Browsing Category

Music Blog for Indie Pop Fans

The Wrong Man scoured restless sublimity into the cosmic glow of ‘Sleeping Pills’

Indie singer-songwriter The Wrong Man rendered resonance for the restless mind into his latest all-too-relatable single, Sleeping Pills. Principally the project of songwriter, vocalist and guitarist Jonathan Gibbon, The Wrong Man approached this recording with the kind of classic songwriter pedigree DNA that feels lodged in the bones, allowing the release to land with emotional clarity before the production begins to glow around it.

Within the ornate lightness of the production, which gives the insomniac lullaby a semi-lucid artful radiance, The Wrong Man captures the woozy state of a mind racing through exhaustion. The bliss of dream-like surrealism inches its way into the arrangement, borrowing the cosmic stardust of Brian Eno and scattering it like confetti across a contemporary indie confessional tour de force.

Sleeping Pills centres on those nights when the lights go out, and the brain decides to host a symposium of every unresolved feeling you have ever had. The spacey, synth-swathed arrangement understands that kind of nocturnal malaise, where the body begs for rest while thought keeps circling the ceiling.

It’s clear that The Wrong Man is a songwriter first. Yes, there’s lush beauty within the performance, but his way of arranging melodies firmly roots him amongst the best songwriters of his generation. He’s absolutely in the John Lennon canon.

Sleeping Pills is now available on all major streaming platforms, including Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

Connor Fischetti Interview: The Heart, Humour and Human Spark Behind the Band

Connor Fischetti makes music with the kind of warmth that reminds you why bands still matter. In this A&R Factory interview, he opens up about the value of real musicianship in an era increasingly shaped by shortcuts, how technology can support artists without replacing the human feeling behind a song, and how his self-titled album grew once it reached the hands of a full band. There is plenty of soul in the conversation too, from the awkward sweetness of early romance in Don’t Let Me to the influence of Jeff Buckley, Prince, Blur and Bruno Mars on his sound. Fischetti also talks about winning over East Lansing crowds, trusting yourself more than the internet, and making shows that give people a reason to step outside their own heads for a while.

Your band has positioned itself as a staunch rejection of AI music and soulless electro pop. What finally made you think, “Right, we need to put real musicianship back at the center of this”?

I think over the years, modern musicians have gotten better, faster, more precise, and it’s resulted in an era where musicians are inspired by programmed music and electronic pop. I think there’s something amazing about how we’re at the start of a new era, which is a large return to bands with musicians with distinct styles, playing simple parts, or very complicated ones, but as tightly as possible.

Where do you draw the line between technology serving musicians in the studio and technology replacing the human being behind the song?

I think that technology has always served a purpose in terms of creating new styles and modes of musical expression, but the main goal of any piece of technology used in musical production should be as a tool, not as a substitute for human expression. Otherwise it stops being art, at least in my opinion.

Your self-titled album became the foundation for the full band. How did those songs change once you placed them in the hands of musicians with their own personalities and ideas?

I have versions and recordings of the band playing live, and the fluidity of the structures, the improvisation on certain vamps, and the engagement and energy with the musicians can all be felt. I’d love to release those someday.

Don’t Let Me captures the cringe of early romance with incredible honesty. Did one painfully awkward memory inspire it, and did any lyric feel especially exposing to write?

It felt like it was written from a combination of experiences, where early flirting and intrigue put you in such a place of vulnerability. In my way, it felt like I was reflecting back on my first few years in college.

Your live set places Jeff Buckley, Prince, Blur and Bruno Mars beside your original material. What do those cover choices reveal about your musical DNA?

I mean, there’s clearly a soulful connection and link between all of them. These are artists that have always been known for being great frontmen, innovators, and prolific writers, players, and instrumentalists. I take cues from all of them in different ways, a lot having to do with sound selection, mixing and production choices, and vocal and songwriting inspirations.

You built a strong reputation around East Lansing through musicianship and soul-driven sound. What have those local audiences taught you about winning over a room?

This has taught me that people love an elaborate and entertaining show designed to capture their attention and distract them from their lives for an hour or more!

