A long stretch of years slipped by between Last Relapse’s farewell and the moment they decided to step back into the light. Plenty of bands walk away and stay gone, but this Atlanta group let their old sessions sit quietly, almost forgotten, until the pull of unfinished ideas finally became impossible to ignore.

During that time, drummer Justin Canada and the rest of the band built entirely different lives. The noise and momentum that once carried them through crowded rooms across the Southeast faded as work, distance, and family shifted their priorities. They scattered, settled, and changed. Yet some rhythms have a way of lingering in the background, waiting for the right moment to rise again.

Their new self-titled EP owes its existence to that feeling. The band revisited stray files, half-formed sketches, and raw early takes not out of nostalgia but because those fragments still had something to say. With fresh ears and a lot of years behind them, they reshaped those pieces into something that feels current, forceful, and surprisingly clear.

What comes next explores how Last Relapse found their footing again. It’s a look at rediscovery, at the stubborn pull of songs that don’t let go, and at how a band can reconnect with work they thought they’d left behind for good.

Tell us the story of this song, why did you choose to visualize this song specifically?
With “Rats in a Cage,” we were trying to capture that feeling of being swallowed up by work, noise, and constant distraction while larger systems and powers are quietly preying on you in the background. It’s about feeling like you’re running on a wheel that never stops, knowing something’s off but not quite being able to step outside of it.

We chose to visualize this one because it felt both immediate and relatable; it’s one of the catchier songs on the EP, but underneath the hook there’s this tension and frustration that a lot of people are carrying around right now. The contrast between the upbeat energy and the heavier subject matter made it feel really cinematic to us, like it was asking to live beyond just the audio.

What was the inspiration behind this video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?
We felt like a busy city captures the meaning of the song better than anything else. There’s this constant buzz—cars, lights, people moving in every direction—that mirrors the mental clutter the song is talking about. At the same time, when you’re up high looking over it all, you get this strange mix of power and insignificance, like you’re both part of the machine and slightly outside of it.

Visually, we wanted something that felt raw, direct, and performance-driven rather than a literal storyline. Letting the city itself be the backdrop and “character” gave us that sense of pressure, motion, and chaos without spelling everything out. The idea was: plug the band into that environment and let the song do most of the storytelling.

What was the process of making this video?
We found a rooftop location in Atlanta that immediately felt perfect for the song — it gave us the skyline, the movement, and that feeling of being suspended above all the chaos. Once we locked that in, we built the whole concept around letting the band perform in that space and capturing as many dynamic angles as we could within a tight window of time.

We produced it ourselves in one day, which gave the shoot a very DIY, scrappy energy that actually fits the band and the track. It was a small team, a lot of pre-planning, and then just committing to the performance once we were up there. Because it was self-produced, every decision was very intentional: no big budget tricks, just us, the city, and the song.

If you think you know what symphonic metal sounds like, Kelsey Dower’s new single “Rage” is here to rewrite the rules. Massive choirs? Check. Cinematic orchestration? Absolutely. But underneath all that power is a surprising level of emotional precision that hits harder than any blast beat ever could.

Dower builds this track like a one-woman film score: huge choral moments, harp lines that slice through the mix, and orchestral layers stacked with the intensity of someone who understands exactly why each sound is there. Nothing is there for drama alone.

And then there’s her voice. It lands somewhere between alternative-metal nostalgia and something far more intimate—closer to a diary entry than a battle cry. She never pushes for volume when vulnerability does more work. You hear the storm, but you also hear the person standing in the middle of it.

“Rage” is the lead single from her upcoming album Rebirth, and it sets up an emotional arc about transformation and internal upheaval. The cool part is how she frames rage itself—not as a meltdown, but as a moment of clarity. It’s anger as truth, anger as power, anger as direction.

Dower’s background is as layered as her arrangements: a pianist since 18 months old, a performer at Carnegie Hall, a composer pulling inspiration from Nobuo Uematsu, Nightwish, Epica, Evanescence, and Within Temptation. Her debut single “Ma’afa” tackled generational trauma and earned international radio play. Now, she’s shifting the spotlight inward for something more personal—and equally massive.

With “Rage,” Dower isn’t just entering the symphonic metal landscape. She’s shaping a new corner of it. And Rebirth can’t come soon enough.

Following the September 2025 release of her debut EP I Kill Spiders, Montreal singer-songwriter Libby Ember returns with “To Her,” a tender, nostalgic single that captures the delicate push and pull of trying to reach someone who won’t let you in. Mellow, introspective, and intimate, the track merges indie-folk storytelling with dreamy indie-pop production, offering a vulnerable portrait of self-awareness and emotional release.

Inspired by the frustration of wanting to connect while realizing the need to let go, Libby reflects on what it means to care deeply for someone emotionally unavailable. “This song was inspired by my own emotions and experiences when trying to get through to someone who just wasn’t opening up to me,” she says. “I was overworking myself and putting too much pressure on myself to be seen, so I just needed to let it go.”

