LESS, BUT LOUDER

Robhead’s Less Is More feels like one of those rare moments where an artist steps out of the noise of the world, takes a slow breath, and then hands you something startlingly honest. Created straight from his bedroom studio in Nieuwerkerken, this fifth single of 2025 is Robhead at his most distilled—self-driven, self-produced, and fully in command of his artistic identity. And you can absolutely hear that freedom crackling through the track.

There’s a quiet confidence in the way the song unfolds, as if Robhead has finally hit the sweet spot between instinct and intention. The production is crisp but unpretentious, built with the care of someone who has spent countless nights learning, refining, and trusting the process. You get this sense that every layer has been placed with purpose, not to dazzle but to resonate.

What really pulls you in is the song’s emotional centre. Influenced by the pressure-cooker pace of modern life and society’s obsession with “more,” Robhead pushes back with a message that feels grounding in the best way. He reminds listeners that fulfilment isn’t tied to fame or wealth—it’s rooted in presence, simplicity, and self-acceptance. And somehow, he makes that idea feel both intimate and expansive.

As the pinnacle of his project so far, Less Is More stands out because it’s not chasing trends—it’s chasing truth. It’s thoughtful, relatable, and quietly powerful, the kind of track you share with someone who needs a little exhale in their day.

A Wingbeat Through Memory and Shadow

Factheory’s “Bird of Time” featuring Michel Sordinia is one of those rare tracks that feels like it’s carrying a whole life inside it. From the very first notes, there’s a quiet seriousness in the air—an emotional weight shaped not just by the music itself, but by the story behind its creation. Knowing that Dominique Nuydt composed the piece during a moment of solitude after visiting Buchenwald gives the track a haunting, reflective pulse. It’s as if every chord is trying to steady itself against the storm of history.

Michel Sordinia’s presence elevates everything. His unmistakable post-punk tone—seasoned, textured, and beautifully world-worn—slides into Factheory’s darkwave atmosphere with effortless grace. There’s a lovely tension between the band’s electronic undercurrent and the human warmth of Sordinia’s voice, creating a soundscape that feels both suspended in time and urgently present.

Bruno Uyttersprot’s lyrics carry a sense of drifting recollections—childhood impressions mixed with the ache of passing years—while the arrangement wraps those feelings in shimmering synth lines and shadowy guitar textures. The production, mixed in Ivy Room and Canal 10 studios, is clean yet moody, letting every element breathe without losing the track’s intimate intensity.

“Bird of Time” isn’t just a song; it’s a quiet reckoning—part memory, part mourning, part fragile hope. It lingers long after it ends, like the echo of wings disappearing into a gray, endless sky.

A Fierce Glow in the Dark

MayaAgnes’s Starve lands like a breath caught between pain and power—an unflinching, beautifully crafted confrontation with the shadows so many carry but rarely name. From the first swell of piano to the sweeping burst of strings and electric guitar, the song builds a world where fragility and strength don’t oppose each other—they hold hands.

What makes Starve stand out isn’t just its cinematic production, though that’s undeniably striking. The synth-driven percussion pulses like a heartbeat under strain, while the cello threads through the mix with this aching tenderness that feels almost confessional. As the arrangement grows, it mirrors that private, internal climb from self-doubt toward something steadier, stronger.

And then there’s MayaAgnes herself—her voice rising and cutting through the dense instrumentation with a clarity that feels earned rather than effortless. There’s a hint of pop polish, a bit of rock edge, and a lot of indie honesty, but the blend is hers alone. You can hear the lived experience behind every note; she isn’t just performing emotion, she’s translating it.

Starve doesn’t wallow in hardship—it transforms it. It’s the kind of track that meets you where you are, especially if you’ve ever stared down your own reflection and wished for peace. MayaAgnes manages to make vulnerability feel like a battle cry, offering listeners not just a song, but a moment of recognition and release.

Bold, heartfelt, and stunningly crafted, Starve is her most compelling work yet.

