Erro’s Strawberry Moon marks an impressive debut, a tightly crafted collection of eleven tracks that showcase the band’s versatility and flair for blending genres. With writing contributions spanning Nikki Stagel (vocals, guitar, piano, percussion), Michael Gerver (bass, drums, piano), Aparna Nair (piano, vocals), Emma McLaughlin (vocals, harmonies), Mike Zickefoose (drums), Alex Shipley (bass), and Nathan Bodnar (drums), the album feels like a true collaborative effort. Yet, it’s their ability to weave classic rock nostalgia with threads of alternative rock and psychedelia that gives Strawberry Moon its distinct texture.
The album opens with its titular track, "Strawberry Moon," a stunning introduction that balances emotive orchestral elements with melancholy lyricism. Nikki Stagel’s vocals shine here, carrying a warmth and clarity reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac’s finest moments. It’s the kind of opener that immediately sets the tone—a mix of the familiar and the unexpected—and invites the listener into Erro’s world with open arms. “Golden” builds on this foundation with shimmering guitars and lush vocal harmonies that envelop the listener in a sense of warmth and nostalgia. The guitars glisten, and the melodies feel effortlessly on point, making it a track that feels timeless yet fresh. “Come In Slow” stands out with its infectious drumbeat and melodies that carry a touch of Steely Dan’s smooth sophistication. The rhythm section anchors the song while letting the vocals and instrumentation float above, creating a sense of movement that’s impossible to resist. The free-spirited “Red Dragon Purple Wing” shifts gears entirely, offering a jam-band energy that feels celebratory and dance-ready. There’s a looseness here, a sense of spontaneity that contrasts beautifully with the more structured tracks. Meanwhile, “That Way” delivers exceptional vocal performances over introspective music that feels intimate and reflective. It’s a song that invites quiet moments of contemplation. “La Mia Dea 2.0” is one of the album’s standout moments. Bringing Latin-inspired rhythms into the mix, it’s smooth, polished, and irresistibly clean. The intricate grooves feel organic and natural, a testament to the band’s ability to push their sound in unexpected directions. Tracks like “Wild Day” channel a playful, Red Hot Chili Peppers energy, blending funk-tinged rock with buoyant melodies. On the other hand, “Holding On” radiates a sunny charm, practically begging for a singalong with its bright instrumentation and inviting hooks. “Into Me” takes a darker turn, offering a southern gothic vibe that’s equal parts sensual and haunting. It’s a brooding exploration of desire that showcases the band’s willingness to dive into shadowy, atmospheric territory. “Ghost of You”, by contrast, is a synth-heavy tune brimming with modern pop influences. Its MGMT-esque aesthetic brings an electronic sheen to the album, making it one of the record’s most exciting detours. Finally, “Shine” closes out the album with acoustic simplicity—just guitar and vocals—delivering a heartfelt and fitting conclusion to the album. Strawberry Moon is an engaging and multifaceted rock album that rewards careful listening. The songwriting remains consistently strong throughout, and the performances are both nuanced and passionate. Erro balances nostalgia with innovation, crafting a debut that feels both grounded in tradition and forward-thinking. It’s a statement of intent, a declaration that this band is ready to carve their own path in the rock landscape. With Strawberry Moon, Erro has delivered a debut that hints at even greater things to come.
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Quaint Delusions’ "Anything Real" feels like a song tailor-made for the chaotic uncertainty of our current era. While it’s unclear if the band intended to comment on the fragmented nature of truth in the digital age, the track’s atmosphere and lyrics evoke the existential anxiety of living in a world where news, media, and information pull us in opposing directions. Whether or not "Anything Real" is directly addressing this breakdown of epistemology, it certainly feels like an apt reflection of it.
