by Jane Lambert

George Collins Turns Happiness Into a Groove with Soulful New Single “Happiness Looks Good on You”

There is something wonderfully underestimated about a genuinely happy song. Not a song that simply throws a few optimistic words over a predictable melody, but a song that understands that joy requires honesty. Happiness is most powerful when it has been earned; when it comes after uncertainty, disappointment and the inevitable twists and turns that life throws our way.

George Collins understands this perfectly. With “Happiness Looks Good on You,” he avoids the trap of writing a simple feel good anthem. Forget trying to box it neatly into one genre. Americana? Soul? Roots? Gospel? New Orleans rhythm and blues? The truth is that great songs rarely care about the labels we attach to them. They simply find their own space, and Collins’s latest offering does exactly that. Drawing inspiration from the timeless sounds of artists such as The Staple Singers, Dr. John, Allen Toussaint, and The Neville Brothers, he creates a track that feels both familiar and completely alive.

Listen in here:

From the opening moments, “Happiness Looks Good on You” carries a warmth that is impossible to resist. The Hammond organ rolls gently beneath the arrangement, the horns add flashes of colour and excitement and the groove settles into that rare space where sophistication and pure enjoyment exist side by side. It’s music made by people who understand that sometimes the best songs are the ones that make you instinctively move before you even realise you’re doing it.

But beneath the irresistible rhythm sits the real strength of the song: the writing. Collins is not interested in pretending that happiness is effortless. Here, he celebrates the people who have endured difficult chapters and come out stronger on the other side. It is a song about friendship, encouragement and the quiet victories that deserve to be recognised.

And then comes the gospel choir, taking the track from uplifting to genuinely celebratory. The handclaps, soaring harmonies and joyful energy of the finale make it feel like a room full of people gathering together to celebrate life itself. It is impossible not to smile as the song reaches its conclusion.

With his latest single, “Happiness Looks Good on You,” Collins has created a cheerful song, reminding us that optimism is not naïve, and joy is not superficial.

And with New Ways of Getting Old showcasing even more of his thoughtful songwriting, there has never been a better time to discover an artist who understands that great songs don’t need to shout. They simple need to connect with the listener.

Follow George Collins on his Website HERE

07.16.26

by Jane Lambert

VIDEO VOYAGEUR: 3 Q’S WITH KEN LOVERN

When Ken Lovern set out to create Blind Boone the Musical, he wasn’t simply writing songs. He was uncovering an overlooked chapter of American history. Through an ambitious blend of jazz, theatrical storytelling and historical research, the Kansas City composer and jazz organist is bringing the remarkable life of Missouri pianist John William “Blind” Boone to a whole new generation.

The project’s latest single, “Quindaro,” shifts the focus from Boone himself to the courageous journey of his mother, Rachel, bringing together the story of the Underground Railroad, the historic free state town of Quindaro, and the events that ultimately shaped one of America’s most extraordinary musicians. Accompanied by a striking visual narrative that combines original comic book artwork, archival imagery and footage from the recording sessions, the release demonstrates the scale and vision behind Blind Boone the Musical.

We caught up with Ken to discuss the inspiration behind “Quindaro,” the symbolism woven into its music, the creative process behind the video and why preserving stories like Blind Boone’s has never been more important than now.

Tell us the story of this track. Why did you choose to visualize it specifically in this way?

Quindaro is part of the story of Rachel Boone as told in the musical historical fantasy, “Blind Boone the Musical.”

The song’s setting is just before sunset in late Summer 1863, near Miami, Missouri in north central Missouri. A group of escaped and freed former enslaved persons, called “contrabands” by the Union Army, are heading west to Kansas in search of freedom and a better life. Their immediate goal is to reach the river port town of Quindaro on the Kansas side of the Missouri river and a known stop on the Underground Railroad. They sing to tell their story and their reasons for heading to the Free State of Kansas.

At dawn, the freedom seekers continue walking west to Quindaro. Rachel twisted her ankle the previous day, and it has swollen through the night. She is unable to walk. She will remain in central Missouri and give birth to John William Boone, who will become the prodigy and performing legend “Blind Boone.”