Starlight in Motion

Sean MacLeod’s “Beautiful Star” feels like stepping into a warm, glowing universe where nostalgia and wonder hold hands. From the moment the track begins, you can sense that MacLeod is drawing from the rich tapestry of influences that shaped him — the melodic warmth of the Beatles, the lush harmonics of the Beach Boys, the soulful shimmer of Motown — yet he reshapes those inspirations into something unmistakably his own.

The song flows with a kind of effortless grace, built around a melody that feels both timeless and newly minted. MacLeod’s vocals carry a rare sincerity: gentle but assured, reflective but full of quiet joy. There’s this soft glow in the arrangement — a blend of classic pop sensibilities, subtle folk gentleness, and hints of something dreamier and more cinematic. Each layer seems to orbit the core melody like planets around a sun.

What makes “Beautiful Star” stand out isn’t just its musical polish, though; it’s the emotional weight beneath it. You can feel MacLeod’s philosophical leanings humming in the background. The track radiates a sense of searching, of finding light in unexpected places, of looking up even when life feels dimmer than we’d like. It’s uplifting without being saccharine, reflective without drifting into gloom.

In the end, “Beautiful Star” isn’t just a lovely listen — it’s a reminder of how music can illuminate something deep inside us, quietly and beautifully. It’s a little universe you’ll want to revisit.

A Festive Burst of Joy 

Mick J. Clark’s “It’s Christmas Party Time” arrives like that friend who kicks open the door with a grin, arms full of gifts, and a promise that tonight is going to sparkle. It’s an upbeat, spirited celebration that captures everything people secretly crave during the holidays—warmth, laughter, and a bit of carefree fun wrapped in a catchy, timeless melody.

Clark brings his signature MOR-meets-country charm to the track, and it works beautifully. The instrumentation feels bright and classic, leaning into that feel-good territory without tipping into cliché. There’s a smooth polish across the production, the kind you’d expect from an artist who’s recently stepped into bigger leagues with Warner Chappell and Wrokdown Records cheering him on. You can almost feel that confidence glowing through the song.

What really elevates this single, though, is the energy. Clark’s delivery is spirited and inviting, the kind that nudges you—gently but firmly—toward the dance floor. It’s infectious in the best possible way. The track doesn’t try to reinvent Christmas music; instead, it embraces tradition with a wink and a fresh coat of charm. Think twinkling lights, clinking glasses, and a room full of people who are absolutely ready to celebrate.

With a promising song on the horizon and his music already finding homes across radio, screens, and even film, this release feels like Clark stepping confidently into a new chapter. “It’s Christmas Party Time” is exactly what it says it is—a burst of festive cheer that makes you want to join in.

SHIMMERING INDEPENDENCE

Samuel Campoli’s “Every Time” feels like the kind of song that sneaks into your bloodstream before you even realize what’s happening. There’s this warm, slow-blooming glow to it — like sunlight glinting off water — built from layered harmonies and guitar lines that shimmer without ever showing off. You can hear the instinctive, almost intuitive way he builds sound: nothing forced, nothing trend-chasing, just a mood unfolding exactly as it wants to.

What makes the track so quietly magnetic is the confidence beneath its softness. Campoli isn’t trying to fit into any mold, and you feel that defiance in the way the arrangement breathes. The psychedelic-pop textures float, the jangly rock edges give it character, and somewhere in the middle is this unmistakable streak of weirdness — the good kind, the kind that makes a song feel alive.

Because he records and shapes most of his music himself, there’s a closeness to “Every Time”, almost like you’re sitting in the room where it was born. Every choice feels personal: the way the harmonies swell, the tropical-psychedelic tint in the instrumentation, the mood-driven pacing borrowed from his film-scoring instincts. It’s dreamy, but not aimless; gentle, but not fragile.

As the first glimpse of his upcoming EP, “Every Time” sets the stage beautifully. It’s warm, honest, and full of soul — the kind of song that reminds you what happens when an artist stops worrying about the world’s expectations and simply follows the spark wherever it leads.