Garrett Anthony Rice continues the slow-burn reveal of his forthcoming double album Equinox with the release of his latest single, “The Prisoner,” a tightly wound piece of narrative songwriting that plays with tension, confession, and illusion. Arriving as another carefully placed fragment of the larger project, the track stands confidently on its own while deepening the emotional and conceptual framework of the album.

Built on restraint, “The Prisoner” unfolds with deliberate patience. Its verses move in controlled, measured breaths, creating the feeling of someone speaking under pressure, circling a story rather than confronting it head-on. The atmosphere is claustrophobic and monochrome, with Rice holding back melody and release, letting silence and space do as much storytelling as the words themselves. There is a subtle musical nod to the unease of classic rock suspense, recalling the creeping dread of The Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter,” while remaining firmly grounded in Rice’s own stark, modern sensibility.

When the chorus finally opens, it feels like a confession breaking through restraint, the moment where melody and arrangement briefly expand before snapping back into control. It is a familiar emotional move for fans of great rock storytellers, but Rice executes it with quiet confidence and precision. The tension peaks in the closing lines, where the narrative dissolves with the admission, “I must confess I made this up,” reframing everything that came before it. The line lands with sly disorientation, echoing the tradition of late-song revelations that collapse the boundary between fiction and truth.

Rather than leaning on nostalgia, “The Prisoner” treats influence as something to be absorbed and reshaped. Rice is less interested in revival than in conversation, using the lineage of classic rock storytelling as raw material for something more introspective and psychologically complex. The result is a track that feels both familiar and quietly subversive, grounded in craft, intention, and emotional depth.

As part of Equinox, an 18-song double album that follows Rice’s 2023 debut under the alias (i) CONSULT, “The Prisoner” signals an artist fully committed to ambition and detail. Recorded across Ireland and the UK with producer Chris Potter, whose past collaborations include The Rolling Stones, Paul McCartney, U2, and Richard Ashcroft, the album has already drawn significant praise from industry figures who have heard early versions. If “The Prisoner” is any indication, Equinox is shaping up to be a project defined not by immediacy or trend, but by patience, narrative complexity, and emotional resonance.

With this release, Rice continues to position himself as a storyteller deeply invested in tension, nuance, and the spaces between certainty and doubt. “The Prisoner” doesn’t offer easy answers or tidy resolutions. Instead, it lingers, unsettles, and invites repeat listens, marking another compelling step toward the arrival of Equinox.

TubeFreeks return with “Flower,” a gripping new single co-written with Sevendust guitarist Clint Lowery that blends muscular hard rock with modern melodic tension. The Frederick, Maryland band lean into thick guitars, dynamic rhythms, and a vocal performance that balances grit with emotional clarity. The result is a track that feels heavy without being rigid, melodic without softening its edge.

“Flower” moves with urgency, anchored by restless drums and tightly locked guitar work that gives the verses a simmering momentum. When the chorus hits, the song opens up, trading tension for release in a way that feels deliberate and earned. Frontman Paul van Valkenburgh delivers a performance that is both raw and precise, bringing emotional weight without sacrificing power.

The collaboration with Lowery adds a familiar sense of structure and polish while allowing TubeFreeks to remain firmly themselves. The songwriting never drifts into nostalgia, instead channeling the spirit of post-grunge through a modern production lens that keeps the track grounded in the present.

Paired with a striking music video directed by filmmaker Tom Flynn, “Flower” expands its emotional range even further. Saturated gold tones and natural landscapes frame a visual narrative built around longing, distance, and pursuit, echoing the song’s lyrical themes.

With major tour dates on the horizon and a growing national presence, TubeFreeks continue to sharpen their identity. “Flower” stands as one of their strongest releases yet, capturing both their intensity and their evolving artistic depth.

Like a lone flower pushing its way through the ashes of a forest long since burned, Dylan De Braga’s debut single, “Hold The Door,” rises quietly from devastation into something achingly beautiful. Born from one of the most traumatic chapters of his life, the folk-inflected ballad transforms pain into clarity, standing not as a monument to suffering, but as proof that something delicate, resilient, and luminous can emerge in its wake.

