“This Is Not Surrender” by UniversalDice

UniversalDice is a band that operates on its own terms. Their sound weaves together the immediacy of contemporary rock with the crafted sophistication of classic songwriting, creating something that feels both urgent and enduring. There is a deliberate intelligence running through everything they do, music built not merely to be heard, but to be felt, questioned, and remembered. Like the best bands before them, they understand that a great song is also a conversation, one that lingers long after the final chord fades.

At the core of UniversalDice lies Dantone, a songwriter whose ambitions extend well beyond the stage. As lead vocalist, guitarist, producer, and director, he architects the band’s entire sonic and visual world from the ground up. His writing carries the hallmarks of a genuine craftsman, layered, purposeful, and unflinching in its willingness to confront the uncomfortable. Where many artists skirt around mortality, political fracture, and the quiet erosion of civil courage, Dantone walks directly into that territory and plants a flag.

There is something in UniversalDice’s DNA that echoes the trajectory of both 90s inspirations and The Beatles, two bands that began with raw, accessible energy and evolved into vehicles for something far more meaningful. Like such bands as Green Day, UniversalDice understands that melody is not the enemy of message; in fact, the two are most powerful when inseparable. A hook can carry a protest further than a slogan ever could.

That philosophy finds its fullest expression in the band’s recent single, “This Is Not Surrender.” Written and produced entirely by Dantone, the track is seven minutes of slow burning political fire wrapped in restraint. It does not shout. It does not perform outrage. Instead, it does something far more dangerous, it speaks quietly, clearly, and with absolute conviction, the way truth tends to when it has nothing left to prove.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7VfOnSn3H4

The song reads like a modern declaration, drawn from a moment when passivity has become its own form of complicity. Dantone’s lyrics challenge the seductive comfort of looking away, of telling yourself the storm will pass without your intervention. The title itself is a refusal, not a battle cry, but a line drawn with steady hands. In an era saturated with noise, the song’s measured tone feels almost radical.

Longtime collaborators Bob Barcus on guitar and Eddie Canova on bass provide the foundation, their contributions deliberate and uncluttered, allowing the song’s emotional and political architecture to stand fully exposed. The accompanying lyric video on YouTube reinforces this ethos, pairing the music with understated visuals that trust the listener’s intelligence.

What separates “This Is Not Surrender” from ordinary protest music is its patience. It does not demand agreement, it invites reflection. It offers itself as both a mirror and a window, personal enough to feel intimate, universal enough to outlast the moment that inspired it.

UniversalDice has made something genuinely rare here: a political song with the soul of a hymn. The quandry it leaves behind is not whether you heard it, but whether you were willing to listen.

Gwen Waggoner 

Jonathan Moody, ‘Don’t Be My Doubt’: A Stirring Anthem for the Quiet Battles We All Fight

In an era overflowing with songs about self-belief, Jonathan Moody’s “Don’t Be My Doubt” stands apart by focusing on something far more fragile and far more human: the desperate need to be believed in by someone you love.

Built on a foundation of warm Americana and heartland folk, the track unfolds like a late-night drive through uncertainty. Moody’s weathered, soulful vocal doesn’t demand attention through sheer force. Instead, it earns it through sincerity. Every line feels lived-in, every phrase delivered with the conviction of someone who’s spent time wrestling with the doubts he sings about.

The song’s emotional core lies in its striking simplicity. Written by Chuck Hodges, “Don’t Be My Doubt” explores the burden of carrying the world’s disappointments only to discover that the harshest judgment often comes from the people closest to us. It’s a theme that resonates deeply in a culture increasingly defined by skepticism, criticism, and impossible expectations.

Musically, the arrangement is rich without becoming cluttered. Triple-platinum producer Ryan Hadlock’s influence can be felt in the song’s spacious, cinematic atmosphere. The elegant violin work of Keris Chois and the mournful cello lines from Guillermo Quiros add depth and gravity, while Christiano Galvao’s restrained drumming and Joao Paulo Drumond’s tasteful percussion keep the song moving with quiet determination. David Filice’s bass serves as an emotional anchor throughout.

Then comes the secret weapon: The Epoch House Choir.

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As the song builds toward its final moments, the choir transforms what begins as a personal confession into something communal and universal. The repeated plea of “Be my faith” becomes less a request to one person and more a collective prayer for compassion in an increasingly cynical world.

What makes “Don’t Be My Doubt” especially effective is its refusal to offer easy answers. The song doesn’t promise victory, wealth, or redemption. Instead, it argues that belief itself can be transformative. Sometimes all someone needs is a hand reaching out instead of another voice telling them why they’ll fail.

Moody has spent years honing his craft on stages ranging from the Grand Ole Opry to corporate events for some of the world’s biggest brands, and that experience shows. He understands that the strongest songs aren’t necessarily the loudest. They’re the ones that make listeners feel understood.

By the time the final chorus fades, “Don’t Be My Doubt” leaves behind a lingering reminder that faith isn’t always found in churches, self-help books, or grand gestures. Sometimes it arrives in the form of a person who chooses to stand beside us when we’re at our weakest.

In a world increasingly quick to doubt, Jonathan Moody delivers a song that dares to believe.

Camille K Announces New Pop Single “Stuck” Out June 2, Music Video Premieres June 5

May 2026 — Rising pop artist Camille K returns with her vibrant new single, “Stuck,” arriving on June 2, followed by the official music video release on June 5. The track delivers a fresh and playful take on the “sweet, but psycho” cliché, transforming it into a bright, self-aware pop anthem that feels both modern and irresistibly fun. Snippet Here!

Blending glossy production with an undeniably catchy hook, “Stuck” captures the whirlwind feeling of being completely wrapped up in someone. It leans into that slightly chaotic, all-consuming crush energy while keeping things light, colorful, and danceable. Camille K approaches the concept with a sense of humor and confidence, making the song as relatable as it is addictive.

Driven by an upbeat tempo and vibrant melodies, “Stuck” is built for repeat listens. It fits seamlessly into pop, crush, and feel-good playlists, offering a burst of energy that stands out in today’s pop landscape.

With “Stuck,” Camille K continues to define her sound through sharp storytelling, polished production, and a strong sense of identity. The single highlights her ability to balance playful attitude with emotional honesty, creating music that connects instantly.

“Stuck” will be available on all major streaming platforms on June 2, with the official music video premiering June 5.

