Author: Joey Rochert

Paul Le Rocq, ‘Rock the the Top’

Paul Le Rocq

I’ve got a weakness for songs that burrow into your skull on the first listen, and Paul Le Rocq just delivered exactly that. This Buenos Aires native opens with guitar riffs that grab you immediately, and honestly, you’re hooked before the first verse even lands. It’s the kind of track where you’re already mouthing along to the chorus by the time it arrives, which means Le Rocq knows exactly what he’s doing.

The vocals have this natural magnetism to them, the kind of presence that makes you feel like he’s singing directly at you. The melody sits somewhere between familiar and fresh, like finding a record you loved and forgot about, then realizing why it mattered. Le Rocq writes, sings, plays guitar and handles keyboards on his own, which is worth noting not because it’s impressive on paper but because you can hear that complete ownership in every choice he makes.

Growing up in Quilmes on Buenos Aires’ outskirts, Le Rocq built his sound around the records that shaped him: Bon Jovi, Motley Crue, Scorpions, Warrant, Poison. The 80s and 90s arena rock playbook runs through his DNA. But here’s the thing that matters: “Rock to the Top” doesn’t feel like a throwback. It sounds like someone who digested all of that, let it live in him, and then wrote something completely his own. It’s the sound of then happening right now.

Upbeat. Meaningful. Positive. That’s how Le Rocq describes his music, with the occasional darker story mixed in. On paper that sounds contradictory, but in practice it’s exactly what “Rock to the Top” delivers. This is what you play when you need to feel like forward motion is possible. If you haven’t heard this yet, turn it up loud.

Vinyl Floor, The Interview Series.

Vinyl Floor

Hello, Thomas! Your album Balancing Act is out now, what was the core idea behind the project?

It’s funny in a way, because we never really set out with a certain core idea in mind. Sometimes when you write songs the overall meaning is revealed to you some time after. it’s kind of the same regarding album themes. You just need to trust that everything will work out in the end. This time we actually tried to avoid a main idea or core idea, if you like. But as the work progressed, the individual songs started to make sense as a cohesive whole and once we saw the painting which was later used as the front cover, we became convinced of the balancing act-theme. 

How does I’m on the Upside reflect the wider themes of the album?

”I’m on the Upside’ is actually almost the odd one out in this batch of songs because it has such a positive vibe and message. Usually our songs are multifaceted and we try to leave different layers of meaning. Some of them contain light but also a certain darkness as well. ‘Upside’ is pretty straightforward and I was actually taken quite aback that Daniel was able to pull off such a happy tune. It came from someplace real. Something deep inside of him. It was great. 

This is your sixth studio album, how does “Balancing Act” differ from your previous releases creatively?

I think it’s more self-assured and we have dabbled more with electronic elements this time around. The one album that this is most similar to is our previous effort ‘Funhouse Mirror’ but that is mostly because we use the same musicians for the strings and horns parts. ‘Balancing Act’ also appears to me as its own beast because of its restraint, tension and moodiness. I think it really succeeds as a mix of all these three effects. And I would use these terms anytime in order to try and describe it in a few words. 

The record draws on classic 60s and 70s influences, how did you approach blending that with a more modern sound this time around?

The retro influences come easy to us because we are fans of vocal harmonies, vintage gear and just all-round the melodic vein from the golden era of pop and rock music. But I think there was a certain effort this time to try and not sound too dated. We want to embrace the modern tools and possibilities and use them the best way possible as everybody else. So we figured it would be an exciting area to explore further. But we were quite aware that we shouldn’t overdo it because that is very easy to do.  It took us some time to figure out the right amount of digital elements and where. 

After nearly two decades as a band, what does “Balancing Act” say about where Vinyl Floor are right now musically and personally?

I think we’re kind of on top of whatever our game is. By recording ‘Balancing Act’ I think we have worked with rock music and classical music to the best of our ability. I’m not saying we won’t use string and horn arrangements anymore but I think we need to explore at least a few new areas next time, as well. Or at least dig even deeper. Experiment some more. We both feel a certain confidence which I think is due to us having made music for many years now. But we’re also humble about it and incredibly thankful when people listen to the music we basically create and make to please ourselves. And because it’s a fun hobby!

