Veteran singer-songwriter Tony Saint Tone is kicking off 2026 with a burst of energy and optimism in his new single, “The Shift (Into the Light),” out now on all streaming platforms. Equal parts funky, soulful, and danceable, the track is a celebration of release, renewal, and embracing whatever comes next.
From the first note, the song radiates forward motion. A grooving bassline, bright guitar riffs, and a rhythm that practically insists on movement set the stage for a message of transformation and hope. Saint Tone’s lyrics encourage listeners to shed past burdens and step confidently into new chapters—a sentiment that feels especially resonant as the new year begins.
Musically, “The Shift (Into the Light)” bridges generations and styles. Saint Tone draws on the elastic funk of Prince, the soulful swagger of Lenny Kravitz, and the modern pop-rock polish of Maroon 5, creating a sound that’s both familiar and fresh. The chorus—simple yet expansive—lands like an affirmation:
“We’re going through a shift, a lift, a magical time / Out with the old and into the light.”
It’s a reminder that embracing change doesn’t mean ignoring challenges—it’s about moving forward anyway, with intention and joy.
With more than 40 years of performing experience and over 7,000 live shows, Tony Saint Tone has a track record of connecting with audiences. He’s shared stages with Foreigner, Jefferson Starship, Kansas, Blues Traveler, and Travis Tritt, while his music has appeared in films, on MTV, and earned multiple songwriting accolades.
Beyond music, Saint Tone’s Spirit of Music Foundation brings live music to underserved communities, blending art with purpose. That mission echoes in “The Shift (Into the Light),” giving the track heart and a deeper meaning beyond its infectious groove.
“The Shift (Into the Light)” isn’t just a song—it’s a call to embrace transformation with energy, optimism, and a sense of fun. Sometimes, change doesn’t have to feel heavy. Sometimes, it sounds like a groove, feels like a lift, and looks like stepping into the light.
NuVoice introduces itself with “My God Don’t Play”, a debut single that clearly defines the project’s direction from the start.
Built as a harmony focused vocal collective, NuVoice leans into R&B and gospel adjacent traditions without positioning the song as worship or testimony. Instead, the track functions as a statement of intent which is measured and very much centered on message rather than personality.
The song’s lyrics frame faith as something steady and ongoing. There is an emphasis on endurance and focusing on trust during uncertain periods, but the writing stays general avoiding detailed storytelling or sharp emotional turns. It’s this approach that keeps the song open and broadly relatable, although it also means the lyrical arc is consistent from beginning to end. Listeners looking for escalation or contrast may find the track overly even paced, while others may appreciate its sense of continuity.
Musically, the focus is clearly on the vocal blend. The harmonies are arranged with care recalling R&B groups where cohesion mattered more than spotlight moments. David Stone’s contribution adds texture and warmth, providing additional weight without shifting the overall balance.
As the first release, “My God Don’t Play” establishes a clear foundation for NuVoice as a creative project built on consistency, tone and intention. The single works as an introduction rather than a defining peak, suggesting a collective that is more interested in long term presence than immediate impact.
Garrett Anthony Rice has been quietly carving out a place for himself among songwriters who treat rock tradition as something living rather than nostalgic. His latest double single, “In the Night Time We Shone” and “Purple Man (For Jimi),” feels like a small but meaningful signal that he knows exactly where he comes from and where he wants to go.
“In the Night Time We Shone” arrives in a low glow. It leans into the atmosphere first, built on dark contours and a sense of movement that never forces itself into sharp focus. The chorus opens its arms a bit more, without losing the pulse underneath. When the outro starts to melt into subtle rhythmic experiments, the track has already gotten into this hypnotic pacing that is more like the afterimage of a moment than a remembered one. It’s low key in a manner which indicates the presence of confidence instead of caution.
“Purple Man (For Jimi),” its companion, stands in conversation with the lineage Garrett draws from. The Hendrix shout out is evident in the title, but the track cleverly avoids the typical pitfalls of homage. Rather than imitation, he is at a place of deep musical communication, thoroughly absorbing the style and feel without attempting to make an exact copy of them. The cycling riff that anchors the song keeps everything locked into a steady forward push. There’s a hint of a softened Foo Fighters energy in the way it carries itself, roughened edges, but smoothed by reflection. It’s a tribute filtered through his own sensibilities, not a reenactment.
Lined up, these two pieces together seem to be a brief glimpse of Equinox, the daring double LP Garrett has been crafting with such meticulousness as to indicate that he is indeed setting up a long play. The work here isn’t flashy. It’s deliberate. It’s rooted. And it’s the kind of writing that tends to reveal an artist who is about to crest into broader recognition, someone aware of rock’s forefathers but unwilling to drown in their shadows.
“Love Sonnet for Mikey” is over almost as soon as it starts, and yet it doesn’t feel slight. If anything, the short runtime sharpens its impact. It arrives, says what is needs to say and then departs.
The song is built around a poem written in 2019 after the death of the author’s brother, Mikey. Instead of rewriting the text to fit a standard song structure, j dylan paul lets the poem take the lead here. The lyrics stay exactly as they are, and that decision gives the songa gravity that is totally natural. One line “to help the grass grow arms to cradle you” is echoed briefly like a thought circling back on itself.
