As one of the first Black women to carve a niche in the predominantly white country music scene of the late 1960s, Martell's contributions transcended melodies to challenge norms and pave pathways for future generations. Her career—a blend of country soul, poignant storytelling, and relentless pioneering spirit—mirrors a live show filled with moments of triumph, resilience, and unparalleled talent.

British singer-songwriter Jasmine Thompson and UK chart topper Calum Scott released their duet, “love is just a word,” Friday, November 12. Complemented by a soaring production and the elegant keying of the piano, Thompson’s ethereal vocals rise over the track and harmonize with the grit of Scott. This is a track listeners around the world can find themselves in, as the artists’ vulnerability speaks true to raw personal experiences of love at its peak, together.

The singer/songwriter’s deep affection for words and masterful skill in stringing them together almost makes vulnerability look easy, but McRae is quick to reveal that her use of language and melody is a tool that has taken many years (and a lot of care) to forge. As McRae recounted her experiences with writing, love, success, and failure, I couldn’t help but feel like a student, absorbing her story and finding my own voice within it. The narratives she shared were full of charming perspective and an admirable amount of self-awareness.

The world can feel offbeat as people try to pick up the pieces of their old lives in this post-pandemic era of life. Humanity went through the wringer — and it barely managed to pull through, plagued by exhaustion, fear, and crippling existentialism. This was a period of reflection, one where humans were granted the opportunity to truly look inward and discover who they were and what their priorities are, despite the seemingly never-ending hardship. For a lot of us humans, heartbreak was real, and forced isolation was the perfect disposition that allowed for wallowing and growth.

The Canary Club in New York’s Lower East Side was one of the first restaurants to open during one of the many apexes of the pandemic in May 2020. During a time when everything was anything but sure, management insisted on continuing their Cajun food services through carry-out orders. Cars with mask-clad patrons lined up from around the block to pick up their orders safely — and also to hear the smooth jazz of the Daniel Bennett Group.

The world can feel offbeat as people try to pick up the pieces of their old lives in this post-pandemic era of life. Humanity went through the wringer — and it barely managed to pull through, plagued by exhaustion, fear, and crippling existentialism. This was a period of reflection, one where humans were granted the opportunity to truly look inward and discover who they were and what their priorities are, despite the seemingly never-ending hardship. For a lot of us humans, heartbreak was real, and forced isolation was the perfect disposition that allowed for wallowing and growth.

Her 2019 single “Tears of Gold” was her way of musically confronting that tendency and recognizing the pattern she was living in. “Don’t you know that I cried tears of gold for you?” the chorus goes. The single serves as a personal anthem for Faouzia and she would rerecord it for her 2020 EP “Stripped.”

When he was in high school, Juice Mazelee told his mother that he wanted to start learning music and give it a shot. She’s never heard him sing or play an instrument before but, regardless, told him, “Go for it, son.” Perhaps in the back of her mind, she knew that the basketball phase would only last so long before a new interest dawned. Even his basketball coach would catch him slacking with a pen and a pad. Sometimes the writing switch just didn’t have an off button.

The singer/songwriter’s deep affection for words and masterful skill in stringing them together almost makes vulnerability look easy, but McRae is quick to reveal that her use of language and melody is a tool that has taken many years (and a lot of care) to forge. As McRae recounted her experiences with writing, love, success, and failure, I couldn’t help but feel like a student, absorbing her story and finding my own voice within it. The narratives she shared were full of charming perspective and an admirable amount of self-awareness.

12 tracks and a handful of interludes bring Zuli’s world to life. The world of “Stop It God.” is plagued by this essence of dissonance and disparity, clouded by cool proximity. Themes of technology, disconnection, and longing shroud over the entire piece like a veil. It’s not hard to tell what is being reached for, but a suitable deep dive into the album will allow Zuli’s audience to uncover a textured piece of work.

A great pleasure in life is the discovery of some great art. For a moment, there’s this intimate connection between the creator and consumer as both come to meet one another for the first time. It’s an uncanny development, as the rest of the world carries on with its mainstream media obsession, oblivious to this new gift. Such an experience came to me in the form of a new and upcoming music group called seeyousoon, who allowed for a fresh soundscape to enter the music industry, creating a frustratingly sick fusion of sound from some serious genre-bending.

There is an innate characteristic to the work of the Bengsons that envelops you in warmth and postulation; a character to the work that feels intimate and personal, that confronts you with reality but leaves you with the hope to keep moving. Husband-wife duo Abigail and Shawn Bengson herald a brand of folk music and performance that feels as fresh as it does rootsy.

Eddie and I have an inside joke. We refer to each other as ‘Twins’ — not to be confused with his actual twin brother, Iz. But, Eddie and I also share the same birthday and the same name. We discovered our twinship just over two years ago when we met for the first time in his family’s home. Only knowing of each other via Instagram and stories of our mutual friends, I remember being so excited to meet him. When I did meet Eddie two years ago, he was full of energy, joyous, and very candid — transparent, if you will.

Rich Robbins is a Chicago-based rapper and teaching artist. He and I met nearly three years ago and, after our first encounter, I was impressed with how intentional he was about not only building community, but investing in it. Robbins’ latest project, “On The Horizon,” explores a variety of subjects, but community is the backbone. Read below to garner some insight on Robbins and how he approaches building community.

Having a sounding board of people whose taste you trust to share your ideas with can go so far—even if it’s just friends to start. At the end of the day, it’s important [that] you move forward with whatever feels right to you, but getting some reference points can make it easier to understand how your work is communicating [and to] make more informed decisions.

I think life is motivation. I draw motivation from the things around me [and obviously the things I've been through]. I'm constantly putting myself in other people's shoes, I'm constantly trying to see things from every possible perspective—it humbles me.

“Sunday Prayer” taught me that music truly has no limits. I created this track in the middle of the pandemic with three friends in three different states/countries. If I were to take away one lesson from each of my songs, I would say “Sunday Prayer” taught me how to become a great producer.

Mo Nikole, a Houston-based sound curator, specializes in this intimate building of experience. Her practice originates from her roots in Southern Black culture, where she was deeply immersed in the rich soundscape of soul music as a child. Today, she has developed a deeply personal practice of sound curation, synthesizing songs from all kinds of artists to create spaces of meditation, healing, and intimacy.

If I could tell my 19-year-old self a few things, I’d start with these little bits of wisdom (Disclaimer: I’m 24 now, and I still don’t know shit): Develop meaningful personal relationships. Don’t do it for business—and never for meretricious reasons—but because it’s what life is about. Connect with as many people as possible, because that’s the most important factor I’ve gleaned in living a meaningful and sustainable life, not just because of the opportunities that it has afforded, but for the depth that it’s added to my character.

Lester Rey makes music that makes you want to dance. The rhythms are infectious, as are the melodies. As Rey sways and waltzes across his reggaeton, R&B infused tracks, you get the immediate impression that this guy knows what he’s doing — and he does (see: The Future is Now, And The Future is Lester Rey).