Ahead of their forthcoming debut EP, Victoria, BC duo Miss the Heart share “Don’t U Dare,” a sexy and cheeky single that wrestles with the temptation to fight dirty without surrendering to it. Pairing a playful sense of provocation with the duo’s emotionally charged alternative pop-rock, the track captures the internal battle between wanting to hit back at someone who crossed a line and refusing to let their actions dictate your own.

“Don’t U Dare” was born from a conflict in which someone hit below the belt before attempting to drag vocalist Kiarra O’Connor down with them. Tempted to retaliate in kind, O’Connor instead found herself confronting a more difficult choice: whether momentary satisfaction was worth becoming someone she didn’t want to be. The song draws its tension from that push and pull, transforming the impulse to fight fire with fire into a declaration of where the line gets drawn.

“I was very tempted to play their game and hit them right back where it hurt,” O’Connor explains. “The song came from that internal battle where I wanted to fight fire with fire, but ultimately chose not to let someone else’s actions turn me into someone I didn’t want to be. It’s about drawing a line in the sand and not going there.”

That restraint doesn’t make “Don’t U Dare” any less provocative. The chorus plays with layers of whispered vocals beneath O’Connor’s full performance, creating an intimate counterpoint that gives the track its teasing, almost conspiratorial quality. The original plan was to whisper the chorus entirely before the duo landed on a balance between the two approaches, allowing temptation and resolve to seemingly coexist within the vocal itself.

The track emerged through a burst of spontaneity. Miss the Heart were originally preparing to enter the studio to record previous single, “Know Me Better,” when O’Connor came up with the chorus to “Don’t U Dare” just weeks before the scheduled session. The idea arrived so quickly and insistently that the duo changed course entirely, pushing “Know Me Better” months down the line so they could capture the new song first.

That same instinct carried into the recording process. Drummer Michael Voytash helped shape the song’s guitar solo by experimenting with pedals, while a chord change in the final chorus was written spontaneously in the studio, giving the closing stretch another unexpected lift. Those details reinforce the song’s playful volatility, with the arrangement seemingly capable of changing direction as quickly as the emotions behind it.

“Don’t U Dare” also expands the broader exploration of feminine rage at the heart of Miss the Heart’s forthcoming debut EP. Rather than treating rage as a single emotion, the duo uses each release to examine a different response to the experiences that provoke it. On “Numb Me Out,” their first song written and recorded together, the realization of living within a misogynistic world moves from hopelessness and the desire to escape toward defiance and reclaiming power. “Know Me Better” turns betrayal by narcissistic personalities into an explosive refusal to be underestimated or manipulated. “Don’t U Dare” approaches that same emotional territory from another angle entirely, capturing the moment when anger presents a choice: retaliate in kind or refuse to let someone else determine who you become.

Together, the songs reveal feminine rage as something far more complicated than anger alone. It can be exhausting and hard-hitting, empowering and cathartic, or, as “Don’t U Dare” demonstrates, unexpectedly sexy, cheeky, and teasing. By allowing each song to inhabit a different stage and expression of that experience, Miss the Heart is building a debut EP around the contradictions of finding your voice, drawing boundaries, and taking your power back without prescribing a single way to do it.

For O’Connor, writing from that perspective has offered a way to move beyond the surface-level emotions that can sometimes dominate pop songwriting. By turning real experiences into something playful, cathartic, and unapologetic, Miss the Heart continues to find different shades within the same emotional world.

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.

Indie folk-pop producer/songwriter Brayden Bell shares “Biggest Fan,” a wistful and tender new single shaped by wanderlust, the passage of time, and the unexpected places a loving relationship can lead. Pairing intimate, upfront vocals with warm folk instrumentation and subtle cinematic flourishes, the track considers what it means to truly champion the people we love while there is still time to do so.

Inspired by travel, wanderlust, and a relationship that hasn’t always unfolded exactly as imagined, “Biggest Fan” finds Brayden looking at love through the lens of life’s impermanence. Rather than shy away from the uncomfortable reality of mortality, he uses it as an invitation to live more boldly, compassionately, and presently.

“No one gets out alive,” Brayden states. “I think chewing on that bit of information more often can only help us live bolder, more loving and compassionate lives.”

That philosophy sits at the heart of the song’s title. For Brayden, being someone’s “Biggest Fan” means actively championing the people closest to us, particularly during the moments when they feel as though no one is listening. “We need to champion our loved ones,” he explains. “To be their biggest fan when they feel like no one’s listening. A Biggest Fan Club, if you will.”

The song came together quickly, carrying a familiarity that made Brayden feel as though he had somehow heard it before. Its defining sonic character, however, emerged once Benjamin Longman added banjo, providing what Brayden describes as the song’s missing piece. Percussionist Matt Frank further expanded the arrangement with cinematic atmosphere, allowing its most emotional moments to feel larger without sacrificing intimacy.

The song also reflects a broader shift in Brayden’s writing toward greater honesty and a closer alignment with his own musical taste. On “Biggest Fan,” he hears some of the emotionally direct storytelling he admires in artists like Donovan Woods.

“Biggest Fan” will eventually join Brayden’s forthcoming EP, Gardener, a collection documenting the moments and emotions that have defined the last few years of his life. Writing serves as an outlet for Brayden, making the songs less a calculated collection than a series of personal snapshots or, as he puts it, “captions to the last few years of my life.”

At the centre of “Biggest Fan” is a simple but difficult truth: loving someone also means knowing that time together is finite. Rather than allowing that knowledge to turn the song toward despair, Brayden uses it to underline the importance of building a life rich enough in memories to sustain the person eventually left behind.

London, ON-based folk artist Willem James Cowan unveils his new album, What Should Happen Next?, an intimate collection exploring heartbreak, loss, new beginnings, and the uncertain process of rebuilding. Pairing vulnerable songwriting with a carefully pared-down blend of acoustic and electronic textures, the record emerged from a period of profound personal change and ultimately helped Willem arrive at a sound that feels more distinctly his own.

The majority of the album was written after Willem left Toronto at the beginning of 2023 and moved back in with his parents in his hometown of London, Ontario. He spent the following months writing constantly, processing the end of one chapter while trying to understand what might come next.

“The whole album deals with themes of heartbreak, loss, new beginnings, and trying to rebuild yourself from the ground up,” Willem shares.

Those ideas come into sharp focus on the somber and self-reflective “Choke.” Written in the immediate aftermath of a breakup, the song chronicles the emotional confusion of the first few days that followed with striking specificity. “Pretty much every lyric in this song is specific to what I was going through and the feelings I was experiencing and dealing with during that time.”

Musically, “Choke” is representative of What Should Happen Next? as a whole, living somewhere between acoustic singer-songwriter intimacy and understated electronic experimentation. Largely programmed drums sit beneath layers of guitar created by recording each note of a chord individually, multiple times, before stacking them into what Willem calls a “pseudo-orchestra of guitar strings.”

That attention to detail reflects the more deliberate approach behind the entire album. After feeling as though he was constantly catching up with himself while making his 2022 debut, Willem took his time with What Should Happen Next? Most of the drums were recorded in June 2025 before he spent roughly six months building out the remaining production from his apartment, with friends and collaborators helping round out its sound.

“I wanted this album to really feel like me,” he says. “I pared down the production to make it feel as close and personal as possible, which I think I achieved in the end.”

Ahead of their forthcoming album, Illumination, legendary English synth-pop duo When In Rome share “Don’t Stare at the Sun,” a confident and uplifting new single built around determination, resilience and the impulse to keep moving forward. Blending the band’s unmistakable synth-pop foundations with elements of new wave, art rock, dance rock and the theatrical sweep of the New Romantic era, the track transforms the uncertainty of its origins into something passionate and resolute.

Written during the lockdown period, “Don’t Stare at the Sun” emerged from the strange atmosphere surrounding everyday life at the time. While much of Illumination was shaped by that period of uncertainty and isolation, the song pushes against those feelings, turning frustration into a determined reminder to question what you hear and hold onto your own sense of optimism.