Photo Credit: Vinyl Floor.

Nathan Bryce, The Interview Series.

Nathan Bryce

Hello, Nathan. “Drunk Dial Baby” turns a late-night text into a groove—what sparked the idea for that concept?

It came from a real place that morphed into this other character’s story completely. The lyrics started with songwriting partner Candace Crockett after one of those moments most people have had… texting somebody you’re getting mixed signals from and immediately wishing you could take it back. She joked about having a “Moscow Mule mouth,” and later that turned into line “moonshine mouth” which planted the seed of the song. It takes those moments everyone knows and turns it into something cheeky and fun. It’s really a situationship story that’s relatable…somebody kind of wants you but not enough to fully choose you. You know, typical modern dating…maybe it’s about settling and making the best of it. It took a couple months before the original situation expressed itself as this song.

How did you balance the humor and heartbreak in the lyrics without losing either side?

It came kind of naturally as the lyrics evolved but it also just reflects a real moment people hit, where you’re in something that kind of hurts, and instead of falling apart, you catch yourself almost laughing at it. Not because it’s funny, but because there’s a level of self-awareness that creeps in. You realize you’re not just a victim of the situation…you’re also choosing it on some level. And that’s where the tension comes from. It’s like, “this kind of sucks… but I’m also still here, so what does that say about me?” That’s where humor and heartbreak meet. The humor keeps it from turning into a pity party, and the heartbreak keeps it real. It’s that in-between space where you’re aware enough to see the irony, but not enough to walk away.

This track leans more funk and soul than your usual blues rock sound—what led to that shift?

The lyrics came first, but they already had a certain swagger to them. When Candace brought the song, the idea was always that it should feel upbeat, fun, and a little cheeky. I really like the fact that the groove is confident and moving, but underneath it the character knows he’s not really being chosen. We also knew we wanted at least one fun bar song on the album, so we leaned into that. Sonically we were thinking somewhere between Gary Clark Jr.’s groove and Marcus King’s bluesy funk. Once we got into the studio the band really ran with that idea, and bringing D’Vibes in on keys really took it farther into blues funk.

What did Jerry Paswaters’ bass and Dylan Halacy’s drums bring to the feel of the song in the studio?

After touring together for years, we have become tight as a live band. It’s great working with them in the studio because we are so familiar with each other. The rhythm track was cut live, and I think they brought the tightness and spontaneity that we bring in our live performances.

After touring with Taj Farrant for three years, how has that experience shaped this new chapter for the band?

I have always been most passionate about my own music. Backing someone is a great experience. It adds another perspective and creates opportunities to learn and grow. It’s exciting to take those things I learned and be able to apply them and push my music further.

Photo Credit: Nathan Bryce and Loaded Dice.

Concrete Club, ‘People Like Us’ (feat. Rowetta)

Concrete Club

Concrete Club return with their latest single “People Like Us,” released via Emu Bands, delivering one of their most direct and uncompromising statements to date. It’s a track that wastes no time in announcing its intent—sharp, immediate, and built to grab attention from the very first bar.

Opening with a funky, propulsive indie guitar riff, the song instantly locks you in. The rhythm section quickly follows, tightening the groove, while synth textures glide in with a subtle melodic sheen that lifts the track without softening its edge. Then comes the defining moment: the entrance of guest vocalist Rowetta, whose commanding delivery hits with real force—powerful, soulful, and impossible to ignore.

In the space of a few moments, Concrete Club move from cool restraint into full-bodied intensity, balancing danceable energy with a gritty post-punk undercurrent. The result is a track that feels both tightly controlled and emotionally charged, built around a hypnotic groove that keeps pulling you back in.

The band continue to refine their identity at the intersection of post-punk attitude and modern indie rock sensibilities. There’s a clear lineage running through their sound—one that nods to Manchester’s rich musical heritage—yet “People Like Us” never feels nostalgic. Instead, it lands firmly in the present, sharp-edged and forward-facing.