The cowbell beat that begins Quindaro is a standard “bell pattern” that forms the basis for much of the music of sub-Saharan Africa. The migration of this cross-rhythmic figure into the Americas introduced new rhythms to American music that did not exist in Europe. Some musicologist trace the “swing” of American blues and jazz to this pattern.

In the song Quindaro, the bell pattern remains consistent while the underlying pulse of the shaker and the bass drum alternate from a 6/8 beat to a 4/4 beat. Shifting the underlying pulse from 6/8 to 4/4 symbolizes the forced migration of the Africans to the Americas.

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

The video features art from the companion comic book, video from the recording sessions, photos, and historical maps and drawings. My goal was to tell the story of the freedom seekers along with the experience of the musicians. The viewer can see through the maps and drawings the perilous journey from the Missouri side of the river at Parkville to the Kansas side of the river at Quindaro.

What was the process of making the video?

To create the video, I drew on images from several sources. To present the story of Blind Boone the Musical in a clear and linear manner, I collaborated with Gutter Studios to develop a comic book adaptation.

While recording Quindaro, I filmed videos of the musicians performing. I interspersed those videos with the comic book images and vintage maps and drawings to visually tell the story.

The video represents the dramatic story of freedom seekers from one hundred and sixty-three years ago and the joy of musicians performing today.

Connect with Ken Lovern and Blind Boone the Musical HERE

06.07.26

by Jane Lambert

VIDEO VOYAGEUR: 3 Q’s WITH SCARLET AYLIZ

Every artist has that one song that refuses to be left behind. For rising rock artist Scarlet Ayliz, that song is “Say I.”

Originally written when she was just seventeen during an impromptu basement jam session, the song lay dormant for years before being rediscovered and transformed into the powerful alt-rock statement it is today. Drawing inspiration from 90’s grunge, classic rock, and the trials and tribulations of growing up, “Say I” captures the raw emotions of youth while showing an artist determined to carve out a sound entirely her own.

With an accompanying music video created alongside Ikon Media, vibrant visuals, and a renewed sense of artistic purpose, Scarlet Ayliz is entering an exciting new chapter in her musical journey. We caught up with her to discuss the origins of the song, the creative process behind the video, her influences and why “Say I” represents far more than just another single release.

Tell us the story of this track. Why did you choose to visualize it specifically in this way?

My new song ‘Say I’ was written by me when I was seventeen. I had gone through multiple bands, and the pandemic hit shortly after. The band I was with was having a jam session in my basement, so I took control of what I heard, shot out a few directions, and sang a bunch of nonsense until something started to hit me. I had just wanted to rant about how crappy life had been recently with regards to growing up, having crushes on douchebags, and being scared of falling back into the loop of fake friends, and unrequited feelings.

The initial recording was a voice memo of me and my old band having a jam session, I had liked what they were fooling around with and decided to give them some directions in hopes they’d like what I came up with to give the song more structure. The demo came out great, but after we split I completely forgot about it until I was looking through my files and began to listen to it again. I presented the recording to my executive producer, and we redid the track with all new instruments and a clean final mix. We switched up some of the format, but the heart of the song remains the same.

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

I was heavily inspired by 90’s grunge and 2000’s “dad rock” for the sound. My band and I at the time played mostly covers that leaned into a classic rock genre, but decided to shift gears once I started presenting more songs to them to learn. I wanted to fuse genres and make my own rock sound. Say I marks the end of fitting a mould, and the beginning of putting together my own unique sound.

What was the process of making the video?

For my new MV, Say I, I partnered with Ikon Media to bring to life a fun summer-esque vibe, that has a bit of edge to it—the bright colors and rocker edge are meant to paint a picture of moving forward into brighter days, while remembering how tough the past was in certain aspects.

Keep up with Scarlet Ayliz on her Website

06.03.26

by Jane Lambert

Ammar Farooki’s “Twelve” – An Album for Those Still Searching

Some albums are collections of songs. Others feel more like conversations. Ammar Farooki’s Twelve falls firmly into the latter camp, and it’s an album less interested in telling listeners what to think and more concerned with asking the sort of questions that tend to continue long after the music has been heard.

