Toronto singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and producer Maya Killtron returns with “Touch This Body,” a playful, groove-soaked new single that explores one of pop music’s most overlooked subjects: keeping romance alive after the honeymoon phase. Blending post-disco, funk, soul, contemporary R&B, neo-soul, and quiet storm influences, the track captures the confidence, chemistry, and intentional effort required to keep long-term love feeling exciting years after the first spark.

While countless love songs celebrate new attraction or heartbreak, “Touch This Body” turns its attention to what happens after the butterflies settle. Inspired by Maya’s own reflections on lasting relationships, the song embraces the reality that intimacy doesn’t simply sustain itself. It evolves, requiring playfulness, vulnerability, and the willingness to rediscover one another.

1. Tell us the story of this song, why did you choose to visualize this song specifically?

The song is about keeping the fire in long term love. The hard work that we’re only just starting to talk about. Touch This Body is another great collaboration with Producer HiFiLo. I told him we wanted to go in a Prince and Sheila E direction and he delivered the perfect blend of both – a fantastic mood for love 10yrs in. It just felt like the perfect song for a video. Rob Dunn both DOP, Director and owner of the beautiful 1962 Chevy Impala, took the reins for the video highlighting the best in lowrider culture to mirror the vibe in production.

2. What was the inspiration behind this video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?

We wanted to highlight a feeling from a different time. Toronto in the 80’s, more specifically South Etobicoke but in technicolour. There’s so much you can feature in Toronto and I want to do that with all of the videos for this album!

3. What was the process of making this video?

We took 2 days to shoot the video on location in South Etobicoke Toronto. On day with the car and another on location with the cameo guys and our night shot. All of the editing magic was done by Rob Dunn in post. A very small team so we could move around and shoot quickly and head to the next location. A huge team effort all around to complete the project in 2 short days. Plus shout out to Gus Tacos Etobicoke for our post shoot dinner!

Canadian artist Addi John unveils his new EP, Love & Misfortunes, a deeply personal collection about loss, family, change, and learning to move forward. Entirely produced, performed, and mixed by Addi himself, the seven-track project emerged from a period of upheaval and ultimately centres around a simple but hard-earned realization: everything changes, and that’s okay.

The larger record began taking shape after Addi lost his father three years ago. Within six months, his mother and brother had moved out of the country and his former band, Lost in Japan, had broken up. Faced with several major changes at once, he turned to music as a way of processing them, writing songs that explore where different members of his family found themselves following his father’s passing.

“I want people to feel as if they’re not alone and to have a sense of hope for the future,” Addi shares. “The hope I want them to see is that change can be scary but, in order for us to grow, we need to accept that everything changes.”

1. Tell us the story of this song, why did you choose to visualize this song specifically?

I wrote this song after a wedding I was attending played a two door cinema club song called “What You Know”. It was as simple as, “hey I like this song, I want to make a song like that”. I chose to visualize it because I felt like it needed some kind of story to go with this song.

2.What was the inspiration behind this video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?

I always wanted to make an 80s-over-the-top montage video. The idea was what if we have someone trying to work out and get in shape to get in the flow like daniel from the Karate Kid (1984). The concept seemed like a really fun idea so I brought it to the director of the video (Josh Ford at Josh Ford Media) and he loved it and we went with it.

3.What was the process of making this video?

Josh had a connection with a local gym in Windsor, Ontario so we shot the majority of the scenes in the gym. Honestly, we were just walking around and looking at all the equipment at the gym and were trying to figure out the worst ways someone could interact with the equipment and then we shot that. The whole video took us probably 2 hours. We kept running into the washroom to add an insane amount of water to my face to make it look like I was sweating profusely. It was a lot of fun to make!

Montreal-based producer, songwriter and composer JoJo Worthington shares “Ever Ender Star Infinity,” a sweeping alt-folk anthem that turns romance into something celestial. Dark, dreamy and consumed by longing, destiny and connection, the track draws together spirituality, stardust, fantasy and the enormous persistence of desire to capture something relatively unfamiliar within her catalogue: a love song.

“‘Tu as une bonne étoile.’ You have a good star,” JoJo explains. “Meaning, you’ve been blessed and there is someone watching over you.” It’s the first single to be shared from JoJo’s upcoming EP, BAPTIZED II, set for release on November 6th, 2026.

That idea stretches back to conversations about space and spirituality, and the idea that everything is fundamentally connected. Fascinated by the fact that the atoms within our bodies are assembled from material that predates the Earth itself, JoJo began folding the language of stars, space and elemental matter into the song.