Musically, the track is as compelling as its conceptual undertones. It opens with a subdued electric piano and introspective vocals that carry a faintly haunting yet curious tone. There’s a sense of searching embedded in both the soundscape and the delivery—a quiet yearning that perfectly complements the lyricism. The opening verse captures this beautifully: “Can you teach me reason/Make it make sense to me/Make it so appeasing/A reason to be/Make me happy just to be here/Just getting along/All the patience and reason right where they belong.” It’s a plea for clarity, wrapped in a melody that feels as fragile as the questions it asks. As the song progresses, layers are added with a meticulous sense of timing. Drums make their entrance at just the right moment, underscoring a shift in vocal intensity and the arrival of guitars. Additional textures begin to emerge—there’s a moment where it’s hard to tell if it’s a saxophone or a synth weaving through the mix, but the ambiguity only adds to the song’s allure. Whatever the source, it sounds fantastic and enriches the track’s evolving emotional landscape. One of the song’s standout elements is its bass line—sleek, dynamic, and brimming with groove. It anchors the arrangement while adding an understated complexity that elevates the entire piece. The interplay between the bass, drums, and layered instrumentation creates a rich sonic palette that feels both intentional and exploratory. What makes "Anything Real" resonate even more is its ability to balance meaning and ambiguity. The song offers enough poetic openness to invite multiple interpretations while maintaining a thematic throughline that feels timely and relevant. Quaint Delusions tap into a moment of collective uncertainty and express it in a way that feels both personal and universal. It’s a fantastic track—thoughtful, well-crafted, and deeply evocative. Make sure to give this one a listen.
Cris Cap, a Germany-based multi-instrumentalist and producer, crafts a seamless blend of soulful R&B, jazz, and pop that feels simultaneously timeless and modern. His influences are worn proudly, with echoes of Steely Dan's meticulous arrangements and Stevie Wonder's melodic richness. A pianist since childhood, Cris's musical DNA is deeply rooted in his family's affinity for pop and soul—a foundation that nurtured his sharp instincts for melody and harmony. At the heart of his creative process is his cherished Fender Rhodes piano, a constant companion since 1985 and a testament to his commitment to musical authenticity.
On his latest single, "Live Like My Cat," Cris takes an unexpected detour into feline philosophy, exploring what it might mean to embrace life with the effortless cool and curiosity of a cat. It's a whimsical concept, but one that Cris infuses with depth and charm, eventually musing that perhaps there are perks to being human after all. The track opens with a soulful, jazzy groove that radiates warmth and nostalgia, channeling a distinctly '70s vibe. The production is lush and inviting, with Cris’s deft touch evident in every detail. The lyrics are a standout here—clever, playful, and undeniably sharp. Too often, lyrics can fade into the background, but here they shape the entire lens of the song. The chorus is infectious, pairing an upbeat energy with humor that lands perfectly, especially with the standout line about “boomer bliss,” which feels as insightful as it is amusing. Despite its seemingly lighthearted premise, "Live Like My Cat" is a masterclass in craftsmanship. The instrumentation, from the buttery smooth Rhodes to the soulful vocals, is executed with precision, and the melodies stick long after the song is over. Cris Cap’s ability to balance wit with musical sophistication makes this track an unexpected delight. I’d be remiss not to highlight "Howlin' At The Moon," a track that shares a playful kinship with "Live Like My Cat" but leans further into its funk influences. With its infectious groove and undeniable warmth, this is a song that begs to be danced to. Soulful and radiant, it stands out as another gem. Together, these two tracks showcase a dynamic range that’s impossible not to appreciate. Cheers to that!
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Alf, better known as LIGHTNING GUSTO—or, as he dubs himself, the "one-man rock & roll band"—has been chiseling away at this project since 2016. Before that, his time was spent relentlessly touring from 2002 to 2015, until back pain and skeletal issues forced him to hit pause. His latest release, “Good Citizen,” delivers a high-octane reminder that rock isn’t dead—it’s just been waiting for someone like Alf to crank it back to life.