Ever since the age of 11, Camille has shared the stage with legendary artists such as Gina Schock (The Go-Go’s), Jeff “Skunk” Baxter (Steely Dan/Doobie Brothers), and Barry Goudreau (Boston). She has also opened for major acts including Flo Rida, Ja Rule, C&C Music Factory, Lit, Chris Kirkpatrick of *NSYNC, O-Town, LFO, and Jon Anderson (Yes).

Camille gained national recognition as a featured contestant on NBC’s America’s Got Talent in 2022, where her original song “Still in Love” earned high praise from the judges that day. Simon Cowell described her performance as “beautiful,” Heidi Klum called her “absolutely amazing” and “the whole package,” and Sofia Vergara praised her “spectacular” voice.

Beyond the stage, Camille has also made a mark in the film industry, with her music featured in Finding Christmas and 7th Secret. Her previous maxi-single, “Daydreamer,” reached #2 on the iTunes Top Dance Albums chart, further cementing her status as a rising star. She is currently working with Grammy Award-winning production team Sakred Wolves, consisting of Dirty Harry Zelnick, Lectriq, and M11SON, to craft new music that continues to push creative boundaries.

As Camille continues to tour throughout Philadelphia and New Jersey, “Stuck” marks another milestone in her journey, showcasing her signature blend of raw emotion, powerful vocals, and polished pop production. Camille K is also an endorsed artist of Anatomy of Sound picks and Minarik Guitars.

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Infinity Song – “Hurricane” Review

There are songs that politely ask for your attention, and then there are songs like “Hurricane,” which grab you by the collar, spill red wine on your vintage suede jacket, and drag you barefoot into the middle of some shimmering midnight dance floor where Fleetwood Mac, Rotary Connection, and the ghost of AM radio all somehow coexist in a sweaty celestial communion. Infinity Song doesn’t just perform “Hurricane” — they unleash it like weather.

The first thing that hits is the groove. Not a fake algorithmic pulse stitched together by committee, but an honest-to-God rolling rhythm that moves like a train coming downhill with sparks shooting off the rails. The drums don’t simply keep time; they provoke motion. The bassline slinks around the track with the confidence of somebody who knows exactly how dangerous they are. And over all of it, those harmonies — those impossible, blood-related harmonies — rise like incense smoke curling toward some stained-glass cathedral ceiling built entirely from soft rock records and old soul singles.

Infinity Song has always trafficked in atmosphere. Their music floats, glimmers, aches. But “Hurricane” does something different. It sweats. It pulses. It shakes loose from the dreamscape long enough to hit the body directly. There’s a physicality here that feels new, like the band suddenly discovered that transcendence and movement aren’t enemies after all. You can hear echoes of seventies Laurel Canyon mysticism colliding headfirst into dancefloor urgency, and somehow it works without collapsing into retro cosplay.

The genius of “Hurricane” is that it never sacrifices beauty for momentum. Lesser bands trying to make a “danceable” track usually flatten themselves into anonymous pop mush, sanding away every strange edge until nothing remains except a beat and some influencer-ready hooks. Infinity Song refuses that bargain. The guitars still shimmer like sunlight through fog. The vocals still arrive in waves so lush they almost feel unreal. But underneath it all is this relentless kinetic heartbeat that keeps pushing forward, like the song itself is trying to outrun something.

And maybe that’s the point. “Hurricane” sounds like yearning wrapped inside motion. The repeated refrain — “Hurricane let it pour / And I’ll keep waiting for more” — doesn’t land like surrender. It sounds ecstatic, almost defiant. The storm isn’t destruction here; it’s transformation. The band leans into chaos with open arms, dancing directly into the wind.

The accompanying video amplifies that energy perfectly, capturing the group moving with loose, hypnotic chemistry that feels refreshingly human in an era where so much pop presentation resembles content-farm automation. There’s charisma here that can’t be manufactured. You understand immediately why their live reputation has exploded, why NPR Tiny Desk audiences and international crowds have latched onto them like believers discovering some secret frequency the rest of the world forgot existed.

And that’s ultimately what makes Infinity Song fascinating right now. They’re reviving something old without embalming it. “Hurricane” doesn’t sound nostalgic. It sounds alive. Messy, glowing, seductive, and gloriously overcommitted to feeling everything all at once.

In lesser hands, this kind of soft rock romanticism would feel quaint. Infinity Song makes it feel dangerous again.

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–Leslie Banks

“Summer Before the Fall” by Chris Chitsey and Bee Smith

Chris Chitsey already is well on his way to carving a unique, artistic niche in the field of country music. Naturally when it comes to collaborations with other artists, things can become a double-edged sword. Even with established musical acts, sometimes collaborations can be to the detriment of both artists, stripping a sense of cohesiveness and each act’s unique individuality into something unfairly competitive. So it was gutsy for Chitsey to pair up with British artist Bee Smith for their joint single “Summer Before the Fall”. Luckily upon hearing the track, all fears were assured.

Chitsey and Smith make a formidable team, each elating and lifting up each other’s strengths as an artist. Chitsey sings with this stereotypical, rugged, chipped masculinity, while Smith is a welcome antidote but not as a contrasting, willowy presence in her own right. When she belts out a tune, her voice is feminine but unwavering and strong. While British, she immediately makes you think of the strong frontierswomen on shows like Dutton Ranch. 

It’s a nice duet because in rare form both artists’ strengths are highlighted, both as contrasting performers and as a steady, single unit. The fact Chitsey is willing to try such a high wire act at an early stage of his career simultaneously communicates artistic integrity and generosity of spirit. It also highlights the confidence in his own craft and brand, making room equating to making his own stage presence that much stronger. 

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The song itself is something of a toast to older, simpler times. It espouses a kind of modernity where looking back isn’t regressive, while still firmly planting itself in terms of cultural relevance and production value in the marketplace. The title, “Summer Before the Fall”, seems deliberately handpicked, like something obviously euphemistic but whose said obviousness only adds charm. Chitsey isn’t trying necessarily to compete with the masters of the genre, but he is trying to continue a kind of quality they represented expertly in lockstep. 

The lyrics are simple and effective, the meanings clear, and the sense of scope and gravitas decidedly homegrown and staying authentic to the inherent nature of what country is all about. Simply put, a sort of raw, rugged confessional, where being excessively verbose and dependent on hooks is sinful. Chitsey and Smith sing in a manner akin to concentrating on real things, that real people can understand and relate to. Country has always been something of an unappreciated unifier when it comes to the grounded nature of the medium. There’s never the sense even legends in the business espouse flintiness, or a feeling these figures are fundamentally that far away. A good country song reminds everyone, north or south, ideally about what really matters. “Summer Before The Fall” does not disappoint on this front.

