Lea’s vocal command is the real centerpiece here. There’s a genuine power in how she delivers this one, moving from a more restrained, aching register in the verses into something considerably bigger by the chorus, and she never oversells it to get there. That range matters because “Misfit” is fundamentally a song about people who feel unseen, kids who carry their pain quietly and get told they’re too much for the world around them. It’s a theme that’s only gotten more relevant as isolation has become such a defining feature of modern life, and Mojo Juju leans into that directly rather than writing something vague enough to apply to anyone. The song reframes that isolation as something closer to armor, turning the pain into a badge rather than something to hide, and Lea’s vocal delivery is what actually sells that reframing instead of just stating it.

Musically, the track sits comfortably in the band’s modern rock lane, big, hook-driven, built for the kind of rooms Mojo Juju has already been playing, from Las Vegas residencies at The Cosmopolitan and Caesars Palace to international shows for military audiences overseas. But “Misfit” doesn’t lean only on scale. The push and pull between Naz’s instrumentation and Lea’s vocal performance is what keeps a fairly big, anthemic song feeling personal rather than generic, and that push and pull is really the story of this band as a whole: two performers who found each other playing other people’s icons and are now building something that’s unmistakably their own.

JP2 establishes a different atmosphere. We get a softer introduction that replaces the original’s immediate intensity, gradually building toward the song’s heavier sections with a brighter, more melodic edge. When the familiar lyric, “Exit light, enter night,” arrives, it retains its ominous character while sitting comfortably within an indie-leaning rock soundscape.

The reinterpretation succeeds because it never relies on imitation. The guitars remain deep and driving, but cleaner production and layered arrangements shift the emotional focus away from metal and toward alternative rock and grunge. JP2’s vocal approach follows the same philosophy, adding harmonies and subtle melodic variations that give the performance its own identity instead of echoing James Hetfield’s iconic delivery. Backing vocals further enrich the chorus, while the guitar work introduces progressive touches that complement the arrangement without overshadowing the song’s familiar structure.

The track is made even more impressive by the fact that JP2 performs every instrument, sings every vocal line, and programs all the drums and percussion from his home studio. That creative independence is reflected throughout the recording, giving the cover a cohesive vision that aligns with his belief that familiar songs should be transformed rather than simply reproduced.

Reimagining a song as iconic as “Enter Sandman” inevitably invites comparison, but JP2’s “Enter Sandman” doesn’t compete with the original; it offers a fresh perspective, and by preserving the song’s unmistakable spirit while confidently embracing a modern alternative-rock identity, JP2 delivers a cover that feels both respectful of its roots and unmistakably his own!

Those who have been following Bohn’s output will recognize the title. “The Gallant Guest,” which we covered previously, is now the album’s title track and the centerpiece of this larger work. We noted then its raw intensity, its debt to Slayer and Lamb of God, and the way Bohn’s guttural vocals served the track’s unrelenting weight rather than fighting it. That song’s DNA runs through the entire record, but Gallant Guest as a full-length proves there is considerably more range here than any single track could suggest. The influences Bohn cites, Between the Buried and Me, Porcupine Tree, Opeth, Persefone, tell you more about what this album is actually doing than the death metal tag alone would. There is prog architecture underneath the brutality, and the concept album framing demands it. I’ll be focusing on three tracks that best illustrate what makes this record worth your time.

Daniel Bohn kicks the album off with “Runes,” which gradually builds with sweet atmospheric tom grooves accompanying washed-out, haunted guitar sounds, then morphs into a very modern interpretation of classic black metal riffs. The secret to why it sounds so modern is how ever-evolving the drums sound; you can’t really pin the drumming to one groove for a long time, which is the reason why it sounds so intense. In my opinion, it’s like a flailing monster lashing out, but at the same time, it’s brilliantly musical.

“Failure” stands out as one of the more melancholic and dynamic pieces on the album, featuring clean guitars, piano, and soft vocals at the helm. It manages to really tug at the heartstrings because of the huge sonic space it takes and because of how it utilizes the silence between the notes and the tom hits. Even when it does dial it up and introduces a full groove and the delicate vocals turn to screams, it feels earned and in tandem with the narrative, creates a unique almost post-metal sound.