The track feels like a time capsule cracked open, brimming with the larger-than-life energy of ’80s and ’90s rock, but it doesn’t shy away from nods to the classic rock titans. The production feels massive, the hook is irresistible, and the sheer vitality coursing through the track grabs you by the collar. The palm-muted guitars slice through the mix with razor-sharp precision, while the pulsating drums and bass grooves drive the song with a propulsive force. And then there’s the breakdown—an absolute showstopper. The tempo slows to a simmer, descending into a syncopated rhythm before climbing back up with a climactic burst of lead guitar fireworks that could light up any stage. This is backyard BBQ rock at its finest, a track that demands to be played loud while you crack open another beer and laugh with friends. LIGHTNING GUSTO isn’t just making rock music—he’s keeping its spirit alive, one anthemic riff at a time. Don’t sleep on this one.
Owen Young is a folk artist from Cayuga, Ontario. His newest release is the second part of an extended project titled “Muddy River.” The opening salvo was originally a 2020 Covid project titled “On A Day Like That” and this second installment is titled Town Line. It’s a free download on Bandcamp so there’s no reason not to check it out!
Young calls his music “Americana-Canadiana” (I like that!) and says his songs draw on the experiences of southern Ontario rural life, past and present. Both these tracks and the previous collection feature songs that were composed during the two extended lockdowns. Aside from Young, the players include background singers Tia McGraff, Beaux Young and Tommy Parham. Live recording and digital files were laid down at McGraff and Parham’s home studio in Port Rowan, with mixing and mastering by Jill Zimmerman. When the album started, the folky acoustic guitar licks had me expecting an album of Leo Kottke-John Fahey virtuosity. However, “In Everything I Do” shortly takes a very different tack. On the surface it feels like the kind of folk singalong you’d expect, but Young quickly shows an unexpected sophistication in his musical writing, featuring a lot of those werid chords beginning guitarists say “Why would I ever want to play THAT?” But it’s a credit to Young’s talent that he weaves his sweet and opaque chord schemes into a pleasing whole, complete with kid-sounding singalong chorus. Thematically the song is fairly simple, professing gratitude for Young’s rural surroundings and the lover waking up beside him. “I Can’t Believe” is based more on acoustic piano, and now’s a good time to point out that Young’s instrumental layout is impressive: I’m hearing guitars, mandolin, keyboards, pedal steel, bass and now drums as well. The sophisticated composing I noted previously is doubly evident here. Normally folk music is determinedly simple, with the song’s message at the forefront, but Young’s structures are constantly surprising and I spent a lot of time trying to analyze how he did it! For the layman, though, Young always lands on a chorus everyone can enjoy, this time underlined with lonesome harmonica. Continuing a theme, this song celebrates how Young lucky is to have found love with his partner. “Moon On The Rise” actually seems to take the opposite tack, describing what it’s like to be separated from his sweetheart. I believe Tia McGraff is providing harmony vocals throughout. Again, Young sneaks in a few jazz chords on his acoustic and electric guitars. “Walk Down The Lane” is one of those triple-time bluegrass tunes with a thousand lyrics, sung very quickly. If that’s Young on mandolin and banjo, he’s kicking some serious butt (the piano is pretty amazing too!). For “We’ll Go Sailing” backing vocalist Tia McGraff takes lead duties with her rather lovely pipes, featuring a bit of a Joan Baez or Iris Dement trill. There’s an uncredited cello part that adds some emotional heft. Speaking of emotional, “Old Muddy River” is basically a list of everything Young is thankful for: a muddy river from his youth, a faithful dog, and a woman who takes care of him. It’s almost like a church hymn, and I’m quite jealous of all he has! “Ontario Home” wraps up the overall concept (for now) with a very country-sounding track crossed with classical piano and prominent pedal steel. I’m at a slight disadvantage coming into Young’s epic conceptual work in the middle, but I’m here to say it works just fine on its own. Amazing songwriting and performances even if you’re not a big Americana or country fan!
Alex Starling, the London-based singer-songwriter who first caught attention with Ou Est Le Swimming Pool before forming the synth-pop outfit The Ghosts, has always excelled at crafting music that feels both intimate and expansive.