All in all Chitsey is on my list as an act to watch. I like his style, I like his sense of emotional candor as an artist, and I like the fact none of his work to date feels entirely perfect. There’s room for messiness, twitchiness, and reinterpretation, all critical signs of someone playing the long game rather than trying to dominate current charts.

Gwen Waggoner 

Rodney Atkins releases his latest album “True South”

Rodney Atkins releases his latest album “True South”, what strikes you most, across the full run of the record, is the emotional range it covers without ever feeling scattered. There is genuine joy here, the kind that comes not from youth or novelty but from knowing exactly what you have and choosing it every day. There is grief of a quieter sort too: the grief of time passing, of children outgrowing things, of mornings you can’t get back. 

There are moments of levity and moments that land like a hand on the shoulder from someone who understands. Atkins holds all of it together not through any particular production flourish but simply through the consistency of his voice, literally and figuratively. He sounds like himself throughout, and in 2025, that is a more radical act than it should be.

The record also benefits enormously from the presence of Rose Falcon, his wife and collaborator, whose fingerprints are all over the album’s emotional texture. The love at the centre of “True South” doesn’t feel like a subject Atkins has chosen to write about. It feels like the atmosphere the whole record breathes. That’s the difference between an artist mining his personal life for content and one who has simply made a record about what his life actually is.

Rodney Atkins didn’t need to make a comeback record. He’s made something better than that: a record that makes the case, without raising its voice, that he never really went anywhere, and that some of the best work of a long career can arrive not with a bang but with the particular, unhurried warmth of a man who finally has everything worth saying.

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Floodfall, The Rent That We All Pay: Hard Rock’s Search for Meaning in an Age of Noise

There comes a point in every band’s evolution when the question is no longer who are we? but what are we trying to say?On their third full-length album, The Rent That We All Pay, Portland hard-rock outfit Floodfall finally sound like a band that knows the answer.

Built on towering guitars, cinematic production, and lyrics that wrestle with history, memory, technology, and human connection, The Rent That We All Pay is an album that feels less interested in escapism than confrontation. These songs stare directly into the uncertainties of modern life and dare listeners to do the same.

Recorded at Top Floor Studios in Gothenburg, Sweden, with longtime collaborator Jakob Herrmann, the album benefits from a rare combination of American songwriting grit and Scandinavian precision. The result is a record that sounds massive without becoming bloated, polished without losing its edge. Every riff lands with purpose. Every chorus feels earned.

Opener “Immortals Die” sets the tone with a blunt reminder that every empire eventually falls. It’s a thunderous statement piece, equal parts warning and prophecy. From there, Floodfall expands its lens. “89 and 24” transforms personal memories of natural disasters into a meditation on resilience. “Satellites” drifts through emotional isolation with surprising vulnerability, while “Paradise” dismantles nostalgia’s comforting lies with one of the album’s sharpest lyrical concepts.

The album’s middle stretch is particularly strong. “Fifteen Miles” turns a drive through Norway’s Laerdal Tunnel into an almost spiritual experience, while “Watching” channels contemporary anxieties about surveillance and perception into a tense, muscular rocker that feels frighteningly current. Elsewhere, “Last Horizon” captures the romantic loneliness of endless highways and fading sunsets, proving Floodfall are just as effective when they slow down and let atmosphere do the heavy lifting.

What separates The Rent That We All Pay from many modern hard-rock releases is its willingness to embrace complexity. These aren’t songs built around simple villains and heroes. Even the album’s closing pair, “This Wall” and “A Thousand Years Without You,” drawn from the band’s larger Scary Monsters universe, explore sacrifice, regret, and love through characters forced to live with impossible decisions. The emotional weight feels genuine because the band refuses easy answers.

Musically, Floodfall have never sounded more focused. The years of lineup changes and experimentation that marked earlier chapters of the band’s history seem to have crystallized into a singular identity. The guitars are heavier, the arrangements sharper, and the performances more confident than ever. Rather than chasing trends, Floodfall have doubled down on what makes them unique: intelligent songwriting wrapped in stadium-sized hard rock.

The album’s title ultimately reveals its central thesis. Whether it’s the cost of ambition, the burden of memory, the consequences of technology, or the sacrifices demanded by love, every track explores a different version of the same truth: existence comes with a bill. We all pay it eventually.

On The Rent That We All Pay, Floodfall don’t offer solutions. They offer reflection, catharsis, and ten songs powerful enough to make the weight feel a little lighter.

For a band entering its third chapter, Floodfall have achieved something increasingly rare in modern rock: they’ve gotten heavier, smarter, and more emotionally resonant all at once.

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Sam Bettens Talks Identity, Music, and the Return of “Not An Addict”

Nearly 30 years after “Not An Addict” became one of the defining alternative rock songs of the 1990s, Sam Bettens is revisiting the track from a completely different place in life. The multi-platinum voice behind K’s Choice has reimagined the iconic song with a stripped-down Americana approach, bringing new meaning to lyrics that have followed him throughout his career.

Over the last three decades, Bettens has built a remarkable journey both personally and professionally. From international success with K’s Choice to years spent living in Tennessee working as a professional firefighter while continuing to tour and record, his path has been anything but conventional. In recent years, Bettens publicly transitioned and now openly lives as a transgender man, bringing a renewed sense of authenticity to both his life and music.

His latest solo album, Coming Home, further embraces the Americana and roots influences that have shaped his recent work. Recorded in Nashville alongside some of the city’s top musicians, the album reflects a songwriter who continues to evolve while remaining committed to honest storytelling. With a European tour underway and a new chapter unfolding, Bettens shows no signs of slowing down.

We recently caught up with Sam Bettens to discuss the new version of “Not An Addict,” his evolution as an artist, life on the road, and what fans can expect next.

Nearly 30 years after “Not An Addict” first became a defining alternative rock anthem, what made this the right moment to revisit the song in a completely new way?
Partly the 30-year anniversary, but mostly the shift toward the Americana/Country genre. I was reluctant to touch it at first, but to me it felt more like a challenge than reliving the past. I love the idea that you can do something completely different with a song and still maintain its essence. The fact that this song is able to cross into a different genre is also a reminder that all these genres are often pulling from the same well. I love the interconnectedness of that.

