Eric Schenkman (guitarist, singer, and co-founder of New York City’s Spin Doctors) releases “Hit On Me,” the second single from his upcoming album Ten Smiles. An upbeat rock tune that transforms heartbreak into possibility, “Hit On Me” is built on a guitar riff and a drumbeat that makes you want to move, leaving you with an unmistakable sense of optimism.
Co-written with Corky Laing (founding member of the rock band Mountain and author of 1970 smash hit “Mississippi Queen”), “Hit On Me” evolved from a simple idea of hitting a drum into a dynamic love song.
“The song describes a scenario where a girl is getting dumped out of a bad relationship,” Eric explains. “The message is ‘don’t walk away, hit on me instead, I’m right here.’”
1. Tell us the story of this song, why did you choose to visualize this song specifically?
The guys I work with on video are really good at this animation collage stuff and I thought this song would be perfect for it because much of it is from my point of view talking to subject in the song – the street scene in verse 1, the cloud scene in verse 2. I knew it would translate well into collage. It seemed like a good fit.
2.What was the inspiration behind this video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?
The process involved just putting my character in the collage scenes where he’s talking to the person he perceives as being in a crappy situation and he’s offering an alternative ‘Just hit on me instead’. It’s cool that sometimes it’s me on tv broadcasting into the animated scene. I really like that too.
3.What was the process of making this video?
I collaborated with Studio 351 to visualize an animated version of the song through the eyes of an animated me. I think it worked out really well.1. Tell us the story of this song, why did you choose to visualize this song specifically? The guys I work with on video are really good at this animation collage stuff and I thought this song would be perfect for it because much of it is from my point of view talking to subject in the song – the street scene in verse 1, the cloud scene in verse 2. I knew it would translate well into collage. It seemed like a good fit.
There is something inherently appealing about a band that refuses to take the obvious route. Winchester 7 & The Runners could have returned to the familiar territory of conventional guitars, familiar arrangements and familiar indie rock formulas. But instead, they put an electric tenor ukulele at the centre of the operation and built an entire musical identity around it.
On No Worse For Wear, that decision feels less like a gimmick and more like a statement of intent.
Across the EP, Winchester 7 & The Runners draw freely from sixties rock, surf, garage, classic pop and the more melodic side of alternative and indie rock. Yet the record is not an exercise in retro imitation. There is too much contemporary thinking in the songwriting, and too much personality in the performances for that. The result is music that can sound of the past in one moment and then distinctly of the moment the next.
Listen here:
Opening with Waitin’ Here For You, the band immediately establish their credentials. The drums have that wonderfully physical quality that makes you imagine the song being played in a crowded room rather than assembled entirely inside a computer. Guitars rise around the vocal, harmonies add colour, and the melody has enough lift to make the track feel instantly accessible. But beneath the upbeat exterior is one of the record’s recurring ideas: connection.
That’s where No Worse For Wear becomes more interesting than a straightforward indie rock EP. These songs are concerned with what it means to be human in an increasingly mediated world. Social media, algorithms, artificial intelligence and the changing economics of music all sit somewhere in the background, but Winchester 7 rarely approaches them directly enough to become preachy. Instead, they become the scenery surrounding the characters in the songs.
The World From My Bed is perhaps the clearest example. Its premise is immediately recognisable – that we have access to more information than any generation before us, yet somehow the simplest experiences can feel further away. The song’s invitation to step outside and watch the sunset feels almost radical in its simplicity. Musically, the track swings along with an infectious indie rock looseness, while Airinna Namara’s contribution adds another layer to an already engaging arrangement. It’s one of those songs that makes its point without appearing to be making a point at all.
Elsewhere, I’m Goin’ Down explores the more vulnerable side of the record. The darker vocal tone and grittier guitar textures create a sense of uncertainty, but the song’s melodic centre refuses to give in completely. There is still light in it, and that balance between struggle and hope runs throughout the EP.
Then comes Ballad of the Bishop of Eastwood, one of the record’s most intriguing pieces. Built around a dramatic stomp and an old-school rock groove, it has the atmosphere of a story being told after midnight. The vocals remain comparatively restrained against larger guitar textures, creating an unusual tension between intimacy and scale. It is a reminder that Winchester 7 & The Runners aren’t simply interested in writing catchy songs. They are interested in characters, scenes and little worlds.
The Talk takes that instinct in a more playful direction. Stop start rhythms, cheeky vocals and a particularly memorable hook give the track a loose rock’n’roll energy. It feels spontaneous without being careless, and the arrangement allows the personality of the project to come right to the front. Then 10 Easy Steps turns the volume up again.
Here, the band’s influences seem to collide in particularly satisfying fashion. There are echoes of sixties rock alongside the swagger of early 2000’s indie, while the electric ukulele gives everything a characteristically Winchester 7 twist. It has the kind of riff-driven momentum that makes it easy to imagine becoming a live favourite.
