between Big Thief and Mazzy Star for me. There is a quiet melancholy running through everything, built from long reverb tails, patient guitar patterns, and vocal performances that carry a real emotional weight. “You Can Do What You Want To” opens the EP with a slow bloom. The dynamics are gentle and most of the movement comes from restraint rather than volume. There is a trace of shoegaze in the production choices and I found myself thinking of Jesus and Mary Chain at times in terms of the haze atmosphere.

“You Know The Song” continues with the same atmospheric approach. Reverb shapes nearly every corner of the track and the vocals rise in a way that feels both fragile and forceful. The percussion stays unobtrusive which gives the whole piece room to breathe. “Worm Moon” feels like the most dynamic moment on the EP. I loved the cello lines and the darker shading in the arrangement. It carries a sense of intimacy that borders on confessional and it is probably the catchiest track here.

The EP moves quickly but the cohesion across the songs made me feel like I had a clear grasp of the band’s signature approach by the final notes. It is a small release with a strong identity. If you connect with the artists and styles mentioned above, I suspect you will find a lot to appreciate here. I know I did. Take a listen.

Dan Becker’s Echoes of Silence moves with a kind of stripped down clarity that I immediately responded to. It is just piano and the air around it, yet the emotional weight feels bigger than that. Becker lets melody and space meet on equal footing, and I found myself paying attention not only to the notes he plays but to the quiet that follows them. His phrasing is patient and deliberate, almost like he is thinking out loud. That sense of restraint becomes its own language.

The EP was recorded on a Yamaha Grand at Northfire Recording Studio with no overdubs or digital polish, and I could hear the room as clearly as the piano itself. Each track shifts in small ways, a lingering chord here, a hesitant figure there, and the intensity rises so gradually that I sometimes did not notice the build until it arrived. It is the kind of intimacy that comes from leaving everything extraneous behind and trusting the smallest gestures to carry the emotional weight.

Writing about an EP like this is trickier than usual because it relies on nuance rather than production moves or instrumental contrasts. It plays like an interconnected cycle, and the titles alone set the tone. The opener “Quiet” reminded me of some of Max Richter’s more meditative work. It revolves around arpeggios, light syncopation, and repeating patterns that give it a cerebral kind of calm. “Solace” has a similar pull and brought to mind Richter’s music for The Leftovers, with a touch of something regal in the voicing.

“Penance” holds more tension and moves like a slow, steady rise, while “Mercy” pulls inward and feels more reflective. “Inside Out” struck me as the most dynamic piece here, and “Lullaby” comes across as the most hopeful, almost like Becker letting just a little light in before the EP closes.

Solo piano recordings will always live in a niche, and you probably have to already love this kind of work to sink into it fully. I fall into that camp, and I found it surprisingly easy to think clearly while listening. The absence of lyrics and extra instrumentation has a way of quieting the mind. Maybe that is just me, but this EP feels tailor made for that kind of mental space.

​Overall, Echoes of Silence offers a set of carefully crafted piano pieces that I appreciated from start to finish, and I think anyone drawn to reflective or minimalist music will feel the same.

* If you're interested checking out the kickstarter here is the link - Kickstarter

Kim Vestin’s Phoenix opens with the feeling of someone piecing themselves back together in real time. As I moved through the record, I kept noticing how she balances closeness and scale. The music keeps reaching outward, pulling in indie pop, jazz touches, chamber pop textures, electronic glow, and even a faint echo of country. What strikes me is how naturally these elements lock into place. Nothing feels pasted on. Everything feels lived with.

Lyrically, Phoenix stays rooted in longing. Vestin writes from that space between who you are and who you are trying to become, and I could hear that tension in the way these songs move from whispered beginnings to towering conclusions. “Another night” sets the tone with its quiet melancholy and expressive singing. I liked how the arrangement grows without falling back on predictable orchestration. The lead line, whether it is a synth or a guitar, cuts through in a way that feels handmade rather than polished.

“Every little thing” brings more momentum and hit me with a similar emotional hue I get from Weyes Blood at her most open hearted. By the end, the track swells as far as it can go. “They will never find you” continues the pattern I started to recognize throughout the album. Vestin begins in a private room and then pushes the ceiling higher and higher until the song can get reach another crescendo..

The title track follows this arc too. Piano and voice give way to drums, pads, and a sense of rising hope. “Who’s gonna come for me” uses a similar skeleton but with more dramatic shifts along the way, a push and pull that kept it from feeling predictable. “Just in time” was one of my personal favorites and loved some of the production choices here. “Beginning and end” returns to the quiet before building toward something that feels close to release. “Save your goodbyes,” with its raw vocal and striking guitar solo, ends the album on its most vulnerable moment.

​Most of these songs travel from fragile intimacy to a kind of emotional summit, which gives the album a clear identity even if it leaves little room for levity. Still, the production choices kept me engaged. The variety of sounds and instruments helps each rise feel distinct rather than formulaic. If you want a record that leans into emotion without holding anything back, Phoenix is something worth spending time with.