“Love Sonnet for Mikey” lives in a quiet corner of indie and electronic music. Synths hang in the background, guitar slips in without calling extra attention to itself and the drums move steadily underneath.
Its the vocals though where the song really takes shape. Paul has spent years releasing instrumental music, and working behind the scenes as a mixing engineer, and it’s this track that really marks one of their first steps forward as a singer. The voice works because it’s not forced or overly produced. It sounds like someone choosing to sing because the song requires it.
The final recording replaces the demo’s programmed elements with live performances – drums by Tim Stefaniak and recorded at New Alliance in Somerville, MA, with guitar by Sherman Tsui. Those choices give “Love Sonnet for Mikey” a physical presence that keeps it grounded, even as the song itself feels almost fragile.
Where this song started out as a personal gesture, it ends up becoming a complete turning point. Short, careful and quietly affecting, it leaves the listener with the sense that whatever comes next is going to matter more because this exists.
Hamilton, ON blues-rock outfit Thomas Duxbury and New Mother Nature share “Istanbul” – an energetic, riff-driven release that pairs upbeat, sun-soaked guitar work with deeply melancholic reflection. Equal parts homesick postcard and blues-rock catharsis, the track captures the ache of being split between places, people, and past lives.
“I wrote the song when I was living abroad and feeling homesick,” Duxbury explains. “Before I left for Scotland, I was standing in my driveway talking with my buddy Bruce – who plays keys on this track/bass with us live – and we chatted about potentially doing a trip to Istanbul while I was in Europe. That’s where the line I’m leaving but my heart’s still full, I can’t wait to see you in Istanbul came from. Fast forward about a month – I’m sitting in my dorm room with my guitar, playing what eventually became the riff for this song. I’m writing some words about being alone, feeling away from home… but I can’t find a chorus. Then that memory of the driveway comes to me and I think, ‘that’s the line.'”
Tell us the story of this song, why did you choose to visualize this song specifically?
I feel like there is always this feeling of wishing you were somewhere else. Even now being back I miss the friends I made over there. Once you live away you basically (to be dramatic) doom yourself to a life of missing friends and family. With that said, it also creates the opportunity to meet new amazing people and make new friends. That hole in your heart somehow finds a way to fill itself with wonderful experiences and people. In this example, the wonderful music community of Aberdeen Scotland. Shoutout to my friends over there. In a different experience of mine in living in BC, the wonderful people I met working for Sea to Sky Parks/BC Parks. Shoutout to my Sea to Sky friends! Now, all that said, I wrote this song when I was living abroad in Aberdeen Scotland. I was sitting in my flat picking my guitar my first week there and I was feeling homesick. Wondering if maybe I made a wrong decision or something. It was a cold rainy October late afternoon on a Saturday. I’m thinking back to saying goodbye to my good friend and bandmate Bruce Cole and we’re discussing the idea of potentially doing a trip to Istanbul at some point. And I’m thinking of this line that Bruce had said “I’m leaving but my heart is still full, I can’t wait to see you in Istanbul”. And it clicks. It works with what I am playing at that moment, it works with what I’m feeling at this time. The rest of this tune kind of just came together from there. Following this, I decided to go on an adventure in town! I end up going to this local club thing with a DJ playing top 40s and like some first years or something. To be honest it wasn’t really my thing. I leave… I start walking to the bust stop, almost accepting defeat. But alas! I hear some punk music in the distance, and I think back to something my friend and fellow musician Jeremias said, “when you are lost in a new city you must follow the music”. So! I do! I sneak my way into this punk show, meet some wonderful people that I end up going on a bar crawl with. End up at this place called Krakatoa! And this place is magic. Like a neon tiki pirate punk bar. I ended up finding my way home this evening! The next night! I see that this Krakatoa place is doing an open mic, so I carry my ol’ Stratocaster there and do my best at ripping some tunes. Get invited to hang with some kind folks who eventually ended up working on some upcoming projects that are to be announced. And yeah, this experience I feel perfectly embodies this feeling of the world presenting these experiences so long as you are open. The other side of it too is that I’m always here. I have a line in this tune, “don’t hesitate to call my name from the bottom of a bottle”. Life gets low sometimes and it’s hard to forget that there is love everywhere. I left, my heart was still full, and I cannot wait to see those I care about again. But, there is love everywhere. I am so happy to have these opportunities to live these new experiences and meet such wonderful people along the way. Easy to forget sometimes that although life can be low and painful sometimes there is love everywhere.
What was the inspiration behind this video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?
I wanted to film this at the Hamilton airport for a number of reasons. I feel like I have such an emotional connection to this place from going to the Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum as a kid when my dad used to volunteer there. The number of spontaneous adventures I’ve gone on from that airport. When I used to have an old pickup truck, I used to bring my dates there to watch planes land and take off. Wondering where people are going or coming from. I wouldn’t say there was much of a story to this video, it’s more of just like a “oh wow this is kind of a neat shot” kind of gorilla videography with some lyric edits. But this place and everything to me I feel fosters such an emotional connection. I feel the video expresses this idea of travel and motion just via its setting basically.