By contrast, The Way You Moved brings the EP towards a more reflective conclusion. With Jenny Conlee of The Decemberists contributing keyboards and Guy Page of Coach Party handling drums and mixing, the song introduces a softer, more atmospheric side to the project. There is some distortion and gentle psychedelic textures surrounding a surprisingly intimate performance. It is perhaps the moment where the emotional heart of No Worse For Wear becomes most apparent.
For all its references to technology and contemporary culture, this isn’t really an album about machines. It is an album about people trying to remain connected while surrounded by machines. And this distinction matters.
Winchester 7 & The Runners aren’t attempting to position themselves outside the modern world. Their use of livestreams, digital distribution, visual media and even the AI-powered Continuum Relay demonstrates precisely the opposite. They are embracing the tools available to independent musicians while asking what those tools should ultimately be used for. The answer seems simple: communication.
And that’s what makes No Worse For Wear such an appealing indie record. It has hooks without becoming disposable, ideas without becoming academic, and nostalgia without becoming trapped in the past. Most importantly, it has a recognisable personality. The electric tenor ukulele may be the unusual headline, but it isn’t the real story. The real story is songwriting.
Winchester 7 & The Runners understand that however dramatically the music industry changes, however sophisticated the technology becomes, and however many algorithms stand between an artist and an audience, a good song still has the ability to make somebody stop, listen and feel something. No Worse For Wear is a record built around that belief. And perhaps that’s why, beneath all the noise of the modern world, it sounds remarkably human.
Connect with Winchester 7 & The Runners on their Website
Toronto country-pop artist Hayden Ryann shares “Walk Through Fire,” a bold, energetic, and empowering anthem that transforms the aftermath of heartbreak into an unapologetic declaration of self-worth. Fuelled by gritty guitars, confident lyricism, and an undeniable sense of momentum, the single captures the liberating moment when healing gives way to clarity, and choosing yourself becomes the only path forward.
Written from a place of hard-earned confidence, “Walk Through Fire” emerged after Hayden realized she had finally moved beyond a difficult breakup. Rather than dwelling on the pain, the song reflects the moment she stopped making excuses for someone else’s behaviour and recognized she deserved more.
The song arrived almost as quickly as the emotions behind it. Sitting on the basement couch where she writes most of her music, Hayden stumbled onto the signature guitar riff while experimenting with melodies. Within minutes, the lyrics poured out naturally, and remarkably, not a single word has changed since that first writing session.
“It was almost like a ‘word vomit’ session where I wasn’t trying to write something polished or intentional; I was just being honest,” Hayden explains. “Every word that came out in that moment is still exactly what ended up in the final version.”
That honesty became the foundation for a collaboration with producer Shawn Moore, who first connected with Hayden through Instagram. After an introductory phone call, Shawn encouraged her to send over any songs she felt strongly about. The first voice memo she shared was “Walk Through Fire.”
“Almost immediately, he responded and said, ‘That’s the song we have to do,’” Hayden recalls. “His enthusiasm gave me even more confidence in the track, and reinforced my belief that it deserved to be brought to life in a bigger way.”
Together, they built a production that emphasizes grit, confidence and emotional release without sacrificing authenticity. Rather than chasing existing country trends, Hayden and Shawn focused on creating a sound that felt entirely true to the song itself, allowing driving guitar riffs and organic energy to carry its message.
“The song isn’t about heartbreak. It’s about the moment after. The shift from breaking down to standing up,” Hayden explains. “‘Walk Through Fire’ represents that turning point where you stop settling, take your power back, and choose yourself, even if it means walking away through the flames.”
Calgary, AB art-pop duo HAIR CONTROL (Ryan Bourne & Rebecca Reid) share “Seeing In The Dark,” a propulsive power-pop anthem that balances existential yearning with exuberant optimism. Blending driving synth-pop textures, cinematic pop-rock energy, and the pair’s signature existential workout aesthetic, the track transforms uncertainty into movement, finding a space of transcendence amidst the darkness of the times. It follows “TV in the Afterlife” as the second single to be shared from HAIR CONTROL’s forthcoming debut album, Electric Pleasure, set for release on October 30, 2026.
Originally inspired by a dream melody that arrived complete with the phrase “We The Ugly People,” recalling the classic Leonard Cohen line, “we are ugly but we have the music” as well as Pulp’s “Common People,” the chorus lyric drew from this sly sense of solidarity. Drawing influence from the spiritual yearning and melodic immediacy of classic mid-’70s power pop, particularly Dwight Twilley Band’s “Looking for the Magic,” “Seeing In The Dark” emerged as a celebration of collective connection and shared resilience.
As the lyrics developed, Bourne imagined a dark, rain-soaked road trip unfolding at midnight; lovers leaving their hometown behind and heading west toward the ocean. The song’s title became a central metaphor, expressing the ability to find clarity amid uncertainty and beauty amid darkness. Rather than looking toward some distant hopeful future, “Seeing In The Dark” suggests a collective awakening happening in real time, a turning away from despair and toward something larger and more meaningful.
Musically, the song continues HAIR CONTROL’s playful approach to pop experimentation. A heavily filtered synth lead traces the melody throughout the entire arrangement, serving simultaneously as compositional framework and featured instrument. Despite its power-pop spirit, the track contains virtually no traditional chord playing, instead relying on layered single-note lines that intertwine to create momentum, texture, and emotional lift.
