Nowadays, I rarely go out of my way to find new sounds. The blogger’s itch I once had to “be first” on the “next thing” has been scratched. Maybe this is due to burnout from years spent scouring the internet, or maybe it has to do with my predisposition to avoid anything the algorithm feeds me. Sorting through Reels, SoundCloud links, and manicured playlists in hopes of finding an artist who makes me feel something has always felt unnatural. Now, by keeping my walls up, I let the universe dictate my taste. 

By this, I mean that music needs to present itself to me in a way that takes little to no effort on my part. It must simply appear. This could be through a friend’s insistence, a passing car with its windows down, or a quiet restaurant’s very tapped-in staff. In doing this for much of 2024, I have come across less new music that I am excited about, but the music that I am excited about, I remain excited about. By building walls around my consumption, only the sounds that really touch me, or at least intrigue me, have slipped through the cracks and into my ears. Maybe this is backwards thinking, and entirely antithetical to the “open mind” that a music writer should have, but hey, it’s working. 

I get that this methodology is partly influenced by the algorithm, too, but it feels nice to believe that I am, in some capacity, finding music in a way that is not reliant on the data my phone harvests from me. Maybe more importantly, the feeling of hearing a great new song in a physical space is one that can’t be duplicated.

Le Bourget

It was a dreary Sunday. I was sitting at the open window of a cafe slowly watching people walk by, and “Blue Paint” by Le Bourget came on. Led by a whimpering baritone sax, it is the perfect music for brooding. I was certain the track was some old jazz standard I hadn’t heard of, but no, it’s a new song—one of Le Bourget’s six tracks. There’s virtually no information about the group online, and their songs have like 23 views on YouTube. Each one is fantastic. I have to imagine the barista is their pianist.

Lexmossur

There is a legion of underground producers, engineers, and art-for-art’s-sake musicians in Atlanta who have been working behind the scenes since the early days of Lil Yatchy, Larry League, Thouxanbanfani, etc. When they rally behind someone (i.e. Kenny Mason), I make sure to check it out. Recently, a handful of them reposted a video by Lexmossur, a rapper with SoundCloud tracks dating back to 2018 whose style is now a silkier, more muddy play on the bass-boosted, glitchy brand of rap popularized by xaviersobased. On “GO,” he raps calmly over a dystopian beat; it’d be too harsh to call his flow lazy, but it’s entirely unbothered by the rushing hi-hats and oscillating bass. Call it a controlled frenzy.

Holywatr

I was in a room with good speakers and people were passing the aux. “Without u” by Holywatr clicked for me in about four seconds. The intro is gripping: a bare guitar with gritty, desperate vocals. Heavy drums and blaring guitar feedback join in the second verse, elevating the singer’s cries. They’re a rock band from L.A., and most of their discography is on the harder side. The lyrics are darkly romantic—visions of sex, backstreets, and phantoms loom large—and sung with vulnerability and notes of self-disgust. The closest touch point I can think of is Three Days Grace. It’s simple and effective.

Rex Laurent

A close friend has sent me near-dissertations about the genius of this artist for a year now. I was a casual listener until seeing her perform at a showcase recently made me a believer. Rex Laurent, formerly Oskar O., self-produces and records all her tracks, is inventive with AutoTune, and is an incisive writer: “Occupy me when I’m waiting for my body to shrink / Home alone and I am wishing everybody would leave … I’ve got your attention, it’s a feeling I crave / And how you resemble the world I escaped.” I could go on. She takes on the underbelly of the American suburbs, leaning into eerie religious signifiers and exploring the hypocrisies of the nuclear family.

fakemink 

This one came from the No Bells group chat. British artist fakemink makes kinetic swagger-rap with straight-laced bars and sub-two-minute songs. On his debut tape, London’s Saviour, fakemink prophecizes about his come-up over boom-bap, throws in ambient and synth-pop interludes for the hell of it, and showcases a genuine point of view that evokes murky London corridors after sundown. At times, he raps like an old-school emcee at an open mic, which works especially well when paired with his slightly pitched-up voice and celestial sample choices.

Kashus Culpepper

A while back, an old friend texted me a live performance of “Who Hurt You” by Kashus Culpepper. (Said friend is a Navy man and avid country music fan currently stationed in an area of South Texas that is referred to as “The Devil’s Armpit.”) The video was hosted on radiowv, country’s equivalent to On The Radar. On first listen, it’s clear that Kashius is heartfelt and interested in the lineage of so-called “real” country music. Upon more research, suspicions rose. Turns out Culpepper is managed by Big Loud—home of Morgan Wallen, HARDY, ERNST, and many of Nashville’s biggest hitmakers. When I discovered him, he hadn't properly released a song. His background checks out, though: the artist was born and raised just north of Montgomery, Alabama and started hitting the Gulf Coast dive bar circuit after coming home from a stint in the Navy. His writing is raw, his voice is a distinct muttered cry, but his three singles have yet to really capture the spirit of his acoustic performances. I’m on the fence, but I’ll definitely be keeping tabs.