3.What was the process of making this video?
Yeah, so my buddy Dan Sullivan and I took my old high 8 VHS camera out there right before a sunset and filmed as much as we could before the battery died. So here we are, lining up this first shot with the plane in the background and all. And aside from a car driving by and giving me a weird look and honking (hopefully in support lol) we get the perfect shot! This is the main one you see featured in the video. Then, we look back… The trunk of my car was open the whole time… But its okay, we were racing this sunset, and the shot was too perfect anyways so we keep this open trunk in the video. Get our other shots looking for some cool locations or b footage to shoot yada yada… Decide we should get a shot of a plane landing. So I load up flight radar and find a jet. We are driving around trying to find what runway it will be landing on. Feels like some proper gorilla filmmaking. We get a spot, and boom! Battery dies… so okay great we have the main stuff we need here though. Overall, a successful day. I drop off Dan, and I drive home. I open the camera to take the tape out and forget that the battery is dead. Immediately, the cassette starts spitting out all the tape. At this point I’m thinking well… we’re going to have to redo all that. But the winter is about to start coming and we won’t get these fall themes… Luckily I was able to find a spot that repaired high 8 tapes so they were able to get it all sorted. They were confused why I didn’t want to also digitize it though. I was explaining I like to do some analog editing effects and stuff. You’ll see some glitchy type cuts and such. That’s why I digitize at home. Anyways I was able to get it all sorted and it came out great. We got an absolute magical sunset too. I recently lost a good friend to cancer pretty much within the same week as this was filmed. I like to think this sunset was some sort of gift from him maybe.
There’s something special about albums that feel instantly recognizable without leaning on cliché. The kind of record that welcomes you in, but still leaves space to surprise you. Eric Selby’s Five. lives comfortably in that space, familiar yet quietly adventurous, grounded but always searching.
From its first moments, Five. establishes itself as an inward-looking record, one that moves at its own pace and trusts the listener to follow. The opening track, “The Water,” feels less like an introduction and more like a deep breath. It’s driven by longing, not just for connection with another person, but for the grounding presence of water itself. Lakes, rivers, oceans, places where time slows and thoughts soften. Selby has spoken openly about how the beach is where he feels most at ease, and that sense of calm runs through the song. The lyrics don’t over-explain or overreach. They simply exist, ebbing and flowing the way water does, emotional without being overwrought.
“Supposed To Be This Way” shifts the album into a more reflective space. Written in Hawaii in the aftermath of the 2024 election, the song captures a moment filled with uncertainty and quiet processing. Without a guitar on hand, Selby recorded the song as a voice memo, shaping the melody and lyrics straight from instinct. That raw origin remains intact in the final version. His vocals feel exposed and honest, paired with steady piano lines that don’t push or pull too hard. The song leans toward light rather than darkness, not by ignoring complexity, but by allowing the emotions to settle naturally without dramatics.
A sense of wonder enters the record with “Spare Oom,” a track that balances playfulness with reflection. The song nods to childhood imagination through references to beloved stories like The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and Peter Pan, using those images to explore how easily that sense of magic can fade as life becomes heavier. Rather than sounding nostalgic for nostalgia’s sake, the song feels like a reminder. Growing older doesn’t have to mean letting go of curiosity. Selby manages to sound both wide-eyed and grounded, which is no easy feat.
Elsewhere, “Shake the Blues” highlights Selby’s strength as a songwriter who understands restraint. The guitars shimmer softly, circling the melody like light filtering through leaves. Lyrically, it’s a song about acceptance and the quiet realization that sometimes walking away is the only way forward. His harmonies blend effortlessly, reinforcing the emotional pull without crowding it. Nothing here feels rushed or forced. The song knows exactly what it wants to be.
One of the album’s most striking moments comes with “The Chesapeake.” Musically expansive and more experimental, the track leans into atmosphere and movement. Selby allows the groove to stretch and breathe, drifting into cinematic territory where each instrument feels intentional and alive. Electric guitars swell and recede, blending progressive rock textures with storytelling rooted in place and memory. It’s a track that trusts space as much as sound, and the result is immersive.
At its core, Five. feels like a snapshot of who Selby is right now. Not a definitive statement, but an honest one. It reflects the ways people change, circle back, and reimagine themselves over time. Themes of water, love, fear, home, and self-reflection weave throughout the record, creating a personal landscape that still feels universally relatable. Listening to it feels like being invited into someone’s journal, only to realize parts of it sound like your own thoughts.
Recorded at The Facility Nashville, the album favors authenticity over perfection. You can hear the room in these songs. The air around the drums, the way the bass settles into the mix, the organic interaction between instruments. Nothing feels overly polished or smoothed down.
In a time when many artists either play it safe or push so hard they lose emotional grounding, Five. finds a rare balance. It’s thoughtful without being heavy, inviting without being obvious. Eric Selby has crafted a record that feels like discovering a hidden space inside something you thought you already understood. Comfortable, surprising, and quietly powerful.
Modern Mystery 
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