The song’s fantastical language also emerged from another passions – Magic: The Gathering. While opening a package of Dragon Shield card sleeves, JoJo came across the description “Emme: God of Ender & Ever.” The phrase immediately captured her imagination, recalling the duality of “Forever Evermore” from her 2022 BAPTIZED I EP and eventually helping shape “Ever Ender Star Infinity.” Other cards, including “Eirdu, Carrier of Dawn,” provided further fragments for its lyrical universe.

Musically, “Ever Ender Star Infinity” finds JoJo unexpectedly embracing pop instincts she has spent much of her career pushing against. Rather than keeping that immediacy contained, however, she blows it outward into something vast, pairing the song’s melodic core with layers of distorted guitars and the expansive production sensibilities of co-producer William Crann.

“Ever Ender Star Infinity” marks the next chapter in a much larger story. The track forms part of BAPTIZED II, the second saga in a concept project JoJo has been developing for the last six years. Following BAPTIZED I, the forthcoming release continues a spiritual narrative that will ultimately culminate in the full-length album ARMOUR OF GOD, bringing together material from both chapters alongside new songs.

Within that journey, “Ever Ender Star Infinity” feels like a significant arrival. Spirituality has long permeated JoJo’s songwriting, but here the search for connection becomes tangible and deeply human. The divine and romantic begin to overlap: atoms, stars, fantasy and faith all become different languages for expressing the same connection.

For an artist whose work has so often occupied the space between earthly and celestial worlds, “Ever Ender Star Infinity” turns JoJo’s gaze outward toward infinity only to find something profoundly personal staring back.

Award-winning singer-songwriter, guitarist, and producer Kate Schutt releases “Moonsick,” an ethereal jazz-pop reverie inspired by one of the most unforgettable moments in Austrian writer Christiane Ritter’s 1934 memoir A Woman in the Polar Night. Blending timeless songwriting with luminous adult contemporary arrangements, the single captures a transcendent encounter with the Arctic landscape, where moonlight becomes so overwhelming, so beautiful, that the boundary between self and nature begins to dissolve.

Drawn from Ritter’s account of overwintering in the remote Svalbard archipelago, “Moonsick” centers on a night after months of darkness and relentless storms when the sky suddenly clears, revealing an immense full moon suspended above snow and ice. The brilliance of the landscape leaves Ritter spellbound, unable to tear herself away from the frozen wilderness despite the danger surrounding her.

“She loses all sense of self in the magical light,” Kate explains. “It is so bewitching that she wants to lose herself. The song is about this dissolving of self, the desire to dissolve into something so brilliant, so elemental, so bright, so pure.”

The title perfectly encapsulates Ritter’s extraordinary emotional state. More than simple admiration, “Moonsick” describes complete surrender to wonder – a rare moment where perception, imagination, and reality blur together beneath an Arctic sky.

That fascination with moonlight also places the song within a much older musical tradition. From “Moon River” and “Moonglow” to “Paper Moon” and “How High the Moon,” generations of songwriters have found inspiration beneath the night sky. Rather than imitate those classics, Kate set out to write something that sounded “newly old-fashioned”: a song that feels timeless while quietly revealing itself to be unmistakably contemporary.

“When I write a song like ‘Moonsick,’ I try to imagine someone like Ella Fitzgerald singing it,” she says. “What kinds of songs would those great vocalists like Ella, like Billie Holiday, like Sarah Vaughn, be drawn to want to sing if they were alive today?”

That philosophy shapes every aspect of the recording. Rather than relying on modern production trends, “Moonsick” unfolds with understated elegance, allowing space, melody, and musicianship to carry the emotional weight. Glenn Patscha (Bonnie Raitt, Ollabelle) creates an otherworldly harmonic landscape through his shimmering keyboard performance, while Adam Levy (Norah Jones, Lizz Wright) delivers a lyrical guitar solo that feels as timeless as the song itself. Dan Rieser’s nuanced drumming adds delicate swing and sparkling texture, giving the recording an effortless sense of motion without ever disturbing its dreamlike atmosphere.

Kate’s connection to Ritter’s memoir stretches back more than a decade. The instant she finished reading A Woman in the Polar Night, she knew two things: she had to see the Arctic with her own eyes, and one day she would write music inspired by Ritter’s remarkable story. Those ambitions eventually led Kate to Svalbard in both 2016 and 2024, where standing inside the same vast landscapes transformed admiration into lived experience.

There is something distinctly New York about Body Stuff: the collision of the grand and the grimy, the romantic and the unforgiving, the desire to disappear into a crowd and the equally powerful need to be heard. On Body Stuff 5, the solo project of writer, visual artist, and musician Curran Reynolds turns those contradictions into eight expansive songs, building a world where distorted guitars and pounding drums become vehicles for reflection rather than mere displays of force.