The title itself positions the track as an open letter. “The title ‘To Her’ is meant to make the song feel like a message or a letter to this person,” Libby explains. “I’m speaking directly to her and opening up about feelings I would never say in person so instead I say them in this written form.”

Distinctive for its organic storytelling and production, “To Her” begins with sparse, raw guitar before gradually building into a textured, emotional climax. “I wanted the song to start off very raw – just me and the guitar – to create a sense of tension that the song itself is about,” she shares. “In the second verse, everything opens up on the word ‘fall’ because everything is now falling into place as the narrative continues.”

The song’s bridge adds an especially personal touch: a collage of real-life voice recordings featuring Libby and her friends. “It really helps drive my story forward and makes this song feel like a recollection of memories,” she says.

Hamilton, Ontario’s The Dirty Nil are following up on their recently released album, The Lash (July 25, 2025), with a new live record Live At The Dine Alone Store. Featuring 13 tracks that span the band’s discography, the LP features The Dirty Nil in their element.

Live At The Dine Alone Store is available to purchase featuring two variants: DA Exclusive (ltd to 100) / Standard(ltd to 200). Remaining vinyl copies will be available online at dinealonestore.com the following day (November 29th) followed by the digital release this past Friday.

Taken from The Lash, “Fail In Time” is the first cut to be spotlighted from the session. A perfect example of the album’s stripped down, black-and-white approach, “Fail In Time” is raw, loud, and refreshingly bleak.

“We played more shows this year than any other, by far,” The Dirty Nil elaborates. “2025 was a blur, but this show stands out as the day we got to celebrate The Lash with our friends, family and fans. We had some of our favourite local bands play and it nearly brought us to tears seeing all the work that Dine Alone had put into NIL-ifying their headquarters in our honour. The Lash themed cookies were delicious.”

Baja, California-based artist Sia Shells invites listeners to dive deep into their strength and surrender with “Riding The Wave” – an ethereal, ocean-inspired pop anthem that captures the power of resilience, transformation, and trust in the tides of life. Blending her signature mermaid pop aesthetic with dreamlike production and soulful vocals, Sia Shells conjures a sonic spell for anyone struggling to stay afloat.

“‘Riding The Wave’ is all about keeping your head above water throughout the current of life, especially when it pulls you down and it’s hard to see the surface,” she explains. “It’s about resilience, change, and finding the strength to overcome it all while evoking the mysterious and beautiful imagery of the ocean.”

Crafted to mirror the ocean’s ebb and flow, the song’s composition moves between whispering vocals – representing the wind – and a swelling, powerful crescendo that embodies the sea itself. Produced with a touch of nostalgic warmth, the track feels like a safe, familiar space for reflection and renewal. “I wanted a nostalgic feel to the song, so it feels like a familiar, safe space for people to hold onto when they’re feeling like they’re drowning or carried away by the tides of their life,” Sia Shells shares.

“Riding The Wave” continues Sia Shells’ exploration of the mystical and the mindful – a reminder that, like the sea, we are vast, deep, and ever-changing. “Open your arms as wide as the horizon meets the sea,” she says. “You are strong enough to ride the wave.”

American folk artist Dan Pallotta returns with Working Man’s Son, a deeply introspective new album spanning themes of love and loss, childhood experiences that shape us, the dignity of work, and the inner voices that tell us we’re never enough. Anchored by the nostalgic lead single, “24 Kenmore Road,” the record traces the intimate stories of everyday people, reminding listeners of the beauty and heartbreak inherent in ordinary life.

“Working Man’s Son is a collection of songs I’ve recorded over the last 16 months,” Pallotta shares. “Each song is deeply introspective, some directly and some through the lens of characters. It’s about the heartbreaking beauty of the human condition – the inner battles we fight with ourselves that the world doesn’t know about, even though everyone else is struggling with a  battle unknown to us.”

“A construction worker who never felt he was enough because he sacrificed career dreams for his family,” Pallotta continues. “The school bus driver who lost her husband just as they were about to retire. The trash man who sees robotic arms taking away his livelihood and is scared to death of that.”

“24 Kenmore Road” draws from Pallotta’s own childhood in Malden, Massachusetts and the two-family house his parents bought to raise four kids. “I wanted to capture a deep appreciation for the innocence and beauty of the neighborhood community that existed in 1960s America. Sometimes the literal is more poetic than any metaphor – everyone remembers the address of the house they grew up in.”

Recorded mostly in his personal studio, Pallotta captured guitar, vocals, harmonica, percussion, and synthesizers with minimal takes, preserving the intimacy and authenticity of the performances. “Pretty much everything is a first take, even if there are some warts. I wanted to keep it that way. It’s very hard not to get self-conscious on your second, third, fourth takes, and  then you lose the intimacy.”