Praised by The Guardian for their "soaring and sublime synth-pop," Starling's trajectory has seen international deals, extensive tours, and writing credits for TV soundtracks spanning Sky Sports to ABC's Red Widow. Now, after a period behind the curtain, Starling steps back into the spotlight with "Maybe We Lost It," a cinematic synth ballad that feels like a meditation on loss and transformation. The track unfolds with a minimalist 4/4 beat, soft, atmospheric pads, and a deep bass undercurrent that establishes an ethereal foundation. Starling’s vocals, striking in their emotive clarity, rise above the mix, delivering a performance that recalls the reflective dreaminess of Beach House—a fitting comparison for those drawn to wistful yet immersive soundscapes. The hook lingers with a haunting familiarity, equal parts nostalgic and introspective, as Starling explores themes of change, disillusionment, and the aching realization that life or people can become unrecognizable over time. As the song progresses, subtle textures and elements build, carrying the listener upward into a celestial drift—a sonic escape that feels both comforting and bittersweet. The lyrics, steeped in poignancy, weave seamlessly into the track’s lush arrangement, enhancing its emotional resonance. "Maybe We Lost It" is a testament to Starling’s ability to channel personal introspection into something universally affecting. Recommended.
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Rich Swanger's latest single, "Awfully Good," feels like an intimate fireside moment—recorded, mixed, and mastered within the quiet embrace of his Oregon home studio. Swanger laces the track with layers of complexity, drawing from non-dualistic biblical parables and weaving in Foley-inspired sound effects that lend an almost cinematic quality to the recording. His meticulous craftsmanship radiates throughout the song, making it an experience as thoughtful as it is compelling.
The track opens with a striking interplay of electronic percussion and acoustic guitar, a pairing that shouldn’t work as seamlessly as it does. The percussive elements feel modern and textured, while the guitar work harks back to the golden era of late-'60s folk. Swanger's voice is the connective tissue here, perfectly balanced between warm intimacy and a studied folk timbre—reminiscent of Kristian Matsson’s storytelling charm. It’s understated yet evocative, each note carrying the weight of its meaning. The spoken-word passage in the middle acts as a narrative anchor, a nod to the tradition of oral storytelling without feeling out of place. By the time the song reaches its final moments, the addition of vocal harmonies and a swelling organ lends it an almost spiritual lift, toeing the line between folk and gospel. "Awfully Good" is the kind of track that feels like stepping into a familiar room and finding new stories etched into the walls. It’s warm, rooted, and effortlessly timeless.
FRASER.'s debut single, "Loving Creature," offers a glimpse into the world of the forthcoming Comfort Blanket EP. The song is warm, inviting with a good amount of reflection and nostalgia. That being said it doesn’t come off as saccharine which is a problem I often find with reflection and nostalgia.
The track opens unassumingly, with stripped-back strumming and introspective vocals that exude a raw, unaffected charm. It’s a sound that feels familiar yet inviting, evoking the spectral warmth of Bon Iver while nodding to the earnest fragility of Neil Young—particularly in the vocal delivery, which carries a distinct Young-like quaver. As the song unfolds, its unpretentious beginnings give way to a carefully layered arrangement. The dynamics are deliberate, as each element falls into place with quiet precision. The rhythm section subtly anchors the track, providing a steady pulse that guides it toward a satisfying crescendo around the three-minute mark. It’s a restrained but effective build, a moment of catharsis that doesn’t demand attention but earns it all the same. "Loving Creature" doesn’t aim to reinvent the wheel, and that’s precisely its strength. Its understated execution and heartfelt delivery make it an earnest and compelling listen—a promising start for FRASER.'s upcoming EP.
The Afro Nick’s “Get There Before Noon (LA Mix)” feels like a manifesto for seizing the moment, a sun-dappled anthem that channels indie, alternative, and psychedelic rock into something both intimate and expansive. Recorded across New York City with contributions from Grammy-winning synth virtuoso Leonardo Genovese, the track balances technical finesse with an easygoing charm.
