It's like discovering a rogue disco ball hidden in a forgotten record store, except instead of dusty surfaces, it’s polished chrome reflecting pure, unadulterated energy. We know absolutely nothing about Frank, and honestly? I think I prefer it that way. This track drops, a single, not some bloated album-behemoth, and suddenly the walls are sweating. Fun, like a sticky summer afternoon where you forget...

Listening to Cat Cork’s "Simple Song" is a funny thing; the title is a clever piece of misdirection, a plain brown wrapper on a package containing an entire life. This isn't some breezy, three-chord singalong for a lazy afternoon. It’s the sonic equivalent of discovering a shipwright’s meticulously drafted blueprint, detailing the construction of a human spirit from the first plank of childhood to...