Written and recorded between Brooklyn and beyond, Twelve finds Farooki wrestling with themes of identity, loss, love, spirituality as well as personal transformation. That might sound heavy – and, at times, it is – but this is not an album that disappears into its own philosophy. Instead, it uses those bigger ideas as fuel for songs that remain remarkably human and relatable. Whether reflecting on the uncertainty of leaving behind a stable corporate career to pursue music or exploring the ways people search for meaning in an increasingly chaotic world, Farooki approaches every song with honesty rather than certainty.

Musically, the album occupies a fascinating space between indie rock energy and singer songwriter intimacy. There are moments that soar, moments that simmer, and moments that seem content to simply sit with difficult emotions. Tracks such as “Wanderer” embody the album’s central theme of growth through self-discovery, using driving guitars, keys and an uplifting sense of momentum to capture the experience of shedding old identities and stepping into the unknown. Throughout the record, the arrangements serve the songs rather than the other way around, which is a surprisingly rare quality these days.

Farooki says about The Wanderer “The song is really about me growing as an individual, as an artist, and leaving everything I knew to be comfortable and familiar behind to pursue the dream of being an independent musician in NYC. This song as well as all the other tracks were composed, recorded and produced by myself, Diane Desobeau and Sarmad Ghafoor.“

What makes Twelve particularly compelling is that it never feels confined by geography or cultural labels. Farooki’s story may stretch from Lahore to New York City, but the questions he asks belong to everyone. Themes of belonging, purpose, heartbreak, and reinvention are presented not through the lens of nationality, but through shared human experience.

There is also a poignant emotional thread running through the album. Twelve is dedicated to the memory of Farhad Humayun, the legendary Pakistani musician, composer, and producer who inspired Farooki to pursue music more seriously and whose passing in 2021 left a lasting impact. That sense of loss and artistic purpose quietly informs much of the record, giving it an emotional depth.

Perhaps most impressive is the fact that Twelve was entirely self-funded and self-produced. In an era when artists are often encouraged to chase trends, Farooki has done the opposite, creating a body of work that feels uncompromisingly his own. The successful Kickstarter campaign behind the album, recognized as a “Project We Love”, suggests that listeners are responding to that authenticity.

What Twelve ultimately offers is something increasingly valuable – space to reflect. It invites listeners to sit with uncertainty, embrace complexity, and perhaps discover something about themselves along the way. Music that challenges, comforts and connects in equal measure is a rare thing. Ammar Farooki has managed to make an album full of it.

About Ammar Farooki

Ammar Farooki is a Brooklyn based singer-songwriter originally from Lahore, Pakistan. His music brings together the musical traditions of indie rock, folk, and introspective songwriting. After gaining recognition in Pakistan’s independent music scene, Farooki released his debut EP Songs From the Cave in 2019, earning coverage from Rolling Stone India, Forbes, as well as other international publications.

Later that year, he relocated to New York City on an artist visa and has since become a regular presence on the city’s live music circuit, performing at venues including The Bitter End, Rockwood Music Hall, Pianos, and the American Folk Art Museum.

While his journey spans continents, Farooki’s music is rooted in universal human experiences, creating songs that transcend borders and cultural labels. His recent album Twelve, is his most ambitious work to date. It’s an entirely self produced collection exploring philosophy, spirituality and the search for meaning in an increasingly complex world.

Keep up with all things Ammar Farooki on his Website

05.29.26

by Jane Lambert

A Song in Motion -Wayward Sparrow Finds Form in “Gravel and Broken Glass”

If there’s one thing that runs through certain strands of Americana and modern folk songwriting, it’s the sense that stories don’t always arrive in straight lines. Many of them settle into meaning slowly. “Gravel and Broken Glass,” which is the latest single from Wayward Sparrow, leans into that idea with confidence creating a song that is as much about atmosphere and suggestion as it is about traditional song structure.

