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.”

African Nova Scotian Music Association’s 2025 Songwriter of the Year Blessing Tangban returns with “God Of…” – a cinematic, soul-stirring worship song that explores the beauty, vastness, and intimacy of God’s presence in every moment. Written on a mountaintop in Nigeria, the track captures the awe of encountering a God who is both infinite and near – the God of the mountain, the valley, the healed, the broken.

“This song is my reminder that God is present in every part of my story – from the mountaintop moments to the quiet, broken places,” says Tangban. “‘God Of…’ is a declaration of awe – for a God who’s not limited by our highs or lows, but is deeply involved in every detail.”

Recorded in collaboration with her producer in an intimate studio session, “God Of…” mirrors the simplicity and majesty of the mountain setting that inspired it. “We decided the song should be as bare and vast as the amount of space you’re exposed to on the peak of a mountain,” she explains. “It was just both of us in the studio – simple, easy, honest – and he captured my intention so well. I performed the song in one take and the rest is history.”

The track’s title is intentionally unfinished – “God Of…” – an open-ended phrase that reflects the endlessness of who God is. Its orchestral-inspired arrangement and minimal instrumentation leave room for stillness, while Tangban’s warm, soul-inflected vocals invite listeners into quiet reflection and reverence.

“I don’t always understand how God shows up – sometimes it’s gentle, sometimes wild – but it’s always love. That’s what this song captures,” she adds.

Prolific Toronto-based artist JEEN returns with her striking new EP For The Romance – a collection that captures both the exhaustion and exhilaration of perseverance. Across five songs, JEEN transforms frustration and uncertainty into catharsis, embracing vulnerability and creative defiance in equal measure. “These five songs surfaced after a very difficult period in my career where I wasn’t sure if I could keep going,” she says. 

Working once again with long-time collaborator and producer Ian Blurton (Change of Heart, C’mon, Future Now), the For The Romance sessions took shape in early 2025, pairing the electricity of the studio with the intimacy of home demos. “Recording with Ian is always a great process, very grateful for that,” JEEN shares. “Under the harsher business circumstances around this release, adding two of my recent home recordings – including a solo live cover – just felt like the right combination.”

A record about persistence and the fleeting balance between hope and disillusionment, For The Romance showcases JEEN at her most honest and unguarded. “Perseverance,” she says simply, when asked about its central theme. “I’m just trying not to become too jaded or bitter in this industry. It’s a hard battle sometimes, but I’m still here.”

At the heart of the EP lies its title track – an anthemic, tongue-in-cheek reflection on resilience and the reason she continues to make music at all. “‘For The Romance’ is a reminder not to give up until you find what you’re looking for,” JEEN explains. “I wrote it at the end of my rope, trying to convince myself there’s still something worth fighting for.”

The song’s shimmering pulse and lyrical duality mirror the sentiment behind its title: “For The Romance” isn’t just a love song – it’s a tribute to the pursuit itself. “That phrase is kind of the gist of why I started making music in the first place,” she adds. “It’s about the never-ending hope there’s something more out there if you can keep looking.”