There is a peculiar friction to the digital textures of Skylarka and her new album, "Somnorine". It’s supposed to be chiptune-influenced synthwave, but listening to it feels less like browsing the internet and more like chewing on aluminum foil while watching Blade Runner on a CRT monitor that’s slowly degaussing. It’s a sensory contradiction bright, crystalline pop hooks wrestling with the deep, existential dread...

There is a specific kind of quiet you find in the Midwest, and listening to Derby Hill and his self-titled release, "Derby Hill", feels like stumbling into that quiet after a long, noisy shift. It’s not the silence of emptiness; it’s the silence of after. After the argument, after the paycheck clears, after the sun goes down over the Detroit skyline or a Chicago...