“Verisimilitude” begins with an absolutely gut-wrenching cello melody that is reminiscent of the great Russian composers, with how infinitely depressed it sounds. It ushers in the end of this beautifully tragic album. The cello melody fades out, and a musical section that sounds like what thick fog looks like fades in. The bass and drums create the horror beneath the surface, and the guitars create the suspense as the vocals sound like the ghastly fog speaking. But it doesn’t last forever; soon that fog turns into a storm, as what I personally feel is the most intense rhythm section on the album takes lead and relentlessly moves from one groove to the next, from screams to solos, it’s sublime. The way it returns to a choir singing the main theme is an absolute masterclass of writing.

Gallant Guest is a record that earns its ambitions. Pulling off a concept album as a solo project, with this level of compositional range, from the feral black metal of the opener to the elegiac cello of the closer, is a significant undertaking, and Bohn handles it with the kind of conviction that makes you want to go back and hear it again from the beginning. His first record under a label is a strong statement of what this project is capable of.

Musically, the song continues the approach that’s defined the project so far: simple, direct, and built almost entirely around the anthemic pull of the vocals rather than any distinctive musical fingerprint. The driving punk-rock energy does the job it’s assigned – keeping the track moving and giving the chorus somewhere to land – without asking for much attention on its own terms. That’s by design more than limitation. A song built around a message this blunt doesn’t benefit from instrumental complexity competing for the listener’s focus; the music is scaffolding, and OpCritical clearly understands that.

What “Liar Liar” continues to demonstrate is that OpCritical has found a reliable formula and is sticking to it with conviction: simple, hooky, openly political, and unconcerned with subtlety. Whether or not the music itself breaks new ground, the project’s commitment to consistent output and a clear point of view is its own kind of statement. Five singles into the year, OpCritical shows no sign of running out of targets.

Emotionally, the song has the aesthetic of 90s grunge, but the sound is very much a modern metalcore and post-metal kind of production – those ambient melodies drowning out huge cymbal crashes, and the way the vocals are processed and sit in the mix. That tension between the emotional register of one era and the sonic palette of another is what gives the track its specific identity. It doesn’t sound like a straightforward homage to grunge’s rawness, and it doesn’t sound like a conventional post-metal wall of sound either – it sits in the space between, which mirrors the isolation and disorientation the song is actually about.

For a song built entirely out of a bedroom studio with no outside pressure to fit anywhere specific, “we painted the sky red” ends up sounding remarkably assured in its own identity. Kiro’s Stigma isn’t chasing a scene – he’s documenting a feeling with whatever tools were closest at hand, and the result holds together better than that DIY origin story might suggest.

The EP opens with its emotional centerpiece, “Harvest Time,” a song inspired by Seymour’s French-Canadian ancestors who settled in Grand Isle, Maine. Rich in imagery and family history, the track transforms genealogy into living memory. Lyrics such as “We made our way down from the north” and “Our children’s children’s children / Might find a better way”speak to migration, labor, and generational hope, while the recurring refrain “And when it’s harvest time / We’ll clear the fields again” captures the enduring cycle of resilience that runs throughout the record.

Among the original material, “One Trick Away” stands out as a highlight. While its chorus initially feels uplifting, the song reveals a deeper emotional complexity beneath the surface. “Life might have a card up its sleeve / But I am one trick away from evermore” balances hope against disappointment, embracing life’s uncertainties without offering easy resolutions.

Daniel Lanois’ “The Messenger” fits naturally within the EP’s emotional landscape, its themes of vulnerability and redemption echoing many of the record’s recurring concerns. Meanwhile, the closing track, “Scour Your Heart,” provides the EP’s most poignant moment. Written in response to the death of Lisa Marie Presley, the song confronts loneliness, self-doubt, and survival with striking honesty. The repeated line “But then you scoured your heart and found another way through” becomes both tribute and affirmation.