Lyrically and thematically, Concrete Club stay grounded in the realities of modern urban life: connection, disconnection, and the search for meaning in the chaos of city living. It’s that blend of the personal and the universal that gives their work staying power, and this single is no exception.

The band—Jonny Brewster (vocals), Kallum Delf (guitar), Mark Demuth (bass), and Jamie Butterworth (synths)—are joined here by Rowetta and drummer Jonny McGill, whose contributions inject a fresh burst of energy without diluting the band’s core identity. If anything, the collaboration sharpens their edges even further.

“People Like Us” is Concrete Club operating at full confidence: rhythmic, urgent, and unapologetically alive.

Pharaoh Jo, ‘Enough For You’

Pharaoh Jo

Pharaoh Jo’s new single “Enough For You” featuring CALLMEJB cuts right to the bone. This isn’t the kind of song that makes you work to understand what he’s feeling. He just tells you. No riddles, no layered metaphors that require three listens to decode. Just raw questions about loving someone and still not measuring up.

The track comes from his album “A Wasteland Called Love,” and that title alone should tell you what you’re walking into. This is relationship devastation stripped down to its core elements. Jo spends his verses laying out the emotional mathematics of giving everything and still coming up short. What more could a partner want? The question lingers because there’s no good answer.

Jo avoids the usual tricks. He’s not interested in flexing his vocabulary or packing bars with clever wordplay just for the sake of it. Instead, he maps out exactly what happened, how it felt, and what it cost him. That directness is actually harder to pull off than it sounds. Most artists either hide behind metaphors or lean too hard on self pity. Jo finds a middle ground where you actually believe him.

CALLMEJB enters with a chorus that sounds genuinely worn down. It’s not a showcase moment. The collaboration feels like two people commiserating rather than a guest appearance designed to boost streaming numbers. His delivery carries the weight of someone who gets the particular exhaustion of giving more than you should and still feeling invisible.

Julia Thomsen, ‘Happy Days’

Julia Thomsen

Julia Thomsen has spent years building toward this moment. With 18 million Spotify streams already under her name, she could have played it safe. Instead, she’s released “Happy Days,” a neoclassical piano piece that feels both carefully crafted and utterly natural.

The first time you hit play, something just clicks. Within seconds, the track pulls you into its orbit. It’s the kind of piece that makes you set your phone down and actually listen rather than let it drift through the background. The piano work is clean and deliberate, each note placed exactly where it needs to be, but what makes it work is how effortless it all sounds.

What struck me most was how Julia manages to be intricate without demanding anything from you. You don’t need to understand classical theory or have any background in music to feel what’s happening here. The piece builds this gentle momentum that just carries you along. It’s the opposite of showy. There’s real restraint in the writing, and that restraint is what makes it so powerful.

“Happy Days” does feel like a spring and summer track, though honestly, that’s almost beside the point. The brightness is there, sure, but what matters is that this is music that actually makes you feel something specific. It’s calming without being boring. It’s sophisticated without being cold. That’s harder to pull off than it sounds.

Lisa Marie Simmons and Marco Cremaschini, ‘NoteSpeak (In a Word)’

Lisa

Listen to “NoteSpeak (In a Word)” and you can feel the years behind it. Poet and lyricist Lisa Marie Simmons and pianist Marco Cremaschini didn’t just make a record. They built a world that refuses to stay put, that bends between jazz and hip-hop and gospel and something that doesn’t have a name yet. Jazz, spoken word, electronica, gospel, free verse, cinematic arrangement. All of it moving together naturally, like it was always meant to.

What strikes me first is how alive it feels. This isn’t a record that’s been focus-grouped or overthought. It’s two people who have spent years learning how to listen to each other, and it shows.

The album opens with “Intro”, a gong piece by Christof Bernhard that sets something in motion. From there, Simmons and Cremaschini draw in an extraordinary range of voices. Gillian Margot, who has shared stages with Sting and Robert Glasper, brings real presence to “Once Upon This Time”. Jamaaladeen Tacuma shows up on “Taijitu”, the bassist whose work with Ornette Coleman’s Prime Time band became a north star for anyone who cares about where jazz was headed. Vernon Reid of Living Colour adds something unmistakable to “Solid Ground (Meet Me There)” and the closing “Outro”. Charu Suri, the first Indian-born jazz composer to perform at Carnegie Hall, brings a compelling quietness to “Winner Takes All”. Dorian Holley and Nayanna Holley duet on “No Time at All”, two voices that have backed some of the biggest productions of the past two decades.