The song was written during a series of late-night sessions in the duo’s studio, located for a time at the Art Castle, a 1940s home in Calgary whose facade was transformed in the mid-70s into a castle complete with spiral staircase leading up to a turret. Working from evening until sunrise, Bourne found himself accompanied each morning by an overwhelming chorus of birdsong. That atmosphere of quiet urgency and natural beauty seeped into the creative process, becoming part of the broader sonic world surrounding Electric Pleasure.
Production remains deceptively straightforward while embracing the duo’s lo-fi instincts. Built around a driving Roland 909 drum machine groove, beats, bass, synths, and guitars were tracked to a Tascam 246 Portastudio cassette recorder for a rich, warm foundation. Mixed by acclaimed producer Lorrie Matheson, the track gains additional lift through Reid’s silky vocal harmonies, adding a polished pop sheen without ceding the song’s homemade spirit.
Victoria, BC rock outfit The Bankes Brothers share “Risk It All,” a high-energy, angsty, and jubilant new single that captures the tension between burnout and bold decision making. Driven by punchy guitars, an old-school rock edge, and a sense of restless momentum, the track channels the frustration of chasing stability while trying to hold onto a creative dream.
At its core, “Risk It All” reflects the reality of building a life in music while navigating the uncertainty that comes with it. “Being in the music industry is everything we wanted starting out,” Nelson Bankes shares. “As we’ve gotten more into it, there’s often a lot more ‘hurry up and wait.’ We’ve all had to work jobs to support ourselves while we chase this thing which can burn you out pretty quick. This song is about that shared frustration, and the reminder that life is what you make of it.”
The song began almost accidentally in the most unassuming way. “This one mostly happened in the shower,” Nelson explains. “I just started humming it and realized that it was a song that hadn’t been written yet.” From that simple melodic idea, the track quickly evolved into one of their most direct and explosive recordings to date.
With rhythm guitar, bass, and drums locked in early, the song still felt like it needed something to fully ignite it. That missing piece arrived unexpectedly in the form of guitarist Carson, who was recovering from a heavy flu during the session. “He was buried in his hoodie on the couch in the corner,” Nelson recalls. “Within two or three takes, he had this crazy lead part that tied the whole song together.”
Sonically, “Risk It All” marks a slight departure for the band, leaning into an old-time rock sensibility with a 1950s-inspired attitude. The result is a raw, punchy track that feels both nostalgic and urgent, balancing classic rock energy with the band’s modern indie edge.
One of the song’s most memorable moments comes in its final vocal section, where the title is pushed into a full, unrestrained scream. “We were all pretty tired that morning,” Nelson says. “I could tell people were starting to fall asleep so on the third or fourth take, I just went for it. It effectively woke up the room and we made martinis after.”
Toronto-based indie-folk troubadour John Muirhead unveils The Nomad & The Never Ending Road, a heartfelt collection of songs that explores what it means to spend years searching for home, purpose, belonging, and yourself. Written between highways, airports, hotel rooms, hometowns, and countless miles on the road, the album captures the uncertainty, beauty, heartbreak, and hope that emerge when life refuses to follow a straight line. Leading the record is “Made It Out,” a warm and reflective meditation on returning home only to discover that both the place and the person returning have quietly changed.
Inspired by a year spent back in his hometown of Georgetown, Ontario, between tours, “Made It Out” captures the strange feeling of revisiting a place that once defined you. Familiar streets remain yet storefronts change, fields become parking lots, and lifelong friends build lives elsewhere.
“Being back in town felt strangely unfamiliar,” John explains. “Everything had changed, yet nothing had changed at all. I thought a lot about the friends who left, and how happy I was for them, even though I wished they were there with me during that chapter of my life.”
That feeling of existing between two versions of life became the emotional foundation not only of “Made It Out,” but of the entire record. Throughout The Nomad & The Never Ending Road, John explores the uncertainty of chasing dreams, starting over, losing faith, finding it again, and learning that the journey itself often shapes us more than any destination ever could.
“Life isn’t something you eventually figure out,” John says. “It’s an ongoing journey. Sometimes getting lost is exactly what leads you where you’re meant to be.”
The evolution of “Made It Out” mirrors that philosophy. Originally written as an entirely different song during a co-writing session with Simon Ward (The Strumbellas) and producer Ryan Worsley, the track was ultimately dismantled and rebuilt after John stepped away from it. Returning with fresh perspective, he rewrote nearly every lyric around memories of Georgetown with even the bridge being rewritten moments before recording.
That openness to change extended throughout the making of the album. Working alongside Ryan challenged John to embrace patience, experimentation, and collaboration in ways he never had before. Every arrangement, lyric, and production choice was refined with intention, resulting in his most cohesive and emotionally resonant body of work to date.
At its heart, The Nomad & The Never Ending Road is about the emotional landscapes we navigate while trying to become the people we’re meant to be.
Modern Mystery 
You must be logged in to post a comment.