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CameronStrings is an Eastern Ontario folk duo comprised of golden-voiced Tara Cameron (sorry guys, she's married!) and her guitarist husband Scott. Interestingly, this is the second album I've recently reviewed pairing lovely female vocals with classical guitar, the first being Laura Judson. The difference here is that Scott Cameron is less strictly classical and more nuevo flamenco. Their brand new EP, being released on streamers the day after I write this, is called Eclectica (and it certainly is!).

Aside from lead vocals, Tara also plays 12-string guitar, which provides a kind of ballast for Scott's classical melodies and arrangements. These six songs run the gamut from early rock and folk to R&B and flamenco. I believe Tara is the main songwriter.

"Don't Even Know You" starts off like a classic folk love song but with a Spanish flavor. Beginning with just husband and wife, with hand pats for percussion, other instruments are slowly introduced until it's a fully produced track with multiple chorus vocals. The electric guitar at the end is a surprise, though I suspect it's Scott's acoustic with a pickup. "Drop Dead Gorgeous" is a sassy jazz-rock number with Scott riffing away on the acoustic, playing the kind of assertive licks you'd expect from Jimi Hendrix. The track itself is almost a novelty, as it deals with someone so attractive that they make your eyes pop out and your neck break, cartoon style.

"Even In Our Sleep" takes a step back from the rock fun for a very classically-influenced love song, and Tara provides some of her loveliest lyrics and vocals, with Scott building a gorgeous lattice of picking patterns and chord changes.  "Missing Shade of Blue" gets even more reverential, with a song that perfectly encapsulates its title. It has a similar feel to the previous track but even slower and somehow delving even deeper into the heart. I could easily get behind a full album with these kinds of songs.

"Shut It Down" has a baroque opening and medieval picking scheme, before gently falling into a lovely wall of vocals and expansive strumming. The percussion is spare (love that kick drum!) and the bass acts as a solid anchor. The chorus recalls some of the great late 60's romantic singles with its descending guitar lines and strings (maybe "Love Is All Around" by the Troggs). Similarly, "While The Music Still Plays" reminded me of the Mason Williams guitar hit "Classical Gas" but this song has much more of a Spanish feel, with overtones of the opera "Carmen." 

I think this duo is fairly new as I couldn't find too much info online, but if this is their starting point, I see a great future ahead!

That classic blues-rock you hear blasting from your speakers comes all the way from Lisbon, Portugal and a band called The Bateleurs! I had to look up the name, and it's pretty cool: "A short-tailed African eagle with mainly black plumage and a bare red face." Since 2022 they've released a debut collection plus a live album and video recorded during Covid titled "VC Sessions" (which I highly recommend as a quick visual primer of the band). They're back with a new full-length album titled A Light In The Darkness.

The Bateleurs say they've been "strongly influenced by the great icons of British and American blues rock from the early seventies, with a modern and regional twist that adds flavor to a style always ripe for new approaches." The band used three different studios for this album, and sought to capture their sound without any technical corrections like quantization, autotune or extensive editing. The members are Sandrine Orsini (vocals), Ricardo Dikk (bass), Ricardo Galrão (guitars) and Rui Reis (drums/percussion).

"A Price For My Soul" sets the (rock) stage right up front with Mountain-like guitar riffs and powerhouse vocals from the Ann Wilson-Heart school. The harmonies from the second guitar and the slide solo take this track into Cream territory, which the band acknowledges by mentioning "a journey through the crossroads." Next up is the propulsive "Widow Queen" with wailing feedback, speedy tempos, aggressive bass melodies and a killer chorus that won't behave. Orsini's lead vocals sound live and powerful through speakers. This one stands out for me thanks to the subtle changes to the basic riffs. "Dancing On A String" takes the cross-harmonic lead guitars a step further while grounding the track in dirt-heavy crunch. Let's also allow that lead singer Orsini never lets a song pass without belting the hell out of it, but this one has a very Heart-like middle section that's a perfect lead-in to a blasting guitar solo. 

"The Lighthouse" is the first track to turn down the tempo and volume, as the guitars are fed through amp tremolos and Orisini feels much closer to the front of the stage. The overall feel is somewhat  middle eastern, and the bass adds another full dimension to the melodies. Two minutes in, we're back to full-on rock and the changeover is bracing. The feel even approaches prog rock with its harmonic power. "Best Of Days" has a driving, hardcore Zeppelin-Bad Company core. 

The biggest surprise of the album is the bonus track "Before The Morning Is Done" which is said to be available on CD only, but I easily found it on both Spotify and Bandcamp. It's a totally acoustic track with guests Ruben Monteiro (Irish Whistle) and Niklos Pavlidis (violin). It's an expansive love song where singer Orsini really gets to stretch out and own the room purely with her voice without amplification. Hoping for more of these in the future!

If you love those classic sounds of Heart and their contemporaries, you'll find tons of it here but with an interesting cross-the-seas flavor.

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