And then there’s “Solid Ground (Meet Me There)” with The Flamingos. Theresa Trigg and Terry Isaiah Johnson. That name matters to anyone who knows American music history. Johnson, a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee who arranged the Flamingos’ “I Only Have Eyes for You”, passed away on October 8, 2025, twelve days after this album came out. This is one of his final recordings. You need to hear it.

The working band is tight. Simmons, Cremaschini on piano and keyboards, Manuel Caliumi on alto saxophone and bass clarinet, Marco Cocconi on electric bass, and Federico Negri on drums, with Laura Masotto adding violin to “Submersion”. You can hear them trust each other in the way the music breathes and shifts.

Simmons grew up in Boulder, made her mark in New York, and now lives in Italy. Cremaschini brings a deep European jazz sensibility into everything he touches. Together they’ve built what peers have started calling a global jazz hybrid, which is fair enough, but it doesn’t quite capture it. The record moves from tender, interior moments to passages that burn with real intention. The lyrics carry personal and political weight in equal measure. This is music that trusts you to keep up.

Their last record, “Amori e Tragedie In Musica” (2020 on Ropeadope), found an audience and surprised even them with how far it traveled. Since then, Simmons made her Carnegie Hall debut in 2025 with Charu Suri to a sold out crowd and an invitation to come back. The project has moved beyond music too. In 2024, Simmons wrote an original poem responding to work by Phoebe Boswell, the British-Kenyan artist, for Boswell’s show at Wentrup Gallery in Berlin. Both artists share deep engagement with memory and identity and the weight of where we are now. It felt like two people recognizing something in each other.

DownBeat gave this five stars. J. Poet noted how Simmons moves between singing and speaking, blurring the line between poetry and music in a way that feels completely natural. All About Jazz went four stars through senior editor Chris May, who put the album on the same level as its predecessor, describing it as top-shelf poetry and top-shelf jazz working at equal strength. Chris Slawecki connected NoteSpeak to a line running from jazz poets like Ishmael Reed through Queen Latifah, which is about the most thoughtful frame you could get.

The influences are everywhere. Nina Simone, Gil Scott-Heron, Fela Kuti, John and Alice Coltrane, Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, Billie Holiday, Marvin Gaye, Maya Angelou, Sonia Sanchez, Angela Davis, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, Audre Lorde. Then on another shelf entirely: Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Ani DiFranco. Moving through the contemporary: Robert Glasper, Esperanza Spalding, Vijay Iyer, Rhiannon Giddens, Anderson Paak.

It’s a long list but it doesn’t feel like name-dropping. It feels like someone telling you the truth. You hear all of it in the record, not as imitation but as the weight of a life spent paying close attention to what music and language can actually do when you treat them seriously.

Rebecca Richards, ‘Never Too Late’

Rebecca Richards

Rebecca Richards’ “Never Too Late” arrives as a warm and uplifting country-pop release that blends heartfelt storytelling with polished Nashville production. Recorded during a three-hour live session at Ocean Way Studios, the track has a lively, authentic feel that captures the magic of musicians performing together in the moment. The experienced band behind Rebecca brings a confident groove to the arrangement, giving the song both depth and energy.

The production, handled by Jeff Cohen and Saskia Griffiths-Moore, keeps the focus firmly on Rebecca’s voice and the song’s message. Instrumentally, the track leans into bright guitars and steady rhythms, creating a sound that feels both contemporary and timeless. Rebecca’s vocal performance is expressive and sincere, carrying the emotional core of a song that celebrates pursuing dreams at any stage of life.

At its heart, “Never Too Late” is about courage and possibility. Rebecca’s performance reflects someone stepping into a new chapter and embracing the moment with determination. The song’s hopeful tone and relatable theme give it a universal appeal, making it easy to connect with. With its uplifting message and warm country-pop sound, “Never Too Late” is a track that encourages listeners to believe that the best opportunities may still lie ahead.

Marsha Swanson, ‘Waltz for Life’

Marsha Swanson

Written when Swanson was just fourteen, “Waltz for Life” carries the rare purity of a first creative spark. Yet rather than feeling naïve or unfinished, the piece glows with maturity. Time has not dulled its spirit; instead, it has deepened it. Now released as the final single from her album Near Life Experience, the track feels less like a footnote and more like a thesis — a distilled expression of everything the record stands for.

At just one minute and eleven seconds, the composition is fleeting, but its emotional imprint lingers. Dynamic strings glide with gentle urgency, moving in three-quarter time like a heartbeat set to dance. There’s grace in its sway, but also forward motion — a subtle push and pull that mirrors life itself. The waltz becomes metaphor: balance and imbalance, tension and release, longing and fulfilment. It’s delicate, but never fragile.

What’s most striking is the optimism woven into the arrangement. While much of Near Life Experience reflects on life, death, and memory, “Waltz for Life” radiates possibility. It celebrates existence without grandiosity. The melody rises naturally, like sunlight edging over a horizon, carrying both innocence and wisdom in its arc.

Conceptually, Swanson’s decision to release the album’s opening track last is quietly profound. By circling back to the beginning, she completes the cycle her album contemplates — birth, experience, loss, renewal. It’s a structural choice that feels intentional and philosophical rather than promotional. The end becomes the beginning again.

The accompanying animation, created by Iranian director Sam Chegini, promises to echo this cyclical theme. Known for blending mediums, Chegini brings together film, VFX, 2D cut-outs, hand-drawn frame-by-frame techniques, rotoscoping, and claymation — a collage of styles that mirrors the layered emotional textures of Swanson’s music. Though the project currently awaits the restoration of international communications in Iran, the creative partnership continues to reflect a shared artistic ambition that transcends borders.

Despite its brevity, “Waltz for Life” has taken on a life of its own. Standing as a semifinalist in the classical category of the UK Songwriting Contest, the piece proves that duration does not dictate impact. Sometimes the shortest dances leave the deepest footprints.

Nathan Bryce and Loaded Dice, ‘Drunk Dial Baby’

Nathan Bryce

Nathan Bryce and Loaded Dice return with a fresh twist on their signature sound in the shape of “Drunk Dial Baby,” out now. Known for their gritty blues-rock punch, the Kansas City trio ease off the throttle this time, trading heavy stomp for a slick, late-night groove that feels equal parts confessional and carefree.

“Drunk Dial Baby” dives headfirst into a scenario most listeners will recognise instantly: the glow of a phone screen after midnight and the loaded simplicity of “You up?” Rather than wallow in self-pity, the band lean into the humour of it all. There’s a smirk behind the lyrics, but also a flicker of vulnerability that keeps things grounded. When Bryce delivers lines about whiskey-fuelled calls and fleeting affection, it’s with a knowing tone, as if he’s shaking his head at himself while reaching for the phone anyway.

Musically, the track marks an evolution. The rhythm section locks into a tight funk pulse, giving the song a fluidity that contrasts with the band’s more hard-hitting catalogue. The bass line carries a confident swagger, while the drums sit deep in the pocket, letting the groove breathe. Over the top, Bryce’s guitar work shifts between restrained, melodic phrasing in the verses and explosive bursts in the chorus, lighting up the track without overpowering its laid-back feel.

What makes “Drunk Dial Baby” resonate is its balance. It’s witty without being throwaway, and bittersweet without becoming heavy. The bridge, in particular, distils the emotional push-and-pull of a connection that only surfaces when inhibitions fade. It’s the kind of songwriting that acknowledges the sting but chooses to laugh through it a blues tradition reframed with a modern, relatable lens.

After spending the past few years touring extensively including dates alongside Australian guitar sensation Taj Farrant, Nathan Bryce and Loaded Dice sound more cohesive and confident than ever. “Drunk Dial Baby” feels like a statement of intent: proof they can stretch stylistically while keeping their core identity intact.