NEWS

Some artists write songs about places. Alex Moran writes songs that seem to carry places inside them. As Quiet as a Mouse, Moran has spent years moving between countries, cities and identities, from London to Leamington Spa, Edinburgh to Brisbane. That journey has left its fingerprints all over his music. His songs are filled with memories, near-misses, old relationships, fleeting moments and the strange emotional pull of places that continue to feel like home long after you’

Protest songs have always occupied a strange place in music. At their best, they challenge power, question accepted truths and force uncomfortable conversations. At their worst, they can become slogans disguised as art. Rich Webb & The Liars avoid that trap entirely. On their latest single, Peace With Bombs (No No No), the Melbourne outfit delivers something far more compelling: a protest song rooted not in ideology, but in humanity. Led by songwriter Rich Webb and backed by

In an era where attention spans are shrinking and authenticity often feels in short supply, I.D. is creating music that slows things down and asks listeners to lean in. A rapper, poet and storyteller from Melbourne, his work sits at the intersection of soul, memory and lived experience, drawing inspiration from hip-hop’s golden era while carrying the warmth and humanity of artists like The Roots, J. Cole and Leon Bridges. But I.D.’s story begins long before his own. As a firs

Black Atlantic exists somewhere between memory and moonlight, where endless coastlines meet neon reflections and every shadow seems to carry a story of its own. Drawing heavily from the emotional weight of classic post-punk, darkwave and the defining sounds of the 1980s, Black Atlantic transforms personal battles, late-night reflections and years of internal noise into music that feels both deeply intimate and impossibly expansive. What makes the project so compelling is that

Some artists spend their careers trying to smooth out the rough edges. Baulk at the Möön seems determined to do the opposite. Led by songwriter and perpetual observer Stuart Baulk the Adelaide project finds beauty in creative failure, emotional clutter, ageing badly, laughing at yourself, and somehow carrying on anyway. Across garage rock chaos, reflective storytelling, theatrical detours and moments of genuine vulnerability, Baulk at the Möön documents the strange territory

Some bands are born from a grand vision. Others start with a practice room, a few shared influences, and a strange run of coincidences. For May66, it was rent, a bar tab, and a table number that all happened to land on the same figure. But beneath the playful origin story is a band built on something far more enduring: friendship, collaboration, and a shared love of creating music together. Their debut album moves through themes of love, loss, longing and acceptance, collecti

Most grief records ask you to sit quietly with your sadness. BONFIRE asks you to dance with it. Step into their world and you’ll find flashing lights, euphoric synths, disco grooves and dancefloor energy colliding head-on with loss, longing, identity and survival. It sounds contradictory on paper. In practice, it feels startlingly honest. Because grief rarely arrives neatly packaged as melancholy. Sometimes it arrives while you’re laughing with friends. Sometimes it arrives i

GIDDY isn't interested in grand declarations or neat endings. On her debut record, songs for awkward spaces, she turns her attention to the moments most people struggle to talk about — the tensions, uncertainties, repairs and quiet emotional negotiations that exist between the beginning and end of a relationship. Rather than chasing cinematic highs or heartbreak anthems, GIDDY finds beauty in the messy middle. It's a fitting approach for an artist whose path to music has been

For some artists, music is entertainment. For El Marcos, it’s survival. Describing his creative process as “The Gift Of The Curse,” the Dallas artist channels the highs, lows, scars and victories of lived experience into deeply personal music that refuses to hide behind image or ego. Drawing inspiration from hip hop, alternative rock, classic rock and R&B, his songs aren't built around fantasy — they're built around honesty. In a genre that can often reward detachment, El Mar

In an era where heavy music is increasingly built inside a computer before it's ever played by human hands, Descent are moving in the opposite direction. Their latest EPs, Descent and The Gates of Purgatory, were recorded with an almost stubborn commitment to real performance — no quantized drums, no programmed parts, no pitch correction, and very little interest in chasing modern perfection. For Descent, heavy music isn't about flawless execution. It's about energy, atmosphe

