Double J's 50 Best Albums of 2021

“We’d made two very sample-heavy records in a row,” Avalanches founding member Robbie Chater tells Apple Music. “We just felt very liberated to make a left turn and to go anywhere and do anything.” The Melbourne group’s third album is still rich with endless samples—the trademark that made them crate-digging heroes with their 2000 debut *Since I Left You* and 2016’s *Wildflower*—but this time their focus is more on live collaboration. Guest artists abound, including Jamie xx, Karen O, Rivers Cuomo, Perry Farrell, Denzel Curry, Sampa the Great, Leon Bridges, and Johnny Marr. Each was tasked with putting their slant on the big ideas characterizing the album: life, God, spirituality, the human voice, mortality. The Avalanches also took inspiration from the Golden Record, a 1977 collection of music and terrestrial sounds compiled by astronomer-scientist Carl Sagan and writer-producer-director Ann Druyan (whose image is on the cover of this album) to be carried into space as part of the Voyager Interstellar Message Project. “It all came from a personal inward journey that expanded throughout the whole universe,” says keyboardist Tony Di Blasi on the chosen themes. “There’s a saying: ‘So within, so without.’ What is here is also out there. So it all expanded just from our own personal journeys.” For all its grand subject matter, however, *We Will Always Love You* is a warm, gentle listen, and The Avalanches’ most reflective work to date. “It’s a bit of a shining light in dark times,” says Di Blasi. “And that’s the mood we were trying to set, for it to be light.” Below, Di Blasi and Chater talk through 10 of the album’s 25 tracks. **We Will Always Love You (feat. Blood Orange)** Robbie Chater: “That vocal sample by The Roches \[‘Hammond Song’\] is absolutely incredible. With *Since I Left You*, those samples were from junk-store records and were forgotten pieces of flotsam and jetsam that we would turn into something new. But The Roches’ song was already so beautiful. We were exploring different kinds of devotional music, gospel music and Christian music, and although that’s not what The Roches do, it has those massed voices of the sisters singing together. And we were reading about Ann Druyan’s story in compiling the Golden Record, and the way the sound of her heartbeat and brainwaves are the sound of a young woman in love and are captured on that record and are forever floating out there. And then you have these sisters singing ‘we will always love you’ and it’s like, you can build an album around that.” **The Divine Chord (feat. MGMT & Johnny Marr)** RC: “I have a sneaking suspicion it’s about heartbreak from \[MGMT vocalist\] Andrew VanWyngarden’s point of view, although we’ve never spoken about it directly. I think I was just drawn to the very first line when he sings, ‘I still remember you.’ To me that said so much. Because sampling plays with time and remembering voices from the past, and when he sung that line I thought, ‘This is going to work.’ We were lucky enough Johnny Marr wanted to contribute. The Smiths are a huge part of my childhood and my youth. The day Johnny Marr’s guitar part came through with a note saying, ‘Guys, this is a brilliant track,’ it was just like, okay, I can die happy.” **Interstellar Love (feat. Leon Bridges)** RC: “It came about through spending a lot of time in LA. Leon was there, I was there, and then we got to work at Sunset Sound studios in the same room Prince had recorded, so of course Leon and me were both freaking out about that. It was an incredible experience, and I’m just so grateful that people came to this record so open. They’re big themes, and I don’t think just anyone could have walked in and embraced that and tapped into something very personal and sincere in their own lives. It’s pretty incredible that people are prepared to be so intimate. The vocals definitely aren’t just dialed in and plonked on top of the track.” **Oh The Sunn! (feat. Perry Farrell)** Tony Di Blasi: “That was one of those really surreal events where we’re in the taxi on the way to Perry Farrell’s house in Santa Monica and we get a text saying, ‘Do you guys like Indian food and is there anything you don’t eat?’ And we arrive and there’s Perry Farrell and just his look and his voice are so unique. It’s just one of those things where you’re like, ‘Wow, this is actually happening.’ Before we even started, we just sat there for an hour and got to know each other and ate this wonderful food and this amazing ice cream. And then we ended up going down to record the vocals, and he’s just so open and creative. He was making up lines as he was walking around the house and singing them out really loud and I was just sitting there and I looked at Robbie like, ‘That’s Perry Farrell up there making up these melodies to one of our songs, and we’re in his home.’ Moments like that hit you.” **We Go On (feat. Cola Boyy & Mick Jones)** TDB: “It’s a bit of an oddball one. And the cast of characters in it is Karen Carpenter, Cola Boyy, and Mick Jones’ voices all together. It’s wild, but it’s also so beautiful, the way it’s sung. It’s hitting that spot between the happiness and the sadness, which is a beautiful feeling.” RC: “Even though it’s one of the least Avalanchesy-sounding ones, I just love it. It works on different levels. Karen’s voice is so beautiful and her story’s so sad and there’s all that history and meaning, and then there’s Mick Jones and Cola Boyy, who’s one of the most inspiring people I’ve ever met, and a great friend, a true anarchist, but it’s great the way it ties in around Karen’s voice. ‘We go on hurting each other’ says so much, especially the way the world is today. That line makes me quite sad.” **Take Care in Your Dreaming (Denzel Curry, Tricky & Sampa the Great)** RC: “It’s kind of a melancholy song. Sometimes it sounds upbeat to me and sometimes it doesn’t. It was an incredible moment in the studio from Denzel Curry. We spoke quite deeply about my personal journey and what the song meant to me and unfulfilled dreams and a journey from darkness to light. And to see someone around strangers be open and vulnerable and really tell a story from the heart was really moving to watch him do that.” TDB: “And he just wrote that on the spot too. There are these moments where you go, ‘Wow, this guy from nothing has created that.’ And it wasn’t until quite later, when we really listened to the lyrics, that we realized how much he’d opened himself up in that song and talked about all these really personal, horrible things that had happened to him.” **Gold Sky (feat. Kurt Vile)** RC: “Kurt is one in a million. I remember listening to some of his records back in dark times and they sort of got me through. I had a few paragraphs written down in an email about what this record is about, and some people would say, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe we should work together in the future.’ But he was just one of those people who said, ‘I’ve got it,’ and then gave his own slant on it. It’s got this rambling preacher spoken-word vibe. I didn’t expect to get that back from him.” TDB: “I remember going over to Robbie’s place and he said, ‘I’ve got this vocal from Kurt Vile, let me know what you think of it,’ and he played it and I just remember going, ‘This is one of the best things I’ve ever heard.’ It sounded perfect from the get-go. I was so blown away and just said, ‘Play it again.’” **Dial D for Devotion (feat. Karen O)** RC: “That was lovely. That was done remotely. They’re some of \[late Silver Jews frontman\] David Berman’s words. She was kind enough to go out on a limb with words that weren’t her own. It was lovely getting the recording back because it’s almost like I could hear someone doing the dishes in the background and then I could hear a dog barking outside. And not anyone could have done that.” **Running Red Lights (feat. Rivers Cuomo & Pink Siifu)** TDB: “We got a spreadsheet, I think Rivers’ assistant had sent it, with three different lyrical ideas. And we were like, ‘We’d love to hear the melodies that go along with them,’ so he ended up singing all three melodies and was like, ‘Let us know which ones you want.’ And we said, ‘Can we have them all?’ We got to meet Rivers when he was in Australia; Weezer were playing with Foo Fighters. We were googling all these amazing bars to take him to, cool places Melbourne has to offer, and we had a list of things we were going to do with him. It ended up raining, so we just took some umbrellas out of the hotel he was staying in and all he wanted to do was walk around in the rain. And then we went to a Starbucks and drank coffee for an hour and walked back and that was it. And that ended up being heaps cooler than anything we could have planned.” **Wherever You Go (feat. Jamie xx, Neneh Cherry & CLYPSO)** RC: “Our friend Jamie xx worked on that track with us, which was such a wonderful experience. We have a common love of working with samples, so it was a dream come true. I would send him lots and lots of demos for fun, and he used to call that track the banger; he was always like, ‘I love the banger. Send me the banger, I want to work on the banger.’ And he must have heard something in it, because it was quite slow before he got his hands on it. You can hear it speeding up as he’s trying to put some more energy into it. And of course working with CLYPSO from Sydney, it feels like we’ve made a great new friend.” TDB: “And of course there’s Neneh Cherry, who we met maybe six months before she recorded with us. It was backstage after her show, and there’s always lots of people there. We know what it’s like: Everyone’s trying to talk to you, and you can be like, ‘I just want to relax, I just played a show.’ But to everyone she was so welcoming and kind. They’re the type of people we want to work with.”

“Sometimes I’ll be in my own space, my own company, and that’s when I\'m really content,” Little Simz tells Apple Music. “It\'s all love, though. There’s nothing against anyone else; that\'s just how I am. I like doing my own thing and making my art.” The lockdowns of 2020, then, proved fruitful for the North London MC, singer, and actor. She wrestled writer’s block, revived her cult *Drop* EP series (explore the razor-sharp and diaristic *Drop 6* immediately), and laid grand plans for her fourth studio album. Songwriter/producer Inflo, co-architect of Simz’s 2019 Mercury-nominated, Ivor Novello Award-winning *GREY Area*, was tapped and the hard work began. “It was straight boot camp,” she says of the *Sometimes I Might Be Introvert* sessions in London and Los Angeles. “We got things done pronto, especially with the pace that me and Flo move at. We’re quite impulsive: When we\'re ready to go, it’s time to go.” Months of final touches followed—and a collision between rap and TV royalty. An interest in *The Crown* led Simz to approach Emma Corrin (who gave an award-winning portrayal of Princess Diana in the drama). She uses her Diana accent to offer breathless, regal addresses that punctuate the 19-track album. “It was a reach,” Simz says of inviting Corrin’s participation. “I’m not sure what I expected, but I enjoyed watching her performance, and wrote most of her words whilst I was watching her.” Corrin’s speeches add to the record’s sense of grandeur. It pairs turbocharged UK rap with Simz at her most vulnerable and ambitious. There are meditations on coming of age in the spotlight (“Standing Ovation”), a reunion with fellow Sault collaborator Cleo Sol on the glorious “Woman,” and, in “Point and Kill,” a cleansing, polyrhythmic jam session with Nigerian artist Obongjayar that confirms the record’s dazzling sonic palette. Here, Simz talks us through *Sometimes I Might Be Introvert*, track by track. **“Introvert”** “This was always going to intro the album from the moment it was made. It feels like a battle cry, a rebirth. And with the title, you wouldn\'t expect this to sound so huge. But I’m finding the power within my introversion to breathe new meaning into the word.” **“Woman” (feat. Cleo Sol)** “This was made to uplift and celebrate women. To my peers, my family, my friends, close women in my life, as well as women all over the world: I want them to know I’ve got their back. Linking up with Cleo is always fun; we have such great musical chemistry, and I can’t imagine anyone else bringing what she did to the song. Her voice is beautiful, but I think it\'s her spirit and her intention that comes through when she sings.” **“Two Worlds Apart”** “Firstly, I love this sample; it’s ‘The Agony and the Ecstasy’ by Smokey Robinson, and Flo’s chopped it up really cool. This is my moment to flex. You had the opener, followed by a nice, smoother vibe, but this is like, ‘Hey, you’re listening to a *rap* album.’” **“I Love You, I Hate You”** “This wasn’t the easiest song for me to write, but I\'m super proud that I did. It’s an opportunity for me to lay bare my feelings on how that \[family\] situation affected me, growing up. And where I\'m at now—at peace with it and moving on.” **“Little Q, Pt. 1 (Interlude)”** “Little Q is my cousin, Qudus, on my dad\'s side. We grew up together, but then there was a stage where we didn\'t really talk for some years. No bad blood, just doing different things, so when we reconnected, we had a real heart-to-heart—and I heard about all he’d been through. It made me feel like, ‘Damn, this is a blood relative, and he almost lost his life.’ I thank God he didn’t, but I thought of others like him. And I felt it was important that his story was heard and shared. So, I’m speaking from his perspective.” **“Little Q, Pt. 2”** “I grew up in North London and \[Little Q\] was raised in South, and as much as we both grew up in endz, his experience was obviously different to mine. Being a product of an environment or system that isn\'t really for you, it’s tough trying to navigate that.” **“Gems (Interlude)”** “This is another turning point, reminding myself to take time: ‘Breathe…you\'re human. Give what you can give, but don\'t burn out for anyone. Put yourself first.’ Just little gems that everyone needs to hear once in a while.” **“Speed”** “This track sends another reminder: ‘This game is a marathon, not a sprint. So pace yourself!’ I know where I\'m headed, and I\'m taking my time, with little breaks here and there. Now I know when to really hit the gas and also when to come off a bit.” **“Standing Ovation”** “I take some time to reflect here, like, ‘Wow, you\'re still here and still going. It’s been a slow burn, but you can afford to give yourself a pat on the back.’ But as well as being in the limelight, let\'s also acknowledge the people on the ground doing real amazing work: our key workers, our healers, teachers, cleaners. If you go to a toilet and it\'s dirty, people go in from 9 to 5 and make sure that shit is spotless for you, so let\'s also say thank you.” **“I See You”** “This is a really beautiful and poetic song on love. Sometimes as artists we tend to draw from traumatic times for great art, we’re hurt or in pain, but it was nice for me to be able to draw from a place of real joy in my life for this song. Even where it sits \[on the album\]: right in the center, the heart.” **“The Rapper That Came to Tea (Interlude)”** “This title is a play on \[Judith Kerr’s\] children\'s book *The Tiger Who Came to Tea*, and this is about me better understanding my introversion. I’m just posing questions to myself—I might not necessarily have answers for them, I think it\'s good to throw them out there and get the brain working a bit.” **“Rollin Stone”** “This cut reminds me somewhat of ’09 Simz, spitting with rapidness and being witty. And I’m also finding new ways to use my voice on the second half here, letting my evil twin have her time.” **“Protect My Energy”** “This is one of the songs I\'m really looking forward to performing live. It’s a stepper, and it got me really wanting to sing, to be honest. I very much enjoy being around good company, but these days I enjoy my personal space and I want to protect that.” **“Never Make Promises (Interlude)”** “This one is self-explanatory—nothing is promised at all. It’s a short intermission to lead to the next one, but at one point it was nearly the album intro.” **“Point and Kill” (feat. Obongjayar)** “This is a big vibe! It feels very much like Nigeria to me, and Obongjayar is one of my favorites at the moment. We recorded this in my living room on a whim—and I\'m very, very grateful that he graced this song. The title comes from a phrase used in Nigeria to pick out fish at the market, or a store. You point, they kill. But also metaphorically, whatever I want, I\'m going to get in the same way, essentially.” **“Fear No Man”** “This track continues the same vibe, even more so. It declares: ‘I\'m here. I\'m unapologetically me and I fear no one here. I\'m not shook of anyone in this rap game.’” **“The Garden (Interlude)”** “This track is just amazing musically. It’s about nurturing the seeds you plant. Nurture those relationships, and everything around you that\'s holding you down.” **“How Did You Get Here”** “I want everyone to know *how* I got here; from the jump, school days, to my rap group, Space Age. We were just figuring it out, being persistent. I cried whilst recording this song; it all hit me, like, ‘I\'m actually recording my fourth album.’ Sometimes I sit and I wonder if this is all really true.” **“Miss Understood”** “This is the perfect closer. I could have ended on the last track, easily, but, I don\'t know, it\'s kind of like doing 99 reps. You\'ve done 99, that\'s amazing, but you can do one more to just make it 100, you can. And for me it was like, ‘I\'m going to get this one in there.’”

“Things should change and evolve, and music is an extension of that, of the continuity of life,” Hiatus Kaiyote leader Nai Palm tells Apple Music. The Melbourne jazz/R&B/future-soul ensemble began writing their third album, *Mood Valiant*, in 2018, three years after the Grammy-nominated *Choose Your Weapon*, which featured tracks that were later sampled by artists including Kendrick Lamar, Drake, and Anderson .Paak. The process was halted when Nai Palm (Naomi Saalfield) was diagnosed with breast cancer—the same illness which had led to her mother’s death when she was 11. It changed everything about Nai Palm’s approach to life, herself, and her music—and the band began writing again from a different perspective. “All the little voices of self-doubt or validation just went away,” she says. “I didn\'t really care about the mundane things anymore, so it felt really liberating to be in a vocal booth and find joy in capturing who I am, as opposed to psychoanalyzing it. When you have nothing is when you really experience gratitude for what you have.” The album had largely been written before the pandemic hit, but when it did, they used the extra time to write even more and create something even more intricate. There are songs about unusual mating rituals in the animal kingdom, the healing power of music, the beauty and comfort of home, and the relationships we have with ourselves, those around us, and the world at large. “The whole album is about relationships without me really meaning to do that,” she says. Below, Nai Palm breaks down select lyrics from *Mood Valiant*. **“Chivalry Is Not Dead”** *“Electrons in the air on fire/Lightning kissing metal/Whisper to the tiny hairs/Battery on my tongue/Meteor that greets Sahara/We could get lost in static power”* “The first couple of verses are relating to bizarre mating rituals in the animal kingdom. It’s about reproduction and creating life, but I wanted to expand on that. Where else is this happening in nature that isn’t necessarily two animals? The way that lightning is attracted to metal, a conductor for electricity. When meteors hit the sand, it\'s so hot that it melts the sand and it creates this crazy kryptonite-looking glass. So it\'s about the relationship of life forces engaging with each other and creating something new, whether that\'s babies or space glass.” **“Get Sun”** *“Ghost, hidden eggshell, no rebel yell/Comfort in vacant waters/And I awake, purging of fear/A task that you wear/Dormant valiance, it falls”* “‘Get Sun’ is my tribute to music and what I feel it\'s supposed to do. Even when you’re closed off from the world, music can still find its way to you. ‘Ghost, hidden eggshell’ is a reference to *Ghost in the Shell*, an anime about a human soul captured in a cyborg\'s body. I feel that within the entertainment industry, but the opposite—there are people who are empty. There’s no rebellion. They’re comfortable in this vacant pool of superficial expression. I feel like there\'s a massive responsibility as a musician and as an artist to be sincere and transparent and expressive. And it takes a lot of courage but it also takes a lot of vulnerability. And ‘Dormant valiance, it falls’—from the outside, something might look quite valiant and put together, but if it\'s dormant and has no substance, it will fall, or be impermanent. And that\'s not how you make timeless art. Maybe it\'ll entertain people for three seconds but it will be gone.” **“Hush Rattle”** *“Iwêi, Rona”* “When I was in Brazil, I spent 10 days with the Varinawa tribe in the Amazon and it changed my life. On my last day there, all the women got together and sang for me in their language, Varinawa, and let me record it. There were about 20 women; they\'ll sing a phrase and when they get to the last note, they hold it for as long as they can and they all drop off at different points. It was just so magical. So we\'ve got little samples of that throughout the song, but the lyrics that I\'m singing were taught to me: ‘Iwêi,’ which means ‘I love you,’ and ‘Rona,’ which means ‘I will always miss you.’ It’s a love letter to the people that I met there.” **“Rose Water”** *“My hayati, leopard pearl in the arms of my lover/I draw your outline with the scent of amber”* “There’s an Arabic word here: *hayati*. The word *habibi* is like ‘You’re my love,’ but to say ‘my hayati’ means you\'re *more* than my love—you\'re my life. One of my dear friends is Lebanese. He’s 60, but maybe he\'s 400, we don\'t know. He’s the closest thing to a father that I\'ve had since being an orphan. He makes me this beautiful amber perfume; it’s like a resin, made with beeswax. There’s musk and oils he imports from Dubai and Syria. So it’s essentially a lullaby love song that uses these opulent, elegant elements from Middle Eastern culture that I\'ve been exposed to through the people that I love.” **“Red Room”** *“I got a red room, it is the red hour/When the sun sets in my bedroom/It feels like I\'m inside a flower/It feels like I\'m inside my eyelids/And I don\'t want to be anywhere but here”* “I used to live in an old house; the windows were colored red, like leadlight windows. And whenever the sun set, the whole room would glow for an hour. It\'s such a simple thing, but it was so magic to me. This one, for me, is about when you close your eyes and you look at the sun and it\'s red. You feel like you\'re looking at something, but really it\'s just your skin. It’s one of those childlike quirks everyone can relate to.” **“Sparkle Tape Break Up”** *“No, I can’t keep on breaking apart/Grow like waratah”* “It’s a mantra. I’m not going to let little things get to me. I\'m not going to start self-loathing. I\'m going to grow like this resilient, beautiful fucking flower. I\'ve made it a life goal to try to at least be peaceful with most people, for selfish reasons—so that I don\'t have to carry that weight. Songs like this have really helped me to formulate healthy coping mechanisms.” **“Stone or Lavender”** *“Belong to love/Please don’t bury us unless we’re seeds/Learn to forgive/You know very well it’s not easy/Who are they when they meet?/Stone or lavender/Before the word is ever uttered/Was your leap deeper?”* “‘Please don\'t bury us unless we\'re seeds’ is a reference to a quote: ‘They tried to bury us, they didn\'t know we were seeds.’ That visual is so fucking powerful. It’s saying, ‘Please don\'t try to crush the human spirit, because all life has the potential to grow, belong to love.’ This song is the closest to my breast cancer diagnosis stuff; it’s saying, ‘All right, who are you? What do you want from life? Who do you want to be?’ Do you emit a beautiful scent and you\'re soft and you\'re healing or are you stone? Before anyone\'s even exchanged anything, before a word is ever uttered, your energy introduces you.” **“Blood and Marrow”** *“Not a speck of dust on chrysanthemum/Feather on the breath of the mother tongue”* “I think is one of the most poetic things I\'ve ever written; it\'s maybe the thing I\'m most proud of lyric-wise. The first lyric is a reference to a Japanese poet called Bashō. I wanted to use this reference because when my bird Charlie died—I had him for 10 years, he was a rescue and he was my best friend—we were watching *Bambi* on my laptop. He was sitting on my computer, and we got halfway through and he died. The song is my ode to Charlie and to beauty in the world.”