Written in the aftermath of a brutal, heart-shattering breakup, De Braga found himself unable to even touch his guitar for nearly two months. Music, once his anchor, felt suddenly unreachable. When he finally found the courage to sit alone with his emotions and pick up his guitar again, the song seemed to arrive fully formed.

“‘Hold The Door’ wasn’t written, it arrived,” he says. “Within minutes, the chords and words surfaced exactly as they needed to, as if they had been waiting for me to be ready. It felt like the first breath after being underwater for too long.”

Crafted in the heart of Manhattan, “Hold The Door” was recorded alongside Grammy Award–winning producer Chris Sclafani (Ed Sheeran). Shaped by the intensity, energy, and creative spirit of New York City, the track evolved into an expansive and immersive production. Every layer reflects a careful balance of vulnerability and power, allowing De Braga’s raw vocal performance to carry both grief and resolve.

“Without ‘Hold The Door,’ I wouldn’t be where I am today, and I wouldn’t be the person I’ve grown into,” De Braga confesses. “It will always hold a sacred place in my heart; it didn’t just come from pain, it pulled me out of it.”

Veteran songwriter Greg Boyer shares “Perfectly Gone,” a spare, thoughtful folk-pop reflection shaped by restraint, atmosphere, and emotional economy. Inspired by a breakup and written during a period immersed in rockabilly and folk influences, the track feels less like a lament and more like a moment of calm acceptance; an acknowledgement rather than a reckoning.

“There’s no big story behind the title,” Boyer says simply. “The two words worked well together.” That same directness defines the song itself. Built around repetition rather than escalation, “Perfectly Gone” uses its title as a subtle anchor; a quiet hook that reinforces the song’s emotional stillness rather than pushing toward resolution.

The track’s journey to release was anything but immediate. Written years ago and buried in a forgotten folder, “Perfectly Gone” resurfaced almost by accident. “I had completely forgotten about it,” Boyer recalls. “It was rejuvenated in two takes, and now it’s one of my favourites.” That rediscovery lends the song an added sense of distance and perspective; a reflection viewed through time rather than raw immediacy.

Producer Malcolm Burn helped shape the song’s understated mood, choosing an atmospheric palette that mirrors its emotional clarity. A lap steel guitar provides a restrained, open-ended solo, reinforcing the song’s dreamlike calm rather than interrupting it. Boyer’s lyricism remains intentionally minimal, leaning on images instead of narrative detail. As Terri Thal (Bob Dylan’s first manager) once remarked after hearing the track, it’s “an acknowledgement, not a mourning… and it doesn’t go into interminable detail.”

Measured, emotional, and quietly resolute, “Perfectly Gone” resists over-explanation. It sits comfortably in the space between feeling and release; brief by design, and all the stronger for it.

Edmonton, AB’s St.Arnaud, the music of Ian St.Arnaud, shares “Love You (For Real),” a buoyant, indie pop track that balances romantic sincerity with a knowing smirk. Built around a warm, locked in groove and conversational lyricism, the song captures the fleeting clarity of connection; those moments when everything clicks, feels true, and doesn’t need to be overthought.

Recorded in a blur of momentum, “Love You (For Real)” came together once the rhythm section found its pocket. With Connor Mead (drums), Jesse Shire (bass), and Tory Rosso (guitar) laying down a relaxed but driving foundation, the lyrics slid naturally into place. “This one was a blur to record,” Ian explains. “Once the guys found that soul groove, the lyrics were really easy to inlay with the right kind of smirk I was going for.”

One of the track’s defining lines arrived unexpectedly during a moment of playful frustration. Producer Graham Lessard, stuck at a lyrical impasse, threw his arms up and declared, “This is a new time, a YOU TIME!” The phrase stuck immediately, both as a punchline and a thesis. “That got a good laugh and stuck as the line,” Ian recalls. “It’s so great when you can start with a little kernel of an idea and everybody in the room just gets it and rolls with it.”

Romantic, wistful, and quietly earnest, “Love You (For Real)” thrives on its imperfections. Rather than polish away its humanity, the song embraces it by letting feel-good groove and personality lead the way. It’s indie pop that doesn’t take itself too seriously, even while meaning every word.