The new version has a much more Americana and roots-driven sound. What inspired you to reinterpret the song through that lens instead of trying to recreate the original?
I’ve been living in this American musical world for a few years now while writing and recording Coming Home. To me, that was the only way it was worth revisiting, by looking at it in a completely different light. The alternative rock version is perfect the way it is.

Revisiting lyrics you wrote decades ago must feel very different today. Were there any lines in “Not An Addict” that hit you differently now than they did in the ’90s?
The original version was centered around drug addiction. For this new interpretation, I wanted to broaden it to include alcohol as well. Having lived a few decades since the original came out, all that experience contributed to feeling differently about the song. I know people who have had to grapple with addiction, and that made it feel more personal.

You originally became known around the world as the frontperson of K’s Choice during a very different chapter of your life. What has it been like returning to one of your biggest songs today as a transgender man?
Honestly, it’s been liberating. It’s like a weight I didn’t even know existed has been lifted off my shoulders. I’ve found a new confidence that makes even the most familiar things feel new again. Just standing on stage and holding a microphone, those simple actions, all of it feels better. Normal. That gave me a nice boost to tackle this new version.

Your latest album Coming Home marked a real creative shift into Americana and country-inspired storytelling. Did making that album help open the door creatively for this new version of “Not An Addict”?
One hundred percent. I probably wouldn’t have touched it again if it hadn’t been for this shift. I think whatever you do in life, when you’ve been doing it for 30 years, you need to actively find ways to keep yourself challenged and interested. I’m having more fun now than I can ever remember having. It’s partly feeling comfortable and at home in my own body, and partly following my own compass when it comes to what I think will feed my creative side. It’s constantly changing. I don’t imagine I’ll ever settle into just one thing.

You spent years living in Tennessee and even worked professionally as a firefighter while continuing to tour and make music. How did that chapter of your life shape the artist and person you are today?
Living in Tennessee and working as a professional firefighter really broadened me as a person, and I think that spills over into everything I do. When you’re taken out of your familiar environment, whether geographically, culturally, or professionally, it forces you to look at things from different angles. I hope it made me a more interesting person and also more empathetic. We develop ideas and opinions based on our own little world, and when you step outside of that, it’s a good reminder that maybe you don’t know as much as you thought you knew. Tennessee was a wonderful adventure, and firefighting was life-changing. I learned so much about empathy, service, and teamwork. That time and the people I worked with will always hold a special place in my heart.

Your story is one of reinvention in many ways, musically, personally, and emotionally. What have you learned about yourself through all those different chapters of life?
I learned that I’m resilient. And also that resilience is not a given or a place of arrival. It’s something you need to work on every single day. We have so little control over what life throws at us, but how you respond and how you come out on the other side defines who you are. I’m always thinking about how I can be better and stronger.

You’ve talked openly about transition, identity, and finally feeling comfortable in your own skin later in life. How has that personal journey changed your relationship with music and performing?
I’ve always felt at home on stage or in the studio, but there’s now a sense of belonging that feels fresh and new. A lot of self-doubt and imposter syndrome can creep in when there’s a nagging feeling that something isn’t quite right. You can never put your finger on it, so it spills over into almost everything you do. Now that I understand that part of myself, I feel like I get to do it all over again, but this time without the 45-pound backpack I was lugging around.

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In addition to music, you also released your memoir All I Am. What inspired you to tell your story in book form, and was there anything particularly emotional or difficult to revisit while writing it?
There’s something very therapeutic about writing things down. In our minds, we tend to go in circles, and writing this book allowed me, or rather forced me, to dig a little deeper and really figure out what was important and what I should maybe let go of. Some areas that were difficult and that you tend to gloss over were now being explored, and in the end that was an entirely positive experience for me. I’m not saying writing was easy, but I did enjoy the process of letting it all out and then fine-tuning it into something that made sense and that people would hopefully relate to.

With the release of the new “Not An Addict,” your continued solo work, and touring plans throughout Europe this year, what else can fans look forward to from you in the coming months, both as a solo artist and with K’s Choice?
The focus is on this new “Not An Addict” release right now and continuing to promote Coming Home. I’m also taking further steps here in the U.S. to re-establish myself as an artist who deserves a lane. In the meantime, we’re working on a new K’s Choice album as well. Busy times, but action breeds action, so I’m always at my best, and most creative, when things are in motion.

CattSue Finds Beauty in the Broken Silence on “A Whisper on the Wind”

Some songs are heard. Others are felt somewhere deeper — in that hidden chamber of memory where old photographs fade at the corners, childhood echoes still linger, and the people we lost never quite leave us. CattSue’s “A Whisper on the Wind” belongs to that second category. It’s not chasing trends, algorithms, or Nashville polish. It’s chasing something far more elusive: emotional truth.

And it catches it.

From the very first lines, CattSue opens the door to a deeply personal story rooted in the loss of her mother at just four-and-a-half years old. Heavy stuff, right? But here’s where the magic happens: she doesn’t turn grief into spectacle. There are no overblown vocal gymnastics, no dramatic orchestral swells screaming, “Feel this!” Instead, she leans into restraint — and that’s what makes the song hit like a freight train at midnight.

The image of little CattSue carrying her Mrs. Beasley doll everywhere after her mother passed away? That’s not songwriting-by-numbers. That’s lived experience. It’s painfully specific in the best way. You can see the child. You can feel the confusion. You can almost hear the silence inside the room after everyone else stopped talking about the loss because they assumed time would somehow fix it.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

Musically, “A Whisper on the Wind” drifts in this beautifully understated lane between contemporary country, acoustic pop, and singer-songwriter confession. The production is warm, spacious, and intimate — the kind of arrangement that knows when to step back and let the lyric breathe. No unnecessary clutter. No shiny distractions. Just atmosphere wrapped around emotion.

And CattSue’s voice? That’s the secret weapon here.

There’s a tenderness in her delivery that never feels performative. She sings like someone reading pages from a private journal they never intended anyone else to see. Every phrase carries weight because she isn’t trying to impress you — she’s trying to connect with you. Big difference.

The chorus lands with quiet devastation:

“You’re my beautiful angel
Watching from above
I only had a little time
But it was enough…”

That line — “But it was enough” — says everything. Most songs about loss focus on what was taken away. CattSue focuses on what remains. Love. Presence. Connection. The invisible threads tying memory to everyday life. That emotional pivot transforms the song from sadness into healing.

