Listen: Girls Who Don’t Like Girls by Raine

I have a long-standing affection for songs by girls who don’t like boys, and therefore Girls Who Don’t Like Girls, a new piece of emotive folk-pop by London-based musician Raine, feels very appropriate. Taking inspiration from artists like Ethel Cain and beabadoobee, the combination of delicate production and vulnerability reminds me of the work of Clairo, but Raine undoubtedly establishes her own style here.

An ethereal piece that nonetheless feels anchored in its emotion, Raine’s single sees her overdubbed vocals act as a through line as guitar melodies sketch out a melody cautiously. Girls Who Don’t Like Girls leverages lyrical narrative with effect, as Raine describes the painful experience of falling for someone who ultimately reverts to a preference for a heterosexual relationship.

The overall effect of Raine’s performance is heartbreaking, depicting traded kisses even as she gets her heart broken. Raine explores the relationship without judgement, delivering the line ‘And she tells me she likes boys, but only when they take their clothes off, keep their mouths shut’ with resignation rather than frustration. The subsequent chorus, where Raine sings ‘I’ll be your drug, if you’ll be my love’, is all the more potent as a result — sometimes unrequited love feels like the purest form of love.

The song builds to a gentle crescendo as layered vocals repeat the song’s title, ‘I like girls who don’t like girls, who don’t like girls’. The result is a lesson in economy — proof that a song can do so much with restraint.

Listen: I’m Alone by Nathaniel Earl

Based in Austin, Nathaniel Earl is a composer, artist, and producer focused on creating art-pop soundscapes ‘rooted in emotional rupture and renewal’. Coming ahead of his forthcoming debut LP, What Follows What Remains, his new single I’m Alone is a soaring piece of electronic synth-pop. At the same time, the song retains an earthiness, with the kind of folk influence you could expect from a collaboration between M83 and Bon Iver.

In the artist’s own words, _I’m Alone_depicts the period of ‘quiet acceptance that follows heartbreak, the moment you stop reaching for someone who’s already gone’. The sense of loneliness and introspection runs deep through the song as Earl wrestles with the conflicting emotions that bubble over in the song’s chorus. ‘Maybe someday I will find you waiting outside my front door, maybe I’ll realize one morning that I don’t miss you anymore’, he sings, seemingly cleaved down the middle between longing and healing.

Overall, Nathaniel’s song leverages this contrasting sense of quiet resignation and soaring emotion to great effect. Each verse depicts vocals hovering among strings and ambience, before the chorus introduces pulsing bass and energising percussion, a reflection of the possibilities that exist in moving on.

In I’m Alone’s final third, we witness the song veer into more theatrical territory, as Earl envisages a future when his departed lover will trigger a wistful smile rather than pain. It’s a moment that has just a dash of the pomp of the Pet Shop Boys, yet it is quickly replaced with a hymn-like climax, layered vocals and electronics capping Nathaniel Earl’s transformative experience. It is a transcendent experience, hearing and feeling someone’s pain and healing so vividly. I’m Alone leaves me with a quiet piano refrain, and goosebumps.

Listen: Rat Race by Reality Distortion

Opening with the kind of low-slung bass guitar Kim Deal would be proud of, Rat Race ricochets across styles and genres, as Reality Distortion weave together a tapestry of dream-pop, grunge and post-punk.

Inspired by a desire to drop out of the mundanity of day-to-day work, the new single acts as an invitation to embrace the possibilities of an alternative existence. With the talent on display here, Rat Race is both a reflection of Reality Distortion’s own experiences, and a call to arms for others to leave the safety of conventional careers behind, and see where their passion can take them. Crisp percussion underpins vocals that invite the listener to dream bigger, ethereal melodies acting as a rejection of the earthly mundanity of working for a conventional salary.

Reality Distortion are a sister-brother duo who have been making music together for almost ten years. Describing the inspiration for Rat Race, they said:

‘We all get wrapped up in the mundane, daily routines sometimes, and forget to pursue what is really important to us. We want people to listen to Rat Race and think about what leaving the rat race means for them. For us, leaving the rat race means continuing to pursue this crazy dream of making music. It is the thing in our life that makes the most sense, and consistently brings the most joy, so we're still doing it!’

The overall sound created by Reality Distortion blends together lightness and darkness to create something appropriately thrilling, as the song soundtracks the jump into the unknown that comes with embracing your passion.

Watch: Mint Green Vespa Boy by Superweak

Superweak is a musical collaboration between Gaspar Narby and post-pop duo Express Therapy. Born out of jam sessions in their Switzerland hometown of Porrentruy, the group shaped their sound during a week-long stint in Narby’s London studio.

The resulting sound blurs genres, as heard here on the single Mint Green Vespa Boy. Basking in a sunny pop atmosphere, the song has a mid-00s indie aesthetic that sits beneath the surface, bringing a dose of wistful melancholy to the song.

Mint Green Vespa Boy was triggered by a moment, one summer’s day in July, when a person flew past Narby on a scooter, triggering reflection on what could have been. The song floats in my ears like a daydream as Gaspar’s regales us with experiences not had and a life never lived. The instrumentation wraps perfectly around the vocals, lethargic bass and crisp drums conjuring a mid-Atlantic feeling synonymous with travel. The resulting is chilled and yet speaks to one of the most universal experiences — we only have so much time, and every moment lived represents endless ones lost.

Mint Green Vespa Boy is talent from Superweak’s forthcoming eponymous debut EP, which you can pre-save here. Check out the video below:

Listen: Crumb Giver by Vanessa Van Ness

Crumb Giver gives me strong 00s vibes, ARP synths and tense drums evoking the intersection of electroclash and post-punk that dominated my ears in that period.

The foreboding atmosphere and pitch blackness on this new single reminds me of Trevor Jackson’s Output label at its best. With dead pan, woozy alto vocals, Crumb Giver has a doped and disoriented feel to it as Van Ness lays out a seething takedown of a friendship that turned into something darker. Describing the song, she says:

‘Crumb Giver is about an ex-close friend who breadcrumbed me after we slept together—a confusing and painful dynamic that went on for years. I often felt like I was an object to her—wanted when it suited her, irrelevant when it didn’t—though in her mind she told herself she gave everything.

‘I wrote and produced the track at home two years ago during the fallout, then shelved it; the lyrics felt too biting to release. But when a friend asked if she could share it with someone going through something similar, I realized there’s a point when songs become bigger than the people they’re about.

‘Crumb Giver is an empowering dance track for anyone who has been used—romantically or otherwise—who never got to name the dynamic or say what they needed to say.’

The whole song has a taut feel to it — stretched to the point of breaking point, a threat that teeters on the verge of outright violence. That moment comes, sonically at least, in the song’s final third, with a clattering drum roll that leads into a wailing guitar solo. Vanessa pairs that with an instantly iconic line that likens herself to ZZ Top, laying into her subject as she sheds her own sense of not being enough.

Venessa Van Ness is a British American single who grew up in Venice Beach, California, in the building Jim Morrison had once lived in before he found success and infamy. Born of immigrants from Kent in England, her parents were both crafts people and makers, with her father believing music the ultimate art-form. Inspired by the DIY atmospheric of the Venice boardwalk, Van Ness began to make music. Investing in her talent with instruments was her way to offset her perception of her voice, which she saw as a weakness, yet is now a distinctive component of her sound.

Crumb Giver is one of the most thrilling pieces of electronic music I’ve heard this year, reminding me of the avant-garde work of Planningtorock. Check it out below: