Nathan Bryce and Loaded Dice just dropped “Panic Is the Norm,” and I’ve had it on repeat since yesterday afternoon. The piano hits first, all rolling and reckless, and I knew within ten seconds this wasn’t going to be a sit still kind of song.
Clayton Doley’s keys are the real story here. That Jerry Lee Lewis swagger comes through immediately, hammering and bending notes like he’s got somewhere better to be but wants to wreck the place before he leaves. Paired with the guitar work, the whole thing lands somewhere between a roadhouse and a revival tent, all sweat and volume.
What gets me is the story behind it. Candace Crockett co wrote this from her own experience as a widowed mom who doesn’t get the luxury of slowing down. That could have gone maudlin fast, but instead the song comes out swinging with humor. There’s a specific kind of tired that turns into a joke because the alternative is falling apart, and you can hear that in every line.
Nathan’s line about the song, “you don’t always get a break, you just get better at running,” sums it up better than I could. It’s not a song about winning. It’s a song about staying upright.
Sonically it pulls from late sixties and early seventies blues and southern rock, but it doesn’t feel like a costume. It feels lived in, like the band has actually been through the wringer they’re singing about. That’s the difference between nostalgia and honesty, and this one lands firmly on the honest side.
Hello, Thomas. So, “the stubble is simply the evidence.” I love that line. Evidence of what, in your own life?
Hi there! Thanks so much for having me, and for loving ‘Stubble!’
For me, the stubble is evidence that you’ve lived. I think we all carry evidence of our lives around with us, whether we realize it or not. Every relationship, every mistake, every heartbreak, every amazing night, every terrible decision — everything leaves something behind.
And I think there have definitely been moments in my life that I’ve wanted to erase, or shave away. But you can’t really do that. Those experiences helped create the person standing here now. And I think there’s something really beautiful about finally saying, ‘Yeah, this is me. This is what grew out of my life.’
Most guys reach for a razor the second stubble shows up. What made you look at it and think, actually, this is a love letter?
Because I think stubble is sexy!
That was definitely the fun starting point. There’s something about that five-o-clock shadow, the sharp jawline, that slightly rough texture — it has this effortless masculinity to it. A little rough, a little dangerous, but still refined.
But then I started to think about why we’re always so quick to change the things that naturally appear on us.
We shave it. We shape it. We inject it. We cover things up. We cut things off. We manipulate ourselves all the time because somewhere along the way, we’ve decided natural isn’t quite good enough.
So the song became a love letter to the stubble, but also the person underneath it.
You worked with Electropoint on this one. What was that session like? Did the country twang sneak in, or was that the plan from day one?
Oh yes, Electropoint is the GOAT. We met many years ago, just before COVID, and we’re about to complete our second full-length album together. He’s based in Los Angeles now, so he Zooms in with me and my engineer, and we make some magic together.
For ‘Stubble’, we recorded with Simon at Threshold Studios here in New York City, and I feel like we really rocked this one. I’ve been having a lot of fun lately letting inspiration pull me into different genres.
With ‘732,’ we were inspired by my love for early 2000s rock and roll, like Simple Plan and Green Day. With ‘Stubble,’ once that rugged, masculine energy started flowing, the country influence just made sense. But I also didn’t want to make a straight country record. I’m still very much drawn to pop and dance music, so it became this kind of collision between the two.
That’s what I love about working with Electropoint. I can bring an idea that might sound a little crazy on paper, and somehow we find a way to make it feel natural.
That chorus bass line hits way harder than you’d expect from a pop song. Can you take me behind the scenes on how you got that sound?
Yes, that was really important to us because I wanted the chorus to suddenly feel like it had weight.
The verses are playful and teasing, and when the chorus drops, I wanted you to almost feel this masculine man walk into the room — and Electropoint really understood that.
For me, production is always very visual. I’ll say things like, ‘I want this to feel heavier. I want this part to strut. I want the last chorus to have a little more ‘oomph’ — and thankfully, Electropoint speaks my language.
That bass became part of the personality of the song. You don’t just hear it, you feel it.
You’ve always written about confidence that comes from within. Where does “Stubble” fit into that story you’ve been telling?
I think ‘Stubble’ is almost the next evolution of that conversation.
Confidence, to me, isn’t really about standing in front of a mirror and convincing yourself you’re perfect — well, not anymore.
I actually think I’ve learned that it’s the opposite. It’s looking at yourself and saying, ‘Okay, I’m imperfect. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been hurt. I’ve hurt people. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. And I still like who I am.
That’s a much more interesting version of confidence to me.
With ‘Stubble,’ I’m using something physical and masculine as the entry point, but underneath that, the message is really about authenticity.
There’s a playful, flirty energy in this song, but there’s also something pretty tender underneath it. How do you balance the fun stuff with the real stuff?
Balancing the fun stuff with the real stuff is probably one of my favorite things I do in songwriting.
On the surface, ‘Stubble’ is absolutely flirtatious. I’m talking about a five-o-clock shadow, a sharp jawline, meeting somebody at the bar to get a little drunk and ease the tension — it’s fun. It’s supposed to make you smile and maybe get a little hot and bothered.
But underneath all that is this idea of acceptance. You’re attracted to this man because of the things that made him distinct, not despite them — and I think that’s actually pretty tender.
There’s something super intimate about looking at another person and saying, ‘No, don’t change that. I like that part of you.’
Now that the video’s out, what’s one moment in it you’re most excited for people to actually see and react to?
I think I’m most excited for people to see those moments when all the cowboys come together for the line dance and the fantasy fully comes alive. Shoutout to Charlie for putting the choreography together!
There’s something wonderfully over-the-top about it. You watch it and immediately understand the Stubble universe.
That’s why I love making music videos — they give you permission to exaggerate reality.
I was introduced to music composer William Morris, another parent at my daughter’s school who was involved in music. At the same time, teachers were talking about some particularly difficult social dynamics that were affecting the children. William and I were looking for something of mutual interest to write about, and this seemed like a good opportunity to create a song that might be helpful in exploring some of the issues the children were struggling with.
I had previous experience running workshops around songs and lyrics with children at the charity Kids Company, and William had written musicals for children before, so it was an area where we naturally aligned. What began as one song gradually opened up the possibility of something much wider, and that became TroubleChutes.
What can you tell us about your new single “Something Real”?
I remember a teacher at my daughter’s nursery school telling me that she purposefully suggested non-fiction books for some children, particularly those with active imaginations who could become a little overwhelmed by too much fantasy. It stood out to me at the time because it wasn’t something I had consciously thought about before.
It did, however, make sense of something I had instinctively done when reading bedtime stories to my own daughter. I tended to favour books that, although fictional, also had some grounding in reality, such as characters going through situations children of that age might recognise. I was interested in how dialogue within an imaginary space could help a child understand something in reality.
I had this backdrop very much in mind when writing “Something Real”. I was identifying a need both for content that could help children explore the complex issues that arise in their everyday lives, and for an interested adult with whom they could think about them. That can be a powerful combination, allowing children to explore the events of their day and their emotional responses to them in a way that feels accessible and non-shaming.
Of all the songs I have written, I immediately felt this one had something in common with some of the early Elton John songs that I had loved as a child, and I was hoping to capture some of that in the production. For that reason, it was wonderful to be able to work with Stuart Epps, who has a long history of working with Elton John, as well as Henry Thomas, who recognised some things about me as an artist before I had even recognised them myself! Between them, they brought a powerful combination of experience and understanding to the record, and I’m really pleased with the end result.
Why do you think music can be so powerful when it comes to emotions?
Music can communicate something we’re experiencing but may find difficult to articulate. That alone can allow a listener to feel understood and less alone. Once lyrics are added, they can provide actual words and thoughts that help someone make sense of their own experience when the theme resonates with them.
When something external to us gives voice, through music or lyrics, to an internal feeling, that feeling is already being shared and can begin to lose some of its intensity. Music also gives us the opportunity to listen repeatedly, as many times as we need, while we get to grips with an experience and the feelings surrounding it.
There is another level when we sing along or, for musicians, learn to play the song ourselves. The experience becomes embodied as well as heard, giving us another way of expressing and working through what the music has brought to the surface.
How has your work with children shaped the music you create?
Anything that shapes my experiences and worldview also shapes my songwriting. I’ve worked with children from a wide range of backgrounds, with very different personalities, strengths, wounds, gifts, limitations and life circumstances. It has shown me that the complexities of nature and nurture are as alive as ever, and they remain an endless source of fascination to me that inevitably finds its way into my music.
Working with children has also reaffirmed some of the simplest truths about human nature for me. Regardless of all our differences, we benefit from having someone interested and attuned enough to meet us where we are, and to find the way of relating that enables us to engage most naturally. Following a child in that way can help them discover their own strengths, preferences and ways of seeing the world.
Those broader questions about human nature, relationships, love and how we become who we are have certainly found their way into my music in many different forms.
What are you most excited about for TroubleChutes next?
I’m excited to find out how our Ambassador School, St Mary’s, uses TroubleChutes in the autumn term. So far, they have used around four of the songs, and it was lovely to hear that the children wanted more and that they enjoyed the discussions with their teachers.
That’s what I’m most excited to see as TroubleChutes reaches further schools: teachers and children enjoying the resource together, and having some freedom within the school day to connect over music and the conversations that emerge from it. I’d like teachers to feel some of the freedom they once enjoyed to use their own professional judgement with children they know so well. They spend time with them every day, so there is an important opportunity for meaningful relationships that can stay with children for the rest of their lives.
At my own school, our teacher Lydia Ellis spent weeks working on musicals with us. The bond that grew from that shared experience is something we still treasure. I’d love TroubleChutes to create opportunities for some of those experiences between children and their teachers now.
I’m also excited to see whether the television pilot has legs to become a series. I love the idea of a multifaceted programme where children watching can learn from seeing other children explore the topics themselves. Children are naturally curious about what other children think, and I think there is a wonderful opportunity for some role modelling in seeing children and adults discussing subjects of importance together. Particularly post-pandemic, I think that could offer a lot of value. It would also allow schools watching the programme to join in themselves by accessing the TroubleChutes resource for schools. I would love to see that idea realised.
“Nobody’s Dreaming” was born out of the repeated hardships I faced during my adolescence. I dreamed of achieving massive musical success like Nirvana or U2, but in reality, I couldn’t even form a band; I was isolated and constantly battered by the harshness of reality. I simply had neither the time nor the space to dream.
Why do you think your music connects so well with U.S. listeners?
I believe the reason my music—and “Overdrive” in particular—has resonated with so many American listeners is that they are currently facing more hardships than ever before. “Overdrive” is the crystallization of a cry from my soul; I feel that the struggles I have faced have connected with the challenges they are confronting now.
I also believe that the support I receive from Global Sound Group, a London-based promotion company, has played a major role. They seem to have networks in the U.S. as well as the U.K., and their promotional capabilities have been a significant factor in this success.
How has your sound evolved since “Overdrive”?
“Overdrive” is a raw, hard-hitting rock song, whereas “Nobody’s Dreaming” is a beautiful, classical-style piece. It is true that I am now able to craft songs with a level of complexity and drama that goes far beyond what I was creating when I recorded “Overdrive.”
Yet, while these two sounds may seem worlds apart, the core essence running through them remains unchanged: emotional depth and an overwhelming sense of scale.
I believe that by transcending the boundaries of rock, I can continue to surprise you all with my music.
What did you learn from working with Luis and Alex?
The greatest thing I learned from them is that an incredible chemistry emerges when the three of us play together.
They are exceptional musicians—it is no exaggeration to say they are among the best in the world.
For years, I had been looking for brilliant guitarists like Jimmy Page or The Edge, and powerful drummers like John Bonham or Dave Grohl.
Collaborating with them—even if only online—has been one of the luckiest experiences of my life.
What do you hope fans take away from “Nobody’s Dreaming”?
“Nobody’s Dreaming” was born out of the repeated hardships I personally faced. Just as I once did, people around the world are currently confronting many difficulties; for many, there may not even be a moment or space left to dream.
Although the song’s title carries a pessimistic tone, I want to convey to listeners that we can—in one way or another—overcome these challenging times.
I also hope you look forward to the eventual release of the full version of this song.
Marsha Swanson has released her new single “Something Real,” and with it comes something bigger than a song. The track launches TroubleChutes, a project built from years of Swanson’s work helping children make sense of what they feel.
The idea grew out of therapeutic and educational settings, where Swanson spent years working alongside children and families. TroubleChutes brings together original music, lyrics, illustration and storytelling, all pointed at the same emotional target, so a child struggling with a feeling has more than one way in. A song might land where a conversation stalls. A picture might open a door that words can’t.
“At the heart of TroubleChutes is the idea that music can bypass language, allowing emotional truth to be felt, whilst words can help name those feelings,” Swanson says.
The project stretches well past the single. Karnac Books has published an accompanying educational resource, and a television pilot has already been filmed with St Mary’s Hampton CE Primary School. That pilot is now being pitched to broadcasters.
This is Swanson’s first new material since her album Near Life Experience and the single that followed it, Like an Angel. She’s written TroubleChutes for children, but she isn’t interested in drawing a hard line between music for kids and music for adults.
“I’ve never seen the need for a divide between adult and children’s music,” she says. “Children experience the same emotional truths as adults, love, loss, fear, friendship and hope. They simply encounter them through a different stage of life. The music is written, recorded and performed with exactly the same integrity, only the perspective changes.”
Henry Thomas, known for hosting Rockschool, contributed to “Something Real” and also appears in the pilot, marking his first educational presenting role since the original series. Stuart Epps, whose production credits include Elton John, Led Zeppelin and Chris Rea, handled additional production and mastering on the track.
Susie Orbach had this to say about the project: “Music expresses our longings, our sorrows, our sadnesses and our hopes. Rarely does it nudge us into helping us change ways of being that enhance our experience. Marsha’s work does exactly that. She brings emotional literacy to songs whilst warming our hearts.”
Brett Kahr added his own praise: “Marsha Swanson and her team deserve admiration for showing that music provides pleasure but can also help heal pain. This project will save many broken souls.”
Camila Batmanghelidjh, who worked alongside Swanson at Kids Company and later at Oasis Charitable Trust, called her “immensely talented,” pointing to her “great analytic and practical skills” in working with children facing complicated emotional lives.
“Something Real” is the first public glimpse of TroubleChutes, with a full rollout still to come. A music video is planned to follow, weaving in footage from the pilot to widen the world the project has built. The single is available now on all major streaming platforms.
Julia Thomsen and Raphael Beaudon didn’t need to reinvent anything with “Meet You In Notting Hill.” They just needed to trust each other, and that trust is exactly what makes this track work.
Beaudon’s piano sits at the centre of the piece, gentle and unhurried, never reaching for attention it doesn’t need. You can hear restraint in every phrase, the kind that only comes from someone who trusts silence as much as sound. Thomsen’s strings wrap around that foundation with real warmth. They don’t compete with the piano, they lean into it, filling out the corners of the melody until the whole thing feels full without ever feeling crowded.
What struck me most is how patient the track is. Nothing rushes. Each note gets room to breathe before the next one arrives, and that pacing gives the song an emotional weight that sneaks up on you rather than announcing itself.
Thomsen mentioned that this time around, the piano was mostly Beaudon’s territory, a small shift from her usual role, and you can feel that generosity in how the piece is built. It sounds like two people genuinely listening to each other, not just playing alongside one another.
By the end, “Meet You In Notting Hill” leaves you somewhere quieter than where it found you. It’s a lovely first outing for these two, and honestly, I hope it isn’t the last.
Thomas Cole’s latest single, “Stubble”, is an earworm slice of electro-pop that proves the most memorable songs often come from the simplest ideas. Transforming something as ordinary as a five o’clock shadow into a symbol of individuality and resilience, Cole delivers a playful, flirtatious anthem with surprising emotional depth.
Produced by Electropoint, the track pulls together vibrant dance-pop energy with a country twang, while a punchy bass line drives an instantly addictive chorus that lingers long after the first listen. Beneath its lively barroom flirting lies a heartfelt reminder that genuine attraction comes from authenticity rather than perfection, perfectly captured in Cole’s own words: “Everyone has a story they survived. The stubble is simply the evidence.” Accompanied by a music video that matches the song’s charm and upbeat spirit, “Stubble” is a confident, feel-good pop release that celebrates embracing your rough edges instead of hiding them.
Cloud has a habit of making you wait for it. “Nobody’s Dreaming,” out now, opens so quietly you almost forget you’re listening, and then somewhere in the middle it just takes over the room.
I put this on expecting background noise and ended up sitting still for four minutes. The synths stack on top of each other slowly, layer after layer, until the whole thing feels bigger than a bedroom production has any right to feel. It’s a rock song at its core, but the way the atmosphere builds gives it a weight that most guitar driven tracks don’t bother chasing anymore.
What gets me is the restraint. Cloud never spells out what the song is about, never oversells the hook, and somehow that makes the emotional pull stronger. It’s the kind of track that feels anthemic without ever announcing itself as one.
None of this comes out of nowhere. Cloud has quietly built a real audience, over 160,000 Spotify plays, with the majority of listeners in the US, which is no small thing for an independent artist working out of Japan. “Overdrive” alone sits at 120,000 plays, two of his songs have made it to mainstream radio, and his name has turned up in more than 100 Western outlets. He’s also logged real studio time collaborating with other musicians, including Luis and Alex, and you can hear that experience in how confident this record sounds.
“Nobody’s Dreaming” feels like a turning point, the sound of an artist who has been circling something for a while and finally landed on it. It’s out now, and honestly, it’s worth clearing four minutes for.
Hello, Nathan! You sent Candace some lyric ideas rooted in a real experience. How much of yourself do you usually put into a song before handing it off to a collaborator, and where did you draw the line with this one?
I had jotted down several lines over time for this song that came to me in moments and had put together a verse and pre-chorus. I had this and a couple of other songs started when I started working with Candace. I sent her my unfinished ideas to see if any of them would inspire her. She put my lines and my story together to say exactly what I wanted to and helped me complete the song. I think that’s the beauty of working with another writer. A lot of times I will have ideas or bits of songs started and I think it helps to have another mind jump in and expand on it from their point of view. Candace is a very talented writer, and we have good creative chemistry, so this system has worked well for us.
Candace wrote the song on a flight and sent you essentially a first pass that already felt finished. What was your reaction when you read it, knowing it was your own story reflected back at you?
She took my lines, and my explanation and turned it into exactly what I wanted to say. I loved the chorus and how it depicted the character already being “Gone Since Texas.” She made it all make sense and told the story with the lyrics.
The line “I’m in misery, while she’s in Missouri” is the kind of thing that sounds simple but hits hard. Did that land immediately when you read it, or did it take a moment to sink in?
That was one of my lines that I had jotted down when coming up with lyric ideas. I just thought it was clever. In my home state of Missouri, it’s common for us to call it Misery. I had never heard anyone use it in a song.
The song doesn’t offer any resolution, which is a brave creative choice. Was there ever a version where you considered giving listeners something more conclusive, or did it always feel wrong to tie it up neatly?
We considered giving it a resolution but we both agreed strongly that it was better left unresolved.
You’ve built your reputation on high energy, blues driven rock. What does it feel like to stand on stage and deliver something this emotionally exposed to a crowd that may be expecting something louder?
I love songs that tell a story and lyrics that grab you. A powerful storytelling ballad is something I’ve always wanted to write and perform. It feels good to have that now and I love performing it!
Mike Zito comes home on Outside Or The Eastside, and you can hear it in every track. This is his fourth record for Gulf Coast Records, cut at Shock City Studios right in St. Louis, the city that raised him. Thirteen years removed from Gone To Texas, Zito sounds like a man who’s made peace with where he came from, and isn’t afraid to dig back into it.
The record opens with the title track, a song that catches the city after midnight, when the choices get harder and the consequences get real. That same unflinching eye shows up on “Downtown At Midnight,” which doesn’t dress up addiction or broken trust with anything pretty. Zito just tells it straight, the way someone does when they’ve lived through it and come out the other side.
“Grand Avenue” might be the record’s beating heart. It’s a song built from the actual texture of a neighborhood: the jokes, the hard days, the music drifting out of someone’s window, the way people keep going anyway. You don’t write a song like that from the outside. You write it because you grew up walking that street.
What sets this album apart from a lot of blues records right now is how loose Zito let himself play. He’s talked about chasing more on his guitar takes instead of holding back, and you feel that looseness in the mix. The solos breathe. They take chances. There’s a confidence here that only comes from an artist who isn’t second guessing himself anymore.
The band behind him deserves real credit too. Scot Sutherland on bass, Lewis Stephens on keys, and Matthew R. Johnson on drums give these songs room to move without ever losing the groove. It’s a tight, lived in sound, the kind you only get when a band has actually played together, not just session musicians clocking in.
By the closing tracks, the record settles into something warmer. There’s gratitude in these songs, and a sense of a man who’s found his footing again, with family, with home, with the work itself. Outside Or The Eastside never pretends the hard years didn’t happen. It just makes room for what comes after them.
This is Zito at his most personal, and it shows. Whether you’ve followed his career since the Texas years or you’re coming to him fresh, this record earns its place as one of his most honest yet.