And then comes the bridge — easily the emotional centerpiece of the track.

“I wish I could remember the sound of your voice…”

Wow.

Anybody who has lost someone too young understands exactly what that line means. The terror isn’t only losing the person. It’s losing the details. The voice. The laugh. The tiny things memory slowly erases over time. CattSue taps into that universal fear with startling honesty.

But instead of leaving the wound open, she fills the silence with imagined comfort: “My girl, I’m proud of you — go chase your dreams.”

That moment doesn’t feel manufactured. It feels necessary. Like she spent years needing to hear those words and finally gave herself permission to believe them.

There’s something refreshingly fearless about “A Whisper on the Wind.” In a music culture obsessed with hooks, image, and instant gratification, CattSue slows everything down and asks listeners to sit still with emotion. That takes guts.

Following the chart success of her debut single “Come Home to Me,” including recognition on the UK iTunes charts and Independent Music Network rankings, CattSue could’ve easily chased a safer, more commercial follow-up. Instead, she delivered the most personal song of her life.

That choice matters.

Because “A Whisper on the Wind” isn’t just another sad song. It’s a conversation between past and present. Between a little girl searching for answers and a grown woman finally finding peace in the unanswered spaces.

And somewhere in that stillness, CattSue creates something rare: a song that doesn’t just sound beautiful — it heals quietly while you’re listening.

–Lonnie Nabors

Darrell Kelley Channels Conscious Soul on “How Dare You Ignore Their Cries?”

Darrell Kelley continues his mission of using music as a voice for justice with his single, “How Dare You Ignore Their Cries?”. Known for confronting difficult social issues through his work, Kelley brings together elements of hip-hop and conscious soul on a track built around urgency, compassion, and accountability. The song follows in the spirit of socially aware artists such as Marvin Gaye and Curtis Mayfield, whose music often carried messages of justice, humanity, and social responsibility. Kelley taps into that tradition with soulful vocals and a message-forward approach, creating a track that is as much a statement as it is a song.

“How Dare You Ignore Their Cries?” addresses the ongoing public outrage surrounding the Epstein Files, focusing on the belief that accountability has not matched the scale of harm done to victims. Rather than treating the issue from a distance, Kelley places survivor advocacy at the center of the song, calling attention to the need for transparency, justice, and institutional responsibility. The track’s strength lies in its directness. Kelley does not soften the message or hide behind vague language. Instead, he uses the song to ask a difficult question: how can society move forward if victims’ voices are ignored and those responsible are not fully held accountable? With “How Dare You Ignore Their Cries?”, Kelley adds another socially conscious release to his catalog. The single reflects his ongoing commitment to music that confronts injustice, encourages awareness, and pushes listeners to think beyond the surface. It is a song rooted in moral urgency — one that refuses to look away. 

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Heavy Set Woman Hit the Open Road with the Genre-Bending Energy of ‘Highway One’

 

Heavy Set Woman have never seemed particularly interested in staying within the lines, and ‘Highway One’ is all the stronger for it. The latest release from the creative partnership of William Serralles and Gumpi Falcon arrives as a restless, freewheeling blend of country rock, blues, and classic Americana influences, delivered with enough personality to avoid feeling like a simple exercise in nostalgia.

From its opening moments, ‘Highway’ One moves with purpose. Driven by rolling rhythms, spirited guitar work, and a sense of constant momentum, the track captures the feeling of movement both physical and emotional. It’s the kind of song built for long stretches of highway, yet beneath its easygoing exterior lies a deeper current of reflection, using the road as a backdrop for examining relationships, uncertainty, and the spaces that emerge between people over time.

Heavy Set Woman’s greatest strength lies in their ability to balance musicianship with character. There are echoes of classic rock storytellers and genre-defying studio craftsmen throughout ‘Highway One’, but the duo never sound beholden to their influences. Instead, they channel those inspirations into something that feels personal and instinctive, allowing imperfections, unexpected turns, and moments of raw energy to become part of the song’s appeal.

The production reflects that philosophy. Rich without becoming cluttered, every instrument serves the song’s forward motion, creating a textured soundscape that rewards repeat listens. Whether it’s the interplay between the guitars and saxophone or the subtle shifts in dynamics that mirror the song’s emotional undercurrents, there is a clear understanding of how to build tension and release without sacrificing immediacy.

At a time when genre boundaries continue to blur, ‘Highway One’ succeeds not because it combines country, blues, and rock, but because it approaches each element with genuine conviction. The result is a track that feels adventurous yet approachable, thoughtful yet unpretentious.

With ‘Highway One’, Heavy Set Woman continue to strengthen their reputation as artists who follow instinct over convention. It’s a vibrant, road-ready anthem packed with musical detail, emotional depth, and enough unpredictable charm to keep listeners coming back for another ride.

A/K and Beverley Knight Deliver Disco-House Gold on ‘Through You’

Norwegian production duo A/K return with ‘Through You’, a polished slice of disco-infused house music that pairs their club-focused sensibilities with the unmistakable vocal presence of Beverley Knight. The collaboration arrives as another confident step forward for Henning Astrup and Joakim Kaspersen, whose decades of experience within Norway’s electronic music scene continue to translate into increasingly refined and internationally minded releases.

Built around a buoyant groove, crisp percussion, and shimmering disco textures, ‘Through You’ balances dancefloor functionality with crossover appeal. The production is clean and purposeful throughout, allowing the track’s melodic hooks to land naturally while maintaining the momentum expected of a contemporary house record. There is a clear understanding of pacing in the arrangement, with each element introduced at the right moment to sustain energy without overwhelming the mix.

Knight’s contribution proves central to the track’s success. Her soulful delivery injects personality and warmth into the production, elevating the record beyond a standard club cut. The vocal performance feels effortless yet commanding, bringing emotional weight to a song designed as much for communal singalongs as late-night dancefloors. The songwriting, developed alongside Maegan Cottone, complements this approach, favouring accessibility and memorable melodic phrasing over unnecessary complexity.

What stands out most is A/K’s ability to merge classic disco influences with contemporary house production techniques. Rather than leaning solely on nostalgia, the duo craft a record that feels current and commercially viable while retaining the organic musicality that has long defined the genre’s strongest releases. The result is a track equally suited to festival sets, radio programming, and curated streaming playlists.

With ‘Through You’, A/K deliver a vibrant and well-executed collaboration that highlights both their production maturity and their instinct for pairing strong songwriting with dancefloor energy. It is an infectious release that reinforces their growing profile within European house music while demonstrating the enduring appeal of expertly crafted vocal dance records.