“‘Don’t Stare at the Sun’ was written, as was most of Illumination, during the lockdown period, so it reflects a lot of people’s actions and thoughts at the time,” explains Andrew Mann. “I can remember hearing a man from the World Health Organization warning the public about the sun and not to look at it. It all seemed pretty scary and ridiculous to us at the time, and that triggered us into writing the song.”

Musically, “Don’t Stare at the Sun” embraces the dance-driven direction at the heart of Illumination. Synth-pop melodies and new wave textures collide with the urgency of indie and experimental rock, giving the song an expansive energy that feels equally suited to the dancefloor and the stage.

That combination of electronic pulse and rock instinct gives the track its sense of momentum. Rather than dwelling in the uncertainty that inspired it, “Don’t Stare at the Sun” feels determined to break through it. The result is a song that is confident without losing its sense of curiosity, passionate without becoming heavy handed, and ultimately driven by the idea of continuing forward even when the world around you feels increasingly difficult to understand.

The single continues the latest chapter for When In Rome, whose forthcoming album, Illumination, marks their first full collection of new material in years. Across the record, Andrew Mann and Clive Farrington revisit the synth-driven sound that first established the band while expanding it through contemporary production, dance rhythms and a broader experimental streak.

The recording process for Illumination has also brought together an impressive team of collaborators. Al Judd (Information Society, Devo, Wang Chung, The Fixx) crafted pre-production mixes, while Canadian Nick Jackson (producer of The Fixx) helped further refine the material. Final Production and mixing duties were handled by fellow Canadian Devon Loughheed, helping shape the polished and cinematic sound of the new album.

Toronto alternative artist and producer ARK IDENTITY (Noah Mroueh) releases “SIT,” a defiant, euphoric, and anthemic new wave-inspired alternative pop single that confronts the relentless noise of modern life with an unexpectedly simple message: stop, breathe, and think for yourself. Propulsive rhythms, shimmering synths, and escalating intensity turn exhaustion with political division, social media outrage, and relentless news cycles into a rallying cry for empathy, clarity, and independent thought.

Inspired by the constant barrage of outrage, opinion, and polarization that defines everyday life, “SIT” emerged from Noah’s growing frustration with a world that rarely leaves room for reflection.

“Politics, racism, sexism, social media, people constantly arguing, the news, algorithms,” he explains. “It feels like there’s almost no space to just think for yourself anymore. ‘SIT’ came out of that frustration.”

That tension lies at the heart of both the song and its title. Short, direct, and almost confrontational, “SIT” initially feels like a command but beneath its sharp exterior lies something far more compassionate. Rather than encouraging passivity, the song reframes stillness as an act of resistance.

“In a world that constantly demands our attention and reaction, choosing to stop, sit still and think for yourself can be the most radical thing you do,” Noah says. “For me, sitting becomes an act of rebellion.”

That central contradiction also shapes the music itself. While the lyrics encourage listeners to slow down and let go, the arrangement does the opposite, building layer upon layer of driving percussion, pulsing rhythms, and soaring alternative pop textures that create an exhilarating sense of forward momentum. The result is a song that feels simultaneously urgent and grounding, mirroring the emotional push-and-pull between external chaos and internal calm.

One of the recording’s defining elements comes from an unexpected source. As the track evolved, Noah incorporated the darbuka, an ancient goblet-shaped hand drum whose distinctive rhythms add another dimension to the song’s propulsion. For Noah, who is half Lebanese, the instrument became more than a sonic choice. “It felt like a subtle way to bring a small piece of my heritage into the song.”

While “SIT” confronts social media overload head-on, it ultimately refuses to become consumed by it. Instead, the song offers something increasingly rare: permission to disconnect, reclaim perspective, and respond with intention rather than impulse.

“Every day, we’re bombarded with something new to worry about,” Noah says. “From the potential threat of AI and political division to social media overload, it’s pulling us further apart, creating anxiety, and encouraging hate. ‘SIT’ is meant as a rallying cry to rise above the noise and division.”