Opening with a hypnotic swirl of arpeggiated synths, crisp guitars, grounded bass, and steady drums, the song wastes no time establishing its vibrant groove. The vocals cut through with an immediate warmth, and the hook is a standout moment, bolstered by radiant harmonies that elevate its infectiousness. Each verse builds on the last, layering textures and sounds that reward repeat listens. The production creates a sense of motion and optimism, carrying the listener toward a cathartic release. The breakdown section feels particularly inspired, diving into subterranean textures that emerge into a powerful crescendo—a moment of chaos resolving into clarity. It’s a satisfying payoff, proof that the song’s meticulous arrangement and spirited performances serve a larger purpose: to remind us of the joy in living fully present. With its top-tier performances and seamless blending of elements, “Get There Before Noon (LA Mix)” radiates a kind of carefree profundity.
LOGICA ABSTRACTA is an immersive electronic project helmed by musical artist Vadim Militsin. His newest album is called Headspace Station and was released on the OMNINORM label, which is amusingly described as “a record label with a unique formula for lasting aftertaste and shiny sounds.” Their webpage logo spins in a circle if you click on it!
LOGICA ABSTRACTA is said to offer “a moody and ethereal listening experience, characterized by floating textures, granular experiments and deep cosmic soundscapes.” Unlike Militsin’s previous releases, this album shifts away from “granular synthesis” (i.e. gnarly sounds) to embrace more airy tones and nostalgic moods, “inviting listeners to drift through vivid auditory realms.” Some track titles draw inspiration from the maps of the Moon and Mars, while others were produced using a fictional word generator. The album is presented as a unified sonic whole, with all tracks cross-fading into each other (make sure you have gapless playback!) to help the listener enjoy “an immersive descent into the universe of peculiar sound forms and unorthodox mental states.” The album was mastered by Bill Sellar at Supper Audio Mastering. There’s a full hour of music here so I’ll discuss some highlights. “Ad Astra” is a Latin phrase meaning “to the stars” which is an appropriate place for the album to start. The track begins with a swirl of sounds that feel like a traditional science fiction soundtrack. The synths have a retro, but clean and pleasing sound quality (I’m reminded of the way the Yes albums “Relayer” and “Close To The Edge” began). “Nubium” continues the cool sounds but introduces a tabla-like percussive backing, which grounds the ethereal waves of cloudy electronic chords. Soon the melodic elements become as varied and jumpy as the percussion, and you can only sit back in awe as this cyclone of sound envelops you. “Oustivi” has a beat that’s so prominent that you could call it a “club mix” and also introduces vocals for the first time, albeit whispered and unintelligible. Militsin may be venturing into Tangerine Dream territory here. “Insularum” begins with otherworldly wind chimes, then somehow creates melodies from interweaving tones and samples, backed by metallic percussion. Thus far these tracks have felt more active than ethereal, but “Amber” is a nice mid-point between the two styles with deep pads atop embedded rhythms. “Syndumster” has rhythms that seem to have been built from found sounds of small devices (from a dumpster?), supporting very high-pitched synth melodies. “Alba Mons” changes things up a bit for a subliminally funky synth workout. “Tempe Terra” is a very cool construct that sounds like baby robots on the march, with rotors and hydraulics buzzing away. This becomes a backing track for a dreamy synth pattern over which a bird-like sample pops in and out. “Erre” is built on bassy drums and deep, low patches that almost seem to speak… and speaking of which, here we have another vocal that’s basically fragments of words with lots of dreamy echo. The vocal timbre and beats take this into the outer edges of Talking Heads or David Byrne’s solo work. A new element here is the very realistic string sounds. “Hesperia Planum” has the kind of intricate, bubbling melodies that one can create using a step sequencer. “Budderittic” (or what I like to call “Butter Critic”) has more expansive synth waves with sharp, clockwork-like percussion. Overall I found the sounds and melodies here intriguing and immersive, but it’s not what I would call ambient music; it’s much too inventive and idiosyncratic. Interesting and different and worth checking out!
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