Your album tackles situationships, sex, depression, and emotional turmoil with a cheeky Timberlake-esque wink. If you could make one impression on people dealing with the mess of contemporary reality, what would it be?

That people need to trust themselves more than the internet when making decisions in their lives, because even when they make the wrong choices, at least they’re actually learning the lessons. You also do a much better job at learning what it is you’re seeking from friendships, relationships, casual partners, etc.

Thanks for giving me these fun questions!

Stream latest singles on Spotify & connect with the artist on Instagram. 

Interview by Amelia Vandergast

Soft Songs for the Algorithmically Bruised: Whaadle’s Brighter Days is an Indie Folk Lifeline in the Swipe-Age of Romance

With a candlelit presence in the production and the confessional pull Elliott Smith fans will recognise instantly, Whaadle’s latest single, Brighter Days, pairs intimacy with the kind of jagged introspection that manifests when your head hits the pillow, uncertainty fills the room with more questions, shame augments your private life, and the prospect of finding meaningful connection in the modern age starts to feel like an obscurity.

Based in Los Angeles, Whaadle writes, produces, mixes and shapes his releases independently, and that self-contained process gives Brighter Days its tender fingerprint. The acoustic production feels warm enough to sit inside, with each strum holding its own small weather system of bruised feeling. His vocal delivery has the softness of someone trying to say the unsayable without turning pain into theatre, while the melodies move with an unforced grace that makes the heartbreak feel disarmingly close.

With a soul that feels far too pure for the blinding lights of LA, Whaadle removes the performativity from the emo art form. Nothing feels bitter here, only bruised, honeyed and wholesome. The songwriting explores grief, growing up, love and the vulnerable human moments that rarely survive the algorithmic vanity parade intact.

Brighter Days becomes a lifeline for the socially disconnected to dial into instead of attempting to fill the void of loneliness with the facades that drift onto our screens when we are swiping through Tinder. The production understands restraint as emotional force, letting negative space, melody and breath carry the weight that bigger arrangements would flatten.

With tens of thousands already finding him across streaming platforms and social media, Whaadle has the rare ability to make small songs feel communal. Brighter Days turns solitude into something hopeful at long last.

Brighter Days is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

A Girl, a Telescope and a Moon Kept Out of Reach: Cassie Bouchard’s Indie Pop Debut Cuts Deep

Cassie Bouchard crossed a new frontier with her debut single, Telescope, as a sweeter, indie pop-inclined sonic love child of the grungier side of the Riot Grrrl movement. The independent female singer-songwriter uses music to process the very big feelings that 45 minutes of therapy per week could never possibly contain, and that raw need bleeds through the expressively quaint contours of her seminal release.

Bouchard carries the angst and ferocious sense of authenticity in her scarred but still whimsical vocals, while steady, raw and assured acoustic guitar chords twine with chamber strings. The result radiates the wisdom-drenched magnetism of acts in the vein of The Corrs, while keeping one scuffed boot planted in the lineage of women who turned frustration into melody sharp enough to draw blood.

Telescope was written after a rain-soaked trip to LA, when the fantasy of chasing a creative future began to feel mocked by the sky itself. By lyrically using the image of a girl looking through a telescope, with the moon kept cruelly beyond reach, Bouchard shaped a heart-wrenching exposition of desire, reality and lost potential.

It is a crushing reckoning with how tempered women become in a patriarchal, misogynist world where the glass ceiling cannot be smashed. Kathleen Hanna would be proud, Courtney Love would probably get insecure enough to start a catfight and every woman who has felt their dreams debased and diminished will find resonance here.

Telescope is now available on all major streaming platforms, including Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

Mother Issues in a Hazey Hues: Baby B’s Pretty Boys Is Shoegaze Pop for Modern Dating Rot

Baby B stripped the glamour from superficial lust while swathing her hypnotic harmonies in shoegaze distortion on Pretty Boys. The Stockport-written single is dreamy, anti-good-girl pop with the Shoegaze trifecta of distortion, reverb, chorus and saturated delay, lifting her reinvention of mythology as she explores the Oedipus complex in the context of modern fuckboys attempting to get their fill and find a feminine fix while offering nothing in return.

