Indie artist goodheart returns with “Stuck in a Cloud,” a restless, upbeat reflection on emotional limbo. Blending shimmering indie-rock with raw lyrical honesty, the track captures the feeling of being somewhere between apathy and angst – what goodheart calls “a total blah.”

“I wrote ‘Stuck in a Cloud‘ on a day when I was home alone for a week,” says goodheart. “I was feeling stir-crazy, but also too apathetic to do anything about it. I had set out to write a different song, but this one came out of nowhere – fast and fully formed.”

The title flips the expression “on cloud nine” into something more ambiguous. “Clouds can represent joy or gloom depending on the context,” she explains. “To be stuck in one is to hover in between – not exactly happy, not really sad either.”

Originally imagined as a slower acoustic piece, the track evolved in the studio thanks to drummer Connor, guitarist David, and bassist Ryan, whose bouncing bass line helped push the song into more dynamic territory. “That indie-rock backbone gave it a pulse we didn’t know it needed. Once that clicked, everything else came to life,” she says.

Tell us the story of this song—why did you choose to visualize this one specifically?

“Stuck in a Cloud” felt like a good choice to bring to life visually because it captures such a specific kind of emotional grey zone that I think a lot of people recognize, but rarely articulate. It’s about those days when you’re feeling stuck—emotionally, physically, existentially—but you’re also too worn out to do anything about it. I wrote it in a weird state of cabin fever/apathy after being stuck inside my apartment for a week, and the song came to me pretty quickly. It felt natural to give that feeling a face through a video. There’s also something fun and kind of ironic about making a whole visual production out of not wanting to do anything, and I loved leaning into that.

What was the inspiration behind this video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?

The video takes place in this empty, slightly surreal apartment setting—because that’s where the song was born: in my apartment, mid-existential crisis, counting cars out the window and googling weird conspiracy theories. We wanted the visuals to mirror that foggy, detached feeling of being inside too long, where time blurs and you start asking yourself unhinged questions like “Is this the end of something, or just the start of a spiral?” A lot of it plays with stillness and restlessness at the same time—sunglasses inside, laying on the floor, kind of glamorizing the funk in a fun way. I also loved pairing the more existential themes with visuals that don’t take themselves too seriously. It’s messy and has some humour in it, because honestly, I think that’s what life feels like most of the time.

What was the process of making this video?

Honestly, very very scrappy—in the best way. One Friday my friend Bryce (Bryce Mercier, Director) hit me up and said his friend had an empty apartment that we could shoot in, but that we’d have to do it in the next two days. We had no concept, limited gear, and two other friends who were down to help out. We made it up on the day as we shot, just responding to the space and the mood as we filmed. Dre (Andre Schumann, DP/Gaffer) handled lighting and created a really cool colour story that matched the EP, and Matty (Matt Adams, Photographer) captured some killer shots and helped out a lot on set. It was definitely one of those ‘use what you have and make it work’ kind of shoots, which I love—it mirrors how the song was created too. The whole thing was just a group of friends trying weird things in a small space and making something bigger out of it. Very DIY, very heart-forward.

You can check out some BTS photos of the shoot I posted to my instagram here: https://www.instagram.com/p/DKH3RuhR65L/?img_index=7

Angela Saini returns with “Puzzle Piece,” a bright, roots-pop anthem about finding confidence in being different and celebrating the bold colours that make us who we are. With folk-pop charm, catchy melodies, and an empowering message at its core, “Puzzle Piece” affirms what Saini has long been known for: heartfelt storytelling with a big, beaming smile.

“Puzzle Piece” is about being unapologetically you – even if that means standing out instead of fitting in. “As a bi-racial kid growing up, I never felt like I fully belonged anywhere,” says Saini. “But I realize now that my uniqueness is a strength and every experience of not fitting in has shaped who I am. This song is a reminder that every piece matters – the picture needs you to be YOU to make it complete.”

Written from deeply personal experience and produced to reflect Saini‘s genre-blending style, the track leans into alt-country twang, pop polish, and acoustic sincerity. It was crafted to feel like an anthem – uplifting and confident, a musical nod to dancing to your own beat.

