SWEETNESS WITH A SLOW BURN

Side Bangs’ latest single, “Honey, Hi,” slips in like a warm grin from across the room—soft, playful, a little teasing, and absolutely irresistible. Stephanie Rodgers, the Brooklyn-based brain and heartbeat behind the project, trades her usual maximalist fireworks for something more intimate here, and the result feels like a secret whispered just for you.

Recorded in her bedroom studio, the song has this dreamy, hand-stitched charm that makes every line land with a little extra tenderness. The melody loops in that hypnotic, cozy way that feels like lying under a fan on a slow afternoon, letting your thoughts drift somewhere sweet. And Rodgers’ voice? It’s feather-light but full of intention, brushing against the lyrics with a confidence that makes the flirtation feel deliciously genuine.

The lyrics lean into a kind of effortless vulnerability—the kind that comes when you’re safe enough with someone to be silly, bold, tender, and hungry all at once. “Why don’t you tell me a story / Wrap me up tight in your plot”—ugh, that’s a line that settles right under the ribs and lingers.

By the time the chorus cycles through its catchy “Honey, hi” refrain, you’re already in too deep. It’s sticky-sweet without ever tipping into saccharine, the sort of hook that hums in your head long after the track fades.

“Honey, Hi” is Side Bangs opening the window and letting the sunlight all the way in—and trust me, you’ll want to bask in it.

Where the Hurt Still Glows

Highroad No. 28’s new single “Ache” slips under the skin in that slow, deliberate way only a band confident in its own darkness can manage. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t just play in the background — it lingers, sits with you, and stirs up memories you thought you’d neatly filed away. And honestly? That’s exactly where its magic lies.

The band takes their alt-rock foundation and pushes it somewhere deeper this time. The guitars feel almost cinematic, sweeping in with this moody, velvety weight that instantly sets the tone. Beneath it, the bass moves like a quiet pulse — steady, brooding, unhurried. And when the vocals come in, they’re raw in a way that’s intimate without being dramatic. You can hear the restraint, the honesty, that little catch in the emotional fabric.

Recorded at Melbourne’s Sing Sing Studios and shaped with James Taplin’s sharp, immersive mixing, the song has a fullness that wraps around you. It’s darker than their earlier work, sure, but also more refined — like a band stepping into a new chapter with intent rather than experimentation.

What “Ache” captures so well is that paradox of longing: the pain of what’s gone, and the strange, quiet beauty of still feeling its echo. It’s a track for late nights, for anyone who knows what it’s like to sit with their own ghosts — and maybe, just maybe, find comfort in them.

A Glow That Refuses to Dim

Mariele Gomez’s Let It Fade feels like stepping into a room washed in soft neon light—warm, intimate, and quietly electric. There’s a tenderness in the track’s core, but it’s wrapped in a shimmering pop exterior that makes the whole thing glow brighter with every listen. What really makes this single stand out is the unmistakable sense of intention behind it. You can feel Mariele reaching for something honest, shaping emotions with a blend of crisp production and a voice engineered to be expressive, fluid, and strangely human in all the right ways.

Created entirely in her home studio in Cheltenham, the song is a true product of modern artistry—a mix of FL Studio precision, VPS Avenger textures, and the unmistakable touch of someone who knows exactly what she wants her sound to feel like. The use of AI vocals isn’t a gimmick here; it’s part of her palette, a brush she wields with surprising warmth.

What’s refreshing is how relatable the track feels despite the tech-heavy skeleton behind it. Mariele writes with a clear desire to connect, to craft something that resonates beyond the novelty of how it’s made. Let It Fade lands as her most confident piece yet—not because it’s loud or flashy, but because it leans into sincerity. It’s sleek, contemporary pop with a pulse, and a promising sign of where Mariele’s vision is headed.

When the Machines Get Loud, RiF Gets Louder

Reduction in Force’s “World Full of Echoes” lands like a jolt straight to the nerves — the kind that wakes you up, shakes you by the shoulders, and dares you to look at the world we’re drifting into. This track isn’t just another alt-rock release; it’s a full-bodied confrontation, pulsing with a tension that feels both electrifying and eerily familiar.

From the very first beat, the song hits with a post-punk heartbeat that refuses to sit quietly in the background. It’s gritty, physical, alive — the kind of sound that feels handcrafted in a world rushing toward automation. The electro-infused pulse, razor-sharp guitar strikes, and that throbbing rhythmic undercurrent build a pressure that never quite lets up. You can feel the influence of giants like LCD Soundsystem and Nine Inch Nails, but RiF twists those textures into something that feels intensely their own — a blend of nostalgia, warning, and defiance.

And that’s the soul of “World Full of Echoes”: the friction between what’s real and what’s replicated. The track doesn’t wag a finger; it stares the issue down, jaw set, saying everything through its sonic grit. Reduction in Force taps into something deeply human — the fear that creativity is being diluted, the frustration of watching art get pulled into an algorithmic drainpipe, the determination to push back anyway.

By the time the final surge of noise folds into silence, you’re left buzzing — maybe even a little breathless. It’s not just a song; it’s a rallying cry wrapped in distortion and conviction. In a world drowning in replicas, RiF offers something with a heartbeat. Something defiantly, unapologetically human.

A Light Rekindled 

Pearl Project’s “Love 2 Love You” feels like stepping into someone’s private universe—one shaped by heartbreak, rebuilt with hope, and offered back to the world with open hands. There’s a tenderness at the core of this track that immediately draws you in, almost as if you’ve stumbled upon a confession meant for the quiet hours. And maybe that’s what makes it so striking: it was born from a poem written in the dark, then lovingly reshaped years later when its meaning resurfaced with new clarity.

Recorded entirely at home, the song carries that intimate glow you only get when an artist isn’t performing at you, but simply speaking to you. Pearl Project’s atmospheric soundscape wraps around the vocals like warm mist—soft, soulful, and deliberate. The female vocalist, whom the artist spent years searching for, adds a luminous counterbalance, giving the song a sense of dialogue between past wounds and present healing.

The production leans into emotional depth rather than polish-for-polish’s-sake, letting raw feeling lead the way. You can almost sense the moment the artist revisited those old words and felt the weight of them all over again. That vulnerability becomes the heartbeat of the track, creating a bridge between the artist’s journey and the listener’s own quiet battles.

“Love 2 Love You” stands out because it isn’t trying to be universal—yet it becomes universal anyway. In a world where everyone is carrying something heavy, this song feels like a reminder that light, once found, can always be relearned.

Where the Wild Hearts Lead Us

Weak Trees’ “Animal” feels like cracking open a memory sealed in frost—a song that hums with the warmth of companionship against the bite of a winter night. From the first pulse, you can almost feel the weight of snow underfoot and hear the muted hush of a forest swallowing sound. The band builds that atmosphere with a steady, earthy groove that grows warmer and more inviting with every passing second, as if you’re watching a campfire finally catch flame.

What makes the track so striking is how it channels raw experience without ever slipping into melodrama. There’s an honesty here—an affection that runs deep, born from nights when you’re half-frozen, half-dizzy, and fully alive with the people (and animals) who know you best. The instrumentation mirrors that emotional arc: a blend of grit and glow, like cold air meeting heat. Guitars carry a rugged shimmer, the rhythm moves with an almost animalistic steadiness, and the vocals guide the whole thing like a storyteller leaning in closer.

And then there’s that heartbeat beneath the music—the ode to loyal companions who’ve guided us through snowstorms both real and metaphorical. You can feel the love, the mischief, the gratitude for those furry souls who show up exactly when we need them.

“Animal” isn’t just a song. It’s a flicker of firelight in the dark, a reminder of the trust, joy, and wild magic we share with the creatures who travel beside us. It leaves you warmer than it found you.