If Sabrina Carpenter were truly reverent to the roots of the genre she has co-opted and watered down while hitting all the right cerebral spots lyrically, her manufactured music may just carry the beguile of Pretty Boys. This one is for the lovers, and the ones who refuse to sate the desire of those whose complexes drive their libidos and dictate their Tinder swipes. If Pretty Boys reached the top of the charts, the male loneliness epidemic would undoubtedly become much lonelier. We can only hope and pray.

Behind the single is a trailblazing artist who finds the beauty in the mess of being human, writing from the perspective of someone trying to stay soft while resisting the urge to burn everything down. Following support from Spotify’s New Pop UK and BBC Introducing Manchester, Pretty Boys is the first glimpse into her forthcoming all-female-produced EP, created with Alex O’Shaughnessy and Luz Corrigan. Manchester should be ready to make her as seminal to the music of the region as Joy Division.

Pretty Boys is now available to stream on all major platforms.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

Landyn Zane Rolled Cinematic Pop into Lost Love in ‘Sleep in the Backyard’

Landyn Zane took cinematic pop to theatrical new heights with his EP, Coming Attractions. Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust dedication courses through theatrical art pop that drifts the decades away, leaving you ready to roll up to a drive-in cinema in a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air convertible, glass bottle of Coke in hand and your high school sweetheart beside you.

There’s a cosmic yearning within the closing single, Sleep in the Backyard, which goes out to the hopeless romantics; anyone who knows how it feels to hold a candle until they feel the burn. The swoon-worthy melody keeps the pace tantalisingly slow, giving desire and forlorn heartbreak room to breathe straight through to the soul. Diaphanous, graceful and ornately rich, the arrangement becomes moonlight caught on old film, flickering through an imagined Cedar Rapids romance and the childhood future that slipped into another timeline.

The vocal harmonies frame the sorrow in sumptuous cinema, affirming the classic nature of Landyn Zane’s songwriting within the lineage of John Lennon and Prince. Zane taught himself seven instruments and oversaw every musical and visual detail, extending each song into a fictional film campaign. That devotion gives Sleep in the Backyard a rare physical presence, ready to linger after the final credits surrender the screen.

Sleep in the Backyard is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

Porch Couch injected a potent dose of slacker serotonin into their 90s indie psych earworm, Look No More

Taken from their Free EP, Look No More, by the quintessentially quirky outfit Porch Couch slips into the canon of sticky-sweet 90s anthems occupied by Pavement’s Cut Your Hair, Primal Scream’s Movin’ On Up and Supergrass’ Alright. Psychedelia curls around the eccentrically trippy arrangement as sun-bleached serotonin spills from the bright guitar tones, while the rhythm section supplies the momentum for a modern slacker anthem.

Hitting play on Look No More is the equivalent of kicking open the door to a ramshackle apartment where the rug is already stained, the furniture has surrendered to the heat of bodies, and everyone has slipped into their true skin. Sterility has been evicted; lived-in liberation holds the lease. There’s a vitality within the single, carrying the infection rate of a cold sore at a swingers’ party as each euphoric melodic hook spreads through the soul of the release. Shimmering organ tones send Britpop nostalgia curling through the psychedelic fug, while the vocal presence lounges in the sun-soaked sweet spot occupied by Uncle Kracker’s Follow Me and Len’s Steal My Sunshine. Porch Couch make carefree abandon feel communal, turning every scuffed surface into an invitation to abandon composure, sink deeper into the cushions and let the afternoon dissolve around you.

Brothers Nick and Vin founded Porch Couch in 2013, and that shared musical bloodstream courses through the loose-limbed energy in Look No More. Their ear for irresistible melodies collides with livewire performance energy, sending the track tumbling from the speakers with its shirt untucked and shoelaces trailing, fully certain the room will follow.

