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...

Owen Young, a mind steeped in the harmonies of law and fine art, unfurls “These Painted Flowers,” an EP blooming with the thorny beauty of the heart after the pandemic. It’s Americana, but not the porch swing kind—more like the kind where you stumble on a forgotten well, and peer in, seeing your reflection ripple back at you with new, confusing angles. These Painted Flowers...