1. Tell us the story of this song, why did you choose to visualize this song specifically?
“Puzzle Piece” is about embracing individuality and celebrating our uniqueness that contributes to life’s bigger picture.
We are each meant to be exactly who we are, with all our unique colors and edges, which make the puzzle complete. Metaphorically, the song reminds us that every unique piece matters—and together, we create the bigger, more beautiful picture. So, of course, I had to create a puzzle!

2. What was the inspiration behind this video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?
In the spirit of the song, I created a puzzle of the song artwork, with the intention of getting a whole bunch of people to come out and put the puzzle together, celebrating our own uniqueness in front of the camera. Each person was invited to pick a puzzle piece, and dance or pose for the camera, sharing their unique self. The director Rebecca Madamba really captured everyone’s unique essence as we had optional props to choose from, as well as had each person sing “I’m the missing puzzle piece” to share their voice to the story of the song.

3. What was the process of making this video?
I did a public call -out for volunteers who wanted to put together the puzzle and be in the video, to meet in Kensington Market (in Toronto) at a specific time. Kensington Market is a very vibrant neighbourhood, and there is a huge Goddess mural that was decided as the background for the video. Once we started shooting, with each person picking a puzzle piece, dancing and/or shining for the camera, passersby started getting curious and we had other people from the street participate as well. It was fun and there was a real sense of community! At one point, there was a big circle of people on the street watching and would clap and cheer after each person had done their part and sang “I’m the missing puzzle piece.” It was so fun and we really got to celebrate everyone’s individual essence that they contributed to the whole project.

“After a show, someone approached us and said our set sounded like ‘lost songs from an unidentifiable 80s college rock band’.  We’d heard this before. The New Yorker had made a similar ‘80s college rock’ reference when trying to categorize Wormburner.  Yes, our music might sound vaguely familiar, but no one has ever quite put their finger on it. I like to think we are students of our record collections, and we welcome it when listeners search out our influences when hearing our songs,” explained  Hank Henry, lyricist and lead vocalist.

Wormburner’s new album has been released today, June 6^th,.  Based in Brooklyn, this is a band whose prior LP was praised with a very high grade by such legendary critics as Robert Christgau. Tour dates have landed Wormburner as far from home as the Pacific Northwest, where KEXP in Seattle has twice honored Wormburner with” Song of the Day” accolades and has hosted the band in KEXP’s live-in-the-studio performance space.

Titled Last of the Winter Light, the new album finds Wormburner at the peak of their powers to-date.  With narrative lyrics as vivid as you’ve come to expect from the Wormburner canon, these newest songs are populated by fringe figures, frozen and stranded, but somehow persevering in stark settings where the way forward is marked only by winter’s diminishing daylight.

Wormburner has shared stages with The War on Drugs, Violent Femmes, The Hold Steady, The Walkmen, Old 97s, Dean Wareham, Deer Tick, Pansy Division, Tommy Keene, Bill Janovitz of Buffalo Tom, Cracker, and Camper van Beethoven (David Lowery produced Wormburner’s debut album). Legendary VJ Matt Pinfield once hosted Wormburner vocalist Hank Henry for an in-depth interview on MTV’s 120 Minutes.  But the band remains an outlier.  And despite limited commercial response to their work, Wormburner continues to release time-tested material that is filled with personality and heart.

Mixes for the new album were handled by Phil Palazzolo (Okkervil River, New Pornographers, Neko Case, Ted Leo + Pharmacists).  Wormburner recently expanded to a six-piece lineup, propelling their already-electrifying stage show to a decidedly higher level of execution.

On Thursday June 12^th at New York City’s Mercury Lounge, Wormburner will celebrate their album release by sharing the stage with the acclaimed Cincinnati band Wussy.

After years keeping time behind the kit as the drummer for powerhouse Led Zeppelin tribute Zepparella, Clementine Moss is now striking a softer, more vulnerable chord—one that resonates straight from the heart. With her debut solo album, Clem & Clearlight (out May 30), Moss steps into the center of the frame, crafting a deeply soulful, genre-defying collection that prioritizes emotion over spectacle and spirit over speed.

Clem & Clearlight is a meditation in motion. At its core, it’s an exploration of intimacy—emotional, spiritual, and musical. The record trades rock’s thunder for quiet storms, ambient textures, and songwriting that feels like a whisper into the listener’s ear. Through stripped-down arrangements and poetic lyrics, Moss invites us into her interior world, where moments are suspended in time and vulnerability is treated as a superpower.

The album’s lead single, “Hey Sweetheart,” is a perfect example. Co-written with Italian guitar virtuoso Daniele Gottardo and Jimi Marks of the John Brothers Piano Company, the track unfolds with cinematic patience. Moss’s voice is breathy and direct, capturing the unguarded sincerity of a late-night conversation. It’s not about theatrics—it’s about telling the truth, softly and fully.

Across the album, Moss proves she’s not just a musician, but a seeker—one unafraid to sit in silence, stretch time, and let emotional clarity dictate tempo. With contributors like Gottardo and Marks, along with bassist Robert Preston, the album becomes more than a personal statement—it’s a communion. The musicianship is impeccable, but never showy; every note serves the feeling.

In a musical landscape that often favors immediacy and volume, Clem & Clearlight is refreshingly patient. It doesn’t clamor for attention—it holds it, gently. For fans of artists like Cat Power, Talk Talk, or early Norah Jones, Clementine Moss offers a quiet reckoning and a bold reintroduction.

Some songs arrive like a thunderclap. Others slip in unnoticed, weaving their way into your subconscious until you realize they’ve taken root. Cameron Stenger’s latest single, “Lingering,” falls squarely into the latter category. A quiet, emotionally rich meditation on memory and aftermath, the track serves as the first glimpse into his forthcoming album Lighter, due Summer 2025. It’s a subtle, slow-burning triumph from a songwriter who has long favored introspection over spectacle, and with “Lingering”, he invites listeners into one of his most vulnerable spaces yet.

Stenger, based in North Carolina, has built a steady following over the years for his evocative songwriting and hushed, aching delivery. Comparisons to artists like Elliott Smith, Nick Drake, and Jeff Tweedy persist, but Stenger has never chased mimicry. Instead, he’s worked with restraint, carefully carving out a voice that’s distinct in its understatement. With “Lingering,” he doesn’t demand attention—he earns it, line by line, note by note, breath by breath.

The song begins in near silence. Fingerpicked guitar creates a delicate lattice beneath Stenger’s hushed vocal, his words arriving like thoughts formed in real time. The pace is intentional, mirroring the emotional paralysis of its subject: the hollow space between loss and healing. “Lingering” is not about catharsis—it’s about the time just before it, when you’re still sorting through the wreckage, still tethered to what’s already gone.

A descending bassline, rich and melodic, begins to pull the track downward before lifting it into a new plane. Subtle, Beatlesque in shape, it’s the first sign of movement. Then the dam breaks: drums tumble in, guitars swell and shimmer, and Stenger’s voice strains—not with volume, but with feeling. There’s a storm inside this song, but it never spills over. Every element remains in service to the emotional architecture, held together by the delicate tension between control and collapse.

One of the most devastating lines comes almost casually: “Still in love with the aftermath.” It lands like a punch to the chest, perfectly capturing the central paradox of the song—how we sometimes cling to the debris of heartbreak long after its fire has gone out. It’s that complicated, in-between emotional state that “Lingering” embodies so effectively. Nothing is resolved here. Nothing is easy. But everything is honest.

The song’s accompanying video, directed by Erin Scannell, offers a visual meditation to match. Dreamlike and disorienting, it features ghostly doubles, slow-motion sequences, and nature rendered both intimate and unfamiliar. Floating flowers, flickering mirrors, the soft erosion of identity—all of it echoes the internal shifting that “Lingering” speaks to. The video is as gorgeously composed as it is emotionally unsettling, allowing the viewer to sit inside the very limbo the song conjures.

What sets Stenger apart, particularly with this release, is his trust in the listener. He doesn’t rush to the hook, doesn’t overstate his message, doesn’t force a resolution. Instead, he asks you to stay. To sit with the discomfort. To notice the small turns of phrase, the undercurrents, the silences between sounds. It’s the kind of songwriting that rewards patience—and more importantly, presence.

With “Lingering”, Cameron Stenger offers a compelling introduction to Lighter, an album that already promises to be his most emotionally ambitious to date. If the rest of the record carries even a fraction of the resonance heard here, Stenger won’t just be returning—he’ll be redefining the shape of his artistic identity.

For now, “Lingering” is enough. It’s a song that doesn’t beg to be played again. It just waits—on the edge of your day, in the corner of your mind—until you come back to it. And you will.