Angela Saini returns with “Where I Put the Light,” a deeply personal yet universally relatable folk-pop anthem about finding hope and resilience in the aftermath of heartbreak. With an uplifting chorus, warm folk-pop textures, and the striking addition of a traditional Russian balalaika, the song blends vulnerability with empowerment, reminding us that perspective is everything.
“In our lowest moments, we still get to decide: do we focus on what we’ve lost, or do we put the light on what we’ve gained and how far we’ve come?” Saini explains. “This song is about learning where to focus my eyes – on the stars, not the shadows.”
Written in the wake of her separation from a nearly two-decade relationship with her high school sweetheart, “Where I Put the Light” is both a reckoning and a rebirth. Its lyrics capture the journey of radical self-transformation: burning down the old, starting fresh, and choosing light over darkness. “It reminds us that even when life feels dark, we can always look toward the stars,” she adds. “By placing the light on possibilities and not limitations, we create space for joy, resilience, and new beginnings.”
The accompanying video visually echoes the song’s themes, portraying two stark versions of Saini: one dressed in white, embodying joy and hope, and the other in black, representing a version of herself she had to let go. The contrast highlights the power of perspective – how choosing where we put the light can determine the outcome.
From the streets of Halifax, Nova Scotia, to the quiet corners of the heart, Jont’s “No Lines” is a tender, contemplative new single that traces the evolving bond between parent and child – in doing so, it reflects on the deeper truths of human connection. Gentle, meditative, and lyrical, the track unfolds like a poem set to music, a sonnet in motion that is both intimate and universal.
The song was born on a wintry morning, the day of his daughter’s 16th birthday. After a small disagreement in the car, Jont returned home to find lines of poetry spilling from him almost effortlessly:
What is yours and what is mine? I could guess and make a line, wouldn’t mean it’s true. It’s just a line between the two of us.
What began as a sonnet written on an envelope – a three-stanza, concluding couplet echoing back to English class – soon evolved into a song. “I picked up the guitar and it just fell into place fairly effortlessly,” Jont recalls. “Though the song was born as a personal acknowledgement and celebration of my relationship with my daughter, its message is universal – a recognition of our true nature, and a prayer for nurturing harmonious bonds in all human relationships.”
Saskatchewan songwriter Nick Faye returns with his highly anticipated new album, (Good) Love, out now alongside the lead single, “Means That Much.” A heartfelt exploration of love, loss, and emotional reflection, the record chronicles Faye’s journey through relationships, personal growth, and discovering what it truly means to give and receive love.
Recorded across multiple cities with producer Chris Dimas and featuring performances by Nick Faye (vocals, guitar), Byron Chambers (bass), Jon Neher (keys), Landon Leibel (drums), and Jesse Bryksa (guitar), (Good) Love is a blend of pop-rock and indie sensibilities anchored in warm melodies and thoughtful storytelling. The album navigates the highs and lows of love in Faye’s early-to-mid-thirties, reflecting on healthy relationships, online dating, heartbreak, and the patience required to find real connection.
The lead single, “Means That Much” (co-written with Andy Cole of Great Wealth), was born on a summer day in Toronto with the CN Tower in view. Faye explains, “Andy brought the song idea, the tone, and some beautiful melodies to the writing session, and we brought it to life together. The song evolved from a hardline breakup story into a reflection on whether a relationship is worth fighting for – a classic 90’s Dad Rock anthem with emotional depth.”
“Means That Much” captures the bittersweet tension of separation and reconciliation. “There’s a story arc of giving, leaving, grieving, receiving, and discovering good love on this album,” Faye elaborates. “It was cool that a song Andy and I wrote outside of the record’s scope wound up fitting so seamlessly.”
With rugged honesty and a dose of youthful defiance, Rogan Mei returns with “Rushmore (So What),” an angsty and liberating folk-rock anthem about missed chances, restless energy, and carving your own road. Louder and more unapologetic than his earlier reflective work, the track captures the friction between wanting change and actually living it – set against ringing guitars and a chorus built to be shouted back.
The song’s title traces back to an unfinished idea that sat dormant for years. “Originally, it was going to be about a road trip with friends where the main character was just not in a good headspace and would sleep in the back seat while everyone pointed out monuments like the biggest hockey stick in the world, the Grand Canyon, or Mt. Rushmore. That’s where the line ‘So what I didn’t see Mt. Rushmore’ came from,” says Mei. Though the story shifted, that core lyric survived and became the heart of the new track.
Unlike his last release “Lefroy,” which emerged in just a few days, “Rushmore (So What)” simmered for years before coming to life. Brought to a songwriting workshop in 2024, Mei dusted off the fragments with the encouragement of collaborator Anna Goldsmith, who helped him reconnect with the song’s raw energy. With support from bassist and mixing engineer Wesley Covey and the full band, the track evolved into one of the most anthemic highlights from his upcoming Dickies Green Plaid Jacket EP.
