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.

With over two decades of genre-spanning work behind him, acclaimed Canadian songwriter Julian Taylor unveils Anthology Vol. 2; a reflective, wide-ranging collection that traces the evolution of an artist who has never confined himself to a single lane. Featuring songs recorded across a 25-year period, the album captures Taylor’s enduring commitment to storytelling, live musicianship, and emotional honesty.

Across Anthology Vol. 2, Taylor revisits songs recorded in vastly different contexts from early-career material to recent collaborations, unified by recurring themes of love, resilience, kindness, nature, and perseverance. Much of the album was recorded live off the floor with real instruments, a deliberate choice that reflects Taylor’s belief in authenticity over polish. “This album has taught me that it’s really important to venture in all sorts of new directions and always go back to see where you came from so that you can forge a path to where you’re going,” he shares.

Anchoring the release is the focus track “Hunger,” a traditional folk song with a very Celtic feel originally written by Graeme Williamson. Taylor was inspired to record the song after it was shared with him by friend and Canadian Songwriting Hall of Fame-inductee Frank Davies. “When I first heard the song, it was the lyrics that really struck me,” Taylor explains. “With everything going on in the world right now, hunger remains such a devastating and unnecessary reality. There are people with enough money to eradicate it in 24 hours, but they choose not to. Frank and I decided that we would donate a portion of the song’s sales to the Band Aid Charitable Trust.”

Recorded in England with longtime friends Sian, Rae, and Michele, and engineered by Dave Williams, Taylor’s version of “Hunger” expands the original acoustic arrangement into a full-band performance. Recorded live and organically in the studio, the track leans into a Celtic-influenced folk tradition, creating a sound that feels at once timeless, gentle, and deeply unsettling. “It was recorded in one day at a studio in Great Britain on a lovely property where we all got to stay for a couple of nights,” Taylor recalls. “We weren’t really sure which direction it was gonna take, but I’m really proud of the one that it went. It’s haunting, it’s mysterious, it’s touching, and it’s real.”

Japan-born, Canada-raised artist Justin Maki returns with “Old School Heart,” a moody, groove-forward R&B/pop-rock single that confronts unrequited love and emotional ambiguity head-on. Dark, passionate, and deeply self-assured, the track finds the FCLMA–winning singer-songwriter drawing a clear line in the sand, demanding commitment in a dating culture increasingly defined by non-answers and half-measures.

“I was on my first writing trip in Nashville when I accidentally encountered a new posse of friends at a networking bar called Red Barn,” Maki recalls. After a few drinks and a spontaneous suggestion to write together, Maki linked up with Laura Ann Short and Steven Martin, booking a session just days later at Round Hill Music. “I started jamming out to a sample drum loop that made my head bop. I then came up with this John Mayer-esque riff and after some more time of refining the musical idea, I recorded the guitar. That became the foundation of our creation.”

What emerged was a familiar story with a sharper edge: unrequited love paired with a bold demand for clarity. “‘Old School Heart’ is my way of speaking up,” Maki states. “Of asking for the commitment that I seek, of expressing my values, and of asserting my value.”v

The name “Old School Heart” came later, following collaboration with JUNO Award–winning production duo VAŪLTS (David Mohacsi and Maïa Davies), who produced Maki’s forthcoming record. “The song’s original iteration was ‘My Damn Heart,’” he explains. “David and Maïa loved the song but felt the title could be stronger, more evocative, more visual, and that the message could be delivered more gently without losing its weight.”

The revised title reframed the song’s core truth. “The reason I long for commitment is because I’m an old soul,” Maki says plainly. “There’s nothing cryptic about the message. The song just says it like it is.”

Following the September 2025 release of her debut EP I Kill Spiders and the subsequent single, “To Her,” Montreal singer-songwriter Libby Ember shares “Let Me Go,” a melancholic, dreamy indie-folk single that sits in the uncomfortable space between holding on and letting go. Nostalgic and emotionally raw, the track captures the quiet contradictions of a relationship that lingers long after both people know it isn’t right.

Inspired by a complicated relationship rooted in mutual fear, Libby reflects on the tension of staying when leaving feels just as painful. “I felt like someone was holding onto me because they were afraid of letting me go,” she explains. “Even still, I knew that it was wrong to keep dragging the relationship on when we knew it was wrong for the both of us. It also touches on the fact that the opposite feels wrong. Both letting go and not letting go feel wrong.”

What sets “Let Me Go” apart is its careful attention to detail in both instrumentation and texture. Delicate flute lines weave through the arrangement, while reversed sounds subtly fall into the landscape, creating a hazy, immersive atmosphere. “We were very particular about the instrumentation,” Libby shares. “We also emphasized the detail in the imperfection as a means to drive the emotion forward. The voice isn’t always polished, the sounds can be a bit random. It makes the song feel more raw.”
As the song unfolds, its instrumental outro becomes a space for reflection, allowing the listener to linger in the emotion long after the vocals fade. “It makes me reminisce,” Libby says. “It pushes me back to that time of strong emotions and gets me in my own head. Once my voice cuts out at the end, the instrumental has a way of making me tune out the world and just be in the music.”