Produced by Bob Perry, Grand Isle is rich with textured arrangements and lush harmonies that serve the songs rather than overshadow them. In tracing family histories, emotional wounds, and unexpected paths forward, Stephanie Seymour has crafted a thoughtful and deeply resonant collection. Grand Isle makes a statement, that the stories we inherit, and the ones we choose to tell, often reveal the most about who we are..

• “Grand Isle” EP is available now for pre-order via BandCamp.

Opening with the title track, “Some Kind of Heaven” establishes the album’s emotional foundation. Its spacious, laid-back atmosphere immediately invites reflection before shimmering guitars suddenly illuminate the arrangement, briefly lifting the song into brighter territory before returning to its intimate mood. The addition of the female vocal, gently echoing lines like “life is in front of us,” creates an almost ethereal dialogue that beautifully complements lyrics acknowledging pain, loss, and the search for something beyond them. It is an understated yet deeply effective introduction.

“I’m Famous” quickly shifts the momentum with a burst of classic rock swagger. Built around an infectious Americana-tinged groove, the track comes alive after its explosive chorus, where a soaring guitar solo injects a powerful sense of celebration and liberation. However, beneath the triumphant repetition of “I’m famous, baby!” lies a far more vulnerable narrative. Lines such as “I’m crying all the time” and “I’m dying every day” expose the emotional cost hidden beneath the desire for recognition, giving the song a compelling duality.

The pure joy of rock music takes center stage on “Can’t Stop Rock n Roll.” The playful contrast between gritty guitars and bright piano lines immediately grabs attention, while the brief piano-and-guitar dual solo provides one of the song’s most memorable moments. Its infectious chorus becomes more than a hook; it serves as a declaration of passion for rock ‘n’ roll, delivered with irresistible energy.

“Darling Blue” deepens the album’s emotional weight. Driven initially by commanding drums before gradually unfolding into dreamy textures, the arrangement mirrors the uncertainty and vulnerability expressed throughout the lyrics. Particularly striking is the section featuring “more than I ever could know… where I can rest my head,” where the piano’s subtle responses to the vocal melody add remarkable emotional depth.

With “Screw Em Up,” Sal NUNZ leans confidently into Americana influences. Beginning with country-inspired guitar work, the track steadily intensifies while maintaining its gritty atmosphere; a blistering guitar solo showcases impressive technical skill, while the repeated “screw them all” refrain transforms frustration into an undeniably cathartic release.

One of the album’s strongest atmospheric moments arrives with “Front Street.” Its mysterious guitar introduction, Beatles-inspired keyboard textures, sustained pads, playful bass lines, and delicate female harmonies combine to create an immersive sonic landscape. Sal NUNZ’s relaxed yet subtly seductive vocal delivery perfectly complements the song’s storytelling, while the gradual layering of instruments builds tension without sacrificing its spacious feel.

“I’m OK” opens with an enchanting trumpet solo that immediately sets a reflective tone before giving way to another emotionally vulnerable performance. The repeated “I’ll be okay someday baby” never feels entirely convincing, making the refrain resonate even more deeply as it captures the slow and often uncertain process of healing.

The driving energy of “Everybody’s Dead” creates one of the album’s most effective contrasts. While the guitars relentlessly push the song forward, the repeated use of the word “dead” almost functions as rhythmic punctuation, producing a compelling tension that keeps the track engaging throughout.

“Thinking Bout You” begins with an inventive rhythmic vocal introduction that gradually expands into a fuller arrangement. The hypnotic repetition beautifully mirrors obsessive thoughts following heartbreak, allowing both the vocal phrasing and instrumental development to reinforce the song’s emotional intensity.

“Superstitious” injects a welcome dose of funk into the album’s sonic palette. Its infectious groove, playful rhythmic feel, and energetic vocal performance offer an enjoyable stylistic shift while remaining perfectly at home within the album’s broader musical identity.

