Hamilton, Ontario punk rock lifers The Penske File share the official video for “Rocking Chair,” a standout track from their new album, Reprieve, released October 3rd. The song captures the trio’s reflective side, exploring themes of mortality, memory, and acceptance with a warmth and honesty that’s become their hallmark.

“‘Rocking Chair’ is a special kind of song to us. One that arrived naturally and inspired, seemingly out of thin air, as we sat around the fireplace with a guitar in a rented house in Germany on an off night on tour in the summer of 2024,” says frontman Travis Miles. “It’s a hopeful, yet bittersweet song about looking back on a full life from the end of the road. I think we all hope that, someday, when death comes for us and our loved ones we’ll be at peace. That’s what this song is about.”

Recorded live in producer Adam Michael’s living room, “Rocking Chair” preserves the raw intimacy and emotional immediacy of the moment it was written. With longtime collaborator Victor Wiercioch capturing the session on film, the video offers an unfiltered look at a band connected by decades of friendship and shared purpose. “Being so emotionally connected to the way the song originated, we decided to try and capture that initial spark of inspiration on the record,” Miles explains. “We set up a few mics and got the whole thing down in one live take.”

As one of Reprieve’s most poignant moments, “Rocking Chair” distills the spirit of the record: confronting change, loss, and the passage of time without losing sight of the light. The Penske File have long made their name on high-energy punk rock anthems, but here, they lean into restraint – offering a moment of quiet beauty amid the chaos.

With warmth, wit, and a deep sense of reflection, Saskatchewan-born singer-songwriter Jeffery Straker shares “Never Too Old To Wish” – a piano-driven roots-folk Christmas song that celebrates the magic of memory, the joy of togetherness, and the beauty of growing older without losing your sense of wonder.

“It seems with each passing year that the meaning of Christmas has evolved or changed for me, bit by bit,” Straker shares. “When I was a kid, it was all about the gifts from Santa. Over time, the magic of Santa faded, but the magic of the season didn’t – it just shifted. It became about connection, gratitude, and joy.”
Blending tender storytelling with a timeless piano-driven melody, “Never Too Old To Wish” explores the emotional evolution of the holidays – from childlike excitement to nostalgic reflection. The song’s message, Straker explains, is one of celebration rather than sorrow: “It’s not a sad longing, rather almost kind of a celebration of reflections. I think that’s why the old Christmas songs never get old – they’re soundtracks and underscores to our past joy.”

Written in the wake of losing both of his parents, Straker’s new single reflects on the ways memory deepens the meaning of Christmas. “Though the look of the season changes every year – the fancy LED lights, the giant inflatable snowmen, a few more grey hairs – there’s still plenty of magic,” he says. “When I was little, I used to dream about Santa arriving on his sleigh. Now I dream about having some of the people with me who are no longer here. I’m still wishing – just wishing about different things.”

Rooted in Straker’s signature piano style and warm, narrative voice, “Never Too Old To Wish” feels both deeply personal and instantly familiar – a comforting reminder that the spirit of the holidays endures in our memories and the people we hold close.

Toronto-based rock ensemble Original Pairs return with Surface Tension, their fourth studio album and a potent exploration of personal longing, existential dread, and the human condition. Anchored by Andrew Frontini’s resonant baritone, the album spans ten musical parables set against twangy, reverb-drenched guitars, bluesy organ textures, and deep retro synth stylings from keyboardist Jon Loewen. Buttressed by Lynda Kraar’s melodic bass and Lisa Logan’s precise, orchestral drumming, Surface Tension balances haunting reverie with savage rock energy, mining the depths of a life lived in rock‘n’roll purgatory.

“Surface Tension taught us to experiment and improvise. To lean into our musical backgrounds, drawing upon a lifetime of playing and listening to music,” says Frontini. “It’s always intense, trying to get a lot done in a very compressed time period. The whole album was recorded, including overdubs in five days.” The album’s themes invite listeners to embrace life’s anxieties, fears, and doubts, breaking through the “surface tension” of everyday existence into greater understanding.