Some bands write songs. Others seem to spend years collecting fragments of conversations, half-forgotten stories, old folk traditions, strange observations and fleeting emotions before carefully stitching them together into something that feels lived-in. That’s the world this band inhabits. Whether charging headfirst through the restless energy of Trainwrecks in Training or settling into the reflective quiet of Someday, Not Tomorrow, their music feels less concerned with fitt

Tyran Lee Ingram speaks about music less like an industry and more like a personal mission stitched together through faith, discipline, survival and persistence. His story doesn’t move in a straight line. It drifts between military structure, pandemic isolation, Los Angeles ambition, unanswered opportunities and a constant search to be understood correctly in a world that often rewards performance over honesty. There’s something uniquely unfiltered about the way Tyran talks a

Appletinis make the kind of music that feels like laughing too hard while your life quietly falls apart underneath it. Their songs arrive dressed in sharp indie-pop hooks and conversational charm, but beneath the surface sits something far messier — emotional exhaustion, self-awareness, disillusionment and the uncomfortable clarity that comes after romanticising the wrong people for too long. There’s a reason the band chose a name as playful as Appletinis while writing songs

Kyle William Anderson writes songs like someone pacing the room at 2am with too many thoughts and too many unfinished ideas open at once — not trying to tidy the chaos, just trying to survive honestly inside it. His music doesn’t chase perfection or genre loyalty. Instead, it moves instinctively between dark pop, alternative rock, electronic haze and emotional confession, capturing the feeling of a mind constantly shifting between clarity and collapse. Grab Bag – Season 1 emb

There’s something beautifully weathered about D Henry Fenton’s music, like old motel signs glowing somewhere off a desert highway at midnight. His songs don’t rush toward resolution or easy answers. Instead, they drift through memory, longing, reflection and emotional uncertainty with the patience of someone who has spent years quietly collecting stories across continents, studios and late-night drives. Blending Americana, shoegaze haze and classic songwriter warmth, Fenton c

For Julian Quander, music was never confined to one city, one audience or even one version of himself. After spending more than fifteen years performing across China, building a career thousands of miles from where he started, returning to America didn’t feel like coming home so much as stepping into another unfamiliar chapter entirely. That tension between movement, reinvention and self-belief sits at the heart of his world. Beneath the glossy Pop/R&B energy, cinematic visua

Some artists spend their lives searching for a sound. Erik Rabasca sounds like someone who spent years searching for truth inside sound itself. Across decades of musical evolution — from reggae and improvisation through to folk, Americana and spiritually grounded songwriting — Rabasca has never approached music as costume or identity. Instead, his work feels guided by curiosity, patience and a deep respect for the roots beneath every genre he touches. His latest chapter, New

Some artists spend their lives chasing the spotlight. Dave G spent decades behind it, shaping records, engineering sessions and helping define the sound of other artists before finally turning fully toward his own voice. Having worked alongside names connected to Tupac, Digital Underground and Roc-A-Fella during one of music’s most culturally explosive eras, Dave carries the perspective of someone who witnessed the industry at its rawest and most soulful. But this story isn’t

Some records feel less like albums and more like the quiet conversations people have with themselves while driving home alone at night. Everything Will Be Okay lives in that space. Built from slow-burning Americana, reflective songwriting and deeply human imperfections, Shake the Dust create music that doesn’t try to escape hardship so much as sit honestly beside it. Across the album, moments of loneliness, resilience, ageing, uncertainty and hope drift in and out like passin

Some music feels designed for distraction. Lou Fin’s music feels designed for the moments after the noise finally stops. Built from intimate songwriting, self-produced experimentation and deeply personal reflection, her songs don’t demand attention so much as quietly invite you inward. There’s a rare honesty running through her work, one that embraces imperfection, difficult emotions and the uncomfortable realities people often avoid saying out loud. Drawing from experiences