As Amyl and the Sniffers came off the road in late 2019, they moved into a house together in Melbourne. “It had lime green walls and mice,” frontwoman Amy Taylor tells Apple Music. “Three bedrooms and a shed out back that we took turns sleeping in. We knew we were going to come back for a long period of time to write. We just didn’t know how long.” Months later, as the bushfires gave way to a global pandemic, the Aussie punk outfit found themselves well-prepared for lockdown. “We’ve always kind of just been in each other’s pocket, forever and always,” Taylor says. “We’ve toured everywhere, been housemates, been in a van, and shared hotel rooms. We’re one person.” With all rehearsal studios closed, they rented a nearby storage unit where they could workshop the follow-up to their ARIA-winning, self-titled debut. The acoustics were so harsh and the PA so loud that guitarist Dec Martens says, “I never really heard any of Amy’s lyrics until they were recorded later on. She could’ve been singing about whatever, and I would have gone along with it, really.” And though *Comfort to Me* shows a more serious and personal side—as well as a range of influences that spans hardcore, power pop, and ’70s folk—that’s not necessarily a byproduct of living through a series of catastrophes. “I was pretty depressed,” Taylor says. “It’s hard to know what was the pandemic and what was just my brain. Even though you can’t travel and you can’t see people, life still just happens. I could look through last year and, really, it’s like the same amount of good and bad stuff happened, but in a different way. You’re just always feeling stuff.” Here, Taylor and Martens take us inside some of the album’s key tracks. **“Guided by Angels”** Amy Taylor: “I feel like, as a band, everyone thinks we’re just funny all the time. And we are funny and I love to laugh, but we also are full-spectrum humans who think about serious stuff as well, and I like that one because it’s kind of cryptic and poetic and a bit more dense. It’s not just, like, ‘Yee-haw, let’s punch a wall,’ which there’s plenty of and I also really love. We’re showing our range a little bit.” **“Freaks to the Front”** AT: “We must’ve written that before COVID. That’s absolutely a live-experience song and we’re such a live band—that’s our whole setup. We probably have more skills playing live than we do making music. It’s the energy that is contagious, and that one’s just kind of encouraging all kind of freaks, all kind of people: If you’re rich or poor or smart or fat or ugly or nice or mean, everyone just represent yourself and have a good time.” **“Choices”** Dec Martens: “\[Bassist\] Gus \[Romer\] is really into hardcore at the moment, and he wanted a really animalistic, straight-up hardcore song.” AT: “Growing up, I went to a fair handful of hardcore shows, and I personally liked the aggression of a hardcore show. In the audience, people kind of grabbing each other and chucking each other down, but then also pulling each other up and helping each other. I also just really like music that makes me feel angry. I constantly am getting unsolicited advice—or women, in general, are constantly getting told how to live and what to do. Everybody around the world is, and sometimes it’s really helpful—and I don’t discount that—but other times it’s just like, ‘Let me just fucking figure it out myself, and don’t tell me what kind of choices I can and can’t make, because it’s my flesh sack and I’ll do what I want with it.’” **“Hertz”** AT: “I think I started writing it at the start of 2020, pre-lockdown. But it’s funny now, because currently, being in lockdown again, I’m literally dying. I just want to get to the country and fucking not be in the city. So, the lyrics have really just come to fruition. I was thinking about somebody that I wasn’t really with at the time. It’s that feeling of feeling suffocated—you just want to look at the sky, just be in nature, and just be alive.” **“No More Tears”** DM: “I was really inspired by this ’70s album called *No Other* by Gene Clark, which isn’t very punk or rock. But I just played this at a faster tempo.” AT: “And also inspired heaps by the Sunnyboys, an Australian power pop band. Last year was really tough for me, and that song’s about how much I was struggling with heaps of different shit and trying to, I guess, try and make relationships work. I was just feeling not very lovable, because I’m all fucked in the head, but I’m also trying to make it work. It’s a pretty personal song.” **“Knifey”** AT: “It’s about my experience—and I’m sure lots of other people’s experience—of feeling safe to walk home at night. The world’s different for people like me and chicks and stuff: You can carry a weapon and if somebody does something awful and you react, it comes back to you. I remember when I was a kid, being like, ‘Dad, I want to get a knife,’ and he was like, ‘You can’t get a knife because you’ll kill someone and go to jail.’ But so be it. If somebody wants to have a go, I’m very happy to react negatively. At the start, I was like, ‘I don’t know if I want to do these lyrics. I don’t know if I’d want to play that song live.’ It’s probably the only song that I’ve ever really felt like that about. It hit up the boys in the band in an emotional way. They were like, ‘Fuck, this is powerful. Makes me cry and shit,’ and I was like, ‘That’s pretty dope.’” **“Don’t Need a C\*\*t (Like You to Love Me)”** AT: “It’s a fuck-you song. When I’m saying, ‘Don’t need a c\*\*t like you to love me,’ it’s pretty much just any c\*\*t that I don’t like in general. There could be some fucking piss-weak review of us or if I worked at a job and there was a crap fucking customer—it’s all of that. I wasn’t thinking about a particular bloke, although there’s many that I feel like that about.” **“Snakes”** “A bit of autobiography, an ode to my childhood. I grew up in a small town near the coast—kind of bogan, kind of hippy. I grew up on three acres, and I grew up in a shed with my sister, mom, and dad until I was about nine or 10, and we all shared a bedroom and would use the bath water to wash our clothes and then that same water to water the plants. Dad used to bring us toys home from the tip and we’d go swimming in the storms and there was snakes everywhere. There was snakes, literally, in the bedroom and the chick pens, and there’d be snakes killing the cats and snakes at school—and this song’s about that.”

Papua New Guinea-born, Sydney-based artist Ngaiire’s *3* is intensely personal, powerful, and reflective. The future-soul artist, born Ngaire Joseph, co-wrote the album over three years with producer Jack Grace. And though her music has always come from the heart, it’s never looked further inward, or toward her heritage, than here. Likewise, her musical boundaries feel more expansive than ever—hip-hop and R&B inflections can be felt throughout, while Ngaiire pushes her voice to bigger, broader places than ever before. She addresses her upbringing in post-colonial PNG on tracks like “Closer,” a sensual, retro-sounding rumination on love, sex, and dating during her teen years. “Boom” is a slinking earworm that similarly looks back on romance and relationships during her early years, while final track “Glitter” looks at modern-day PNG and points a middle finger up at its political leadership.

The debut album from Danzal Baker—also known as Baker Boy, The Fresh Prince of Arnhem Land, and Gela (the album title is another nickname, drawn from his Yolngu skin name)—has been a long time coming. Some of its tracks were released more than two years prior to the LP, but the fact that they’re every bit as exciting here as they were when they were first issued is a testament not only to his positive energy, but also his talent for writing and curating beats and melodies. The Yolngu rapper and dancer broke down barriers in 2018, when some of his early singles became the highest-ever charting tracks sung in an Indigenous Australian language. His boundless energy—onstage, in the studio, and throughout his home communities—can be felt across his entire debut album. It’s bright and funky from top to bottom, with songs about love, dancing, music, and striving for creativity. But you’ll also find moments of passionate politics—“Survive” and “Somewhere Deep” might sound as dance floor-ready as everything else here, but they contain messages about his community as well as the needs and problems facing First Nations people across the country. Below, Baker talks through each track on *Gela*. **“Announcing the Journey”** “‘Announcing the Journey’ is announcing *Gela*, the body of work as a whole. It is a beginning, an opening, a representation for me, culturally, and the foreword of my story as Danzal, Gela, Baker Boy, the Fresh Prince of Arnhem Land.” **“Survive” (feat. Uncle Jack Charles)** “I have been criticized in the past for not being ‘political,’ but I always have been, actually. I’ve just framed it among positivity. So, I wrote ‘Survive’ with this energy of being really direct about the issues that face Indigenous Australians.” **“My Mind” (feat. G Flip)** “It’s a love song about mine and G’s respective partners, but it’s also just about having incredible people in your life. I feel really lucky to be surrounded by people who are creative and talented, but also just really good people. For me, it is really about my partner, Aurie. We have something special: We’re always collaborating on ideas and working together, and I think that’s a real testament to our love. I wanted this song to hit home with everyone, no matter who you love.” **“Ride” (feat. Yirrmal)** “I just really wanted to make a song that was for the dance floor. It’s all about just bringing people together—feeling a good beat, breaking it down, and breaking down barriers at the same time. Yirrmal is infectious on this track; the hook and melody are so powerful, you can’t help but sing along.” **“Butterflies”** “This is such a different flavor and tempo for me. It’s funky and juicy; you know it’s all about the wordplay and feeling the vibe and energy. Pip \[Norman, producer\] and Rob \[Amoruso, producer\] showed me this beat and I already had the perfect bars written for it. It’s all about chasing the adrenaline rush and really, for me, that feeling of being onstage and just coming alive—it’s something I’ve really missed. ‘Butterflies’ gives me that feeling; it brings the excitement back.” **“Cool As Hell”** “A tribute to music and my love of music. Music is a part of my culture. But also, I grew up with dance and performance, and I feel like I am intrinsically connected to music and beat and sound. ‘Cool As Hell’ is a song for that. It’s all about my love for music and the feelings it can give you.” **“Move”** “Another love song for my partner, but also a tribute to strong, incredible women, especially those women who brought me up and made me who I am. I was surrounded by strong aunties (if you know, you know) who were just the most incredible support network for me, and now I have my partner, who is equally strong and determined.” **“Headphones” (feat. Lara Andallo)** “‘Headphones’ is all about the journey. Lots of creative people would know that it can be really hard to get to create full-time or to make enough money off your art, so this is really just a song about that grind. The grind of a 9-to-5, or just a job you don’t like, so you can make money while you’re trying to grow your profile or career in a creative industry. When you’ve worked a full day, but you have to come home and keep working, it’s a grind, and it’s hard, but you throw on your headphones and just escape into your craft.” **“Somewhere Deep” (feat. Yirrmal)** “This reggae, island-vibe track is kind of like ‘Survive,’ where I’m addressing something overtly political but keeping the sound positive. Once again, Yirrmal’s vocals take this track to a whole new level. The message is clear: We need to take care of the land that we live on. In my culture, we believe that the more we give the land, the more it will give back to you, and I feel like *balanda* (non-Indigenous people) need to learn about that more and give the land the respect it deserves.” **“Funk Wit Us”** “Typical party vibes, a floor-filler, the bangers I’ve become known for! ‘Funk Wit Us’ is like an invitation: ‘Do you really want to funk it up? Do you really want to funk with us? Come party with us!’ It’s a celebration of performing live and how much I love jumping on the stage. When people see me live, I want them to feel like they’re a part of something special. I want them to feel like they’re part of my journey, and they can just break it down with me and the crew.” **“Stupid Dumb”** “‘Stupid Dumb’ is lighthearted and fun. It’s kind of making a joke of people who are jealous or try to bring people down. I think jealousy is a silly emotion. I mean, everyone is on their own journey and there’s no point comparing yourself to others. So, it’s just like a really lighthearted joke about that. I feel like you can really hear Jerome \[Farah, producer and artist\] on this track, too—you can hear his identifiable production, which I love.” **“Meditjin” (feat. JessB)** “It’s another tribute to the power of music. ‘Meditjin’ is the Yolngu way of saying medicine, so I’m really just saying that music is the medicine. Music is so powerful, it can make you feel all the emotions. ‘Meditjin’ is a tribute to music and all the hard, good, sad, fun times it’s been there for me.” **“Ain’t Nobody Like You” (feat. Jerome Farah)** “It’s celebrating individuals for being individual. It’s about knowing that you’re special in your own way, and no one is exactly the same as you. I wanted young kids in the community or kids of color to look at people like Jerome and me and know that they can do and be anything they want to be. I want to inspire the next generation.” **“MYWD”** “MYWD: Make You Wanna Dance, says it all. I just want people to dance to my music. I want people to hear my songs or see me live and just not be able to help themselves. It’s just all about that positivity and vibe—so often, there can be a focus on negativity, so I just want to give people a reason to move and dance and sing and be happy.”

Like many of the best things in life, the genesis of London producer Fred again..’s debut album lies in a chance meeting on a night out. “I met a guy called Carlos in a bar in Atlanta,” the London producer born Fred Gibson tells Apple Music. “And he just had the most joyous spirit. I had some videos on my phone from the night, and when I got back to the hotel, I dragged them into Logic and began to make a song out of them.” Soon, this became a key element of his working process, and one he dubbed “Actual Life.” “Why write a song about an experience when you can just make the song out of the experience?” he says. He began trawling old videos on his phone and recording phone conversations and ended up releasing tracks featuring snippets of friends. After working on tracks by artists including FKA twigs, Romy, Ed Sheeran, and Burna Boy, collaborating with Headie One on the *GANG* project, and being named Producer of the Year at The BRITs in February 2020, he spent much of the rest of the year focused on turning his Actual Life concept into his first full-length album. “It’s called *Actual Life (April 14 - December 17 2020)* because I want every album I make to be a kind of diary entry of the time it was made,” he says. “I like to try and shine a light on the things that otherwise seem unglamorous.” With Gibson citing a friend falling seriously ill and the upheaval of lockdown as two key influences on the record, *Actual Life* demonstrates his knack for creating an unshakable hook and is at times heart-wrenching and melancholic but always imbued with a healthy sense of optimism and the joy of life. “I went through some tough things this last year, but I often think the most optimistic people are those doing it in the face of adversity,” he says. “Hopefully that comes across in the music.” Here, he talks us through some key tracks on the album. **“Kyle (I Found You)”** “This was the first tune I made for the project, and the vocal is from Kyle Tran Myhre, a poet I found on Instagram who goes by the name of Guante. The sample is him reading at an open-mic night, and he has such a beautifully nervous but lovable spirit. Musically, it’s quite influenced by a few nights I spent in \[Berlin techno club\] Berghain at the start of \[2020\]. You wouldn’t think it from the chords and vocal of the track, but the drums underneath have that very reverb-heavy sound you’d get on a techno record.” **“Julia (Deep Diving)”** “I found Julia \[Michaels\] on Instagram too, and she’s a singer-songwriter. She has the most infectiously joyful tone to her voice and there’s a real innocence to her speaking tone. She’s got a beautiful singing voice too, but her speaking voice is just so special to me. I think this track really captures the joy of falling in love with someone.” **“Big Hen (Steal My Joy)”** “I made this track at 5 am on a beautiful summer’s day in August \[2020\]. I decided to get up really early to work on music and this just came together so quickly. The drums obviously have a garage influence. It’s a really hopeful and joyful song.” **“Angie (I’ve Been Lost)”** “The interlude just before this track is a reprise of a lot of the memories and samples on the record, and then the track kind of concludes the record. It’s funny because it feels like it ends on a positive note, but really it’s me trying to say I don’t know what’s going on and how I’m feeling. The sample is from Angie McMahon, an amazing singer I saw play to, like, 20 people in a basement a while back. When she says, ‘I’ve been lost, I’ve been lost, but I’m really trying,’ I think you can take that sentence in a few different ways.” **“Marea (We’ve Lost Dancing)”** “So this features Marea Stamper, aka The Blessed Madonna. I met Marea initially in Palestine at a trip for songwriters organized by \[creative group\] Block9 and Banksy. She’s such an open book and a real bastion of the human spirit, and we’ve been good friends since. This sample came from a conversation we were having on Zoom about what’s happened to our industry this year and hopefully what will come next. She’s such a natural orator and a great example of someone who’s optimistic in the face of adversity. This song’s almost like a bonus track, as it looks ahead to what’s coming next.”

As Middle Kids were recording their second full-length in late 2019, they faced a serious deadline. “I was seven months pregnant,” guitarist-vocalist Hannah Joy tells Apple Music. “I was really on the clock. And it had quite a big impact on what I wrote because I was in a place of general anticipation and thoughtfulness about the next season. There was an urgency there—I felt very impassioned because it felt so important.” On *Today We’re the Greatest*, the Sydney rock outfit—including drummer Harry Day and bassist Tim Fitz, who is also Joy’s husband—dive headlong into difficult questions about who we are and what it is to be alive. Earnest and anthemic, it’s music that was meant to impart wisdom if not inspire—and Joy and Fitz’s son clearly responded to it in utero. “I\'ll be doing the vocal takes and he\'ll start kicking and it would actually trip me out because it wouldn\'t be to the beat,” she says. “I’d say, ‘Your father is a bass player and a drummer—you should have better rhythm.’” Here, Joy guides us through a few of the album’s key songs. **Bad Neighbours** “A lot of these songs are more vulnerable and more personal; and musically, they’re more dynamic and stripped back. That was something we were really excited about, but also a little bit nervous because it\'s something new. I think we were just like, ‘Fuck it, let\'s just really lean into that and have that sort of thing be the opener.’ When I\'m scared of something, I lean into that thing and just expose myself to it to try and get over it.” **Cellophane (Brain)** “It\'s dealing with my noisy brain and the things that are ticking away underneath it all. I remember when I was writing the chorus melody, I was just hitting random notes just to see how that sounded. I really ended up liking it and I didn\'t even think it was going to be the final melody because it really jumps around and I\'m swinging it like an elastic band. It\'s so fun to sing because it\'s loopy and different to usually how I would write.” R U 4 Me? “Tim and I wrote this one together from the ground up, which is a new thing for us. That bit where I laugh in the breakdown, that’s literally from the demo, because I\'m saying something wrong, and we just left it in there because it felt like the spirit of the song was in that. It’s intense but playful. It’s talking about trust issues or people trying to find their place and feeling lonely and not knowing where they belong, but also not taking yourself too seriously.” **Questions** “There\'s a lot of space in the music at the beginning—almost like when you\'re in a tense conversation it feels like there\'s too much space. It\'s painfully present and quiet except for the words. As it slowly builds and grows and then explodes: There\'s a great catharsis in that. I\'m not sure if that\'s symbolic—whether it\'s anger exploding or if it\'s the resolution of something or freedom from something—but musically, I think it really takes you on a journey of like awkwardly navigating intimacy.” **Some People Stay in Our Hearts Forever** “I still look back on experiences from when you were a kid and it\'s just crazy how they can really linger. Writing that chorus was just so from that place, almost like a wolf howling to the moon, ‘I’m sorry.’ I think part of the journey of growing up is learning how to accept who you are and what you\'ve done, and own those things and not let those ghosts haunt you. It’s not even necessarily doing anything that bad, but you\'re just dumb and don\'t know much.” **Stacking Chairs** “Tim really inspired this song. When I was growing up, I was more interested in having a good time and going to the party and then not being the person who stuck around and packed up the party after. Long-term friendship is learning how to walk with someone through life and being there in not just the fun moments, but all the messy moments. Marriage has really taught me about continually showing up every day. And that image of stacking chairs is being that person for other people who\'s going to be there when it\'s a bit shit and it\'s not the fun stuff, but it\'s part of life.” **Today We\'re the Greatest** “This song to me is a great summation of a lot of the things that I\'m singing about and wrestling with. Most of our lives, it\'s pretty mundane and you just do the same shit every day. In amongst that, we all have our pain and our loneliness, but we also have our moments of triumph and beauty. Sometimes they\'re small and sometimes they\'re big. And I feel like when we can hold all of that and live in that, that\'s when we are great—that’s living.”

Today sees the release of the third, and final, full-length album from REMI (Remi Kolawole and Sensible J). The third and final album from REMI, ‘Fried’ was written and recorded from 2017-2020 and features an array of guest vocalists including Silent Jay, Lorry, Children of Zeus’ Tyler Daley, Whosane and Baasto. ‘Fried’ was recorded at House of Beige studios and comes out via House of Beige/Believe in Australia/New Zealand and Jakarta Records for the Rest of the World. REMI burst onto the scene in 2012 with the impressively unique and fresh-sounding ‘Regular People Shit’ mixtape, however it was the break-out laid-back summer vibes of their ‘Sangria’ single which appeared on the 2013 mixtape ‘F.Y.G. ACT:1’ that garnered national and international attention. Later that year REMI went on to win triple J’s Unearthed Artist of the Year and in 2014 they independently released their debut album ‘Raw X Infinity’ which went on to win the Australian Music Price (AMP) for Australian Album of the Year, the first hip-hop record to ever do so. 2015 saw the release of the ‘Call It What You Want (F.Y.G. ACT:2)’ Mixtape in which REMI reimagined tracks from artists such as Radiohead, Nick Cave and The Police and then in 2016 REMI released their sophomore album ‘Divas and Demons’, again independently. Receiving critical acclaim across the board, ‘Divas and Demons’ went on to reach the top 10 of the ARIA Charts. More touring followed and in 2017 REMI were nominated for the prestigious US BET Awards. Over the past 7 years REMI performed numerous sold-out headline shows and tours across Australia, Europe and the UK and also shared the stage with acts such as Danny Brown, Vic Mensa, De La Soul, Joey Bada$$ and Blackalicious. They performed some of the world’s biggest and best festivals including Splendour in the Grass, Openair Frauenfeld (Switzerland), Fusion Festival (Germany), Les Escales (France) and performed at international showcase events including SXSW and the Great Escape. With features across acclaimed tastemaker media outlets such as OkayPlayer, Majestic Casual, COLORS, Billboard, NME, MTV, NPR and shout outs from the likes of hip-hop luminaire Chuck D and Outkast’s Big Boi, REMI’s appeal was as diverse as it was impressive. Both Remi and Sensible J would like to thank everyone who has supported their music and their journey to this point and have released statements on their individual socials regarding ‘Fried’ being the final REMI record.