Burning Lake’s “Little Man” Stares Into the Heart of Authoritarianism

Sam Lemos Balances Experimental Songcraft And Theatrical Storytelling On New Album ‘Three Triptychs’

Sam Lemos continues to expand the scope of his artistic vision with ‘Three Triptychs’, a conceptually ambitious project that showcases the Las Vegas-based artist’s strengths as a songwriter, producer, arranger, and multi-instrumentalist. Accompanied by lead single ‘Psalm 515′, the forthcoming album presents an intricate blend of experimental pop, theatrical composition, and literary storytelling, underscoring Lemos’ ability to balance intellectual depth with engaging musicality.

The project arrives as the culmination of a decade-long creative arc, structured around a three-part narrative that examines identity through increasingly abstract lenses. While concept-driven albums often risk prioritising ideas over execution, ‘Three Triptychs’ succeeds by grounding its philosophical themes in detailed songwriting and carefully crafted production. Drawing influence from biblical narratives, classical literature, and contemporary art-pop traditions, the record demonstrates a level of world-building rarely found within independent releases.

Lead offering ‘Psalm 515′ provides an accessible entry point into the album’s broader framework. Driven by vibrant synthesiser arrangements, layered vocal harmonies, and dynamic melodic shifts, the track captures the playful yet meticulously constructed nature of Lemos’ songwriting. Its psychedelic textures and theatrical flourishes never overwhelm the composition’s strong pop foundations, resulting in a song that feels both adventurous and immediately engaging. Lemos’ vocal delivery remains confident throughout, navigating the arrangement with precision while maintaining an inviting sense of character.

From a production standpoint, ‘Three Triptychs’ is equally impressive. Recorded primarily within Lemos’ home studio, the album reflects a highly self-sufficient creative process, with the artist handling the majority of instrumentation and arrangement duties himself. The attention to detail is evident across the project’s expansive sonic palette, which moves comfortably between intimate moments and widescreen, cinematic passages without losing cohesion. While echoes of experimental pop innovators can be detected throughout, the record ultimately establishes a distinctive identity rooted in Lemos’ own creative instincts.

What makes ‘Three Triptychs’ particularly compelling is its commitment to artistic vision. Rather than chasing contemporary trends, Lemos delivers a body of work driven by narrative ambition, musical craftsmanship, and conceptual consistency. In an era increasingly dominated by singles-focused consumption, the project stands as a reminder of the enduring power of the album format as a vehicle for immersive storytelling.

With ‘Psalm 515’ setting a strong precedent, ‘Three Triptychs’ positions Sam Lemos as an artist unafraid to embrace complexity while retaining accessibility. It is a thoughtfully realised release that rewards close listening, demonstrating both technical proficiency and a clear sense of creative purpose.

Fred Presley Returns with “My Greatest Disaster,” A Hopeful New Single Arriving May 22

Preview Here!

MAY 2026 — Born from personal reflection and steeped in the rich traditions of Americana, folk, and bluegrass storytelling, singer-songwriter Fred Presley delivers an emotionally raw new single with “My Greatest Disaster.” The song explores the painful realization that some of life’s deepest regrets come from hurting the people we love most and the impossible wish to undo the damage after the fact.

“I think we all have those things we did in our lives that hurt someone we really cared about and just wish we could take it all back,” Presley shares. “This song is about one of those times.”

“My Greatest Disaster” showcases Fred Presley’s ability to blend vulnerable songwriting with timeless American roots influences. Leaning into bluegrass textures while maintaining the emotional intimacy of a classic singer-songwriter ballad, the track captures the weight of guilt, reflection, and personal accountability with striking honesty.

Presley writes songs with the instincts of an artist shaped by decades of absorbing the sounds and stories around him. His music moves fluidly across folk, country, rock, bluegrass, and Americana, rooted in a tradition that values emotional truth and narrative depth. Influenced by legendary artists including James Taylor, Eagles, Jason Isbell, and Sarah Jarosz, Presley’s work reflects a lifelong respect for craftsmanship and storytelling.

Born in Alabama as the ninth of ten children, Presley grew up surrounded by music in a family connected to The Cowsills, the 1960s pop group that later inspired The Partridge Family. His household was filled with the sounds of The Beatles, The Who, The Rolling Stones, Peter Frampton, and Hank Williams Sr., while his older brothers performed in bluegrass bands that further shaped his musical identity. At just 13 years old, Presley received his first guitar from one of his brothers, a gift that would quietly shape the rest of his life.

After his family relocated to rural Rhode Island, his father was involved in a devastating car accident shortly after the move. Presley experienced firsthand the resilience and hardship that followed, which would later shape much of his songwriting. Those formative years went on to inspire songs like “Happy Valley Days,” reflecting themes of family struggle, perseverance, and memory.

Though songwriting remained a constant creative outlet throughout his career in environmental science and public service, Presley waited decades before fully stepping into his own solo artistry. His debut solo chapter began with “Sympathize,” a socially conscious release confronting environmental destruction and climate change through thoughtful lyricism and emotional urgency.

Before launching his solo work, Presley reunited with a college bandmate under the name Soul Whiskey, revisiting previously shelved material while reigniting his passion for recording and performance. Newer songs like “One of These Days” and “My Greatest Disaster” reveal an artist fully embracing the depth and diversity of American roots music while remaining grounded in deeply personal experiences.

With a lifetime of stories behind him and a catalog of songs finally ready to be heard, Fred Presley’s music reflects family, resilience, public service, and the enduring power of honest songwriting. “My Greatest Disaster” stands as one of his most intimate and affecting releases yet, a reminder that some of the hardest truths to face often make for the most meaningful songs.

CONNECT WITH FRED PRESLEY:

Spotify | Instagram | Facebook | Website | TikTok

Steve Stinson Finds Beauty in Simplicity on Debut Single ‘Always On My Mind’

Steve Stinson’s debut single, “Always On My Mind”, arrives with the quiet assurance of an artist who has spent years refining his voice before stepping into the spotlight. Serving as the first glimpse of his forthcoming album Cocoon, the track is a thoughtful blend of Americana, folk, and blues influences, anchored by songwriting that favours sincerity over embellishment.