Momentum continues through “Last Big Fall,” one of the record’s most energetic moments. Propelled by a driving beat and relentless tempo, the track transforms emotional exhaustion into something unexpectedly exhilarating, balancing lyrical vulnerability with the band’s dynamic performance.

Closing with “Orange Man,” the album delivers one final burst of unapologetic rock energy. Beginning with a stripped-back drum introduction before unfolding into a sharp, confrontational performance, the song provides a subtle but powerful conclusion to the album.

Through its constantly evolving arrangements, expressive performances, and emotionally honest songwriting, Some Kind of Heaven demonstrates Sal NUNZ‘s ability to balance classic rock influences with a refreshing sense of variety. From reflective to atmospheric soundscapes to guitar-driven anthems and funk-infused grooves, every track contributes its own character while serving the album’s broader narrative. Introducing a cohesive and engaging record that proves Some Kind of Heaven is as compelling in its quieter moments as it is when it fully embraces the power of rock ‘n’ roll!

The song is part of the band’s upcoming five-track release “37 Miracles,” following their EP “Rock & Roll Preaching” and the success of “I’ll Be There,” which reached #27 on the SMR Chart alongside acts like Foo Fighters, Evanescence, and Shinedown. “Sky Is Falling” is currently sitting at #36 on the same chart. Structurally, the song does what a warning anthem needs to do – it builds urgency through repetition, with the chorus’s “we ran for shelter, but there’s nowhere to hide” landing as the song’s emotional center, and the dynamic between the verses’ frustrated pleading and the chorus’s full-throated chaos gives the track its forward momentum. It’s a song built for a big room and a singalong, and the band’s heavy-metal-edged but radio-ready approach serves that purpose well.

With “Sky Is Falling,” The Word66 continue doing exactly what they’ve built their name on: rock with a clear point of view and a hook built to stick. We caught up with the band to talk about the new single, the lineup changes, and what’s ahead with “37 Miracles.”

The song establishes a lively atmosphere through driving guitars, steady rhythms, and a Britpop-inspired charm. Drawing influence from bands such as The Strokes, Green Day, and Radiohead, Law crafts a sound that feels both familiar and fresh, pairing infectious melodies with a deeper lyrical focus.

“Made Up Construct” explores our tendency to search for meaning in everything around us. Through catchy, memorable lyricism, the track questions how often we interpret events through a personal lens, creating stories and connections that help us navigate the world. Rather than becoming overly philosophical, the song delivers these ideas with a light touch, allowing listeners to engage with them naturally.

The introspective themes never overshadow the music itself. Instead, they are carried by a memorable chorus and an energetic performance that keeps the song engaging throughout. We get a track that skilfully encourages reflection while remaining effortlessly enjoyable.

Recorded at Riverside Music College, the single also marks the first time Law recorded alongside his full band, and that collaborative spirit is evident in the final product. The performance feels cohesive, vibrant, and genuine.

With “Made Up Construct,” Matt Law delivers a release that combines thoughtful songwriting with infectious indie rock sensibilities. It is a release that resonates not only because of its hooks, but because of the questions and state it quietly leaves behind..

The song plays it safe with its riff and groove and attempts and succeeds at capturing that 80s sound, but doesn’t have a signature twist on it or new characteristics, really. It’s a faithful, well-executed recreation of a familiar hard rock formula – the kind of track that knows exactly what era and tone it’s going for and hits the mark cleanly, without pushing the riff, the groove, or the production into anywhere genuinely unexpected. That’s not necessarily a problem for a song built around mood and narrative rather than innovation; the cop ‘s-perspective storytelling and the cinematic pacing are doing the heavy lifting here, while the instrumentation stays comfortably within the lines of the genre it’s paying tribute to.

The music video is fully AI-generated, as far as I can tell, and it is well-made, with no obvious visual glitches or issues. It just lays out the backdrops for the song and delivers exactly what the title promises – a fast, loud, late-night ride through South Florida’s stranger corners. “South Florida Police” delivers competently and confidently. It’s less interested in reinventing the genre than in proving it still works when executed with this much conviction.