Detroit-based songwriter Rich Clark continues to develop Wayward Sparrow as a fully independent project, self producing and self recording the material with a deliberately stripped back approach to the arrangements. What emerges is not an attempt to recreate a genre in its polished form so much as to engage with its origin: storytelling, space, emotion.

On “Gravel and Broken Glass,” that philosophy is immediately apparent. The song did not begin in its final form. Originally written around a different chord structure, it shifted significantly during the recording process when Clark began experimenting with a new rhythm guitar part. That change re-directed the entire track. What was once a more conventional idea gradually became something darker and more atmospheric, shaped in real time rather than imposed from the outset.

he acoustic guitar carries a steady forward motion, and a Telecaster solo enters midway through not as a climactic moment, but as a tonal shift, slightly distant and bridging sections with a sense of mood rather than spectacle.

Vocally and lyrically, the song continues Clark’s focus on imagery and implication. Rather than spelling everything out directly, the writing leans into suggestion, letting meaning form gradually through repetition and reflection. It’s a style that feels closely tied to the broader intent behind Wayward Sparrow: lyrics that reward patience where interpretation is part of the listening experience rather than something resolved immediately.

Like much of Wayward Sparrow’s work, it feels less concerned with arrival than with the actual journey, much more about capturing the moment a song decides what it wants to be.

About Wayward Sparrow

Wayward Sparrow is the independent music project of Detroit-based singer-songwriter Rich Clark. Self-recorded, self-produced, and self-funded, the project embraces sparse arrangements that put honest storytelling and atmosphere at the forefront.

With a sound centered in folk, Americana, and subtle bluegrass influences, Wayward Sparrow explores the darker, often unspoken corners of life through music that is intimate and deeply human. Clark’s work has been described as “whiskey lamentations and hymns of the hopeless.”

Follow Wayward Sparrow on Instagram

Stream music on Soundcloud and YouTube Music

05.27.26

by Jane Lambert

Animals in Denial Channels Chaos and Cultural Friction on Latest Release “We’re Dangerous”

“We’re Dangerous” arrives like a signal bleeding through from somewhere slightly off-grid. It’s too loud, too dense, too emotionally charged to behave itself in the way modern alt-rock often politely insists it should.

Animals in Denial don’t seem interested in that politeness anyway. Christian Imes builds this thing like he’s holding multiple ideas in his hands at once and refusing to drop any of them, even if they clash, even if they spark, even if they threaten to overload the system.

There’s an almost basement level urgency running through the track, the kind you used to hear when bands had something to prove and not much interest in smoothing the edges for wider consumption. Guitars are stacked and slightly unruly, not in a sloppy way, but in a way that feels human with small variations left in the mix, textures allowed to overlap instead of being neatly separated into their own lanes. It doesn’t sound “produced” so much as assembled under pressure like the song might have broken out of the room if it had been given just one more pass.

And yet, for all that abrasion, there’s something strangely controlled underneath it. The drums hold steady like a metronome refusing to be dragged into chaos. The bass sits deeper in the structure, doing its job without calling attention to itself. It’s the tension between those grounding elements and the surrounding noise that gives the track its shape. Without that discipline, it would collapse into pure distortion.

“We’re Dangerous” is a song about being misread. About generational friction. About the way language gets flattened when one group looks at another and decides it already understands them. But unlike a lot of modern “statement” tracks, it doesn’t reduce that idea into slogans or clean takes.

There’s a moment in the track where everything feels like it’s pushing slightly out of alignment with layers pressing against each other, vocals cutting through. That’s where the song really clicks.

And that’s something a lot of modern alternative music seems to have forgotten how to do. “We’re Dangerous” does the opposite. It leans into friction. It lets the rough edges stay visible. It trusts that intensity doesn’t need to be smoothed in order to be understood.

Is it chaotic? Absolutely.
Is it controlled? Just enough.
Is it necessary? That’s the real question.

Because somewhere inside all that distortion and density, there’s a clarity and the sense that this is what it sounds like when someone refuses to simplify themselves for easy interpretation.

It’s loud, it’s uncomfortable, and it doesn’t apologize for either of those things.

Keep up with Animals In Denial on the Website

Stream music on Spotify and YouTube Music