Burned-out mathematician turned indie-soul artist Jeremy Voltz returns with “Feel It All,” a deeply introspective track about the struggle to care for someone despite anger, distance, and the vulnerability that comes with connection. As the latest release from Voltz’s 2025 music campaign, the single captures the push and pull of human relationships – tender, complicated, and ultimately unbreakable.

“The song came from a rocky relationship with a friend,” Voltz shares. “I tried for almost a year to distance myself and keep safe at arm’s length. But I realized that no matter how hard I tried not to care about my friend, I couldn’t stop. My anger had dried up without me noticing, and I even tried to cling to it so I wouldn’t have to care, because caring is hard. But ultimately, care blooms in spite of our best efforts.”

Uniquely, this is the first song Voltz has ever released that he created on an Akai MPC – the legendary drum machine and sampler made famous by J Dilla and first discovered by Voltz through Dilla’s influence on D’Angelo’s music. “It’s an amazing new way to create away from my guitar,” he shares. “The track inspired the lyrics, which is usually the other way around for me. When I came up with the beat, these emotions and lyrics flowed out of me almost instantly.”

Voltz adds, “The message of the song is that you can try as much as you want to harden yourself, to not care, but care and concern grow in spite of yourself. Like a flower growing out of a crack in the sidewalk.”

Haitian Canadian artist Tedy releases his highly anticipated debut album Scandalous. A bold, emotionally charged record that blurs the lines between pop, R&B, and alt-soul, Scandalous marks a defining moment in Tedy’s artistic evolution.

Known for his raw storytelling, soaring vocals, and genre-bending sound, Tedy is quickly molding himself into one of Canada’s most magnetic voices. With over 50 million global streams, one million TikTok followers, and 27 million likes, he’s built a fanbase drawn to his honesty and fearless creativity.

“Scandalous is about reclaiming the word,” Tedy says. “It’s about being unapologetically real. I’m calling my fans ‘Scandals’ because if being yourself makes you a scandal – be the biggest scandal, make headlines.”

From the viral, poignant anthem “Rich,” to the heart-wrenching ballad “I Hope,” and the unapologetic closer “Talk About Me,” Scandalous moves through vulnerability, ambition, and empowerment with cinematic flair. This body of work includes the talents of Dan Book (blink-182, Britney Spears) and Jesse Mason (Chance Peña, BLONDISH), Chris Lyon (The Chainsmokers, Rina Sawayama, Rebecca Black) and Rabbit (Stell, Johnny Orlando, Maeta). 

At the heart of the album lies “Hurt My Feelings,” an aching yet tender reflection on unspoken love and the quiet acceptance of loss. Tedy captures the bittersweet beauty of wanting someone you can’t have, weaving emotional vulnerability with poetic restraint. Within the broader context of Scandalous, it stands as a defining moment: a surrender to imperfection and an embrace of emotional honesty that anchors the project as a whole. 

Tedy is also expanding his creative prowess by putting a stamp on his songwriting ability, with recent credits for EJAE from K-Pop Demon Hunters on her newest single “In Another World.”

“If my earlier projects introduced me, Scandalous is about me peeling the layers of my inner self,” he shares. “I’m not hiding anymore. I’ve learned that what I thought were weaknesses are actually strengths. This is me, loud, emotional, and proud.”

The Scandalous era extends beyond music. Styled and designed largely by Tedy himself, the visuals fuse glam rock with high-drama pop – what he describes as “Elton John meets Prince, filtered through a Victorian pirate obsessed with glitter.”

The album is more than a body of work; it’s a declaration of selfhood. 

“All my heroes were scandalous,” Tedy says. “Now it’s my turn.” 

Ontario-based multi-instrumentalist and composer Dylan White makes his solo debut with Fronds – a lush, groove-driven EP that explores the repeating patterns of love and fear that shape human connection across lifetimes and generations. Rooted in jazz, soul, and funk, Fronds reflects both the intricate structure of nature and the resilient spirit of those who dare to break cycles of trauma and doubt.

“We’re surrounded by deep-rooted and mysterious patterns,” says White. “This album was inspired by those patterns – of both love and fear – that repeat themselves throughout a lifetime and across generations. As a nature boy, I’ve always been intrigued by the fact that repeating systems are the basis of all life.”