At just 17, Zoey Madison’s debut EP Electric bursts with the kind of energy that only comes from someone discovering the full power of her voice. It’s bright, emotional and impeccably crafted but what really stands out is Zoey herself – a powerhouse vocalist with a four octave range.
The title track, “Electric” sets the tone with a burst of shimmering pop that captures the dizzy rush of new love and the desire to make it last forever. There’s a touch of cinematic romance in the lyrics, a nod to Romeo and Juliet and a pulse of teenage recklessness but it’s all grounded by Zoey’s voice. She sings with a sincerity which, for any artist is a tricky balance let alone one at the very beginning of their career.
From there, she takes listeners deeper. “Scars” is the emotional centerpiece. It’s a sweeping ballad that strips everything back and lets Zoey’s voice carry the story. Opening with the haunting line “Be gentle, I bruise easily,” the song builds to an almost cinematic release, closing with a whistle tone.
“Move” lightens the mood with its more laid back groove and glowing guitar textures. This is the kind of song that is like summer in motion – a gentle push towards joy and possibility. Zoey calls it “a reminder to take action and embrace happiness”, and you can hear this spirit when she sings “I’m no longer seeing in blue, I’ve got technicolor dreams coming true.”
The EP closes with “Lullabies,” which is a soft, introspective track. It’s about holding on to love that’s already slipped away, and it shows a different side of Zoey – quieter and more restrained. The harmonies swell and shimmer, wrapping around her voice.
Electric may be Zoey Madison’s first project, but it is truly a statement of her talent. She is not chasing trends or hiding behind production; she is leading with emotion, honesty and a voice that refuses to be ignored.
Whether she’s belting out joy or whispering heartbreak, there’s an undeniable spark running through everything she sings.
Dallas singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and producer Julian Maas steps confidently into the spotlight with his debut album, Cherry, released today, October 17th. The record arrives as both an intimate self-portrait and an invitation—an open-ended collection of songs that allow space for listeners to bring their own interpretations. In its 10 tracks, Cherry navigates confusion, hate, death, peace, and love, themes universal in scope yet filtered through Maas’ distinct sensibility as an artist who refuses to settle into one sound or emotion.
At just twenty-one, Maas demonstrates a creative depth and patience well beyond his years. Cherry doesn’t strive to provide answers; rather, it documents the process of searching—musically and emotionally. The record feels like a living map of his influences, a sprawling synthesis of three decades of alternative and electronic music. There are threads of Helmet, Pinback, Grauzone, The Lilys, Placebo, Sneaker Pimps, Veruca Salt, Crystal Method, and Supercar woven throughout the album’s fabric, yet the end result is distinctly his own. The fusion of these references never feels derivative; instead, Maas reimagines them into a forward-looking soundscape that’s as atmospheric as it is deliberate.
During the writing process, Maas immersed himself in music constantly—on walks to class, during lunch breaks, and in the in-between moments that fill a day. The result is a record that feels lived-in, reflecting both the restlessness and focus of an artist shaping his voice through immersion rather than imitation. His recent listening habits, from rediscovering Rocket to reminiscing about the chaotic spirit of Warped Tour, suggest that this album is less a culmination and more a foundation for what’s to come.
What makes Cherry stand out is not only the breadth of its sound but the intimacy of its creation. Maas is known for his refusal to repeat himself; each project he approaches as a fresh experiment in tone and emotion. His songwriting process often begins with the music itself—instinctual, raw, and exploratory—before lyrics emerge in spontaneous bursts. Many of these songs lived as instrumentals for months or even years before finding their full lyrical form, a process that gives them a layered, time-worn depth.
Equally striking is Maas’ self-sufficiency as a producer. Entirely self-taught, he records and arranges his own material, layering sound with an understanding of texture that comes from both obsession and intuition. That hands-on approach translates powerfully to his live performances, where he has shared stages with acts such as Tripping Daisy, bringing complex arrangements to life with little more than his instruments and voice.
Beyond Cherry, Maas’ growing discography provides a fuller view of his evolving artistry. Projects like Isolate (released May 12, 2025) and earlier works from 2021 to 2024 trace his shifting interests and creative questions. Whether he’s reflecting on artificial intelligence and its impact on human experience, probing political systems, or charting the delicate territory of personal relationships, his music remains grounded in a core honesty. What binds these works together is not a singular sound but a consistent curiosity—a drive to understand and express without pretense.
Cherry positions Julian Maas squarely within the contemporary rock landscape while hinting at the fluidity that defines his next chapter. The track “Did You Ever Think” captures that balance perfectly: a song crafted for the album but standing powerfully on its own, embodying solitude, reflection, and the quiet resonance of being heard. It’s emblematic of the record’s understated confidence and emotional precision.
Through Cherry, Maas doesn’t just offer a debut; he offers a philosophy of creation. It’s music built on instinct and reflection, an album that feels like a conversation between artist and listener—one that doesn’t demand to be understood fully, only felt. In doing so, Julian Maas establishes himself as an artist guided not by genre or trend, but by the deeper pursuit of connection through sound, story, and truth.
Modern Mystery 