At the heart of the album is “Curiosity,” a dark and moody track inspired by the perils and powers of the imagination. Frontini describes it as “a cautionary tale about the dangers of curiosity – art’s catalyst that can make you crazy.” A period of daydreaming and obsessive self-reflection fueled the song, and the resulting composition captures the tension of a mind teetering between fantasy and reality.

The recording process highlights Original Pairs’ commitment to organic, live-off-the-floor performance. “We never use click tracks and we don’t cut and paste,” explains Frontini. “We aim for a live performance with the maximum of emotional intensity that it brings. It’s never perfect but always real.” 

The song’s final climax features a layered interplay of guitars, Rhodes piano, Moog synth, and driving drum fills, building to a dramatic, chaotic peak that mirrors the narrative of obsession and inner turmoil. Producer John Dinsmore’s final mix emphasized the dramatic arc from ponderous and wistful to anxiety-fueled freak out.

Japan-born, Canada-raised artist Justin Maki follows up his recent single “Technicolor Dreams” with “Nine Lives,” an effervescent pop-funk anthem rooted in love, loyalty, and the immortal pull of connection. The FCLMA–winning singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and producer delivers his most romantic statement yet – a bright, syncopated celebration of devotion that feels timeless and cinematic.

“The statement comes across as a striking romantic hypothetical,” Maki explains. “If I had the opportunity to live more than one life or to live a much longer life – I would choose you over and over again, day in and day out, despite the other options, despite my instinctual desire for variety, because I just love you that much.”

The phrase “Nine Lives” evokes the mythic resilience of cats – creatures said to survive anything. But for Maki, it becomes a metaphor for eternal love: “It’s the ultimate 2025 Breakfast Club boombox moment.”

Maki co-wrote “Nine Lives” with Drew Shalka (Mute Choir) during a snowstorm-stranded session in Nashville – the same partnership that produced his previous hit, “Technicolor Dreams.” “It was one of the most productive writing sessions I’ve ever taken part in,” says Maki. “We wrote the entire song – lyrics, melody, arrangement, and demo – in the span of about six hours, then capped the day with his partner’s homemade tuna casserole. With 100 songs written for this project and eight selected for the record, it’s truly a statistical miracle that two of the eight were co-written with Drew.”

Working once again with VAŪLTS – the JUNO–winning production duo of David Mohacsi and Maïa Davies – Maki reshaped the song’s early melancholy into a radiant anthem about love’s endurance. “You wouldn’t know it, but this song was originally about unrequited love,” he recalls. “It started off as a documenting of a failed relationship that could and would never rekindle. I wrote: if I had nine lives, I’d try almost anything… but nine lives ain’t gonna make you love me. When David and Maïa suggested a revamping of the message and the lyrics, I originally resisted, but I’m so glad that I trusted them and the process.”
The single’s lush rhythm section and stacked vocal harmonies evoke vintage disco and modern funk while maintaining Maki’s signature sincerity. The song’s bridge, in particular, shows his willingness to push creative boundaries – a rhythmic tangle of drums, vocals, and guitar that collide in unexpected ways before resolving into a warm, cathartic finale.

Toronto songwriter and composer Neil Haverty (frontman of alt-folk ensemble Bruce Peninsula, and composer of the Wildhood soundtrack) returns with “What I Don’t Need,” a contemplative indie single that grapples with the tension between personal autonomy and the responsibilities we carry toward others.
Written and performed by Haverty and produced by long-time collaborator Leon Taheny (Owen Pallett, Weaves), “What I Don’t Need” builds from pensive, isolated verses into a cathartic chorus explosion, echoing the songwriter’s own struggles to balance quiet reflection with outward expression. Dark synths underscore the mood, while dynamic drums and guitar riffs deliver moments of intensity, mirroring the push-and-pull between independence and interdependence.