Across Fronds, White leans into the concept of iteration both musically and emotionally. Recorded across Guelph, Toronto, Haliburton, and Calgary, the EP captures a wide network of collaborators who helped shape its textured, communal sound. “I cashed in all the favours that I could,” he laughs. “All of the musicians on this record are players that I’ve performed with for years. Their backgrounds span acoustic singer-songwriter, funk, soul, jazz fusion and everything in between.”

The EP’s collaborative spirit shines brightest on “Rags,” the defiant, joyfully funky centrepiece. Built around a whole-tone descending bassline, the track dismantles the tired myth of “rags to riches” with sharp wit and a grin. “It’s a joyful attack on murky and vain clichés like ‘pulling yourself up by your bootstraps,’” says White. “It rejects the ridiculousness, conceit, and delusion that we (especially white guys like myself) succeed because we ‘earned it’ and thoroughly enjoys poking fun at that idea.”
With its layered jazz harmonies, light-on-its-feet groove, and expressive performances from drummer Julian Psihogios and guitarist Anoop Isac, “Rags” balances playfulness with purpose. “Julian’s intense, blistering solo, paired with Anoop’s mysterious chords, really embodies that shift from humour to seriousness,” White says. “It’s cheeky, but it’s not cynical – it’s fundamentally optimistic.”

Some albums arrive with the force of a revelation, yet their power is not found in grandiosity or spectacle. Instead it lives in the quiet permissions they give. Permission to pause. Permission to listen closely. Permission to acknowledge internal conflicts that daily life encourages us to overlook. Arlie’s Someone You Can Believe In is that kind of album. It invites the listener into a world where spiritual longing, relational fracture, and renewed creative intuition coexist in a single delicate fabric.

The record marks a significant turning point for Nathaniel Banks, the creative force behind Arlie. After years of navigating the churn of expectation and approval within the major label ecosystem, Banks returns to a space that feels unmistakably his own. The album takes shape within the intimacy of a restored bedroom studio. Familiar instruments return to his hands. The acoustic guitar. The sunburst Strat. The layered harmonies he once built alone in the quiet hours of night. These elements do not operate as nostalgia. Instead they function as anchors that reconnect him with the artistic instincts that first drew listeners into his orbit.

At its heart, Someone You Can Believe In is a concept record that unfolds through a series of narrative chapters. These scenes are fully produced and operate like fragments of an old radio play. They stitch the songs into a continuous emotional journey and give the album a sense of cinematic progression. The central tension within this story is the search for meaning at a time when clarity feels impossible. Banks examines the silence he perceives from the Divine, a silence that deepens the ache of human suffering, heartbreak, and uncertainty. The narrative structure amplifies this search by positioning each song as a response to unspoken questions.

One of the most compelling elements of the album is its willingness to blend humor with despair. This mix of tones mirrors the unpredictability of real emotional experience. A particularly striking moment occurs late in the record when a child repeats his father’s mistaken assumption about Arlie’s gender. The scene is both awkward and revealing. Instead of confronting the misunderstanding or responding with frustration, Arlie turns to music. He answers the tension with a gentle acoustic reprise. This response becomes one of the album’s most poignant gestures. It suggests that sometimes the only honest answer to pain is a return to the inner voice that survives beneath judgment and noise.

The song “is it okay if i love you” stands out as one of the album’s purest offerings. Banks wrote it during a period of emotional urgency after newly replacing a stolen laptop. The creative break forced him into a more tactile form of writing. He spent months with guitar and keyboard, writing lyrics by hand. When he resumed digital recording he did so with limited resources and intense focus. The track took shape quickly and originated as a personal gesture of affection. Even without knowing that background the song carries a vulnerability and melodic grace that feels immediate and sincere.

Throughout the record Banks leans into Biblical imagery. He uses this language not as religious instruction but as a method of expressing longing, confusion, and yearning for direction. It is rare to encounter such earnest spiritual vocabulary within the indie landscape. Here it feels organic. It becomes a means of articulating questions that do not offer easy answers.

What makes Someone You Can Believe In particularly resonant is its insistence that music can still function as a vessel for deep emotional and spiritual inquiry. In a culture that prioritizes quick consumption, Banks creates a work that rewards patience and careful attention. The record challenges listeners to slow down, follow its narrative arcs, and allow its quiet revelations to take root.

Arlie emerges from this project not as an artist chasing relevance but as one who has rediscovered the courage to trust his own voice. The result is an album of rare sincerity and depth, one that feels destined to linger in the lives of those who spend time with it. If the title suggests a search for someone trustworthy, the music itself becomes evidence that the journey inward is often the most faithful guide.