“Straight away,” Dry Cleaning drummer Nick Buxton tells Apple Music. “Immediately. Within the first sentence, literally.” That is precisely how long it took for Buxton and the rest of his London post-punk outfit to realize that Florence Shaw should be their frontwoman, as she joined in with them during a casual Sunday night jam in 2018, reading aloud into the mic instead of singing. Though Buxton, guitarist Tom Dowse, and bassist Lewis Maynard had been playing together in various forms for years, Shaw—a friend and colleague who’s also a visual artist and university lecturer—had no musical background or experience. No matter. “I remember making eye contact with everyone and being like, ‘Whoa,’” Buxton says. “It was a big moment.” After a pair of 2019 EPs comes the foursome’s full-length debut, *New Long Leg*, an hypnotic tangle of shape-shifting guitars, mercurial rhythms, and Shaw’s deadpan (and often devastating) spoken-word delivery. Recorded with longtime PJ Harvey producer John Parish at the historic Rockfield Studios in Wales, it’s a study in chemistry, each song eventually blooming from jams as electric as their very first. Read on as Shaw, Buxton, and Dowse guide us through the album track by track. **“Scratchcard Lanyard”** Nick Buxton: “I was quite attracted to the motorik-pedestrian-ness of the verse riffs. I liked how workmanlike that sounded, almost in a stupid way. It felt almost like the obvious choice to open the album, and then for a while we swayed away from that thinking, because we didn\'t want to do this cliché thing—we were going to be different. And then it becomes very clear to you that maybe it\'s the best thing to do for that very reason.” **“Unsmart Lady”** Florence Shaw: “The chorus is a found piece of text, but it suited what I needed it for, and that\'s what I was grasping at. The rest is really thinking about the years where I did lots and lots of jobs all at the same time—often quite knackering work. It’s about the female experience, and I wanted to use language that\'s usually supposed to be insulting, commenting on the grooming or the intelligence of women. I wanted to use it in a song, and, by doing that, slightly reclaim that kind of language. It’s maybe an attempt at making it prideful rather than something that is supposed to make you feel shame.” **“Strong Feelings”** FS: “It was written as a romantic song, and I always thought of it as something that you\'d hear at a high school dance—the slow one where people have to dance together in a scary way.” **“Leafy”** NB: “All of the songs start as jams that we play all together in the rehearsal room to see what happens. We record it on the phone, and 99 percent of the time you take that away and if it\'s something that you feel is good, you\'ll listen to it and then chop it up into bits, make changes and try loads of other stuff out. Most of the jams we do are like 10 minutes long, but ‘Leafy’ was like this perfect little three-minute segment where we were like, ‘Well, we don\'t need to do anything with that. That\'s it.’” **“Her Hippo”** FS: “I\'m a big believer in not waiting for inspiration and just writing what you\'ve got, even if that means you\'re writing about a sense of nothingness. I think it probably comes from there, that sort of feeling.” **“New Long Leg”** NB: “I\'m really proud of the work on the album that\'s not necessarily the stuff that would jump out of your speakers straight away. ‘New Long Leg’ is a really interesting track because it\'s not a single, yet I think it\'s the strongest song on the album. There\'s something about the quality of what\'s happening there: Four people are all bringing something, in quite an unusual way, all the way around. Often, when you hear music like that, it sounds mental. But when you break it down, there\'s a lot of detail there that I really love getting stuck into.” **“John Wick”** FS: “I’m going to quote Lewis, our bass player: The title ‘John Wick’ refers to the film of the same name, but the song has nothing to do with it.” Tom Dowse: “Giving a song a working title is quite an interesting process, because what you\'re trying to do is very quickly have some kind of onomatopoeia to describe what the song is. ‘Leafy’ just sounded leafy. And ‘John Wick’ sounded like some kind of action cop show. Just that riff—it sounded like crime was happening and it painted a picture straight away. I thought it was difficult to divorce it from that name.” **“More Big Birds”** TD: “One of the things you get good at when you\'re a band and you\'re lucky enough to get enough time to be together is, when someone writes a drum part like that, you sit back. It didn\'t need a complicated guitar part, and sometimes it’s nice to have the opportunity to just hit a chord. I love that—I’ll add some texture and let the drums be. They’re almost melodic.” **“A.L.C”** FS: “It\'s the only track where I wrote all the lyrics in lockdown—all the others were written over a much longer period of time. But that\'s definitely the quickest I\'ve ever written. It\'s daydreaming about being in public and I suppose touches on a weird change of priorities that happened when your world just gets really shrunk down to your little patch. I think there\'s a bit of nostalgia in there, just going a bit loopy and turning into a bit of a monster.” **“Every Day Carry”** FS: “It was one of the last ones we recorded and I was feeling exhausted from trying so fucking hard the whole recording session to get everything I wanted down. I had sheets of paper with different chunks that had already been in the song or were from other songs, and I just pieced it together during the take as a bit of a reward. It can be really fun to do that when you don\'t know what you\'re going to do next, if it\'s going to be crap or if it\'s going to be good. That\'s a fun thing—I felt kind of burnt out, so it was nice to just entertain myself a bit by doing a surprise one.”

“I really wanted to make a whole cohesive project,” Genesis Owusu tells Apple Music of his debut album. “I wanted to make something akin to *To Pimp a Butterfly* and *Food and Liquor* and all the awesome concept albums that I grew up listening to.” The Ghanaian Australian artist named Kofi Owusu-Ansah’s debut LP is a powerful concept album that tackles depression and racism in equal measure, characterized here as two black dogs. “‘Black dog’ is a known euphemism for depression, but I’ve also been called a black dog as a racial slur. So I thought it was an interesting, all-encompassing term for what I wanted to talk about.” The music itself is vibrant and boundaryless, with elements of soul, hip-hop, post-punk, pop, and beyond, showcasing not only Genesis Owusu’s remarkable talent and creativity, but the influence of each band member he worked with to write and record, including Kirin J Callinan on guitar, Touch Sensitive (Michael Di Francesco) on bass, Julian Sudek on drums, and Andrew Klippel on keys—all of whom brought their backgrounds and influences to the table. “The album’s eclectic sound is a reflection of all of us as human beings, and also their interpretation of me from their own musical backgrounds,” he says. *Smiling With No Teeth* is split into two thematic halves, each focusing on one of the two black dogs. Owusu-Ansah talks through the entire concept in the track-by-track breakdown below. **On the Move!** “Up to this point in my career, I feel like I\'ve been categorized as ‘the funk guy,’ but a lot of those songs were created within the same two-week span. After those two weeks I was on to other stuff, but because the process of releasing music is so slow, that perception lingered about. So I wanted the intro to shatter that as soon as you press play. It’s explosive. You know something is coming.” **The Other Black Dog** “This song introduces the internal black dog character. Instrumentally, it feels like a movie chase scene. The internal black dog is chasing me through cracks and alleys, trying to be everywhere at once, reaching out, trying to engulf and embrace me. It was a very intentional, conceptual choice to have these songs sound upbeat, dancy, and sexy. But it\'s all a facade, it\'s all a fake smile when you really delve into it.” **Centrefold** “It’s told from the perspective of the black dog, as a sort of distorted love song from the place of an abuser. It doesn\'t respect you at all. It wants to consume you and use you for its own pleasure. And it manifests itself in this distorted love song that sounds groovy and sexy and alluring.” **Waitin’ on Ya** “It’s a sister track to ‘Centrefold.’ The through line has the same story.” **Don\'t Need You** “It’s back from the Genesis Owusu perspective, where the black dog has tried to lure you in, but you reach a point where you realize you can live without it. You don\'t need it, you can break free of those chains. It’s like an independence anthem: You’re breaking free from its clutches for the first time.” **Drown (feat. Kirin J Callinan)** “It continues on from ‘Don\'t Need You,’ analyzing the relationship from a more detached aspect, where you\'re realizing the black dog’s mannerisms. You can separate yourself from it so you\'re two individual beings. You can realize it’s a part of you that you have to let go. You are not your depression. You can make changes and separate yourself. Which leads to the chorus line, ‘You\'ve got to let me drown.’” **Gold Chains** “As an artist, I feel like I\'m just starting to turn some heads and break out, but I\'ve been touring and playing for years. Going from city to city in a van. Playing to no one. But so many people are like, ‘Oh, you\'re a rapper, right? Where\'s your gold chain? How much money do you have?’ So the song plays into the perception versus the reality—‘It looks so gold, but it can feel so cold in these chains.’ The music industry can exacerbate mental health issues and stuff like that, when you\'re overworked or commodified. Instead of an artist creating a product, you become the product.” **Smiling With No Teeth** “This is the center point. It’s encompassing the themes of the album from the narrator’s perspective rather than the black dog. It’s an intermission between Act One and Act Two.” **I Don\'t See Colour** “So much of Act One had honey and sweetness and upbeat tracks, but now we rip all that away. It showcases the personality of the next black dog, which is much more direct and brutal. They\'ve faced the brunt of racism and there’s no more sugarcoating. The extremely minimal instrumental is intentional, so you can completely focus on the lyrics, which are much more scathing. Being a Black person in white society and having to experience the brunt of racism, I\'m often also expected to be the bigger person and the educator. So this arc is validating the emotions and the venting that should be allowed. It’s therapeutic when you\'re faced with those circumstances.” **Black Dogs!** “It was produced by Matt Corby. This one and ‘Easy’ were the only two not produced by the band. It’s a straight-to-the-point song encompassing a day in the life of me, or just any Black person in Australia. It’s not that I\'m getting abused by police every day, but it\'s all the little microaggressions. Sonically speaking, it plays into how I feel every day, going into white spaces and feeling a bit paranoid.” **Whip Cracker** “It’s the ‘I\'ve had enough’ moment. The lyrics—‘Spit up on your grave/Hope my thoughts behave/We\'re so depraved’—play into the bogeymen that people want to see, but obviously as a satirical guise. And then it goes into bigots of all facets, essentially saying enough is enough, times have changed, it\'s over. And musically speaking, halfway through, it just explodes into this funk-rock section. It was very ‘What would Prince do?’” **Easy** “This one was produced by Harvey Sutherland. I was in Melbourne with him doing sessions, and I\'d just gone to the Invasion Day protest, so it was sparked from that. It’s about the relationship between Indigenous or native communities or just people of color, and the colonized country they\'re living in. One partner—the person of color—is fighting their way through a relationship with the very abusive partner that says they care about them and that they\'ll do things for them, but it\'s all lip service.” **A Song About Fishing** “This song started out as a jokey freestyle in the studio, but it turned into this weird parable about perseverance in dire circumstances. I feel like these last three songs are like Act Three of the album. They’re about both of the black dogs. Even though the circumstances seem so dire in the realms of depression and racism, I’m still getting up every day, trying my best and going to this lake where I can never catch any fish, but hoping that one day I\'ll snag something.” **No Looking Back** “It’s a pop ballad about how I\'ve gone through this journey and now I\'m finally ready to put these things behind me, enter a new phase of my life, and be a bigger and better person. It\'s like the transcendental conclusion of the album. And it\'s kind of a mantra: There’s no looking back. Like we\'ve gone through this and we\'re done, we\'re ready to move on.” **Bye Bye** “‘No Looking Back’ was going to be the final track of the album. It was going to end on a very positive note, but it was too much of a Hollywood ending for me. It felt unrealistic. I\'ve learnt a lot throughout my journey, but there’s no point where you can dust your hands off and be like, okay, racism over, depression over. So with ‘Bye Bye,’ the themes are crawling back to you. It signifies that this is an ongoing journey I\'m going to have to face. I had to be clear and real about it.”

As The War on Drugs has grown in size and stature from bedroom recording project to sprawling, festival-headlining rock outfit, Adam Granduciel’s role has remained constant: It’s his band, his vision. But when the pandemic forced recording sessions for their fifth LP *I Don’t Live Here Anymore* to go remote in 2020, Granduciel began encouraging his bandmates to take ownership of their roles within each song—to leave their mark. “Once we got into a groove of sending each other sessions, it was this really cool thing where everyone had a way of working on their own time that really helped,” he tells Apple Music. “I think being friends with the guys now and collaborative for so many years, each time we work together, it\'s like everyone\'s more confident in their role and I’m more confident in my desire for them to step up and bring something real. I was all about giving up control.” That shift, Granduciel adds, opened up “new sonic territory” that he couldn’t have seen by himself. And the sense of peace and perspective that came with it was mirrored—if not made possible—by changes in his personal life, namely the birth of his first child. A decade ago, Granduciel would have likely obsessed and fretted over every detail, making himself unwell in the process, “but I wasn\'t really scared to turn in this record,” he says. “I was excited for it to be out in the world, because it\'s not so much that you don\'t care about your work, but it’s just not the most important thing all the time. I was happy with whatever I could contribute, as long as I felt that I had given it my all.” Here, Granduciel guides us through the entire record, track by track. **“Living Proof”** “It felt like a complete statement, a complete thought. It felt like the solo was kind of composed and was there for a reason, and it all just felt buttoned up perfectly, where it could open a record in kind of a tender way. Just very deliberate and right.” **“Harmonia’s Dream”** “It’s mostly inspired by the band Harmonia and this thing that \[keyboardist\] Robbie \[Bennett\] had done that was blowing my mind in real time. I started playing those two chords, and in the spur of the moment he wrote that whole synth line. We went on for about nine minutes, and I remember, when we were doing it, I was like, ‘Don\'t hit a wrong note.’ Because it was so perfect what he was just feeling out in the moment, at 2 am, at some studio in Brooklyn. I was so lucky that I got to witness him doing that.” **“Change”** “I had started it at the end of 2017’s *Deeper Understanding* and it was like this piano ballad in half-time. Years later, we’re in upstate New York, and I\'m showing it to \[bassist\] Dave \[Hartley\] and \[guitarist\] Anthony \[LaMarca\]. I\'m on piano and they\'re on bass and drums and it\'s not really gelling. At some point Anthony just picks up the drumsticks and he shifts it to the backbeat, this straight-ahead pop-rock four-on-the-floor thing. It immediately had this really cool ‘I\'m on Fire’ vibe.’” **“I Don’t Wanna Wait”** “\[Producer-engineer\] Shawn \[Everett\], for the most part, puts the vocal very front and center on a lot of songs, very pop-like. I think as you get more confident in your songs it\'s okay to have the vocals there. But for this one I was thinking about Radiohead, like it would be cool if we just processed the vocals in this really weird way. I wanted to have fun with them, because we’ve already got so many alien sounds happening with those Prophet keyboards and the moodiness of the drum machine. I wanted to give it something that felt like you were sucked into some weird little world.” **“Victim”** “Ten years ago if we had had this song, we wouldn\'t have a chorus on it—it would just be like a verse over and over. Now I feel like we\'ve progressed to where you have this hypnotic thing but it actually goes somewhere. We’d had it done, but the vocals were a little weird. I told Shawn I wasn’t sure about them, because this song had such a vibe. When he asked me to describe it in one word, I was like, ‘back alley,’ like steam coming out of a fucking manhole cover or something. And then he puts his headphones on and I see him work in some gear for like 30 minutes—and then he turns the speakers on. I was like, ‘Oh, dude. That\'s it.’” **“I Don’t Live Here Anymore”** “I\'ll be the first to say it has that \'80s thing going, but we kind of pushed it in that way. At one point Shawn and I ran everything on the song—drums, the girls, bass, everything—through a JC-120 Roland amplifier, which is like the sound of the \'80s, essentially. I saw it just sitting there at Sound City \[Studios in Los Angeles\]. We spent like a day doing that, and it just gave it this sound that was a familiar heartbeat or something. It sounds huge but it also felt real—in my mind it was basically just a bedroom recording, because everything was done in my tiny little room, directly into my computer.” **“Old Skin”** “I demoed it in one afternoon, in like 30 minutes. Then I showed it to the band, and from the minute we started playing, it was just so fucking boring. But I knew that there was something in the song I really liked, and we kept building it up and building it up, and then one day, I asked Shawn to mute everything except the two things I liked most: the organ and the single note I was playing on the Juno. I brought the drums in at the right moment and it was like, \'Oh, that\'s the fucking song.’ Lyrically, I felt like it was about the concept of pushing back against everything that tries to hold you down—and having a song about that and then having it be as dynamic as it is, with these drums coming out of nowhere, it just feels like a really special moment. It’s my favorite song on the record, I think.” **“Wasted”** “This song was actually a really early one that I kind of abandoned—I sent it to \[drummer\] Pat \[Berkery\] because I knew there was a song there but the drums were just very stale. I didn\'t know any of this, but the day that he was working out of my studio in Philly was the day that his personal life had kind of all come to a head: He was getting divorced from his wife of 15 years. He did the song and he sent it back to me and it was fucking ferocious. It just gave new life to it. Springsteen always talks about Max Weinberg on ‘Born in the U.S.A.’ and how it’s Max\'s greatest recorded performance. I said the same thing when I heard this: ‘It’s Pat’s greatest recorded performance.’” **“Rings Around My Father’s Eyes”** “I\'d been strumming those open chords for a couple years—I had the melody and I had that opening line. I wanted to express something, but I wasn\'t 100% sure how I was going to go about doing it—part of the journey was to not be embarrassed by a line or not think that something is too obvious and too sentimental. As time went on with this record, I became a dad, and I started seeing it from the other side. It’s not so much a reflection on my relationship with my own dad, but starting to think about being a dad, being a protector.” **“Occasional Rain”** “As a songwriter I just love it because it\'s really concise. Lyrically, I was able to wrap up some of the scenes that I wanted to try and talk about, knowing where it was going to go on the record. I just think it\'s one of those songs that\'s a perfect closer. It\'s the last song in our fifth album. It\'s like, if this was the last album we ever made and that was the last song, I\'d be like, ‘That\'s a good way to go out.’”

After the release of 2018’s *Wide Awake!*, Parquet Courts guitarist Austin Brown was feeling the effects of nearly a decade of touring and recording. “To be frank, I was a bit disillusioned with music in general,” he tells Apple Music. “There was this exhaustion. Maybe I was just a little bit bored with the state of rock music or indie music—it was a hard world to relate to, and I’m not sure we ever did. But I wanted to figure out a way to reject ideas of whatever was being pushed as culture, and I wanted to do it in a productive way by offering up something better.” That something is *Sympathy for Life*, his Brooklyn outfit’s seventh full-length. In an effort to branch out both musically and socially, Brown became a member of The Loft, New York’s longest-running (and most influential) underground dance party, ground zero for disco in the 1970s. While there is still plenty of rock to be found here (see: the hypnotic crunch of “Homo Sapien”), it’s often braided together with elements of dance music, in the spirit of Talking Heads, Happy Mondays, and Primal Scream. The emphasis was on rhythm, the goal to write songs a DJ could easily unfurl at a party. And to get there, they largely switched up their lyrics-first approach to writing, recording and editing together long stretches of improvisation. “We’ve been together for 10 years now,” Brown says. “One of the biggest influences on the sound of the record is us utilizing that. Our biggest asset and our best instrument is just us, playing together as a band.” Here, Brown guides us through songs from the album. **“Walking at a Downtown Pace”** “Every day in the mix session, we would spend a few hours just on this song, listening to the drums and moving stuff around, finding that sweet spot—what makes you move and what doesn\'t. We really wanted a song that a DJ can play at a party, and that\'s why we really needed to get the kick drum to hit, the snare drum to really be on that right beat. It was important for us to have that crossover feel, between rock and dance. But in trying to find what that would mean for us, it felt like a really important song for the band and for the record.” **“Black Widow Spider”** “A lot of the songs were cultivated from improvisations, and this is one of them. That guitar sound is super unique, and it\'s integral to this sound on this record. We fed Andrew\'s \[Savage\] rhythm guitar—and I think maybe the lead guitar as well—through the MS-20 synthesizer. I had this space station dub set up, where I had a 16-channel mixer, five synthesizers, but then also effects like tape echo and the harmonizer—the one that you would hear on David Bowie\'s *Low*. It\'s this vintage 8-bit digital pitch-shifting thing that I just am obsessed with.” **“Marathon of Anger”** “It\'s about living in quarantine during Black Lives Matter and just all of the things that were happening around that time, but also looking forward to what happens next. It\'s about getting to work to make the change that we need to see collectively in our personal lives and in our community. And right now, this is the marathon of anger, but what happens next? You can\'t just be angry, there has to be something that comes after this.” **“Just Shadows”** “Within the band there\'s been an ongoing conversation about recycling. And I guess this song is sort of summed up by that conversation for me: It just gets really frustrating when you\'re in your kitchen being like, ‘I\'m not really sure if this is recyclable, but I feel like if I don\'t do this right I\'m a bad person.’ And the rules about recycling are honestly so confusing, and they\'re put onto us as individuals, rather than the corporations which are literally making the products. The song lists the ways that we have these false choices about doing the right thing, how we find the things that are good for us, how do we know what\'s good for us or good for the world, and have these choices put in front of us that don\'t always make sense.” **“Plant Life”** “The word that \[producer\] Roddy \[McDonald\] used to describe it was ‘Balearic.’ It hit all these notes, and I had them build this up to be this Mediterranean island vibe, a Grace Jones ‘Pull Up to the Bumper’ kind of groove—more of a feeling or a mood. It’s like a sunset or a sunrise, a song that you could play on the beach during that time, but at night or in the morning. That late-’80s rock-meets-dance in England vibe: It was never about hard acid house. It was just about this mellow groove. It helped these guys that were in rock bands understand that transition between what can we do to integrate ourselves into this new rave world, this dance world. ‘Plant Life’ is probably the most pure expression of that on this record.” **“Application/Apparatus”** “The lyrics are sort of about this conflict between a person versus the robot algorithm takeover. I feel like the music really matches that in quality—it’s very electronic, robotic, a really direct expression of the lyrics. That song is sort of this total package, a complete circle of aesthetic and lyrical content and deeper meaning.” **“Homo Sapien”** “This is a song that Andrew brought fully realized. At first, it was the kind of track I was trying to avoid on this record—just more of a rock song. But the more that we worked on it, the more I thought, ‘This is actually cool and it fits in aesthetically.’ It feels like one of our more accomplished high-energy tracks. It\'s not beating you over the head with speed or anything—it’s got a groove to it. But the sound of all the guitars and everything just feels like it actually expresses the energy in an intuitive way that we haven\'t always had. It growls and snarls and just feels very primitive and caveman. But in a way that\'s got swagger to it, which I can really appreciate, because I\'m just getting a little old for that finger-wagging kind of punk.” **“Sympathy for Life”** “I was really obsessed with the intersection between Afrobeat and dub when I was thinking about songs for this record—really into polyrhythm and really wanting to incorporate that. I worked really hard, ended up in some pretty funky zones that were really, really hard to recreate live in the studio.” **“Zoom Out”** “It was really inspired by being at some of these parties that I\'ve been going to—dance parties and disco parties, the experience at The Loft. That song is more about the joy that you can experience through community, what you have when you take materialism out of your relationships.” **“Trullo”** “I think this is maybe my favorite song on the record. It’s another one that was cut up from a long improvisation. It’s a very sample-heavy track. I put in a guitar solo that came off of the song \'Bodies Made Of,’ off \[2014’s\] *Sunbathing Animal*. And there\'s some other hidden samples in there as well that I can\'t even remember. It’s about living inside of a house in the shape of a head, kind of like living in a skull.” **“Pulcinella”** “Pulcinella is this creepy Italian clown, or a masked figure sometimes appearing as a clown. It’s playful, it\'s kind of scary, it\'s sort of like a visual or a metaphorical antagonist for themes that pop up throughout the album. The lyrics I always come back to are where it talks about carrying a chain, because I think that carrying around a relationship\'s worth of experiences or a life\'s worth of experiences can get quite heavy and burdensome when you\'re trying to connect with people. The thing that I love about this song is how naked it feels, especially considering the production on a lot of the other songs. It felt like a sensitive way to close out the album.”

“I’m not sure how I’m going to feel about people dancing to my own sadness,” David Balfe tells Apple Music. “When I was writing this at first, it was never meant for the public. I pressed 25 copies and gave them to my friends, who this record is about.” *For Those I Love* is about one of the Dublin artist’s friends in particular: his closest friend, collaborator and bandmate, the poet and musician Paul Curran—who died by suicide in February 2018. This extraordinary album is a love letter to that friendship. A self-produced, spoken-word masterpiece set to tenderly curated samples and exhilarating house beats, breaks and synths (“our youth was set to a backdrop of listening to house music in s\*\*t cars, so it made perfect sense to retell those stories with an electronic palette”), it’s also a tribute to working-class communities, art, grief and survival. “Growing up where we did in Dublin, my friends and I learned very young that life is a very fragile and temporary thing,” Balfe says. “We first navigated the world in survival mode, but we soon realized that you have to express love. Because it haunts you as a regret if you don’t. An expression of love could be the difference between somebody’s being here or not being here. For us, that’s where being that vocal about love came from. I hope that’s not rare.” Read on for Balfe’s track-by-track guide to his important, thrilling record. **I Have a Love** “I wrote 75 or 76 songs for this album—this was the 15th, and it was also the first one that actually made it onto the record. It set the tone for how I wanted it all to feel and sound and flow, with the density and the texture that I wanted. The vast majority of samples that made it on had a very weighted significance to myself and my friends—they were very complementary to or important within the singular relationships that I was writing about. Here, the opening piano chords are from Sampha’s \'(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano.\' It’s is a very important song for myself and Paul. It dominated so much of the soundtrack to our intimate moments. I had written the instrumental before Paul had passed away and it was already going to be a track about my relationship with him. I was very lucky that I got to play that instrumental for him before he passed, and I got to share some of the lyrics. They very much had to do with this endless love that we both had. After Paul passed, the weight of the song and the samples themselves took on quite a different life me, and allowed me to reframe how I was writing the lyrics. I revisited \'(No One Knows Me),\' and I revisited \[the song’s other sample\] \'Let Love Flow On\' by Sonya Spence. Despite having this disco heart, I’ve always found that to be a warm safety blanket of a song. A gorgeous reassurance of hope and love against the difficulties of live and tragedy. The main refrain—\'I have a love, and it never fades\' was written long before Paul passed, and I was very lucky to have been able to share with him. I think a lot of people have the impression that it was something I had written in response to his death, but it wasn’t. It was a response to our friendship and 13 years of being inseparable. It’s quite curious and tragic that it held so much more weight in the aftermath. So I rewrote the whole history of that song and the whole history of our life around that refrain afterwards. It’s a strange song for me.” **You Stayed / To Live** “This is a song that’s very much rooted in storytelling. So many of my relationships with my friends involved fields and barren wasteland—hanging out and spending time just being together, discussing and planning our ideas. It was rare to walk into these areas without there being a fire of some kind. I’m still entranced by it—I find even the visual of fire to be very intoxicating. Anyway, most of the record was made in the shed at my ma’s—but this was made up in the box bedroom. It was a Thursday night after training, and I was laying on the bed writing about this time that myself and Paul stole a couch and walked it over the motorway to this field at three in the morning, intending to set it on fire the next day and film it. We woke up the next morning and the couch had already been set on fire. There’s something magic about that field—time does not work in a linear fashion there. As I was writing the song, one of the cars across the road got set on fire—over a debt, I found out. There are so many things about the recording of this album that has made me rethink how I engage with the world in regard to fate, or observations of spirituality. And I get it: everything holds this other significance when you’ve gone through that kind of tragedy, and you read into things as a source of comfort more than anything. And you allow yourself to be enchanted by it. Really, of course, it’s all just chance.” **To Have You** “This is built around ‘Everything I Own’ by Barbara Mason. The start of the track also has this audio clip from when the band I was in with Paul \[Burnt Out\] were filming the video for a track called ‘Dear James,’ and the song continues from there. We wanted to have this atmospheric smoke bellowing out of our bins in the lane behind my house. One of my best mates, Robbie, was like, ‘I can make a smoke bomb out of tin foil and ping pong balls.’ And we did it. For us, it was just this moment of such monumental success. It was like this really traditional, hands-on success of our labor. I wanted to bring a reminder for myself and my friends of the things that we had done together and felt so much collective beauty for. We’re never going to lose that memory now. This is also the only song on the album that includes my harp playing, which has allowed me to not feel guilty about buying a harp in the first place and not following through with learning how to play it. Paul was always like, ‘You’re a f\*\*king lunatic for buying that. But deadly, cool. Go for it.’” **Top Scheme** “The synth patch that I used is something I built years and years ago for a project that I did with one of my best mates, Pamela \[Connolly\], who’s now in a great band called Pillow Queens. We made music together in my ma’s shed for years for a project called Mothers and Fathers, and I wanted to bring a nod to that—it was important to me that I acknowledge so many of the different parts of my shared musical history with my friends for this album. Myself and Paul also had plans to start a separate project called Top Scheme, which was going to involve biting social commentary over some electronic, very aggressive, off-grid punk. We’d started making demos, but kept putting it off to focus on Burnt Out. I wanted to write a spiritual successor to that project and was very conscious where it would fit into the record. The song starts the curve from speaking very much about the love that we all shared together, into capturing about the worlds we grew up in—with this song speaking very specifically about the economic and social inequality that we faced being in a 1990s’ working-class community. It also speaks about the worlds we started to move into—when the geography of your world opens and suddenly you feel that sense of alienation that you once felt as a young child. You might be experiencing an economic disparity or a social divide that you’re unable to bridge. You hear people absolutely dehumanize others and reduce people down to scumbags based on their economic standing or, particularly as this song speaks about, really punishing people verbally for being addicts. Stripping them of their humanity, not caring about the sickness that ails them and seeing them as a plague. Just seeing them as a plague. This song speaks to that anger and disassociation—but there’s also supposed to be a very dark humor across it.” **The Myth / I Don’t** “This is the darkest moment on the record, and it’s the most difficult one to revisit because I am very much walking back into a mental and physical space that I’ve fortunately recovered from. It talks about where I was at before I had access to therapy and medication, then when I did and was trying to justify the exorbitant cost of dealing both those things—trying to value your own health over economic stability. It was very important that the music was sonically intoxicating. It spirals and I tried to make its density change and shift over time—with the shape of each sound morphing slowly and sometimes frantically towards its peak. I wanted it to feel like the same chaos, discomfort, and internal fear I felt during that period, but also capture the same drive toward this one singular end point. It needed to move towards this sonic oblivion at the end, because that’s what I was seeking at that point in my life. It’s also worth noting that for all the darkness that that song does bring, the times where I’ve gotten to perform it have probably been the most giving and actually traditionally cathartic things that I’ve been able to experience.” **The Shape of You** “Some of the samples took months to clear, but the Smokey Robinson one here went through like clockwork, overnight. I don’t know why, I didn’t ask why, I don’t need to know why. It’s a defining moment on the record for me—I listened to ‘The Tracks of My Tears’ when everything was going to s\*\*t and I felt heard in somebody else’s music, and suddenly understood that within my own music I could have somebody speak for me with an elegance that I would never be able to get. The beauty of sampling is being able to be intelligent enough to recognize when the choice to use other people who have walked that ground before is the right one. The lyrics cover me breaking my leg at a Belgian punk festival in 2007 and experiencing this terrifying, very chaotic time—before the relief and beauty and safety I felt when I saw my best friend arrive at the hospital. Everything that could possibly go wrong had gone wrong, but your best mate is there beside you, and you suddenly feel like it’s all going to be OK—and that you might even find some value in the chaos of it all.” **Birthday / The Pain** “One of the important things about this track is the juxtaposition of its make-up. It was quite a methodical choice. I understood that if I was to write about something like a dead body on bricks being found on my street while I was six years old with the sonic palette you would usually anticipate, then it would never have the comfort level for people to engage with that story. It’s a little bit of a cheat in order to allow people to find an entry point into the reality of that kind of world. The song’s built around a sample from ‘She Won’t be Gone Long’ by The Sentiments. It’s a slow dance, that song, and I find it to be quite a comfort to fall into the rhythm of it. The other special part of the song is the inclusion of crowd chanting at the start—from a specific game at Tolka Park, where our \[soccer\] team, Shelbourne FC, play. It was the first match of the season after Paul had passed and we were scattering his ashes that night on the pitch after the game. It was one of those games where you channel everything you have left in your life into those 90 minutes, into that jersey. It was 3-2 Shels in the end, with a 93rd minute penno. It’s all of us and the fans chanting, recorded on my phone. It was important to be able to bring the importance of that audio, that team, those friends and those strangers onto the record.” **You Live / No One Like You** “I think this is the best song, musically. It has all the warmth and texture that I want in a piece of music. I wasn’t trying to write pop anthems here—and that’s nothing against great pop anthems at all—because you can get so much into the weeds, the maths and the make-up of a song that way. But really it’s my favorite because it’s a song where I get to most clearly speak about my greatest love: my friends, and the survival that we’ve had together. It’s the song I get to most directly speak about them by name and channel years and years of friendship into this one moment. It’s therefore the song that gives me the most hope. And it gave me the most hope when I recorded it, too. It’s a lot easier to feel affected by something when you observe it than when you live it, I think, and to see my friends so emotionally invested and elated when they see and hear themselves immortalized, that’s where the value lies for me. It’s also nice to be able to revisit and revel in so many of monoliths of Irish culture—stemming back to people like John B. Keane and Brendan Behan. The song is very much a place of warmth, where I can go to remember what’s good, what’s left and what I value still.” **Leave Me Not Love** “I felt it was important to me to be able to close the book on this record and bring the listener back around to its inception. To really focus on that eternal return to the same, coming back to the original notes and scale that open the album. Where this track moves in quite a different direction to the others is at the end. It’s perhaps the only time where I unapologetically express something without hope. I turn back to the reality that I lived at the time, which was something explicitly void of hope and embedded in pain. I felt it would have been disingenuous of me not to bring the album back to the really graphic darkness that’s still there. I think I’m responsible enough to offer pockets and avenues that I have found to escape it, while stripping away any pretense and present the reality of that grief. What follows is ‘Cryin’ Like a Baby’ by Jackson C. Frank, which is a song that was very important to Paul and I, and speaks very directly, with a finesse I couldn’t have found by myself, to the days directly after Paul’s passing. It was the only way to end the record.”

Over the course of her first four albums as The Weather Station, Toronto’s Tamara Lindeman has seen her project gradually blossom from a low-key indie-folk oddity into a robust roots-rock outfit powered by motorik rhythms and cinematic strings. But all that feels like mere baby steps compared to the great leap she takes with *Ignorance*, a record where Lindeman soundly promotes herself from singer-songwriter to art-rock auteur (with a dazzling, Bowie-worthy suit made of tiny mirrors to complete the transformation). It’s a move partly inspired by the bigger rooms she found herself playing in support of her 2017 self-titled release, but also by the creative stasis she was feeling after a decade spent in acoustic-strummer mode. “Whenever I picked up the guitar, I just felt like I was repeating myself,” Lindeman tells Apple Music. “I felt like I was making the same decisions and the same chord changes, and it just felt a little stale. I just really wanted to embrace some of this other music that I like.” To that end, Lindeman built *Ignorance* around a dream-team band, pitting pop-schooled players like keyboardist John Spence (of Tegan and Sara’s live band) and drummer Kieran Adams (of indie electro act DIANA) against veterans of Toronto’s improv-jazz scene, like saxophonist Brodie West and flautist Ryan Driver. The results are as rhythmically vigorous as they are texturally scrambled, with Lindeman’s pristine Christine McVie-like melodies mediating between the two. Throughout the record, Lindeman distills the biggest, most urgent issues of the early 2020s—climate change, social injustice, unchecked capitalism—into intimate yet enigmatic vignettes that convey the heavy mental toll of living in a world that seems to be slowly caving in from all sides. “With a lot of the songs on the record, it could be a personal song or it could be an environmental song,” Lindeman explains. “But I don\'t think it matters if it\'s either, because it\'s all the same feelings.” Here, Lindeman provides us with a track-by-track survey of *Ignorance*’s treacherous psychic terrain. **Robber** “It\'s a very strange thing to be the recipient of something that\'s stolen, which is what it means to be a non-Indigenous Canadian. We\'re all trying to grapple with the question of: What does it mean to even be here at all? We\'re the beneficiaries of this long-ago genocide, essentially. I think Canadians in general and people all over the world are sort of waking up to our history—so to sing \'I never believed in the robber\' sort of feels like how we all were taught not to see certain things. The first page in the history textbook is: ‘People lived here.’ And then the next 265 pages are all about the victors—the takers.” **Atlantic** “I was thinking about the weight of the climate crisis—like, how can you look out the window and love the world when you know that it is so threatened, and how that threat and that grief gets in the way of loving the world and being able to engage with it.” **Tried to Tell You** “Something I thought about a lot when I was making the album was how strange our society is—like, how we’ve built a society on a total lack of regard for biological life, when we are biological. Our value system is so odd—it\'s ahuman in this funny way. We\'re actually very soft, vulnerable creatures—we fall in love easily and our hearts are so big. And yet, so much of the way that we try to be is to turn away from everything that\'s soft and mysterious and instinctual about the way that we actually are. There\'s a distinct lack of humility in the way that we try to be, and it doesn\'t do us any good. So this just started out as a song about a friend who was turning away from someone that they were very clearly deeply in love with, but at the same time, I felt like I was writing about everyone, because everyone is turning away from things that we clearly deeply love.” **Parking Lot** “What\'s beautiful about birds is that they\'re everywhere, and they show up in our big, shitty cities, and they\'re just this constant reminder of the nonhuman perspective—like when you really watch a bird, and you try to imagine how it\'s perceiving the world around it and why it\'s doing what it does. For me, there\'s such a beauty in encountering the nonhuman, but also a sadness, and those two ideas are connected in the song.” **Loss** “This song started with that chord change and that repetition of \'loss is loss is loss is loss.\' So I stitched in a snapshot of a person—I don\'t know who—having this moment where they realize that the pain of trying to avoid the pain is not as bad as the pain itself. The deeper feeling beneath that avoidance is loss and sadness and grief, so when you can actually see it, and acknowledge that loss is loss and that it\'s real, you also acknowledge the importance of things. I took a quote from a friend of mine who was talking about her journey into climate activism, and she said, ‘At some point, you have to live as if the truth is true.’ I just loved that, so I quoted her in the song, and I think about that line a lot.\" **Separated** “With some of these songs, I\'m almost terrified by some of the lyrics that I chose to include—I\'m like, \'What? I said that?\' To be frank, I wrote this song in response to the way that people communicate on social media. There\'s so much commitment: We commit to disagree, we commit to one-upping each other and misunderstanding each other on purpose, and it\'s not dissimilar to a broken relationship. Like, there\'s a genuine choice being made to perpetuate the conflict, and I feel like that\'s not really something we like to talk about.” **Wear** “This one\'s a slightly older song. I think I wrote it when I was still out on the road touring a lot. And it just seemed like the most perfect, deep metaphor: ‘I tried to wear the world like some kind of garment.’ I\'m always really happy when I can hit a metaphor that has many layers to it, and many threads that I can pull out over the course of the song—like, the world is this garment that doesn\'t fit and doesn\'t keep you warm and you can\'t move in. And you just want to be naked, and you want to take it off and you want to connect, and yet you have to wear it. I think it speaks to a desire to understand the world and understand other people—like, \'Is everyone else comfortable in this garment, or is it just me that feels uncomfortable?\'” **Trust** “This song was written in a really short time, and that doesn\'t usually happen to me, because I usually am this very neurotic writer and I usually edit a lot and overthink. It\'s a very heavy song. And it\'s about that thing that\'s so hard to wrap your head around when you\'re an empathetic person: You want to understand why some people actively choose conflict, why they choose to destroy. I wasn\'t actually thinking about a personal relationship when I wrote this song; I was thinking about the world and various things that were happening at the time. I think the song is centered in understanding the softness that it takes to stand up for what matters, even when it\'s not cool.” **Heart** “Along with \'Robber,\' this was one of my favorite recording moments. It had a pretty loose shape, and there\'s this weird thing that I was obsessed with where the one chord is played through the whole song, and everything is constantly tying back to this base. I just loved what the band did and how they took it in so many different directions. This song really freaked me out \[lyrically\]. I was not comfortable with it. But I was talked into keeping it, and all for the better, because obviously, I do believe that the sentiments shared on the song—though they are so, so fucking soft!—are the best things that you can share.” **Subdivisions** “This was one of the first songs written before the record took shape in my mind and before it structurally came together. I think we recorded it in, like, an hour, and everyone\'s performance was just perfect. I like these big, soft, emotional songs, and from a craft perspective, I think it\'s one of my better songs. I\'ve never really written a chorus like that. I don\'t even feel like it\'s my song. I don\'t feel like I wrote it or sang it, but it just feels like falling deeper and deeper into some very soft place—which is, I think, the right way to end the record.”

On their endlessly eclectic sophomore album, Bicep considers a musical inquiry most often circled by jazz and jam bands: What if tracks don’t need to be immutable, permanent records, but should instead transform and evolve? Taking inspiration from their first major tour—a two-year trek between festivals and clubs during which they’d regularly rework their tracks from the road—the Northern Irish duo freed themselves from the idea that songs had to be fixed. “Club music has to draw you out,” Matt McBriar tells Apple Music. “Headphone music has to pull you in. More often than not, we’d wind up with six different versions of each song. Eventually it was like, ‘Why do we have to choose?’” As a result, the album versions on *Isles* are simply jumping-off points—the best headphones-inclined versions the pair could cut (dance-floor edits will inevitably materialize when they bring the tracks into clubbier environments). “There’s no straight house or techno on this album; those versions will come later,” Andy Ferguson says. “We wanted to explore home listening to its fullest extent, and then explore the live show to its fullest extent. Rather than try to do both at once, we decided to serve each.” Taking this approach presented an interesting challenge: In order for the songs to be malleable *and* recognizable, they needed to have a strong foundation. “They couldn’t be reliant on a single composition, they had to work in different forms,” McBriar says. “We had to make sure they had strong DNA.” Below, the pair—self-described geeks and gear-heads eager to get technical—take us inside the creative process behind each track. **Atlas** McBriar: “This was the first track we finished after coming back from the tour. We tried to capture the feelings from the peak of the live show, that optimism and euphoria in the room when we performed. It set the tone for the rest of the album in terms of our process. Although we initially recorded several different melodies, the final form came together a few months later in a single afternoon on our modular. This riff was the strongest.” **Cazenove** Ferguson: “This was another early demo, and was sparked by our obsessive interest in ’90s technology—the old MPC controllers that Timbaland and Dilla used. That old equipment doesn’t produce instantly crisp sounds or perfect beats, but that’s where the beauty is. It’s fuzzy and imprecise. We were experimenting with a lot of ’90s lo-fi samplers and bit crushers, and the idea was to build a rhythm by feeding our MPC through a reverse reverb patch on the Lexicon PCM96. From there we just added layer upon layer. We wanted something fast and playful, but with a lot less emphasis on the dance floor.” **Apricots** McBriar: “This actually began as an ambient piece, and the strings sat on our hard drive for a year before we considered some vocals. One day, we picked up an amazing, recently released record called *Beating Heart - Malawi*. The vocals and polyrhythms of ‘Gebede-Gebede Ulendo Wasabwera’ stood out. They were captivating. We pitched snippets of them to our strings before building the rest of the track around them. The second sample is from the 1975 \[Bulgarian folk\] album *Le Mystere Des Voix Bulgares*. We connected with the mysterious chanting, and felt like it had parallels to the Celtic folk we grew up hearing.” **Saku (feat. Clara La San)** McBriar: “This began as a footwork-inspired track with a hang drum melody; we’d been looking into polyrhythms and more interesting drum programming. But when we slowed down the tempo from 150 to 130 BPM, it totally flipped the vibe for us. We experimented with several different vocals samples—including ‘Gebede-Gebede Ulendo Wasabwera’ before it wound up on ‘Apricots’—but ended up sending a stripped-back version to Clara La San, who brought a strong ’90s UKG/R&B vibe. We added some haunting synths at the end to bring contrast and some opposing dark and light elements. It was great to pull so many of our influences into one track.” **Lido** Ferguson: “This track was born from one of our many experiments with granular synthesis. We cut a single piano note from a catalog of 1970s samples and fed it into one of our granular samplers. As we experimented with recording it live, the synthesizer glitches and jumps added all this character and texture. It was pretty disorderly and hard to control, but we loved the madness it produced. There are a ton of layers to this track despite it sounding so simple. And mixing it was a lot of work, trying to get that balance between soothing and subtle chaos.” **X (feat. Clara La San)** McBriar: “This track was built around our Psycox SY-1M Syncussion. We’d been hunting for a Pearl original for years. It has all these uncompromising, metallic fizzes and bleeps that are so difficult to tame, you really need to start with it as the center of the track. Most tracks on the album began on the piano, but not this one. The frantic synth melody was actually improvised one afternoon on our Andromeda A6; it was a single take on a heavily customized and edited patch that we\'ve never been able to replicate. It was just one of those moments when you hit ‘record’ and get it right.” **Rever (feat. Julia Kent)** Ferguson: “We started this track in Bali in 2016. We were on tour and had access to a studio full of local instruments, and knew right away that we wanted to use them. We recorded long sessions of us playing them live, but never ended up using them in one of our finished tracks. Several years later, we were working with Julia Kent, who had recorded the strings for another demo, but it just wasn’t working. She tried some of the Bali instrumentals instead. It sounded really unique. The chopped-up vocal came last, edited and re-pitched to fit, almost like a melody.” **Sundial** McBriar: “One of the simplest tracks on the album, ‘Sundial’ grew from a faulty Jupiter 6 arp recording. Our trigger wasn’t working properly and the arp was randomly skipping notes. This was a small segment taken from a recording of Andy playing around with the arp while we were trying to figure out what was going wrong. We actually loved what it produced and wrote some chords around it, guided by the feeling of that recording.” **Fir** Ferguson: “We have a real soft spot for choral vox synths, and this track was born from an experiment with those. It\'s actually one of the fastest songs we\'ve ever made, and grew purely out of those days in the studio when we just jammed, trying new things. No direction, no preconceived ideas, we just felt it out.” **Hawk (feat. machina)** Ferguson: “The melody on ‘Hawk’ is actually our voices mapped and re-pitched to a granular sampler. We experimented a lot with re-pitching on this album; it brings this unique quality to vocals and melodies. We have a rare-ish Japanese synth, the Kawai SX-240, which creates all those super weird synth noises. Again, this track was the product of lots of experimentation. Machina\'s vocal\'s were actually for another demo which we were struggling on and it just worked perfectly.”