“The title/refrain are intentionally cagey and avoidant,” Haverty explains. “I’m resistant to being told what to do even if it’s born of love and care for me. When you struggle with decision paralysis, you don’t want to re-litigate the decisions you already managed to make. That said, there’s a lot about oneself that is hard to see personally, but that friends and loved ones can easily spot. This song is about trying to listen to those voices, trying to see yourself as you’re seen and the responsibility to act that sometimes comes with that.”

1. Tell us the story of this song, why did you choose to visualize this song specifically? 
Animator Luca Tarantini (aka AOK) was recommended to me at a party and I was blown away when I looked into his work. When I reached out to him, I gave him a bunch of songs to consider and this is the one that most resonated with him. It was one of my favourite songs, so I was happy when he chose it to work on. A music video extends the life of a song well after recording and mixing and I thought it was worthy of that kind of extra attention. Aesthetically, I was very happy with the way the recording of What I Don’t Need turned out, and I think Leon (who recorded it with me) and Luca both hit the nail on the head for the mood I was trying to strike. The song is a bit of a tug-of-war between quiet internalizing and brash externalizing, and the visual gives it more dimension from there. 

2.What was the inspiration behind this video (visuals, storyline, etc.)? 
Luca came back to me with our monkey protagonist really early, and I was hooked when he told me it was a 3D scan of a 2700 year old statue. As we talked it back and forth we ended up adding some narrative arc and arrived at something he’s described as “

Dante’s Inferno meets Night at the Museum”. I think alot is being said by the monkey’s longing movements, but it’s obviously pretty abstract as well. We both have our feelings about what our monkey goes through and learns over the course of the video and we figured out we have slightly different perspectives on that. I think there’s something great about those viewpoint differences, and won’t go into specifics because I hope viewers have their own interpretations too. 

3. What was the process of making this video?

I was lucky enough to see it improve in huge leaps each time he would send a new update over the year or two it took to make it. Luca lived with it more intimately and no doubt fought some battles with it that I wasn’t privvy to. He completed the video around 2022, just before AI tools started to get introduced that would have helped reduce his workload, so we’ve been referring to the animation as being done “the old fashioned way”. I don’t think your average person thinks too much about how intensely labour intensive animation has been as an artform, where each frame is massaged and managed in one way or another and every bit of magic you feel was because an animator poured themselves into it. Obviously that magnifies the further you go back in time to hand-made animation, but the pre-AI version of it was still pretty hefty in terms of hours spent at the computer. I’m grateful that Luca is an artist at heart and that all that time doesn’t tax him too much to see it through. In the end, we have this beautiful piece of art we can both be really proud of, having each spent quality time building out the song in our own ways.

Toronto’s No Breaks Jake returns with “Trouble,” a warm, intimate alt/indie rock track that captures the silent complexities of human experience. Unlike the band’s heavier, more chaotic work, this song allows space for openness, reflection, and emotional clarity. It’s a song about perseverance and the intersection of courage and vulnerability, a reminder that even when life is at its most overwhelming, resolve can pull you forward.

“Compared to my other work, there’s a little less rage and a little more humanity,” explains frontman Jacob Kassay. “It’s not as loud or as angry – instead it gets to be more warm, more open, more willing to let you in and show what’s hurting.”

“Trouble,” the second track of No Breaks Jake’s upcoming Amygdalan EP, was crafted with careful attention to warmth and accessibility. Subdued vocals, cleaner guitar tones, and gradual layering of instruments build toward moments of cathartic intensity. “The bridge, in particular, is my favourite part of the song,” Kassay explains. “There’s this feeling where everything inverts and the song sort of wraps its arms around you.”

The track demonstrates No Breaks Jake’s distinctive ability to combine raw energy with emotional insight. From the opening line, What about it? I feel like I’m in over my head, the song evokes the fragile yet determined spirit at the heart of the band’s music. “It makes me feel warm,” Kassay reflects. “I feel like I know this person, like I’ve been this person. The weird thing is… I’m not sure if I want to follow their example or tell them I’m here if they need help. It’s just a perfect point of openness in seeing someone for who they are: their triumphs, their flaws, and their, well… troubles.”