The album’s sound is deliberately imposing. Andee Blacksugar’s guitars cut through the arrangements with a mixture of metallic abrasion and luminous melody, while the drums establish a relentless physical pulse. Elements of post-punk and industrial music provide a shadowy foundation, but Reynolds is drawn toward the scale of hard rock, where a chorus can become a declaration and a repeated phrase can acquire the weight of a personal vow. Brief appearances by organ, trumpets, and church bells add unexpected color, as if glimpses of another world keep breaking through the noise.

Reynolds’ songwriting is rooted in a long relationship with New York. He arrived in the city at 17 and moved through its music, art, and nightlife communities, working in publicity, photography, sculpture, and live music before making Body Stuff his own creative outlet. That background gives the album a lived-in quality. Its emotional landscape is not abstract darkness but something accumulated through years of encounters, departures, dangers, and memories.

What makes Body Stuff 5 compelling is the way it refuses to treat those experiences as evidence that hope is naive. Reynolds sings about existence with an intensity that sometimes borders on desperation, yet his lyrics repeatedly turn toward gratitude and devotion. The opening “Eternal Hurricane” expresses a desire to give everything in the name of something greater than oneself. The closing “Sacrifice” returns to that impulse, transforming repetition into a kind of ritual.

There is a spiritual dimension to this music, although it rarely arrives gently. Body Stuff reaches for transcendence through volume, distortion, and physical exertion. Its songs suggest that catharsis can be found not by denying the world’s cruelty but by confronting it without allowing it to determine the limits of one’s capacity for love.

That emotional contradiction also separates the project from hard rock built around swagger alone. Reynolds’ voice carries a raw sincerity that makes the grand gestures feel personal. He is not performing invulnerability. He is searching for a way to remain open in spite of everything that might encourage retreat.

Released October 16 through The Chain, Body Stuff 5 is a forceful statement from an artist whose creative life has crossed numerous disciplines and underground communities. Its greatest achievement is the balance it strikes between heaviness and tenderness. The music may sound like it is preparing for a confrontation, but what Reynolds ultimately offers is an invitation: to feel deeply, to give generously, and to keep believing in the value of being here.

Ontario indie rock/emo trio da nang share “IYKYK,” a fast, cathartic, and deliberately unserious breakup anthem inspired by lead singer John being ghosted after a seven-year relationship. Affectionately dubbed a “sea shanty for the heartbroken,” the track crashes high-energy indie rock into rowdy, chant-along gang vocals, transforming frustration, petty rage, and heartbreak into something meant to be shouted with friends.

“IYKYK” emerged during a writing trip to Picard Lake in the Kawarthas, north of Toronto, shortly after the breakup. Rather than allowing the experience to become a solemn meditation on lost love, the band channelled it into what they describe as a “polite middle finger,” writing the entire song over the course of one chaotic day.

The title itself is an inside joke of sorts. The first time that relationship drama surfaced, it unfolded like a live-blogged soap opera across social media, with seemingly everyone getting a front-row seat. When things fell apart again, John took the opposite approach. He told almost no one, stayed off the proverbial timeline, and quietly began rebuilding himself. If you know, you know, and if you did? Congratulations on making the inner circle.

That mixture of real hurt and exaggerated irreverence became central to the song. Rather than chasing closure or attempting to make sense of seven years together, “IYKYK” finds catharsis in being a little petty about the whole thing. Its emotional release comes through humour, volume, and the satisfaction of saying what you probably shouldn’t send directly to your ex.

Musically, da nang aimed for what they call “unfiltered chaos with a beat.” High-octane indie rock and emo collide with the communal energy of a jaunty sea shanty, complete with full-throated gang vocals designed to be roared back alongside a pint of cheap beer or tears. It’s intentionally immediate and messy around the edges, matching the emotional state that brought it into existence.

The songwriting process was similarly spontaneous. John was in the middle of making a giant pot of cottage bolognese for the band when bassist Calum wandered into the kitchen with an acoustic guitar and casually started playing an infectious riff. John didn’t even put down his wooden spoon before beginning to belt lyrics over the top.

Within two hours, dinner had taken a back seat and the trio were downstairs playing their newborn breakup anthem on repeat. For a band familiar with songs that can spend months being picked apart only to eventually fizzle out, “IYKYK” was a reminder that sometimes the best ideas arrive before anyone has the opportunity to overthink them.

The band jokingly describes its discography as a thesis on queer romance: a documentation of two men falling in love, falling out of it, and navigating the glorious chaos in between. The specifics may be personal, but the emotional fallout is deliberately familiar.

“Turns out, heartbreak is wonderfully universal,” they say. “The existential dread is identical, just with better outfits.”