From its opening moments, “Always On My Mind” establishes an intimate atmosphere. Gentle acoustic textures and restrained production create space for Stinson’s reflective lyricism, allowing the emotional weight of the song to unfold naturally. There is a warmth to the arrangement that feels inviting rather than nostalgic, while its measured pace mirrors the song’s themes of distance, memory, and enduring connection.

What stands out most is Stinson’s instinct for storytelling. Drawing from a life lived across continents, from his childhood in Oklahoma and Australia to his current home in Papua New Guinea, his writing carries the perspective of someone shaped by movement and change. The lyrics feel lived-in and authentic, capturing personal emotions without becoming overly sentimental. It is a quality that places the song firmly in the tradition of classic singer-songwriters while maintaining a contemporary sensibility.

Produced alongside Dan Frizza, the recording balances polish with organic charm. Subtle instrumental flourishes enrich the song without distracting from its core message, and the production’s understated approach ensures that every melodic and lyrical detail remains front and centre. The influence of artists such as Bob Dylan can be felt in the narrative focus, while the expansive melodic touches evoke the emotional accessibility of bands like Coldplay and The Fray.

As an introduction to Cocoon, “Always On My Mind” offers an intriguing preview of what lies ahead. The album’s themes of transformation, identity, and personal growth are already evident here, suggesting a project that will favour introspection and emotional depth over grand gestures. Rather than chasing trends, Stinson appears committed to crafting songs that connect through honesty and experience.

For a debut release, “Always On My Mind” is remarkably self-assured. It showcases an artist comfortable in his own skin, one who understands the power of a well-told story and a memorable melody. If this single is any indication, Steve Stinson’s first full-length album could prove to be a compelling exploration of life’s quieter moments and the changes that shape us along the way.

Boston Singer-Songwriter Abby Hayes Debuts “i wish i left sooner” on May 22, 2026

Emerging Boston-based singer-songwriter Abby Hayes will release her debut single, “i wish i left sooner,” in late May 2026. Blending intimate bedroom pop with indie sensibilities, Hayes delivers a deeply personal introduction defined by emotional honesty and lyrical clarity.

Inspired by artists like Gracie Abrams and Lizzy McAlpine, Hayes began writing songs while teaching herself guitar just before her senior year of high school. What started as a creative challenge quickly evolved into a way of processing real-life experiences, shaping the vulnerable and honest sound that defines her music.

Apple Music link: https://music.apple.com/us/album/i-wish-i-left-sooner-single/1895163939

Spotify link: https://open.spotify.com/album/3WIhgkBdSoAoIvMQFOD78j

“i wish i left sooner” was written and recorded by Hayes in collaboration with producer Réy Coleman. The song explores the emotional weight of staying in a relationship beyond its breaking point, capturing the moment of clarity that often comes too late.

With lines like “I wish I left sooner / I wish I left you behind,” Hayes taps into a universal feeling of hindsight and heartbreak, delivering a debut that resonates with listeners navigating similar experiences. The single will be available on all major streaming platforms in late May 2026.

Socials: Tiktok – @abbyhayesmusic

GO TIME Keeps on Rocking Via New LP

By the time most bands reach their eleventh album, they are usually chasing one of two things: relevance or legacy. GO TIME! seem interested in neither. That may be exactly why 11 works so well.

The Chicago quartet have built their reputation the old-fashioned way — through years of live gigs, consistency, and a refusal to overcomplicate what should fundamentally be a good rock record. Their latest release doesn’t arrive with grand artistic statements or self-conscious mythology attached to it. Instead, 11 delivers 15 sharply played tracks fueled by loud guitars, melodic instincts, and the kind of confidence that only comes from years of doing the work.

FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/gotimeband

There’s an immediacy to this album that stands out right away. Much of that probably comes from the circumstances surrounding its creation. During recovery from surgery, frontman Scott Niekelski reportedly wrote 40 songs in four weeks, leaving the band with an unusually large pool of material to choose from. Rather than turning the project into an exhausting marathon, GO TIME! wisely selected the strongest cuts and shaped them into something leaner and more focused than its track count might suggest.

What separates GO TIME! from countless other power-pop revivalists is that they never sound overly polished. The band’s music carries the rough edges of garage rock without collapsing into sloppiness. There’s melody here, certainly, but it arrives attached to muscle rather than sweetness. The result lands somewhere between barroom rock-and-roll and classic power pop, delivered with enough grit to keep it from becoming overly nostalgic.

The album opens with “Influencer,” which immediately establishes the record’s punchy, forward-moving personality. From there, 11 rarely slows down for long. Songs like “Expectations Falling,” “Game of Extremes,” and “Stabs You In The Back” fit naturally into the album’s restless pacing, while tracks such as “Fragments Of Yesterday” and “Too Soon” help vary the mood without draining the momentum. GO TIME! understand that records like this live or die on flow, and 11 keeps the listener engaged by constantly pushing toward the next hook, riff, or chorus.

A major strength of the album is the absence of ego. Even though Niekelski serves as songwriter, engineer, and mixer, the band never feels dominated by one personality. Guitarist and keyboardist Paul Schmidt contributes heavily to the texture of the record, while bassist Mark Marketti and drummer Steve Grzenia provide a sturdy rhythmic backbone that keeps the material grounded. The performances feel collaborative in the best sense of the word.

https://open.spotify.com/album/6XmSWdoO9ExtAHgRY4FrIo

There’s also a distinctly regional quality to GO TIME!’s sound that gives the album character. You can hear the influence of Midwest club culture in these songs — the kind of music built for crowded venues, long weekends, cheap beer, and audiences standing close to the stage. Nothing about 11 feels distant or detached. It sounds like a band playing for actual people rather than online metrics.

That authenticity becomes the album’s greatest strength. GO TIME! are not trying to reinvent rock music here. They are simply delivering another solid chapter in a long-running career built on hooks, volume, and persistence. In a musical landscape crowded with disposable releases, there’s something deeply satisfying about a band that still believes in the power of a loud guitar, a strong chorus, and showing up ready to play.

Gwen Waggoner

Pink Flamingos, Tequila, and Real Life: Dust and Grace Turn Backyard Living Into a Summer Anthem on “Trailer Park Paradise”

There’s a whole lotta country music these days pretending to be “down home” while wearing designer jeans that probably cost more than my first car. Then along comes Dust and Grace with “Trailer Park Paradise,” and suddenly the whole room smells like sunscreen, charcoal smoke, cheap beer, and freedom. Not fake freedom. Real freedom. The kind you earn after punching a clock all week and deciding you don’t need a passport to feel alive.