Look No More is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

Love at First Cringe: Connor Fischetti and Mya Riche Brought Soul Back to Alt Indie RnB with ‘Don’t Let Me’

Tender indie acoustic folk pop nostalgia in the vein of Jack Johnson brushes against old-school soul and contemporary RnB funk vision in Don’t Let Me by Connor Fischetti featuring Mya Riche. Quirky in the best possible way, Don’t Let Me puts the awkwardness of early days romance front and centre.

Few artists would think to put the way we cringe at ourselves so hard that it feels like our souls might collapse into a love song, and that’s just one reason we fell head over heels for the singer-songwriter who wears his heart on his sleeve. There’s honeyed vocal chemistry by the smorgasbord in the emotionally potent delivery, while acoustic warmth slips into a deliciously elastic groove.

Based in East Lansing, Michigan, Fischetti writes for a generation negotiating situationships, sex and emotional turmoil with a cheeky wink glinting through the wreckage. His self-titled album traces young adulthood’s euphoric highs and devastating lows through a multi-instrumental vision.

Influenced by Prince, Paul McCartney and Jeff Buckley, he’s clearly absorbed the best of their songwriting chops to infuse into the alt indie RnB genre, which also finds room for sugared swagger that will throw you right back to when Justin Timberlake was throbbing hearts worldwide; he brought sexy back; Connor Fischetti is bringing soul back.

Don’t Let Me is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

Sleeps Under Beams’ ‘If a Kiss Could Speak’ Is an Indie Dream Pop Love Letter Written in Vapour

If a Kiss Could Speak, would it be as dreamy as the latest single by that title from the transatlantic indie dream-pop trio Sleeps Under Beams? It would be hard-pressed to reach the same level of ethereal electricity as the new-wave nostalgia-tinged single, which carries the stylistic charm of Honeyblood and Warpaint in its diaphanous haze while reaching a new plateau of transcendence.

Formed in 2020, Sleeps Under Beams brings together USA-based lyricist Lisa Ann Swain, Netherlands-based multi-instrumentalist and producer Drew Campbell, and vocalist Anna Rea, making If a Kiss Could Speak feel like a love letter passed across borders and translated into atmosphere. Their sound pulls ethereal instrumentals, shoegaze aesthetics and raw lyricism into an intimate dream-pop language.

The romanticism of the release knows no bounds. It stretches with infinite fervour, inviting you to get lost in the sublimity of one of the sweetest sensations we can experience. Rea’s vocal presence drifts through Campbell’s production with feather-soft magnetism, while Swain’s lyrical framing keeps the track rooted in emotional specificity.

Ensuring that intimacy is the heart and soul of the release, Sleeps Under Beams more than succeeded in orchestrating a sonic visualisation of tender desire.

If a Kiss Could Speak is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

Jarju Binks Stripped Back the Swagger of Singlehood in the Subversively Psychedelic Masterstroke of Genre Fusion, Nobody’s Girl

Following a swanky old-school jazz prelude, Nobody’s Girl finds a different semblance of swagger as a new-wave indie-pop earworm with a charged rhythm section, crunchy guitars and sustained vocal notes that resonate with the kind of psychedelia often heard ringing through The Stone Roses’ brand of 90s pop. Jarju Binks, the independent singer-songwriter from Hayes, West London, uses that stylistic looseness with proper purpose.

With a title like Nobody’s Girl, it is easy to brace for a potent dose of pensiveness, but Jarju Binks’ talent in subversion clearly is not contained within genre fusion. He brings empowerment to independence before the track shifts gear into jazzy acid-house electricity, bringing it all full circle through the velvety reverberations of a spoken-word sermon about the self-reclamation of singlehood.

Yet Nobody’s Girl refuses to stop at easy liberation. After a psychedelic-rock interlude, Binks paints the other side of independence, bringing another unexpected curveball and revealing the vulnerability behind self-sufficiency, the loneliness behind the façade. In his verses, two realities can exist at once without contradiction, and each new line has a cerebral way of recontextualising the last.

As he works towards his forthcoming album, Love Ain’t Easy, written from the perspective of a cynical romantic and produced by StudioBlak, Jarju Binks is the epitome of a firebrand of lyrical intellect who deserves to be upheld.

Nobody’s Girl is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast