Dawes sounds like the band everyone suddenly needs, and “Time Spent In Los Angeles” lands with the kind of lived-in detail that makes it feel immediate. The song fits right in with the sharper end of the new Americana crowd, but its heart is all its own.
The Head and the Heart turn "Down In The Valley" into an instant must-hear, the kind of song that sounds bigger than the room you play it in. Its singalong pull lands fast, and the chorus feels built for anyone hunting for a new favorite before the coffee cools.
Sleeping At Last lands "Land or Sea" like a surprise favorite: spare, sincere, and impossible to shake. The song feels essential right now because it sounds both intimate and bigger than the room you're standing in.
Way Yes lands “Walkability” like a street-level postcard with good lighting and no traffic noise. The hook feels essential right now because it sounds curious, fresh, and already fully formed.
Milo Greene's “1957” lands like a fresh signal: warm, strange, and already feeling bigger than the room you hear it in. File it under essential listening if you want a song that sounds both familiar and a little off-center.
The Head And The Heart sound fully arrived on Lost In My Mind, and it feels like the kind of track everybody quietly claims as their own. Folk-rock radio has a new obsession here, and the chorus lands with a rush that sticks fast.
Tin Sparrow and “Eileen” arrive with the kind of bright, hook-first confidence that makes a fresh track feel instant. Hearing it now, it sounds like the one to beat: easygoing, sharp, and impossible to file away.
Bronze Radio Return and “Worth Wondering” arrive like a track you’ve somehow already been waiting for. Tight hooks and road-ready swagger make it feel essential on first spin.
My favorite Songstress songs from the past year.
Billie Holiday turns One For My Baby (And One More For the Road) into the sort of late-night confession that makes every bar stool feel occupied. The song matters right now because nobody sounds more convincing when the room goes quiet.
Etta James turns At Last into the kind of song that stops a room mid-sentence. The record feels newly essential right now: polished, direct, and impossible to file away as old-fashioned.
Dinah Washington turns “Cry Me a River” into the kind of sigh that lands like a headline. The record sounds freshly dangerous, with no wasted syllable and plenty of attitude in reserve.
Ruth Brown and “I Don't Know” land like a fresh find with old-school poise. The track feels essential because it turns uncertainty into swagger, and that still plays like a smart move.
Baby Washington sounds beautifully urgent on "I've Got To Stop Loving You". The record lands like a fresh cut with enough ache to feel current, not archival, and that tension makes it hard to shake.
Billie Holiday turns "Stormy Blues - Single Version" into the kind of late-night arrival that stops a room cold. Fresh ears latch onto the poised drama immediately, because her voice sounds both effortlessly cool and painfully alive.
Sarah Vaughan makes "Summertime" feel fresh again, like the room suddenly gets quieter for the right reasons. From the first phrase, she sounds too poised to be background music, which is exactly why it lands now.
Dinah Washington turns Mad About the Boy into the kind of torch song that feels freshly cracked open. The record sounds essential right now because her delivery lands with zero varnish and all nerve.
Nina Simone and Black Is the Color of My True Love's Hair land like a fresh bruise and a clean shave at once. Hearing it now feels essential: the voice is old smoke, but the feeling is brutally current.
Peggy Lee turns “Fever” into the coolest thing on the room’s hottest speaker. The song sounds newly minted right now: lean, sly, and impossible to ignore.
Etta Jones turns “Since I Fell For You” into the kind of late-night confession that stops you mid-scroll. The song feels newly essential because Jones sounds unhurried, certain, and far too sharp to be background music.
Esther Phillips turns If You Love Me, Really Love Me into the kind of cut that sounds newly unearthed and instantly vital. The phrasing lands with a cool edge, but the feeling stays right on the surface.
Billie Holiday turns They Can't Take That Away from Me into pure front-row charm, and the timing feels uncanny. A voice this cool makes a classic sound freshly released, as if it just slipped into the week’s best songs.
Shirley Bassey and Away Team turn (Where Do I Begin) Love Story - Away Team Mix into something that feels brand new, even as the melody keeps its old heartbreak intact. The cut lands like a classy surprise single: dramatic, polished, and impossible to ignore.
Dinah Washington makes “Call Me Irresponsible” sound freshly cut and already essential. The phrasing lands with a cool, knowing grin, and the song fits right into a night when polished jazz suddenly feels like the smartest thing in the room.