Here’s what a typical day of lockdown looked like for Courtney Barnett in 2020: “Wake up, watch the sunrise, do some meditating, drink some coffee, do some work and then some songwriting,” she tells Apple Music. “Go for a walk, call a friend, then some more work.” Living alone in a friend’s empty Melbourne apartment, Barnett found herself in a reflective mood, often watching the world and seasons change from her window, a guitar in her lap. “A lot of the time there wasn\'t much else to do,” she says. “But I think it\'s good sometimes to just sit and watch or listen, to take a minute.” Written in the quiet of hotel rooms or that very apartment, Barnett’s intimate third LP is a set of meditative rock that feels uniquely present, the Aussie singer-songwriter playing like she’s got nowhere to go and nowhere else she’d rather be. It’s music that feels akin—spiritually and sonically—to that of one-time collaborator Kurt Vile, a placid coming together of jangly guitars, purring drum machines, and zen turn of phrase. “I feel that quietness is often a reflection of the writing, but also I think that I was just craving a quieter sound,” she says of the album. “I\'ve gotten used to just taking things as they come over the years. Nothing is ever how you think it\'s going to be, so it\'s just trying to live in those moments and make the most of them.” Here, Barnett guides us through a few of the album’s songs. **“Rae Street”** “The chorus \[‘Time is money and money is no man’s friend’\] is something that I remember from my childhood, something my dad would say as a bit of a joke, as a hurry-up if we were late for school or whatever. It\'s just always stuck in my head, and when I reflected on it as an adult, it took on a whole new meaning, especially in the context of last year when the world slowed down or stopped in some places, and people lost jobs.” **“Sunfair Sundown”** “That was inspired by a party with friends—one of those nights you feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for friendship and connection. I started writing it the next day, just because of that overwhelming, beautiful, big feeling—it was that simple. It was just celebrating very special small moments and the fact that small moments can mean so much. Sometimes, to one person, it\'s just another day, but it could totally change or affect someone else\'s life.” **“Here’s the Thing”** “I just remember when I wrote that song, it felt special straight away. The guitar chords and the melody—it all came quite naturally and quickly. It started as a letter and then it turned into a song, and over time it’s morphed, as songs do. It’s constantly evolving. I just think it\'s such a simple, beautiful song—I feel a lot when I play it.” **“Turning Green”** “Starting out, we did this whole version that sounded like a jangly guitar-pop song. But it didn\'t grab me, so we pulled it apart and \[Warpaint drummer\] Stella \[Mozgawa\] reprogrammed some drums. I put the guitar down because it just didn\'t seem like it fit, and we kind of flipped it on its head to see if it would inspire a better feeling. And it did, straight away—just singing along to it made the words come to life in a different way. Sometimes, in the studio, you just want to throw so much stuff onto songs and it just gets crowded and busy, and then you kind of lose track of what\'s happening. The change gave the words space and that space was really important for a lot of this album, but this song especially.” **“Write a List of Things to Look Forward To”** “The song’s title came from someone saying, ‘You should write a list of things that you\'re looking forward to.’ And that just inspired the thought behind it—what that means and what it represents. It’s a song about gratitude, but it is also about connections in life, this idea of life and death and being afraid of it and just being at peace with that progression.”

In early 2020, Celeste was riding high. The LA-born, Brighton-raised singer had just topped the BBC’s Sound of 2020 list, claimed the equally prestigious BRITs Rising Star Award, and announced her debut album. But something didn’t feel right. “Everything was moving quite quickly, and I almost didn’t have time to think about how things made me feel or allow them to settle in,” the singer—full name Celeste Epiphany Waite—tells Apple Music. “The songs people had responded to the most were the ones that I had put the most genuine feeling into. At some stage, bringing out singles and stuff, I think that got lost. I felt weakened.” When the UK was put into its first lockdown back in March 2020, Celeste had a chance to reassess. “Everything slowing down was quite helpful,” she says. “I could take stock of what was really important to me and focus on why I was here in the first place.” All of which led to *Not Your Muse*, a rethought debut on which Celeste explores “conversations and dialogue and bits of stories about the things I’ve experienced.” The songs here are about loss (“Strange”), the thrill of new love (“Tonight Tonight”), political disenfranchisement (“Tell Me Something I Don’t Know”), and finding hope after dark times (the exquisite “Some Goodbyes Come With Hellos”). And across it all, Celeste turns any weakness she might once have felt into strength. She takes her nostalgic yet current blend of soul, pop, and R&B—music that’s prompted breathless Nina Simone, Ella Fitzgerald, and Amy Winehouse comparisons—to even bolder places, with jubilant brass melodies, stomping rhythms, and heart-stopping vocals all decorating a startlingly accomplished debut album. “I felt more and more confident with each leap I took,” she says. “The message I wanted for people to take from this project is the idea of trusting yourself to finally get to where you want to be.” Read on as Celeste walks us through her powerful—and empowered—debut, one track at a time. **Ideal Woman** “\[UK producer\] Josh Crocker played the chords to this song and I loved them straight away. I held the microphone and just started to speak what was on my mind. This song is like a conversation with an old friend. And that’s how I wanted people to feel at the beginning of the record, because the songs on it are conversations and dialogue and bits of stories about things that I\'ve experienced. When I wrote ‘Ideal Woman,’ I was feeling disappointed with some of my romantic experiences with men. With them had come insecurities, which is what the verses are about. But the chorus is me reaching a place that’s like, ‘I’m just myself and it’s okay to be that way.’” **Strange** “To a lot of people, this probably sounds like a breakup song. But for me, it’s encompassing lots of feelings of loss. I wrote it in LA, during the 2018 California wildfires. One day, we passed the hospital where I’d seen my dad for the last time, before he died, and my stomach just dropped—the emotion was as raw as it had been six years earlier. I was also feeling heartbreak about the distance that had come between me and some of the friends I\'d grown up with. And I was scared, too, that I’d lose my voice because of the ash in the sky. All those things came together in the studio. I approached the microphone very gently, because I was worried about my voice. But that also filtered into how I would treat this song, which was respectfully. When we finished it, there was this moment of quiet. I think we all felt proud of what we had done.” **Tonight Tonight** “When I first started hanging out with the man who’s my boyfriend now, we’d both be working during the day, so by the time we got to see each other, it\'d be late. All of this romance would occur in the night. This song was just what I wanted to say at the time. I remember working with \[UK songwriter and producer\] Jamie Hartman and he started to conjure up this imagery of the shadow and the light beneath the door. And in that, I just remembered the moment of laying in my bed and knowing that Sonny \[Hall, Celeste’s partner\] was going to come in. Feeling nervous and feeling excited—all that intrigue about another person.” **Stop This Flame** “This was the first song I wrote with Jamie. I was nervous about working with him, because I really liked the stuff he’d written before. I remember him asking what I liked and, all of a sudden, I couldn’t remember any of it! So the most significant names just came out of my mouth, including Nina Simone. He was immediately like, ‘Oh, I\'ve got this piano thing that\'s a bit like “Sinnerman.”’ I thought it was amazing, but by the time I’d moved on to writing other music, I felt it was too close to the music that’s inspired me. I was quite hesitant for people to hear it. But then, as time went on, I began to evolve in a way, as did the meaning of the song to me. Which is that you don’t let too much dishearten you or get in your way.” **Tell Me Something I Don’t Know** “I wrote this on February 8, 2020. I was in LA, but was thinking about what was going on in England. I was very disappointed that the Conservatives had won the \[December 2019\] election, which came from a place of feeling that, in my opinion, they speak for so few people. I was in the studio and was listening to a lot of Gil Scott-Heron. This song is like, ‘Okay, this is the hand we’ve been dealt. But are we going to get a different answer this time?’ That’s why I wrote the lyric ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ because I wanted to have some different answers—and different outcomes—from these people.” **Not Your Muse** “I\'d had the title of this song for three years. I always knew what I wanted it to be about, but I probably tried to write it five times without knowing how to get there. And then, I just surrendered to it and realized that there was something I hadn\'t experienced yet, which would reveal how I’d write it. I had become intrigued by the relationship between the artist and the muse, and the muse as this vessel. I would come up against different obstacles, \[such as\] people I was working with having a different expectation of me. They became the artist, where they had their idea of what they wanted me to exude and emit, but it didn\'t really align with the ideas I had within myself. And so that became an underlying thing in my periphery, which I think contributed to eventually being able to finish this song.” **Beloved** “This song is very ’50s—like those old crooned, whimsical, mellow kind of love songs. I’d just got back from playing some shows in Germany, and I was missing being around my friends and being in London. I went to the studio because Jamie was only in England for a day and a half. I wanted to write something, but I also wanted to be out seeing my friends. So it was written with this kind of tired, post-flight feeling. And that’s come across in the delivery of the melodies. It’s quite woozy. Here, I’m the secret admirer and it’s my love letter to the person I admire from afar.” **Love Is Back** “I don’t know how many people experience this as often as I have, but I get a fantasy about people before I really know that much about them. When I wrote this song, I’d probably met someone at a party and been like, ‘Oh my god, they’re the love of my life!’ And then it gets to two weeks later, and I’m just like, ‘I got that so wrong.’ This song started as me being like, ‘Oh, here she goes again, she’s in love again!’ But when I came to finish it, I had actually fallen in love and was in a relationship. That changed my approach. I was feeling more bold, and that’s reflected in the bigger arrangements in the song and those louder horns.” **A Kiss** “This song details the knowledge gained from different romantic interactions, which I assimilated to types of kisses and what they turn into. But I also see this song as my older self talking to my younger self. It’s like, ‘I hate to say it like this, but this is how it’s going to go.’ A kiss is so important. All of these things just sprouted from that one quite literal thing.” **The Promise** “When I heard the chords to this song, I felt like they were going round in a circle. Straight away, it made me think of those people you always go back to. And it reminded me of that moment where it’s 7 am at a house party, and you and that other person are both hanging on for dear life because you both want to go back with each other, but neither of you want to make the last move. The outro to this song goes back to the guitar that starts it, which is a metaphor for that idea of going around again and again.” **A Little Love** “In October 2019, \[department store\] John Lewis approached my team and told us that they wanted to do an original piece of music for that year’s Christmas advert, which was a first. There are certain things you feel quite starstruck by, and I got straight to writing it! The song is very simple. It’s about the idea that if you’re giving and loving to people who surround you, it contributes to the world being a better place. I liked how unpretentious that was. I’m proud that I got to do this and be part of something that had never happened before.” **Some Goodbyes Come With Hellos** “I wanted to say to the people who were listening to this album that this isn’t an end. It’s more ‘Goodbye for now.’ But I also wanted to end it with a sense of optimism. Some of this album talks about the harsh realities of life, and this song is saying that I’m always hopeful. This song has the demo vocal on it. I often try to keep the demo vocal on songs because it retains the emotion that’s the closest to the source. To me, it’s important that that emotion isn’t being performed in a superficial way. Hopefully, that shows in the music.”

“I don’t like to agonize over things,” Arlo Parks tells Apple Music. “It can tarnish the magic a little. Usually a song will take an hour or less from conception to end. If I listen back and it’s how I pictured it, I move on.” The West London poet-turned-songwriter is right to trust her “gut feeling.” *Collapsed in Sunbeams* is a debut album that crystallizes her talent for chronicling sadness and optimism in universally felt indie-pop confessionals. “I wanted a sense of balance,” she says. “The record had to face the difficult parts of life in a way that was unflinching but without feeling all-consuming and miserable. It also needed to carry that undertone of hope, without feeling naive. It had to reflect the bittersweet quality of being alive.” *Collapsed in Sunbeams* achieves all this, scrapbooking adolescent milestones and Parks’ own sonic evolution to form something quite spectacular. Here, she talks us through her work, track by track. **Collapsed in Sunbeams** “I knew that I wanted poetry in the album, but I wasn\'t quite sure where it was going to sit. This spoken-word piece is actually the last thing that I did for the album, and I recorded it in my bedroom. I liked the idea of speaking to the listener in a way that felt intimate—I wanted to acknowledge the fact that even though the stories in the album are about me, my life and my world, I\'m also embarking on this journey with listeners. I wanted to create an avalanche of imagery. I’ve always gravitated towards very sensory writers—people like Zadie Smith or Eileen Myles who hone in on those little details. I also wanted to explore the idea of healing, growth, and making peace with yourself in a holistic way. Because this album is about those first times where I fell in love, where I felt pain, where I stood up for myself, and where I set boundaries.” **Hurt** “I was coming off the back of writer\'s block and feeling quite paralyzed by the idea of making an album. It felt quite daunting to me. Luca \[Buccellati, Parks’ co-producer and co-writer\] had just come over from LA, and it was January, and we hadn\'t seen each other in a while. I\'d been listening to plenty of Motown and The Supremes, plus a lot of Inflo\'s production and Cleo Sol\'s work. I wanted to create something that felt triumphant, and that you could dance to. The idea was for the song to expose how tough things can be but revolve around the idea of the possibility for joy in the future. There’s a quote by \[Caribbean American poet\] Audre Lorde that I really liked: ‘Pain will either change or end.’ That\'s what the song revolved around for me.” **Too Good** “I did this one with Paul Epworth in one of our first days of sessions. I showed him all the music that I was obsessed with at the time, from ’70s Zambian psychedelic rock to MF DOOM and the hip-hop that I love via Tame Impala and big ’90s throwback pop by TLC. From there, it was a whirlwind. Paul started playing this drumbeat, and then I was just running around for ages singing into mics and going off to do stuff on the guitar. I love some of the little details, like the bump on someone’s wrist and getting to name-drop Thom Yorke. It feels truly me.” **Hope** “This song is about a friend of mine—but also explores that universal idea of being stuck inside, feeling depressed, isolated, and alone, and being ashamed of feeling that way, too. It’s strange how serendipitous a lot of themes have proved as we go through the pandemic. That sense of shame is present in the verses, so I wanted the chorus to be this rallying cry. I imagined a room full of people at a show who maybe had felt alone at some point in their lives singing together as this collective cry so they could look around and realize they’re not alone. I wanted to also have the little spoken-word breakdown, just as a moment to bring me closer to the listener. As if I’m on the other side of a phone call.” **Caroline** “I wrote ‘Caroline’ and ‘For Violet’ on the same, very inspired day. I had my little £8 bottle of Casillero del Diablo. I was taken back to when I first started writing at seven or eight, where I would write these very observant and very character-based short stories. I recalled this argument that I’d seen taken place between a couple on Oxford Street. I only saw about 30 seconds of it, but I found myself wondering all these things. Why was their relationship exploding out in the open like that? What caused it? Did the relationship end right there and then? The idea of witnessing a relationship without context was really interesting to me, and so the lyrics just came out as a stream of consciousness, like I was relaying the story to a friend. The harmonies are also important on this song, and were inspired by this video I found of The Beatles performing ‘This Boy.’ The chorus feels like such an explosion—such a release—and harmonies can accentuate that.” **Black Dog** “A very special song to me. I wrote this about my best friend. I remember writing that song and feeling so confused and helpless trying to understand depression and what she was going through, and using music as a form of personal catharsis to work through things that felt impossible to work through. I recorded the vocals with this lump in my throat because it was so raw. Musically, I was harking back to songs like ‘Nude’ and ‘House of Cards’ on *In Rainbows*, plus music by Nick Drake and tracks from Sufjan Stevens’ *Carrie & Lowell*. I wanted something that felt stripped down.” **Green Eyes** “I was really inspired by Frank Ocean here—particularly ‘Futura Free’ \[from 2016’s *Blonde*\]. I was also listening to *Moon Safari* by Air, Stereolab, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, Tirzah, Beach House, and a lot of that dreamy, nostalgic pop music that I love. It was important that the instrumental carry a warmth because the song explores quite painful places in the verses. I wanted to approach this topic of self-acceptance and self-discovery, plus people\'s parents not accepting them and the idea of sexuality. Understanding that you only need to focus on being yourself has been hard-won knowledge for me.” **Just Go** “A lot of the experiences I’ve had with toxic people distilled into one song. I wanted to talk about the idea of getting negative energy out of your life and how refreshed but also sad it leaves you feeling afterwards. That little twinge from missing someone, but knowing that you’re so much better off without them. I was thinking about those moments where you’re trying to solve conflict in a peaceful way, but there are all these explosions of drama. You end up realizing, ‘You haven’t changed, man.’ So I wanted a breakup song that said, simply, ‘No grudges, but please leave my life.’” **For Violet** “I imagined being in space, or being in a desert with everything silent and you’re alone with your thoughts. I was thinking about ‘Roads’ by Portishead, which gives me that similar feeling. It\'s minimal, it\'s dark, it\'s deep, it\'s gritty. The song covers those moments growing up when you realize that the world is a little bit heavier and darker than you first knew. I think everybody has that moment where their innocence is broken down a little bit. It’s a story about those big moments that you have to weather in friendships, and asking how you help somebody without over-challenging yourself. That\'s a balance that I talk about in the record a lot.” **Eugene** “Both ‘Black Dog’ and ‘Eugene’ represent a middle chapter between my earlier EPs and the record. I was pulling from all these different sonic places and trying to create a sound that felt warmer, and I was experimenting with lyrics that felt a little more surreal. I was talking a lot about dreams for the first time, and things that were incredibly personal. It felt like a real step forward in terms of my confidence as a writer, and to receive messages from people saying that the song has helped get them to a place where they’re more comfortable with themselves is incredible.” **Bluish** “I wanted it to feel very close. Very compact and with space in weird places. It needed to mimic the idea of feeling claustrophobic in a friendship. That feeling of being constantly asked to give more than you can and expected to be there in ways that you can’t. I wanted to explore the idea of setting boundaries. The Afrobeat-y beat was actually inspired by Radiohead’s ‘Identikit’ \[from 2016’s *A Moon Shaped Pool*\]. The lyrics are almost overflowing with imagery, which was something I loved about Adrianne Lenker’s *songs* album: She has these moments where she’s talking about all these different moments, and colors and senses, textures and emotions. This song needed to feel like an assault on the senses.” **Portra 400** “I wanted this song to feel like the end credits rolling down on one of those coming-of-age films, like *Dazed and Confused* or *The Breakfast Club*. Euphoric, but capturing the bittersweet sentiment of the record. Making rainbows out of something painful. Paul \[Epworth\] added so much warmth and muscularity that it feels like you’re ending on a high. The song’s partly inspired by *Just Kids* by Patti Smith, and that idea of relationships being dissolved and wrecked by people’s unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

\"I have this idea that if the record was a movie poster there\'d be a tagline that was like, \'Power, Wealth, and Mental Health,\'\" Hold Steady frontman Craig Finn tells Apple Music. \"It felt like a heavy time in 2019 to write all this stuff, and then 2020 came and just kind of like put a bow on it.\" With their eighth studio album, the Brooklyn-based sextet tackles subjects like technology, consumerism, and income inequality over a sonic palette that broadens the band\'s dose of heady alternative rock. *Open Door Policy* is the second release since keyboardist Franz Nicolay rejoined the band, laying the foundation for tracks like the burnt-out \"Heavy Covenant\" and sleek \"Hanover Camera,\" solidifying what Finn calls the best collection of Hold Steady tracks yet. \"I think The Hold Steady 3.0 feels sort of like a Super Steady,\" he says. \"The thing I\'m really psyched about this record is the story of \[guitarist\] Steve \[Selvidge\] and Franz finding space for each other and kind of defining the sound of this version of The Hold Steady. It\'s a huge part of the success of this version of the band.\" Here, Finn and Nicolay guide us through *Open Door Policy*\'s 11 tracks. **The Feelers** Craig Finn: \"I felt like this song\'s kind of an invitation into the story. This could be a dramatic opener in the sense of a drama or a play or a musical or something, something that kind of starts soft and builds up.\'\" Franz Nicolay: \"It announces that this is the kind of record that\'s going to be on this sort of grander scope and dealing with these darker themes.\" **Spices** CF: \"I\'ve got a phone that saves your contacts even when you change phones. And so like if I look through my phone I have so many people in here and each one of them could pop up at any moment, each one I could get a text from. And I was obsessed with that as sort of like your phone is this device that might lead you into a situation or story. There\'s this disembodied connection to it that we didn\'t have with landlines as much.\" **Lanyards** CF: \"This is a song about someone going out to California to follow their dreams. It relays the parallel stories in the choruses when he talks about lanyards and laminates and wristbands. All these things that we use to get access to like the VIP area, or trying to get into the party where the free drinks are or whatever. So it kind of was a meditation on that, of pursuing that kind of access and going and trying to find it and it not working out.\" FN: \"This for me is really the heart of the record. There\'s a real texture, like this sort of carpet of guitars and the keyboards, and it\'s just like all melded together with these amazing lyrics. It\'s not showy, but it\'s got all the parts in their place.\" **Family Farm** CF: \"The lyrics mention the Eddie Van Halen guitar solo in \'Eruption,\' and here we are when the record\'s released and Eddie Van Halen has passed. And I think that the reason I love this and why I bring this up is because a lot of people talk about things like Springsteen or The Replacements when they talk about The Hold Steady. But in some ways, Van Halen was also a big influence. There\'s one guy who\'s kind of talking or yelling, and there\'s another guy playing a lot of guitar solos.\" **Unpleasant Breakfast** CF: \"I think this is a song that we might not have done a few years back. But we just did these shows at the Brooklyn Bowl in December \[2020\] and Franz informed us that we have like 119 songs. So when you have 119 songs, you can kind of be like, \'Well, this one\'s going to have a drum machine.\' It\'s possibly my favorite song on the record because it tells a really good and a really sad story and I love that it\'s unique to our catalog. It may be something that people weren\'t expecting.\" FN: \"I think Craig has said before the thing that he brings to the table is he\'s not really a hard-rock guy. He\'s much more in this sort of midtempo groovy jam-band world, and so he\'s really drawn to a song like this that puts us a little more out of our comfort zone in a productive way.\" **Heavy Covenant** FN: \"When we were down in Nashville for our shows a couple years ago, I stayed in the hotel room and did computer demos. And this came from two of those. Basically the verse and the chorus were one song and the bridge was an entirely different song that Craig and Josh \[Kaufman, producer\] were like, \'What if we just take the beginning of that second demo and plop it right in the middle of the first demo?\' And it worked.\" **The Prior Procedure** CF: \"This track has to do with people who are kind of displaced, wandering the desert, so to speak, and go to a place that a really rich guy owns and is making available to anyone who wants to. So there\'s your open-door policy. But the idea is that this guy\'s really rich. He still has control over it and he still won\'t give up the control, and I think that that\'s a thing we find a lot with like really rich guys having their own charities, et cetera. It still has a thumb on it.\" **Riptown** CF: \"This might have been the last song that came together. And there\'s kind of a fast-talking thing that I just tried to do. But mainly, it just rides that groove and it\'s one of those that I think that benefited from not overthinking or pushing too hard on it.\" FN: \"Every time we were on a break, \[guitarist\] Tad \[Kubler\] would just walk around with an acoustic guitar playing this riff. And eventually we were like, ‘I guess that\'s a song that has some creative energy right now behind it.’ There was an idea about doing it like a Guided By Voices thing with that sort of blown-out acoustic guitar vibe.\" **Me & Magdalena** CF: \"When we got done with this and the record was all turned in, I somehow came across another song called ‘Me & Magdalena’ by The Monkees. And what\'s weirder is it\'s a new record by The Monkees which Adam Schlesinger produced and Ben Gibbard wrote the song. And then I listened to the song and it\'s a great song. And I know I\'ve never heard that song before, because I would have known it because I like it so much. But that said, I must have seen the song title and like subconsciously internalized it, because it seems like too much of a coincidence to come up with the first line of the song and then name the song that. So apologies to everyone, but it\'s a totally different song.\" **Hanover Camera** FN: \"Kind of a creepy song, right? Again, it\'s that expectation of, like, \'Oh, here\'s where the solo\'s going to go in,\' and then it\'s like there\'s this gaping absence where it might be that I think is really evocative.\" **Parade Days (Bonus Track)** CF: \"This is a bonus track rather than an album cut because thematically I think it\'s set aside. It\'s about someone like myself who grew up in Minneapolis, and it\'s about the changes that the city\'s made during their lifetime. If we recorded like eight more, maybe we\'d hold on to them and wait for the bonus edition down the line. But it just felt like we should let people hear the other song recorded, especially with the digital platform these days.\"

A dedicated period of introspection influenced Jordan Rakei’s fourth album. “Therapy is a really logical way to help yourself improve in life,” the New Zealand-born, Australia-raised, and London-based singer-songwriter tells Apple Music. “It\'s not just about getting out of an extremely depressive state, or getting over a divorce or a really bad breakup. It\'s like, how can therapy be a tool to get me to see life slightly differently, and make me slightly happier?” *What We Call Life* finds Rakei at his most confident, his approach to composition and production shifting as a result of his journey, with each song representing something he learned via therapy. “I feel like it\'s really who I am right now,” he says. “I had my own sound, but I was letting my influences shine through a little bit more. But with this one, I feel like it\'s the first time I’ve had my own voice throughout a whole album.” Across his previous work, Rakei hasn’t found issues with genre-blending—fusing soul, jazz, R&B, and alternative influences with rare finesse. But *What We Call Life* is his most experimental, ambient, and existential set yet. “Introspection is hard for some people; they don\'t like thinking about their own life, or their past, or anything,” he says. “So doing a bit more of that would be really good for us all.” Here, Jordan guides us through each track. **“Family”** “I was thinking about my parents’ divorce, when I was about 14. When I was a young teenager, I thought the divorce didn\'t affect me. But now, double the age, I’m reflecting and thinking about the impact it must have had on my parents, navigating now being single parents. Also, thinking about me, sympathizing with the young teenager that I was, not really understanding its impact. I had this idea that my parents were ‘super soldiers.’ As I became an adult, I\'m like, ‘Oh, wow, that\'s just a normal person trying to go about their life.’” **“Send My Love”** “I think of this track as three mini-songs in one. There\'s the verse, which is really atmospheric and spacious, but with a bit of a groove. When the chorus comes in, it becomes a pumping dance track. I actually produced it all first, I laid all the instrumental down, we did all the synthesizers and we did all the drum programming. Then as soon as I saw it all sitting, I was like, ‘How can my voice slot in this without getting in the way of the production?’ But the choruses, I\'ve gone through five to six different choruses of trying to not get my vocals in the way, and decided to just keep it really simple.” **“Illusion”** “I just really wanted this to be a fun one, not overthinking the process. I was born into a particular family with particular morals, in a country that had a certain privileges. Living in Australia, in a rich neighborhood, I had these advantages from birth. It\'s basically like a subtle argument of nature versus nurture, and whether you can control your own narrative in life.” **“Unguarded”** “I wanted to have a track that breathed, production-wise. The focus wasn’t lyrics or the instrumentation, it was the energy and mood, and the way it all moves. It was more about the emotion rather than the message or the instrumental choices, about the movement and arc of the music.” **“Clouds”** “I wanted the whole song to be built around this vocal loop idea, similar to James Blake’s ‘Retrograde’, or a Bon Iver song. I actually made that in lockdown, in my bedroom. I started making the instrumental in May 2020 when Black Lives Matter started surfacing around the world. My dad\'s from the Pacific Islands, and he\'s brown. But I always forget that I\'m mixed-race, because I\'m white-passing. I was raised in Australia, I had white friends. And when I first came out in my career, people would comment and say, ‘Jordan Rakei, the next white D’Angelo.’ So, I was attacking that, and the guilt I feel behind it, and acknowledging my heritage a bit more. Even now I\'m trying to pronounce my last name how it should be pronounced. My whole life I just used to say ‘Rack-eye.’ But it\'s actually ‘Rah-kye’ or ‘Rah-kaye,’ depending on if you\'re in New Zealand or not. I still have to remind myself I\'m Cook Islander.” **“What We Call Life”** “When I was younger, there was a crazy party at my house. There were always parties at my house, because my parents were really sociable. I was a shy child, and quite anxious. I was angry at my parents for always having these parties when I was just a quiet, shy child. I was like, ‘Why do I constantly have to be put through this?’ I remember thinking to myself at that time, ‘Is this the life I expect? Is this what I’m going to be like for the rest of my life?’ I\'m trying to talk to my inner child, and trying to give him some sort of reassurance, like, ‘Life\'s going to be all right, you\'re going to get through this.’ I used to be really stressed about it.” **“Runaway”** “I\'ve managed to really nail what I love about all types of music in one song. I feel like it\'s slightly complex; at the same time it\'s really simple. It\'s ethereal, but it\'s got a groove to it. All the harmony choices are exactly like what I\'m into at the moment. And lyrically, it\'s about embracing a new path in life, and not running away from the past.” **“Wings”** “I\'m drawing from a different palette sonically. It\'s probably the heaviest, darkest tune on the album. So I was trying to channel my inner distorted guitar. Lyrically, it’s about breaking out of your mold, embracing your wings and flying to a new life, or plane of being. I wrote these verses way back in 2014 when I first moved to London. I just didn\'t feel like I ever had the right song emotionally to go with it. Until we were in the studio and we made this song, and I was just like, ‘Hey, I\'m going to try and sing these lyrics over the top.’ And it\'s still relevant to where I\'m at right now.” **“Brace”** “I started the album quite bright, and I feel like this is quite expansive, it\'s a different sound from earlier songs in the album. But I really wanted that contrast. ‘Brace’ is a really relaxing, slow-moving cinematic experience.” **“The Flood”** “I always knew when I made this track it was going to be the last track on the album, because it\'s got a long intro, it\'s got a long middle section, and then it\'s got a long outro. I wanted it to be a seamless story, like you’re embracing a new future. The last four minutes is all instrumental; I just wanted to ride out on it and let it fizzle away. It\'s talking about the flood of emotions in the body, and how responsive the body is to trauma. It\'s a narrative on emotion.”

On 2018’s *Saturn*, Neo Jessica Joshua further broadened her sound (self-described neatly as “wonky funk”), exploring fame, spirituality, and romantic turbulence through a luminous astrological lens. The problem that beset preparations for studio album three in November 2019, therefore, was fairly ironic. “I just didn’t have any space,” Joshua—better known as Nao—tells Apple Music. “My own studio in East London is really, really small. So I hired a bigger space and invited loads of musicians and friends down just to jam and create and make interesting ideas.” Within 10 days, the nucleus of *And Then Life Was Beautiful* had formed, followed by periods of creative tinkering sparked by the unsettling (a pandemic) and utterly joyous (the birth of her daughter, in spring 2020). Fittingly, the final album honors change in all aspects (including breakups—a subject tapped into majestically on tracks including “Messy Love,” “Glad That You’re Gone,” and “Good Luck”) and triumphantly toasts femininity (see the Lianne La Havas duet “Woman”). It’s an album that bears its creative and personal liberation and wisdom well—bolstered by spoken-word interludes from UK poet Sophia Thakur. “It\'s a really cool way of tying a project together and providing a bit more context,” she says. “I love interludes, and I can remember them being on so many great albums, like Kendrick Lamar’s \[*good kid, m.A.A.d city*\] and old-school albums from Jill Scott \[*Who Is Jill Scott?: Words and Sounds, Vol. 1*\], where they often play around with poetry or conversations.” Below, Nao talks through her triumphant third album, track by track. **“And Then Life Was Beautiful”** “The first lyrics are ‘Change came like a hurricane, 2020 hit us differently/And even though I didn\'t want it, the slow life got ahold of me.’ It’s about us all going through the pandemic at the same time, but also a reminder that better days are ahead.” **“Messy Love”** “This is a song about creating boundaries. I think everyone has experienced someone in their life that\'s not good for them, whether it’s a girlfriend-boyfriend situation, a family member or friend, and when they\'re around you, they bring negative energy and create situations. It\'s not something everyone’s born with, to be able to put up boundaries or learn how to say goodbye to these people. So this song, and the track after, pays homage to that.” **“Glad That You’re Gone”** “This track is about moving on and finding the people that pour life into you and water you. I\'ve been through enough to know what I can and can’t deal with—and so I’m better at spotting red flags \[in relationships\]. If I see a couple from early, then I’m cutting it, dead.” **“Antidote” (feat. Adekunle Gold)** “My daughter loves Adekunle—when she was born, I would use his songs to stop her crying. And I was excited, like, ‘This is a sign to reach out!’ I did, and discovered he had also just had a baby. So this song came together really quickly and easily. There was something about listening to Adekunle when my daughter was crying and her stopping and how it changes the energy in the room and lifted our spirits. And I wanted to recreate something again like that, so an Afrobeats vibe felt like the right space to finally meet each other.” **“Burn Out”** “I’ve been like diagnosed with a condition called chronic fatigue syndrome, which is quite hard for a lot of people to relate to. But I basically don\'t have very, very much energy at all and I can\'t really get through the day doing ordinary tasks without having to sleep or rest for long periods of time. And so it\'s been this way for three years. In my first year I thought: ‘It’s just burnout?’ I would say burnout is kind of a lesser version of that. A similar feeling, you\'re knackered, but if you take a month off you’ll be back up on your feet. And so it was easier for me to sing ‘Burn Out’ than singing ‘Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.’” **“Wait”** “This song represents lessons that I never knew and if I had known maybe situations would be different. For me, in this relationship situation, I ran away instead of staying and working through it. And learning the lesson that we are human and we all humans make mistakes. The way to deal with them isn\'t to run away. Going through rough times in a relationship sometimes means that it can end up being stronger. But I guess this song is almost like an apology to myself in a way.” **“Good Luck” (feat. Lucky Daye)** “The songs with features came about very organically as we were thrown together in some way. I met with Lucky Daye last year; we were both nominated for Grammy Awards. I met him on the red carpet. We were mutual fans and in that moment agreed to get into the studio. So two days later, we came up with \'Good Luck.’” **“Nothing’s for Sure”** “This track is a reminder to live in the moment. With the pandemic, you don\'t really know what\'s around the corner, so you learn about practicing being present and going with the flow.” **“Woman” (feat. Lianne La Havas)** “This track brings together the idea that there\'s space for more than just one girl. Lianne is someone I\'ve been a fan of for a long time. We kept bumping into each other at festivals, as the two British female and Black sort of alternative soul artists. And we agreed to work together, when the timing was right. Being a female artist can sometimes feel like only one woman can be big at one thing. I remember back in the day: ‘Oh, is it Rihanna or is it Beyoncé?’ ‘Is it Nicki or is it Cardi?’ So we’re playing with that notion, because actually there is space for all of us—to wear our crowns and celebrate women as a whole, just the fucking incredible species that we are.” **“Better Friend”** “I won\'t go into the personal story here, but I guess we all have those friends that we were really close with and somehow we drifted apart from. This song serves the idea of sending that person a message, like, ‘I hope you\'re thriving in life, I hope you\'re smiling, I hope you\'re getting everything that you\'ve dreamed of.’ That’s where my head was at when I was writing this song.” **“Postcards” (feat. serpentwithfeet)** “This song is two love stories happening in parallel to each other. serpentwithfeet is welcoming a man into his life; they\'re in London, and they\'re looking at the gray day, and it\'s all really beautiful to them, and it\'s really exciting. Mine is about letting go of someone. I’m going through old memories and thinking about how I still think the person is an amazing human. It\'s unusual that you\'re going to have a Black man sing about loving another man on music, and having space for that, I think, is really beautiful.” **“Little Giants”** “This track is about finding out someone is not the person you thought they were—and explores the different emotions around that. I think that\'s really prevalent now, in the age of social media, and especially online dating when you\'re planning on meeting a person, you don\'t really know what you\'re getting or who you\'re really speaking to.” **“Amazing Grace”** “I was working with \[UK producer\] Maths Time Joy. He was playing guitar, and the lyric \'Amazing Grace\' kept coming to me—like it\'s sung so beautifully on the chords. But I was like, what does it mean to me? I took that and turned it into this idea of facing one\'s fear of failing—I think that\'s definitely one of my biggest fears. This song\'s just exploring the fear of failure, and what happens if actually you do just go for it.”

“I always want to engage the listener in a question instead of an answer,” Brandi Carlile tells Apple Music in a conversation about her new album and its provocative title. “That\'s why it\'s *In These Silent Days*. It\'s a question: What did you learn? What did you make of yourself? What did you lose? What happened to you in this time? I want to invite people to reflect, because it\'s such a pivotal time in human history, and a real spiritual upheaval for so many people in really positive and really negative, complicated ways.” Carlile herself was in a deeply retrospective—and stationary—place when she started working on her seventh album. After the resounding success of 2018’s *By the Way, I Forgive You* (which earned her three Grammys), the folk-rock singer-songwriter and her collaborators Phil and Tim Hanseroth (affectionately known as “the twins”) spent much of the two years following its release on the road, pausing only to record the 2019 debut record from The Highwomen, Carlile’s country supergroup with Maren Morris, Amanda Shires, and Natalie Hemby, and for Carlile to co-produce *While I’m Livin’*, the comeback album for outlaw country queen Tanya Tucker. The pandemic forced a slowdown in 2020, and that’s when Carlile started writing—the songs that would eventually wind up on *In These Silent Days*, but also her memoir, *Broken Horses*. “Writing that book gave me this really linear understanding of ‘here\'s how I started and here\'s how I am, and these are the things in between that made it so,’ and it was such clarity,” she says. “This was the first time that I knew what I was writing the songs about while I was writing them. I had so much more to pull from, so much more sensory material, than this abstract half-truth.” *In These Silent Days* meets the standard Carlile has set for her own songwriting: Piano-laden power ballads abound, from the sweeping grandeur of album opener “Right on Time” to the Elton John-channeling “Letter to the Past” through to “Sinners, Saints and Fools,” which gives any rock opera climax a run for its money. Fingerpickin’ folk anthems (“Mama Werewolf”), acoustic meditations (“When You’re Wrong”), and straightforward rock (“Broken Horses”) round out the album and recall the intimacy and intensity that have come to define her live shows. It’s both a companion piece to her memoir and a separate musical autobiography: This is how Carlile spent her silent days, and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. “I realized how much affirmation I get from strangers—that life-affirming response that you get from an audience when you perform,” she says of her new perspective gleaned from this transformative time. “If everybody could just have a job where they just go to scream and stomp all the time, I think they would probably find themselves a little more well-rounded.”

Poignant musings on loss and rebirth against a Cornish canvas.

If the first *King’s Disease* project was Nas reveling in the legacy he’d sown over three-plus decades in the game, its sequel—arriving just short of a year later—is the legendary MC settling that much further into what he thinks great rap should sound like in 2021. In this case, that’s another full-length project co-executive-produced by celebrated Fontana, California-hailing beatsmith Hit-Boy, this time featuring a handful of eyebrow-raising moments like the pairing of hip-hop legends EPMD and Eminem (“EPMD 2”), a revisitation of the static—and eventual reconciliation—he shared with 2Pac (“Death Row East”), and a brand-new rap verse from the illustrious Ms. Lauryn Hill (“Nobody”). Not unlike its predecessor, *King’s Disease II* features a small handful of guests, something Nas saw fit to acknowledge in rhyme on “Moments”: “My whole career I steered away from features/But I figured it’s perfect timing to embrace the leaders.” While that first statement is a bit of revisionist history, we won’t pretend that sharing airspace with the don hasn’t always been—and isn’t still—something of an honor, one he’s chosen to bestow here upon A Boogie wit da Hoodie, YG, and Hit-Boy. He contextualizes this particularly well toward that same song’s end, reminding us of his impact when he cites “moments you can’t relive/Like your first time bugging from something that Nas said.”

Some songs find their place in the world instantly and others take a while. Joy Crookes has been hanging on to some of the tracks on her debut album, *Skin*, since she was a teenager, waiting for the right moment for them to shine. This collection paints a portrait of a young woman of 23, finding her place in the world and understanding herself through her family—for better and worse—mixed in with songs that deal with social injustice and the Black Lives Matter movement. There’s also casual sex (“I Don’t Mind”) and the winding ancestral journeys that bring a family to London (“19th Floor”), as the South Londoner, of Bangladeshi and Irish heritage, pays tribute to the people and places that made her. “Biologically, our skin is one of the strongest organs in our body, but socially and externally, in terms of our identity, it can be used against us,” Crookes tells Apple Music of the album title. “And it’s not just a racial thing; it’s who we are that is used against us.” Read on as the singer-songwriter guides us through the powerful *Skin*, track by track. **“I Don’t Mind”** “I was in a casual relationship, or a casual situation-ship, at that time, and I kind of had to let the person know that it wasn\'t going to be anything more than what it was. I played the track to him and he didn\'t really get the picture. He was like, ‘I don’t really like this one.’ When I produced it, I was listening to Kanye’s *808s & Heartbreak* and Solange. I was really interested in how sonically there\'s a lot of grit and beauty in both of their production styles, so that was the inspiration.” **“19th Floor”** “The spoken bit at the beginning is me saying goodbye to my grandma on the 19th floor of her building in London. This is what I do every time I say goodbye to her, and she always gives me that beautiful ‘Okay, I love you.’ The strings were recorded in Abbey Road in Studio Two, which is The Beatles’ room and is also where Massive Attack recorded ‘Unfinished Sympathy.’ And the song is about how far my family’s come to give me the life that I have.” **“Poison”** “I wrote ‘Poison’ when I was 15. I was very angry—I think it was the angriest I\'d been in a very long time and one of the most angry points in my life. I had bought The Clash\'s box set, and there was a blank notebook in it that said ‘The future is unwritten’ on the cover. One of the lines I wrote in there was ‘You’re scared of snakes.’ I looked at that and wrote ‘Poison’ in like 10 minutes.” **“Trouble”** “It was kind of inspired by Prince’s ‘When Doves Cry.’ You know, when you love someone, you\'re so close to them, but you hurt the ones you love. The syncopation and beats in Bollywood music can sometimes kind of be reminiscent of Caribbean kind of syncopation.” **“When You Were Mine”** “I was writing a happy song but about a weird subject, as is usual with me. It\'s about my first love becoming gay after our relationship. The song is about being jealous of their love, but also celebrating the fact that my ex is who he is. The brass was inspired by \[legendary Ghanaian musician\] Ebo Taylor, who has an amazing way of making brass sound kind of drunk.” **“To Lose Someone”** “The conversation at the start of this song was recorded in a nail shop in Brixton. It was two days after my ex and I broke up, and my mum was giving me advice. There\'s a cello interlude there by \[arranger, composer, and cellist\] Amy Langley. And the song is about when you enter a relationship, you have to compromise or remove some of your baggage in order to be together. But at the same time knowing that when you do love someone, you are inevitably going to lose them at some point.” **“Unlearn You”** “There’s a line in this song: ‘Got a plate of pink cupcakes to sugarcoat the aftertaste.’ When I came out about something that happened to me to do with abuse, I was taken to a cupcake shop. The cupcakes were literally to sugarcoat the aftertaste. The scariest line is ‘I didn\'t ever wear a dress in case he thought I was asking for it.’ It’s a really difficult song to sing, not just in terms of the content, but the notes. It helped to write a song about my experiences. It gave me perspective and actually helped me heal.” **“Kingdom”** “I love post-punk music and bands like ESG and Young Marble Giants. I wrote it the day after the December 2019 election, when the Tory party were reelected. I think the whole of London was pissed off. And I was fucking pissed off. It\'s talking about my experience as someone that voted and didn\'t get the result I wanted, and what that meant for the future of our next few generations. I was fucking vexed.” **“Feet Don’t Fail Me Now”** “It\'s about a character that finds it easier to be complicit or performative in fear of actually speaking up about how they feel. And it was in light of the Black Lives Matter protests last year and the movement. I didn\'t have any answers, so I kind of just wanted to write a song that gave a little bit of the sign of the times, and also one that held myself accountable. Because I think we were all guilty of being complacent and performative because of fear, and the fear of cancel culture.” **“Wild Jasmine”** “‘Wild Jasmine’ is inspired by Tony Allen. There\'s kind of something South Asian about the way the guitar moves in that song. It’s about me telling my mom not to trust a man, or love him. Her name is Jasmine, and she is just like the plant—the plant naturally has to grow wild and it grows however it wants to. It felt like this man was not letting her do that. Are you going to accept wholefully, or wholesomely, who that person is? And it felt like he wasn’t.” **“Skin”** “This is kind of inspired by Frank Sinatra and his classic ballad-type songs. I wrote it the day after one of my friends was very much on the brink, and who felt like they weren\'t needed on this planet anymore. It was my way of telling them that they were, and that they have a life worth living—that’s literally what I said to them. And then I went in the next day. I was crying in the studio and I wrote them that song.” **“Power”** “It\'s about the abuse of power. And I think Boris Johnson is guilty of abusing power, as is Trump, as is Nigel Farage, as are all the arseholes, Priti Patel. People think it\'s a feminism song, but it\'s just about the abuse of power in general. Musically, I was inspired by Nina Simone and that kind of messiness and up-front vocal.” **“Theek Ache”** “Everyone always pronounces this wrong. ‘Theek ache’ is translated in the song; it means it’s okay. It’s a big warm hug at the end of the album after you\'ve listened to all these fucking heavy songs. I wrote it after drinking with Jodie Comer. It\'s just saying, ‘Sure, I\'m going to make mistakes, and I\'m going to be a human being, and I\'m going to make fuck-ups, and then I\'m going to go through this, that, and the other. But you know, it’s OK—I’ll have my kitten heels, cigarettes, and a mattress at the end of the night.’”

“It feels like a first record for me,” Julia Stone tells Apple Music of her third solo album, made over the course of six years. “It represents finding more freedom in my life and myself. It\'s been such a gradual process, but I kept feeling like this is really fun. I was celebrating parts of me that I have kept secret.” *Sixty Summers* is vast, deeply compelling, and entirely unlike her first two records, or those made with her brother as Angus & Julia Stone. “When Angus and I started, it was very immediate, going from writing ‘Wasted’ on the guitar having just learned to play to putting it out and then all of a sudden playing shows. With this record, I took my time to figure out where I wanted to go.” Stone wrote and produced much of the album with Thomas Bartlett and Annie Clark (St. Vincent), with additional writing and vocals from The National’s Matt Berninger and Bryce Dessner, Meg Mac, and Vera Blue, among others. Her time with Clark in particular pushed her to new levels of creativity—and also deep, tough-love scrutiny. “Annie’s very detail-oriented, and she\'s got this thing about connecting to the intention of the song, and what the story is about,” she says. “A song can sound good, but if you\'re not saying the right thing, then it doesn\'t matter. I think it\'s rare for people to care as much as you care about music. At times I was a probably a bit like, ‘I think that\'s good enough, I\'m getting across what I want to say.’ And she\'d just go, ‘No, work on it. Make everything count.’ And I loved that. It wasn\'t her record, but she cared so much.” Below, the Australian singer talks through each song on the album. **“Break”** “‘Break’ is a song about being at the mercy of something, like a feeling. Like falling in love, whether it\'s good or bad for you, sometimes it\'s just out of your control. So just let go and enjoy the ride. We tried to make it feel that way sonically, so you get pulled along by the rhythm and the groove of the song and you can\'t stop being pulled along. It doesn\'t give you a gap to breathe from that feeling.” **“Sixty Summers”** “I always think about those Australian summers as a teenager, going to Big Day Out, watching a band play, being high and being like ‘Oh my god, life is so incredible!’ A friend of mine grabbed me by the shoulders during one of those magical nights in my twenties and said, ‘Can you believe we only have 60 summers left?’ I have always been interested in what death means, but until that moment I’d never really felt the brevity of life.” **“We All Have” (feat. Matt Berninger)** “Collaborating with Bryce and Matt was a dream. It’s really direct, lyrically, about human beings having the capacity to be okay when you\'re not okay. I don’t believe that you always have to find the silver lining in a terrible experience. Matt recorded his vocals on tour. I love our voices together. They couldn\'t be more polar opposite in terms of texture and sound.” **“Substance”** “It’s about falling for someone who doesn\'t really take you seriously and realizing maybe too late. I wrote that song with Vera Blue and Dann Hume. We all connected on that experience of people wanting to be with you for the wrong reasons. Initially, when we wrote it, Celia \[Pavey, Vera Blue\] was singing it and it sounded incredible, but she’d already finished her album at the time, so I asked if I could sing it. Then Annie came on board and created this incredible beat and we messed around with the structure.” **“Dance”** “It\'s that feeling of really deep connection and knowing that it\'s not going to work out but having nothing left to say, nothing left to do about it, so let\'s just dance and enjoy the dance whilst it\'s here. The music video ended up being a different message entirely, but the song itself has that behind it. It\'s darker, it’s like, ‘We’re not right for each other, but let’s just dance.’” **“Free”** “I feel like it\'s a really summer song; it\'s got all the lyrics about the heat. It\'s a very sexy song, about getting high and getting intoxicated on each other\'s bodies. I cowrote it with Meg Mac and Dann Hume during a summer in Melbourne.” **“Who”** “That was the song that was the most transformed on the record—it started as an acoustic guitar and piano. It’s the song that I was most surprised by, because it changed so much when Annie came on board. She really liked the song, but she said, ‘I really want to hear a ’90s dance vibe.’ So we found that beat, and next thing I was singing this dance track. I must have sung that bridge a bunch of times, and she kept saying ‘No, really say that bridge: “I wake up, you\'re on the phone,”’ and it felt really Madonna. I loved channeling that feeling, really going into that pop sensibility for that song.” **“Fire in Me”** “I wanted a song on the record that felt like you can do anything. It has that feeling, the strength and the fire and the energy to do and to change. Annie\'s nickname for me is Red because there is a fire in my belly—I think I\'m a very amicable person, but underneath is this fire to do and to exist and change and grow, and there’s a certain amount of anger in me as well. It really was a celebration of that part of my personality, that stomping feeling of ‘Come on. You\'ve got this, you can do this.’ Anger gets a bad rap and it causes a lot of problems, but it can be an incredible force for change and has an amazing amount of drive behind it.” **“Easy”** “It’s a song that feels good and sounds good and quite relaxed, but it\'s a very sad song about being with someone that you deeply care about, but you\'re not the right person for them. And having that love for somebody and just wishing that you were easier for them, wishing that you were the person that could love them in the right way.” **“Queen”** “‘Queen’ is lyrically one of my favorite songs. It was written at a time that I woke up from a pretty bad-dream relationship, and for years I was just selling myself short. It was all on me, just accepting scraps of love and thinking that was enough. I love the chorus: ‘I\'m dressed like a queen but I\'m begging in the streets/I\'m hoping you\'ll see me lying at your feet/Give me a dollar, buy me a feed/I\'m starving to death when I\'ve got what I need.’ I\'m so sick of having a kingdom of wealth in my experience of myself and completely forgetting about it and just scrabbling around in the dirt. It’s just about remembering that you have access to that within yourself.” **“Heron”** “I\'m a huge fan of Jaco Pastorius, so having the fretless bass on there was so great. Thomas would make a lot of tracks for when I’d turn up to New York, and he’d have all these names—usually whatever alcohol he was drinking at the time would be the name of it. So that’s where the title came from.” **“Unreal”** “I wrote this for Thomas. I was just having one of these weeks in his studio that was so fun; we’d we write a lot of music but we’d also spend a lot of time just lying on the couch together watching *Veep* or *The Thick of It*. He’d just be like, ‘I\'ve got to go, I\'ll be back in a couple of hours,’ and he’d go play a show with somebody like Rufus Wainwright. He went out one night while I had the start of ‘Unreal.’ I said, ‘I\'m going to have a song for you when you get back.’ I felt so in love with him at that moment, I just was so happy to be there and felt so seen and so at home, and in those two hours I wrote the song about feeling like I could totally be myself, be real.” **“I Am No One”** “I’ve had this song in my mind for at least 10 years. I think it\'s the one that is probably the most connected to my records with my brother and my previous solo work. It’s about feeling that you\'re not really special, you’re completely invisible, particularly when you behave in a way that doesn’t correlate with what your heart wants. There’s that feeling of disappearing because of not being honest with yourself. I liked wrapping up the record with this idea of what *not* to do in your 60 summers. And it came from a time in my life where I was probably doing a lot of that.” **“Dance (French Version)”** “When I’d play in Europe, I would always make sure that whatever country we were in, I would learn a song in the language of the country, and because we played so much in France, I was also learning how to talk between songs in French. ‘Dance’ felt like the easiest for me to sing in French because it\'s spoken word. I had shown my French friend, who\'s a beautiful artist, Claire Pommet, and she translated it for me.”

Very few authors, inside of music or out, make the concept of loving a man sound as viable as serpentwithfeet. The Baltimore-originating singer studies them, and takes great pains across his sophomore album *DEACON* to present them in the very best light. “His outfit kinda corny, you know that’s my type/A corny man\'s a healthy man, you know his mind right,” he sings on “Malik.” *DEACON* is titled for one of the Black church’s most steadfast presences and plays as a love letter to the men in the singer\'s life, be they friends or lovers. “I’m thankful for the love I share with my friends,” he sings on “Fellowship,” a song that features contributions from Sampha and Lil Silva. Romance, though, is a constant presence across *DEACON*, and serpent frames the intimacy he enjoys with partners in ways that could make a lonely person writhe with jealousy. “He never played football, but look at how he holds me,” he sings on “Hyacinth.” “He never needed silverware but I\'m his little spoon.” We can’t know how generous serpent has been in his descriptors, but songs like “Heart Storm” (with NAO), “Wood Boy,” and “Derrick’s Beard” paint pictures of individuals and experiences so palpable they’ll leave you pining for dalliances past.

Way before King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard dropped this, their 18th studio album in less than a decade, it was clear that the Melbourne six-piece refuses to stay tethered to one idea for too long. So after completing a three-album experiment in microtonal tuning—playing notes that exist between the notes on standard Western scales—with February 2021’s *L.W.*, it’s no surprise to find them poking the reset button again. This time, they’re underscoring the pop in psych-pop with a song suite that funnels their wide-eyed ambition through satisfyingly direct melodies. All built from arpeggiated synth loops, the songs skip off in divergent directions, including the motorik rush of opener “Yours,” shimmering cosmic disco (“Catching Smoke”), and celestial synth-pop (“Interior People”). The scope of the band’s adventure would be dizzying if it weren’t for the smooth turns they forge in and out of each track. In a year marked by lockdowns and limited choices, trust The Giz to have created music that feels so boundless and upbeat.

There’s a track on *Chemtrails Over the Country Club*—Lana Del Rey’s sixth full-length album and the follow-up to 2019’s *Norman F\*\*\*\*\*g Rockwell!*—that should have been heard earlier. “Yosemite” was originally written for 2017’s *Lust for Life*, but, in an interview with Apple Music’s Zane Lowe that year, Del Rey revealed the song was “too happy” to make the cut. Its appearance is a neat summation of where you can expect to find the singer here. Total serenity might not have been achieved just yet, but across these 11 tracks, Del Rey, along with returning producer Jack Antonoff, finds something close to peace of mind, reflected in a softer, more intimate and pared-back sound. “Wild at Heart,” “Not All Who Wander Are Lost,” and “Yosemite,” for example, all brim with (self-)acceptance. Returning to ”Yosemite” hints at something else, too: an artist looking back to make her next step forward. *Chemtrails* is scattered with references to its predecessors, from the “Venice Bitch”-reminiscent outro of the title track to “Not All Who Wander Are Lost,” which might be seen as a companion piece to 2012 single “Ride.” Then there are the tracks that could easily have appeared on previous albums (“Tulsa Jesus Freak” wouldn’t be out of place on 2014’s dark-edged *Ultraviolence*) and lyrics we’ve heard before (“Dance Till We Die,” for example, references “Off to the Races” from her debut album *Born to Die*, while “Yosemite” calls back to the “candle in the wind” of *NFR!*\'s “Mariners Apartment Complex”). Del Rey’s MO has always been to tweak and refine—rather than reinvent—her sound, bringing her ever closer to where she wants to be. *Chemtrails*, however, is the first time she’s brought so much of her past into that process. As for where this album takes her? Somewhat unexpectedly towards country and folk inspired by the Midwest, rather than Del Rey’s beloved California; on “Tulsa Jesus Freak,” Del Rey pines after Arkansas. *Chemtrails Over the Country Club* makes no reference to the global pandemic in which it was partly created and released. And yet, amid a year of isolation, it was perhaps logical that one of this generation’s best songwriters would look inward. Here, Del Rey’s panoramic examination of America is replaced with something altogether more personal. On opener “White Dress,” she reflects on “a simpler time” when she was “only 19… Listening to White Stripes/When they were white hot/Listening to rock all day long.” It’s a time, more specifically, before she was famous. Nostalgia for it ebbs and flows as Del Rey’s vocals crack and strain, but any regret is short-lived. “I would still go back/If I could do it all again… Because it made me feel/Made me feel like a god.” Fame—and its pitfalls—are things Del Rey is more intimately acquainted with than most, and are a constant source of conflict on *Chemtrails*. But, as on “White Dress,” disillusionment most often turns to defiance. This reaches its peak by the album’s midpoint, “Dark but Just a Game,” an outstanding exploration of just how dangerous fame can be—if you let it. Where Del Rey was once accused of glamorizing the deaths of young artists who came before her, here, she emancipates herself from that melancholic mythology. “We keep changing all the time/The best ones lost their minds/So I’m not gonna change/I’ll stay the same,” she sings in an uplifting major-chord chorus that seems to look ahead to a better future. That sunnier disposition doesn’t dispel Del Rey’s unease with fame altogether, but she’s only too aware of what it’s brought her. For starters, the women she’s met along the way—paid tribute on the album’s final three, country-inspired tracks. “Breaking Up Slowly,” a meditation on the tempestuous relationship between Tammy Wynette and George Jones, was written with country singer-songwriter Nikki Lane (who toured with Del Rey in 2019), and Weyes Blood and Zella Day join Del Rey on the final track to cover Joni Mitchell’s “For Free.” On “Dance Till We Die,” meanwhile, the singer celebrates women in music who have come before her—and acted as guiding lights. “I’m covering Joni and I’m dancing with Joan,” she sings. “Stevie’s calling on the telephone/Court almost burned down my home/But god, it feels good not to be alone.” That same track may see her revisit her woes (“Troubled by my circumstance/Burdened by the weight of fame”), but it also finds her returning to an old coping mechanism. Just as on *Lust for Life*’s “When the World Was at War We Kept Dancing” and *NFR!*’s “Happiness is a butterfly,” it’s time to dance those woes away. “I\'ll keep walking on the sunny side/And we won\'t stop dancin\' till we die.”

Don’t let the tongue-in-cheek name Ross From Friends fool you. The Essex-born producer and DJ, real name Felix Clary Weatherall, is no joke. Rather, he has made a name for himself since 2018’s debut LP *Family Portrait* with an ear for dance-floor-focused compositions that bring forth bursts of euphoric movement as much as they delve into the nostalgic resonances of formative musical experiences. For his second studio album, *Tread*, Weatherall coded his own software (called Thresho) to open up his creative process. “I struggle to commit to recording, but Thresho just starts capturing what I’m doing when the audio reaches a certain threshold, and it ended up defining the whole record,” he tells Apple Music. The result is 12 tracks that take on radically open forms, from the melancholic UK garage of “The Daisy” to the ambient tape manipulations of “Morning Sun in a Dusty Room” and the beatless, eternal crescendo of “Run.” All the while, Weatherall was taking emotional inspiration from his studio’s surroundings during the coronavirus lockdowns on London’s Old Kent Road. “There’s so much history here, and I started to see the parallels between Thresho collecting these sounds and me recollecting my memories in London this past decade, absorbing different sounds,” he says. Read on for his thoughts on *Tread*, track by track. **“The Daisy”** “This track had so many different versions. I was writing it early on in March 2020 and I wanted to make something catchy, since I was really missing that feeling of being out and just having your hands in the air to something exciting. I ended up playing a very rough early version at \[London venue\] Printworks, which was the last gig I did before lockdown, and so I always associate the tune with that night out.” **“Love Divide”** “This is paired with ‘The Daisy,’ even though it was the last tune that I finished in February 2021. I had a similar feeling going into both of them of wanting to make something that\'s catchy after having been locked down and deprived of going out. The live show was also a big part of making this track and just picturing how it was going to come across in that setting by making a version that hammered home the big breakdown and drop.” **“Revellers”** “‘Revellers’ is a four-to-the-floor homage to the house music I was first getting into in 2012. I wanted to cover as many musical bases across the whole tune as possible, so that’s why it\'s almost seven minutes long. The drums took ages to get right, and it also took me a while to land on the melodic feel, which was twisted from an initial guitar sample. When I finished the track, I decided to rerecord the entire melodic part as one live take because I wanted it to have the energy of being performed spontaneously.” **“A Brand New Start”** “I wanted this track to be a turning point into a different, soul-sampled sound on the album. It\'s inspired by a Red Bull Music Academy interview with Madlib where he talks about how sometimes the sample is all you need. I wanted to be quite brutal with it, so I recorded a jam using a soul sample, cut out a few minutes of it, and then stuck it straight on the album. I wanted it to be completely straight as it was, rather than overdone.” **“XXX Olympiad”** “This is titled after the Greek name for the 2012 London Olympics, and that was the era I was trying to reference musically. I was digging for some soul samples to put over this future garage, post-dubstep rhythm, since when making this record I was thinking a lot about the last decade I’ve spent going out in London and the different sounds I’ve been drawn to.” **“Grub”** “‘Grub’ flows seamlessly from the last tune, but it’s meant to be this grubby mess, based completely on Thresho. I just threw hundreds of recordings into a Thresho project and then moved them all around. I didn\'t record anything specifically for that track, it was all just sampling these recordings in the software. It\'s essentially loads of mess and dirt put into a tune.” **“Spatter/Splatter”** “This one is a reference to trip-hop, since when I was coding Thresho I was listening to loads of it, as well as Boards of Canada. I wanted it to be a homage to that downtempo, IDM feel. Making music is ultimately a completely solitary thing to me; there\'s no collaboration, it\'s a personal thing that I keep within myself, so all the references come from that space.” **“Morning Sun in a Dusty Room”** “I really wanted this track to be evocative of a specific memory I have. I once woke up at a New Year\'s party way too early and I remember being in this dusty room and seeing all the sunlight streaming through the air. It tripped me out and I didn’t know what was going on. I wanted the track to flow musically from the last tune with similar references to reflect that strange ambience.” **“Run”** “I wanted to make something that is beatless but that is still quite hammering and could be played out, even though there\'s no real kick drum. I had these stabbing chords that build and repeat for a while and I was trying them with drums but this idea worked best. It was probably inspired by Floating Points\' earlier work, where the tunes are really long and have those huge breakdowns.” **“Life in a Mind”** “One of my friends once bought loads of NOS \[nitrous oxide\] balloons and we ended up having so many of them, to the point where I shut my eyes at one point and I felt like I lived an entire life inside my mind. This track is inspired by that repetitive, ongoing experience that existed inside my head. I just felt like this tune just matched up with that memory super well. It also has similar soul samples that are referenced on ‘A Brand New Start.’” **“Thresho\_1.0”** “This is named after the software I built, and like ‘Grub,’ it is another one where the entire thing is composed of tracks dragged from various different sessions into Thresho and then layered and structured, but nothing was recorded specifically for the track. I was just loading it up with samples and seeing where it went.” **“Thresho\_1.1”** “This is a bit of a cheesy reference to me being a new dad. I wanted it to represent how I\'ve lived these past 10 years running around doing stupid shit in London and now this is the next phase in my life. It\'s played on a music box where you stamp in the notes that you want, and I used the melody of ‘Thresho\_1.0’ to wind it up. I thought it was a fitting way to close out the record.”

After two critically acclaimed albums about loss and mourning and a *New York Times* best-selling memoir, Michelle Zauner—the Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter known as Japanese Breakfast—wanted release. “I felt like I’d done the grief work for years and was ready for something new,” she tells Apple Music. “I was ready to celebrate *feeling*.” Her third album *Jubilee* is unguardedly joyful—neon synths, bubblegum-pop melodies, gusts of horns and strings—and delights in largesse; her arrangements are sweeping and intricate, her subjects complex. Occasionally, as on “Savage Good Boy” and “Kokomo, IN,” she uses fictional characters to illustrate meta-narratives around wealth, corruption, independence, and selfhood. “Album three is your chance to think big,” she says, pointing to Kate Bush and Björk, who released what she considers quintessential third albums: “Theatrical, ambitious, musical, surreal.” Below, Zauner explains how she reconciled her inner pop star with her desire to stay “extremely weird” and walks us through her new album track by track. **“Paprika”** “This song is the perfect thesis statement for the record because it’s a huge, ambitious monster of a song. We actually maxed out the number of tracks on the Pro Tools session because we used everything that could possibly be used on it. It\'s about reveling in the beauty of music.” **“Be Sweet”** “Back in 2018, I decided to try out writing sessions for the first time, and I was having a tough go of it. My publisher had set me up with Jack Tatum of Wild Nothing. What happens is they lie to you and say, ‘Jack loves your music and wants you to help him write his new record!’ And to him they’d say, ‘Michelle *loves* Wild Nothing, she wants to write together!’ Once we got together we were like, ‘I don\'t need help. I\'m not writing a record.’ So we decided we’d just write a pop song to sell and make some money. We didn’t have anyone specific in mind, we just knew it wasn’t going to be for either of us. Of course, once we started putting it together, I realized I really loved it. I think the distance of writing it for ‘someone else’ allowed me to take on this sassy \'80s women-of-the-night persona. To me, it almost feels like a Madonna, Whitney Houston, or Janet Jackson song.” **“Kokomo, IN”** “This is my favorite song off of the album. It’s sung from the perspective of a character I made up who’s this teenage boy in Kokomo, Indiana, and he’s saying goodbye to his high school sweetheart who is leaving. It\'s sort of got this ‘Wouldn\'t It Be Nice’ vibe, which I like, because Kokomo feels like a Beach Boys reference. Even though the song is rooted in classic teenage feelings, it\'s also very mature; he\'s like, ‘You have to go show the world all the parts of you that I fell so hard for.’ It’s about knowing that you\'re too young for this to be *it*, and that people aren’t meant to be kept by you. I was thinking back to how I felt when I was 18, when things were just so all-important. I personally was *not* that wise; I would’ve told someone to stay behind. So I guess this song is what I wish I would’ve said.” **“Slide Tackle”** “‘Slide Tackle’ was such a fussy bitch. I had a really hard time figuring out how to make it work. Eventually it devolved into, of all things, a series of solos, but I really love it. It started with a drumbeat that I\'d made in Ableton and a bassline I was trying to turn into a Future Islands-esque dance song. That sounded too simple, so I sent it to Ryan \[Galloway\] from Crying, who wrote all these crazy, math-y guitar parts. Then I got Adam Schatz, who plays in the band Landlady, to provide an amazing saxophone solo. After that, I stepped away from the song for like a year. When I finally relistened to it, it felt right. It’s about the way those of us who are predisposed to darker thoughts have to sometimes physically wrestle with our minds to feel joy.” **“Posing in Bondage”** “Jack Tatum helped me turn this song into this fraught, delicate ballad. The end of it reminds me of Drake\'s ‘Hold On, We\'re Going Home’; it has this drive-y, chill feeling. This song is about the bondage of controlled desire, and the bondage of monogamy—but in a good way.” **“Sit”** “This song is also about controlled desire, or our ability to lust for people and not act on it. Navigating monogamy and desire is difficult, but it’s also a normal human condition. Those feelings don’t contradict loyalty, you know? The song is shaped around this excellent keyboard line that \[bandmate\] Craig \[Hendrix\] came up with after listening to Tears for Fears. The chorus reminds me of heaven and the verses remind me of hell. After these dark and almost industrial bars, there\'s this angelic light that breaks through.” **“Savage Good Boy”** “This one was co-produced by Alex G, who is one of my favorite musicians of all time, and was inspired by a headline I’d read about billionaires buying bunkers. I wanted to write it from the perspective of a billionaire who’d bought one, and who was coaxing a woman to come live with him as the world burned around them. I wanted to capture what that level of self-validation looks like—that rationalization of hoarding wealth.” **“In Hell”** “This might be the saddest song I\'ve ever written. It\'s a companion song to ‘In Heaven’ off of *Psychopomp*, because it\'s about the same dog. But here, I\'m putting that dog down. It was actually written in the *Soft Sounds* era as a bonus track for the Japanese release, but I never felt like it got its due.” **“Tactics”** “I knew I wanted to make a beautiful, sweet, big ballad, full of strings and groovy percussion, and Craig, who co-produced it, added this feel-good Bill Withers, Randy Newman vibe. I think the combination is really fabulous.” **“Posing for Cars”** “I love a long, six-minute song to show off a little bit. It starts off as an understated acoustic guitar ballad that reminded me of Wilco’s ‘At Least That\'s What You Said,’ which also morphs from this intimate acoustic scene before exploding into a long guitar solo. To me, it always has felt like Jeff Tweedy is saying everything that can\'t be said in that moment through his instrument, and I loved that idea. I wanted to challenge myself to do the same—to write a long, sprawling, emotional solo where I expressed everything that couldn\'t be said with words.”

Take the irony Steely Dan applied to Boomer narcissists in the ’70s and map it onto the introverts of Gen Z and you get some idea of where Atlanta singer-songwriter Faye Webster is coming from. Like Steely Dan, the sound is light—in Webster’s case, a gorgeous mix of indie rock, country, and soul—but the material is often sad. And even when she gets into it, she does so with the practiced detachment of someone who glazes over everything with a joke. Her boyfriend dumps her by saying he has more of the world to see, then starts dating a girl who looks just like her (“Sometimes”). She might just take the day off to cry in bed (“A Stranger”). And when all that thinking doesn’t make her feel better, she suggests having some sake and arguing about the stuff you always argue about (“I Know I’m Funny haha”). On the advice of the great Oscar the Grouch, Faye Webster doesn’t turn her frown upside down—she lets it be her umbrella.

“One of the hardest parts was where to draw the line,” Oscar Dawson tells Apple Music about Holy Holy’s fourth album. Partly thanks to the challenges (and opportunities) created by 2020’s lockdowns and partly thanks to their interest in shifting away from a rock sound, Holy Holy set out to make *more*: different sounds, new styles, and more diverse collaborators than ever before. “We felt so free to just do what we wanted and to trust ourselves,” Dawson says. The pair—Dawson and Timothy Carroll—worked with producers including Japanese Wallpaper and The Presets’ Kim Moyes on the more electronic, dance-based tracks, while rapper Queen P features on “Port Rd,” the pair’s first foray into hip-hop. There are cinematic strings and harps, sweeping instrumental codas, festival dance floor moments, and meditative spoken word. Still, it’s not a departure from their earlier sound so much as an expansion. “We do have moments where we sit down to consciously think about what we liked on the last record and where we want to go next, what we want to try and achieve,” Carroll says. “But the degree to which we stick to that is pretty loose.” Below, the pair talks through each track on *Hello My Beautiful World*. **“Believe Anything”** Carroll: “Early on, we had a writing session in Melbourne. Oscar and I both brought three or four voice memos, tiny jumping-off points, and one of them, this rolling arpeggio, is that first sound for the whole record. It reminded us both of Beach House. We just did some improvising over it and wrote that vocal part.” **“How You Been”** Carroll: “I was actually inspired a bit by Ed Sheeran’s ‘Shape of You,’ that kalimba. I like to try and write pop. But when we do, we end up with a record like this—so it\'s this thing I can never quite reach. I\'d like to reach it one day, but it\'s fun where we end up. This song exists in the happy sad. It\'s got this disco beat and the chords are quite major, but there’s a melancholy in the story and voice.” **“The Aftergone” (feat. CLEWS)** Dawson: “We’re always searching for more collaborators, and we\'ve known CLEWS for years—we’re big fans of them as people and artists. They did their bits up in Sydney, while Melbourne was in lockdown. I feel like there\'s almost two characters in the song, so it makes sense for it to be represented by those different voice or different voices.” **“The Aftergone (Coda)”** Dawson: “We were inspired by New Order’s song ‘Crystal,’ which I loved. This track was about trying to have our cake and eat it too: Sometimes I love a section on its own. So if I\'m working on a song, I\'ll mute the vocal and go, ‘Shit, this sounds kind of cool.’ But you\'ve got to have a vocal, right? So with the coda, it was like, ‘Well, why don\'t we add this to the end, mute the vocals and just have this euphoric moment.” **“Port Rd” (feat. Queen P)** Carroll: “During lockdown, we reached out to our Instagram followers asking who wants to be on the record. We’d send them the files and everybody was invited to sing that thing. So we built this Instagram choir, which was working, but I just had a feeling about another vocal rhythmic pattern that could go over it. I reached out to a friend of mine, who put us onto Queen P. So she came down and did a session with Oscar. Thematically, it was inspired by an article about the pandemic, by Arundhati Roy. Broadly, it was about seeing the pandemic as a portal, and that we need to step through it, and not to try and drag all our ideas about what life is through the portal. You need to let go and be like, ‘All right, what is the world on the other side of this?’” **“Hello My Beautiful World”** Carroll: “I just was thinking about the album title, so I started saying, ‘Hello, my beautiful world,’ and just happened upon that little pattern of \'hello this\' and \'hello that.’ I had this idea to try and mention everything that exists in the natural world. I wanted the poem to make no reference to anything that was created by humanity, and for that whole story of our humanity and our relationship with the natural world to only exist in the mind of the listener. So the listener kind of hears this, but they\'re also experiencing it in their own mind as a reflection of the lyrics that exist in the poem.” **“Ghosts”** Carroll: “A lot of this was improvised, and I remember really feeling in the moment when we were doing that. I think the hero of this song is the vocal production. Oscar took my improvised takes, where I was trying all different melodies. He stacked them and I feel like he created multiple characters that speak to each other using formant effects, which is a way of altering your voice to change the depth of it, making it lower or higher, without actually changing the pitch.” **“I.C.U.”** Carroll: “I had this girlfriend when I was younger. We had a really intense relationship and then it fell apart. But recently I had a dream where I was in this bar and she walked in. And she looked exactly like she had when I was 20, so in my mind she hadn\'t aged like we have in reality. I was shocked that all that data was still up in my head somewhere. So the song is about these two people living in completely different parts of the world, but they\'re occasionally still dreaming of each other. The verses are these little flickers of things they did together, and at the end, there’s a reflection that maybe the reason it didn\'t go well was that you were too arrogant or too sensitive with your own ego or something. If you were able to be like bigger and more generous, maybe things could have been better.” **“I.C.U (Coda)”** Carroll: “In the mixing process, Oscar just wrote this two-and-a-half-minute-long coda. It was quite late and there was no discussion about it; I just remember him saying, ‘I\'ve done something.’” **“Stand Where I\'m Standing”** Carroll: \"Thematically, it\'s about the idea that if you were raised in a different house, with different influences, you could come to hold any kind of opinion. And so it\'s maybe helpful to remember that even for those people whose views you abhor, maybe it\'s come from their influences, and that we’re all just a product of those inputs.” **“Shoreditch”** Carroll: “It’s about how, even with your best intentions, it\'s just the nature of life that sometimes you hurt the people that are close to you and the people you love the most. For me, this song\'s got sort of neon pink or blue; it\'s sparkly, it’s a fun sonic landscape to play in.” **“So Tired”** Carroll: “Oscar had been apart from his wife \[singer-songwriter Ali Barter\] for long periods of time, when she was in London. And at one point he said to me, ‘I\'m tired of missing her.’ It’s this other element to ‘I miss you.’ It was like, not only do I miss you, but I\'m sick of it, I don\'t want to miss you anymore.” **“So Tired (Coda)”** Carroll: “It’s my favorite bit of the record. It was the last day in the studio and we were doing like a final check over of the songs. To be honest, I was bored and I wanted to do something, so we set up the mic and we started embarking upon redoing the whole vocal \[for ‘So Tired’\]. As we were coming to the end, I just happened upon that melody. I remember giving Oscar the side-eye and being like, ‘That could be a really good outro.’” **“Here and Now”** Carroll: “Before the pandemic, I had only ever recorded on GarageBand and I\'d only ever used the microphone in my laptop. Oscar was always my songwriting partner, and he\'s such a talented producer, so I’d always just leaned on him. And if I had to bang out an idea, I\'d just do it like that. But when the lockdown happened, I got this mic and learnt to use Logic. I had a folder of ideas and Oscar listened to them. I remember he’d liked this one—I was surprised it was ended up being worthy of our attention. It was a piano ballad, but we wanted a bit more out of it, so there’s that middle section where it takes a big left turn and goes a bit Gregorian, and then there’s the big descending harps. It’s nice to take people down a bit—it’s like a concluding statement.”

**RELEASE DATE AUGUST 27TH** LA-based rockers The Bronx return for their sixth studio album 'Bronx VI' which comes out worldwide on Cooking Vinyl August 27th. Bronx VI builds on the legacy The Bronx has established in its near two-decade existence, but which definitely proves the door to what’s next has not just been kicked down, but chopped up and burned to a cinder. Yes, the first four tracks – “White Shadow”, “Superbloom”, “Watering The Well” and “Curb Feelers” – bristles with the wild and untamed energy that’s defined the band from the off, but then – all of a sudden, as “Peace Pipe” kicks in – the pace and mood shifts to something a little less aggressive. Elsewhere, “Mexican Summer” and its (relatively) chilled-out mariachi vibes serve as an homage to the band’s alter-ego, Mariachi El Bronx (and was written while that incarnation of the band was on tour), while fatalistic closer “Participation Trophy” masks the Caughthran’s existential dread behind searing riffs and a catchy, defiant and exuberant melody. “The feelings I got when writing for this sixth record is the same type of feeling I got writing “Heart Attack American”. It all comes from the same place and it’s all still 100% genuine and real. Believe me – I’m still feeling the raw emotion that I felt when this band first started. That’s just who I am, that’s who we are as people. You can’t fake stuff like that when it comes to music or art. You have to stay connected. You’ve just got to be real” - Matt Caughthran, vocalist. Bronx VI was produced by Joe Baressi (Melvins, Tool, Bad Religion).

On her sophomore record, Alice Skye builds on the emotive songwriting that defined her 2018 debut. The Wergaia singer-songwriter is innately skilled at broaching intimate, personal, and often dark topics in her music. Her songs were greatly effective on the piano-focused *Friends With Feelings*, but here, a broader range of rhythms, sounds, and instrumentation take those themes and ideas to new, even more affecting heights. The album begins with “Stay in Bed,” a gentle indie track about the fight towards better mental health: “I don’t wanna be this way forever/I’m working on myself to get better at it,” she sings, as the rhythm blooms into a big, warm chorus. “Homesickness,” featuring Jacob Diamond, is soft and somber, Diamond’s warm, deep voice a perfect complement to Skye’s breathy tone. “I know you care for me, but you’re not there for me/I know you’d like to be, but you’re not there,” they sing in turns, later coming together in a duet verse: “I hate that we treat our feelings like they’re not there.” Things get unexpectedly gritty on “Everything Is Great,” a rock-leaning track built on a distorted riff and big percussion. “Party Tricks” is heavier still, with drawn-out grunge guitars adding angst to the dark lyrics: “The part of me that hates me really loves you… I’ll break my own heart for you.” Final track “Wurega Djalin” pares it right back—and is Skye’s first song with lyrics in language as well as English. The soft, somber piano ballad contains lyrics in Wergaia, the native language of her people, which she can only speak a little. The line “Yergan gumbar yerginjan, Wurega Djalin” can be understood as “I am searching, I am listening, I will search, to speak my tongue.” “I only have the words you gave me,” she sings, in English, her voice at its most delicate. “Only got what you didn\'t take from me.”

“Fifth records are actually a lot of people’s best records,” James Blake tells Apple Music. “You’ve had all the practice of making albums, taken a few different directions, and by then have usually reached your thirties where you’ve got a bunch of stuff out of your system. So you finally decide to just be yourself. And suddenly, everyone’s thrilled.” *Friends That Break Your Heart* is Blake’s fifth album. While he’s too coy to personally anoint it his best work, the record does feel invigoratingly apart from the North London-born, Los Angeles-based artist’s first four. There’s the emotional payload of any Blake enterprise, but here he detonates through an earthier and more unguarded sonic arsenal. “It’s the most direct songwriting of anything I’ve done,” he says. “Whether it’s a sad song or an uplifting song, each emotion I’ve gone for is a more raw version of that thing on at least the last two records. I was working stuff out on those records, and I am here, too, but at 32, I’m starting to become more sure of myself in lots of ways. This record is very sure of itself.” The title here suggests a twist on a classic breakup album—a documentation of how we negotiate non-romantic partings. “There doesn’t seem to be a protocol for how to treat someone who’s breaking up with a friend,” he says. “We’re expected to move on pretty quick from deep lifelong friendships. But you can’t make old friends, as they say.” Can the COVID-inspired events of 2020 and 2021 take the blame for the demise of certain relationships? “I think what’s happened partly makes the topic of this album so pertinent,” he says. “We lost some of the parameters that kept friendships together. And it’s been a time for analyzing and reflecting what the qualities in friends that you actually need in your life are—and facing up to your own failings as one. Being an infantilized C-list pop star doesn’t really set you up to be the best friend in the world. But also, when I needed them and help most, I realized that most of those people just didn’t know what to do.” Blake has been candid about requiring that help in the past, and fortunately, the various COVID lockdowns proved beneficial to the creation of this record—which had a positive knock-on effect for his mental health. “I realized that I actually have a lot of control over my mental health,” he says. “What the lockdowns did was force me to say, ‘I can actually do this. I can actually block this out, and actually lift myself out of certain things.’ Previously I’d relied on other means. And I think that allows music to flow easier because being present and overcoming mental ill health is good for creativity.” Below, Blake takes us through his beautiful album, track by track. **“Famous Last Words”** “I don\'t agonize over tracklisting. I think it\'s like a DJ set, and a DJ set needs its peaks and troughs and moments of reflection. I spend so long writing the actual song and producing the song, by the time it comes to sequencing the tracklist, I\'m like, ‘Oh god, just put it in an order, man.’ This isn\'t a love song. But it is kind of a love song. It\'s kind of a breakup song. It\'s weird. I think it blurs the line between friendship and romance. With friendships, it’s not necessarily that the feelings are romantic, but you can genuinely love someone and it hurt like that.” **“Life Is Not the Same”** “You meet some people and they can just have an effect on you. It could be that they just sparkle, and you’ve got no idea why, but you’re doing things differently, or saying different stuff to impress them, and it doesn’t mean you’re weak or easily influenced—well, maybe it means you’re easily influenced a little bit—but it takes a special person to do that. I can take accountability for being willing to bend for someone. Certain people, for example, have taught me that I needed to develop a thicker skin and that I was too ready to give up control to someone else. I clearly needed to have more self-belief, because if I was so easily swayed then maybe I’d miscalculated my own self-worth.” **“Coming Back” (feat. SZA)** “I was doing a session with \[US artist and songwriter\] Starrah, who casually mentioned SZA was going to come by the studio. So I played her a bunch of stuff, she sang over it, and we hit it off straight away. It took a while to figure out how to produce what we landed on, though. Long story short: My production wasn’t hitting. You could hear that SZA and I sounded good together—but I hadn’t figured out how to best support her vocal because it was a song with no chorus. We are used to those structures as a society, so when you start taking apart those structures, you’ve really got to replace it properly. A bit like gluten-free bread. I realized I needed to put a donk on it, essentially. I just had to make it more banger-y. I tried doing the ambient thing, I tried making it really beautiful, and it didn’t work. I have it in my locker, and occasionally that power needs to be drawn upon.” **“Funeral”** “This song is all me, done on a very sunny but slightly miserable day. I was thinking about how it feels not to be heard, and to worry that people have given up on you. During lockdown I specifically felt that. It had been many years since I had really popped up and done forward-facing stuff like interviews.” **“Frozen” (feat. JID & SwaVay)** “Quite a spooky instrumental, and my vocals come in a little off-kilter, a little creepy. JID and SwaVay kill it over a beat I actually originally wrote for JID. It ended up not really fitting his record, which I found very lucky because secretly I wanted it for myself. It felt a bit like when you set someone up to cancel on you—my favorite feeling. Jameela \[Jamil, Blake’s partner and co-producer on the album\] suggested putting SwaVay on it because I’d been working with him for a couple of years. Totally right. Good A&R instincts.” **“I\'m So Blessed You\'re Mine”** “The album is sort of split between these Frankenstein’s monsters that were very exciting to put together and songs that happened very quickly. This was somewhere in the middle, and I got to work with some of my favorite people on it—Khushi, Dominic Maker, Josh Stadlen, Jameela. I want to get out of the way so we end up with the best piece of music we can make. And maybe have a nice chat about something before we start. There was no chatting back on album one, say, because I had way too much social anxiety.” **“Foot Forward”** “Metro Boomin is back! He knows I’m often into his more esoteric stuff so played me this piano sample he’d made on the MPC \[music production center\] that sounded like it was from the ’70s but had this Metro-y bounce on it. I started improvising in the studio, and I remember seeing him dancing in the booth because it sounded so up. It felt very anthemic. Eventually I turned it into a song with Frank Dukes and Ali Tamposi—another genius who wrote the chorus melody.” **“Show Me” (feat. Monica Martin)** “Monica is an incredible singer and incredible person—she’s fucking hilarious, and we’ve become friends. The song felt quite bare without her. It needed someone to step in, and it had to be exactly the right person, otherwise it’s not going to work. Again, Jameela made the suggestion. She came into the studio with Khushi and I, did the take in exactly the way I imagined, and it was glorious. I was just so excited, she was excited, it was a lovely moment.” **“Say What You Will”** “Ah, those those dreamy ’60s vibes. This is my favorite song I’ve written in years. It’s the song that carries the most meaning in terms of my overall life. It’s more representative of my headspace as a whole, and I like songs that have a wider commentary baked into them. I was pleased with the reaction to it because I really tried to communicate where I am right now in an authentic way. At this point in my career, it can’t be any other way. The formula to putting a song out has never changed. A good song will out in every single scenario. It needs to resonate with people, or it will disappear. And I know that feeling—I have released songs that for whatever reason have not resonated with people.” **“Lost Angel Nights”** “It’s about a lot of things, but primarily it’s about worrying that you’ve missed your shot. And *maybe* there’s a little bit of finger-pointing in there as well. The way people take your original essence, copy it and move on, really. I’ve been super lucky in my career, but I think there was a time where there was a lot of looking at what the shiny new thing is, doing that, then moving on. You don’t need them anymore. It happens to a lot of people, but you have to contend with being a permanent person, a permanent artist. I want to be here for as long as I can and be as naturalistic and true to myself as I can be, and what other people do doesn’t affect that.” **“Friends That Break Your Heart”** “Perhaps weirdly, it was album title first, then this song. I wrote the melody in the car on the way to meet \[US songwriter and producer\] Rick Nowels. There were a couple of others that we didn’t put onto the record, but this one was just standout right away. It was a really fun process, because he just played the keys and I was left to singer-songwriter duties for once. The line ‘I have haunted many photographs’ is something we can hopefully all relate to—well, hopefully not, actually, because that would be terrible, but I feel like that’s a common feeling.” **“If I\'m Insecure”** “I like to go out on something either where it’s all harmonies or it just feels huge. This is the latter. It’s an apocalyptic love song—the world is ending, but you’re in love, so it’s all right. Which maybe captures where we are as a society in 2021, so perhaps I’ll come to think of this record as one big externalization of my COVID experience, but that wasn’t the original intention. I make a load of music and then eventually realize, ‘Oh, yes, roughly, it was about this.’”