This song absolutely gets it.

“Trailer Park Paradise” doesn’t try to sell listeners some glossy Nashville fantasy about million-dollar trucks and Instagram-filter bonfires. It’s a working-class daydream, built from kiddie pools, homemade beer, Jimmy Buffett records, and the understanding that joy doesn’t have to cost a fortune. In fact, the song practically laughs at the idea that happiness comes with a luxury package.

That’s what makes it hit so hard.

From the opening lines, the track sets the stage with a familiar dilemma: everybody wants a vacation, but the bills are piled up and the money’s tied up in survival. Instead of turning bitter, though, Dust and Grace flip the script. Why chase paradise when you can build your own version of it right where you are? Fill the sandbox. Ice down the beer. Crank up Buffett. Problem solved.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v53MkhsB2AI 

And man, does it work.

The genius of the song lies in its details. Pink flamingos. Picnic table buffets. Feet in the water while sitting in a plastic pool in the middle of a trailer park. Those images don’t feel manufactured—they feel lived in. You can practically hear neighbors laughing in the distance while somebody burns burgers on a rusted-out grill.

I’ve always loved records that understood identity. Not image—identity. The songs that connected weren’t the ones trying to impress people in skyscrapers; they were the ones blasting from pickup trucks in gas station parking lots at midnight. “Trailer Park Paradise” belongs squarely in that tradition. It celebrates people who know how to create joy from almost nothing.

Musically, the track rides an easygoing country groove with enough bounce to make it instantly memorable. It’s not trying to reinvent the wheel, and thank God for that. The melody rolls like a backroad with the windows down, balancing humor and heart without tipping too far into novelty territory. That’s an important distinction. Lesser writers would’ve turned this into a joke song. Dust and Grace treat these characters with affection and dignity.

That line—“the best things in life are free”—could’ve been a throwaway cliché. Instead, it becomes the emotional center of the song. Because underneath the humor and the tropical trailer park imagery is something genuinely moving: a couple figuring out how to hold onto happiness when life doesn’t hand them much extra. There’s love in this song. There’s resilience in it.

What also makes “Trailer Park Paradise” stand out is how unashamedly American it feels—not in a political sense, but culturally. This is music about ordinary people making the best of ordinary circumstances. There’s something beautifully rebellious about refusing to be miserable just because your bank account says you should be.

By the final chorus, you’re not laughing at the scene anymore—you want to be there. You want the cheap tequila, the Buffett soundtrack, the plastic flamingos, the ridiculous homemade vacation. Because the song reminds us of something modern life keeps trying to erase: paradise isn’t a destination.

Sometimes it’s just the people you love, a little music, and enough imagination to turn a trailer park into a beachfront resort for one perfect summer night.

–Lonnie Nabors

Patti Spadaro’s ‘Mystic Misfit’ Is a Soul-Rattling Jam for the Spiritually Exhausted

There’s a certain kind of song that doesn’t arrive so much as seep into the cracks of your skull at 2:17 in the morning while you’re staring at the ceiling wondering how civilization became a non-stop shouting match between people who don’t even remember what they’re angry about anymore. Patti Spadaro’s “Mystic Misfit” is that kind of song. It doesn’t kick the door down. It hovers in the doorway like incense smoke, barefoot and carrying a Stratocaster, then suddenly grabs you by the spine halfway through and reminds you music still has the power to heal people who didn’t realize they were wounded.

This thing breathes. That’s the first thing you notice.

Not “breathes” in the sterile music-school sense where critics pretend to hear “space” between notes while sipping expensive coffee and stroking their own egos. No, I mean this record literally inhales and exhales like a living organism. Patti Spadaro built “Mystic Misfit” from the tension between chaos and calm, and the result feels like stumbling onto a yoga retreat hidden inside a psychedelic roadhouse somewhere between Laurel Canyon and a Grateful Dead parking lot circa 1974.

The groove rolls in loose and easy, drummer Eric Kurtzrock understanding the ancient truth that the hardest thing for a drummer to do is not overplay. Ryan Black’s bass moves beneath everything like warm water under moonlight, while Cherylann Hawk’s harmonies drift through the song like reassuring thoughts trying to cut through anxiety at 4 a.m. But the gravitational center here is Spadaro herself — her guitar tone, her voice, her strange mixture of vulnerability and stubborn spiritual defiance.

Because this isn’t hippie cosplay.

That’s the miracle.

“Mystic Misfit” could have collapsed into scented-candle cliché in the hands of lesser artists. Instead, Patti drags the whole mystical-searching thing back into human territory. When she sings, “Meet me in the middle / Where we can relate,” it doesn’t sound like bumper sticker optimism. It sounds like somebody desperately trying to salvage communication before the species completely forgets how.

And maybe that’s why the song hits so hard.

Spadaro isn’t preaching enlightenment from some mountaintop. She’s wrestling with the same overload the rest of us are choking on — the noise, the division, the endless pressure to flatten yourself into something socially acceptable. The title alone, “Mystic Misfit,” tells you everything: she knows she doesn’t fit neatly into modern life’s tiny little branded compartments, and instead of apologizing for it, she turned that discomfort into fuel.

The bridge is where the whole thing levitates.

Suddenly the song opens up into this swirling meditation on nature, energy, higher frequencies, and synchronicity. Normally lyrics like that would send me sprinting toward the nearest exit, but Patti sells every second because she believes it. You can hear it in the way she phrases the lines — not like someone trying to sound profound, but like someone honestly searching for peace in real time.

Then comes the guitar solo.

Lord, that solo.

Not flashy. Not macho. No tedious Guitar Center Olympics nonsense. Patti Spadaro plays like somebody trying to carve sunlight into sound. The notes rise and bend with this aching emotional clarity that reminds you how rare it’s become for guitar solos to actually mean something. Most modern players shred like they’re auditioning for software updates. Patti plays like she’s trying to reconnect the human nervous system.

And maybe she is.

That’s the strange beauty of “Mystic Misfit.” It understands that spirituality isn’t perfection. It’s survival. It’s trying to remain open-hearted while the world monetizes outrage and confusion. Patti Spadaro somehow turned mindfulness, jam-band looseness, soul-searching lyrics, and classic-rock guitar fire into a song that feels both intimate and communal — a private meditation you can dance to.

Somewhere out there, people are still trying to make music that heals instead of distracts.

Patti Spadaro just made one of the best examples of it I’ve heard in years.

–Leslie Banks

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