Reviews

Bruna Garcia has a way of making intimacy feel expansive, and Back in Town is a perfect example of that quiet confidence. From the first few seconds, the track settles into a deep bass groove that fills the low end with warmth and intention. It’s not flashy or overworked — it just sits there, grounding everything that follows.

That bass becomes the perfect foundation for Bruna’s beautiful layered vocals, which drift effortlessly above the groove. Each vocal line feels carefully placed, stacking emotion rather than clutter, giving the song a sense of space and depth that rewards close listening. There’s a softness to the delivery, but it’s underpinned by real control and clarity — the kind that only comes from knowing exactly when not to over-sing.

Ultimately, Back in Town is a vibe in the purest sense. It’s a track that invites you inward rather than pushing outward — the kind of song that comes alive in headphones, late at night, where every low-end pulse and vocal harmony can fully sink in. Subtle, assured, and quietly addictive, this is Bruna Garcia at her most immersive.

Antarctica is a lesson in restraint — a collaboration that understands exactly when to step forward and when to hold back. Built around a simple acoustic framework, the song allows space to do most of the talking. Nothing feels rushed or overworked; instead, the arrangement breathes with a quiet confidence that immediately signals a level of craft and care.

At the heart of the track are the vocals. Thick, beautifully balanced harmonies form the emotional spine of the song, wrapping gently around the acoustic foundation. What makes Antarctica so compelling is the way the voices interact — lines passed between singers, phrases overlapping and resolving in subtle, unexpected ways. That interplay becomes the real narrative engine, keeping the listener engaged not through drama, but through movement and texture.

There’s an intimacy here that feels intentional. Rather than leaning into grandeur, the song draws power from closeness and trust, allowing the performance to feel human and unguarded. Each voice retains its own character, yet blends seamlessly into the whole — a reminder that collaboration, at its best, is about conversation rather than competition.

Emotionally, Antarctica lands with a quiet weight. It doesn’t rely on big crescendos or overt gestures; instead, its impact builds gradually, carried by nuance and tone. The result is a song that lingers, not because it demands attention, but because it rewards it.

For Polaroid Frequencies, Antarctica stands as a genuine triumph of subtlety and songwriting discipline. It’s a track that trusts the strength of voices, the power of simplicity, and the beauty of musicians truly listening to one another — and in doing so, creates something deeply affecting and timeless.

There’s a particular kind of magic that only exists in truly intimate recordings — the sort that don’t just document a performance, but preserve a moment in time. Don’t Fall Asleep (Live from the Alon Salon) feels exactly like that: less a live session, more a shared experience, quietly unfolding in real time.

From the opening bars, the arrangement establishes its emotional centre. Gentle strings move with care and intention, while a sparkling acoustic guitar provides a soft, steady foundation. Nothing rushes. Nothing reaches for drama unnecessarily. Instead, the song breathes — expanding and contracting like a living thing — allowing every detail to land with full weight.

What’s most striking is the sense of proximity. The recording places you right in the room, as if you’re seated among the musicians, aware of every bow stroke, every intake of breath. That closeness amplifies the song’s emotional core, making its intensity feel deeply personal rather than performative. It’s beautiful, but never ornamental; heartbreaking, but never manipulative.

Jacob Alon’s vocal sits at the heart of it all — restrained, fragile, and devastatingly honest. There’s a quiet courage in the delivery, trusting silence and subtlety where others might reach for volume. The result is a performance that lingers long after it ends, not because it demands attention, but because it earns it.

Seen through this lens, it’s easy to understand why Jacob Alon was named BBC Introducing’s Artist of the Year. Don’t Fall Asleep (Live from the Alon Salon) captures an artist who understands the power of stillness, of trust, and of letting a song speak for itself. For Polaroid Frequencies, this is the kind of recording that reminds us why music matters — not as spectacle, but as connection.

There’s a particular kind of magic that only exists in truly intimate recordings — the sort that don’t just document a performance, but preserve a moment in time. Don’t Fall Asleep (Live from the Alon Salon) feels exactly like that: less a live session, more a shared experience, quietly unfolding in real time.

From the opening bars, the arrangement establishes its emotional centre. Gentle strings move with care and intention, while a sparkling acoustic guitar provides a soft, steady foundation. Nothing rushes. Nothing reaches for drama unnecessarily. Instead, the song breathes — expanding and contracting like a living thing — allowing every detail to land with full weight.

What’s most striking is the sense of proximity. The recording places you right in the room, as if you’re seated among the musicians, aware of every bow stroke, every intake of breath. That closeness amplifies the song’s emotional core, making its intensity feel deeply personal rather than performative. It’s beautiful, but never ornamental; heartbreaking, but never manipulative.

Jacob Alon’s vocal sits at the heart of it all — restrained, fragile, and devastatingly honest. There’s a quiet courage in the delivery, trusting silence and subtlety where others might reach for volume. The result is a performance that lingers long after it ends, not because it demands attention, but because it earns it.

Seen through this lens, it’s easy to understand why Jacob Alon was named BBC Introducing’s Artist of the Year. Don’t Fall Asleep (Live from the Alon Salon) captures an artist who understands the power of stillness, of trust, and of letting a song speak for itself. For Polaroid Frequencies, this is the kind of recording that reminds us why music matters — not as spectacle, but as connection.

Some songs feel like a snapshot — a rush of emotion captured in just a few minutes — and Oh Lover fits that description perfectly. Big Head’s latest single is a dramatic, slightly retro indie cut that leans into nostalgia while keeping one foot firmly in the present.

There are clear echoes of early-2000s alternative here. The emotional weight and melodic drive call to mind bands like Jimmy Eat World, while flashes of grit and urgency hint at Rival Schools. But this isn’t revivalism for the sake of it. Big Head use those touchstones as a foundation, building something that feels modern, focused and confidently their own.

The track’s strength lies in its immediacy. Big guitars swell and crash with intent, creating a widescreen backdrop for a chorus that hits fast and refuses to let go. It’s the kind of hook that sneaks up on you — subtle at first, then suddenly lodged in your head, begging for another listen.

What really makes Oh Lover shine is its balance. It’s dramatic without being overblown, nostalgic without sounding dated. There’s a warmth and honesty running through the track that gives it emotional pull, making it feel lived-in rather than constructed.

Oh Lover is built for repeat plays — a modern indie earworm with a retro heart. For fans of melodic alternative that wears its emotions openly, this is a track worth holding onto.

With Modern Times, Mika opens the door to the next phase of his pop universe — and it’s one filled with colour, movement and unapologetic scale. As the first taste of his forthcoming seventh album Hyperlove, the track feels like a confident statement of intent: bold, joyful and designed to be felt as much as heard.

Built on dance-driven beats and bright, propulsive piano, Modern Times wastes no time in pulling the listener onto the floor. The production is vast and glossy, but never cold — instead, it amplifies the song’s sense of optimism and forward motion. Every element feels carefully placed to serve the song’s momentum, creating a sound that’s euphoric without tipping into excess.

What’s always set Mika apart is his willingness to embrace pop as something theatrical and expressive, and Modern Timescontinues that tradition. There’s a sense of adventure running through the track — a reminder that pop music can be playful, daring and emotionally resonant all at once. While the production feels thoroughly modern, the heart of the song lies in Mika’s unmistakable identity: bold melodies, vivid energy and a refusal to play it safe.

As an introduction to Hyperlove, Modern Times feels perfectly chosen. It suggests an album unafraid of colour, movement and scale — a record that celebrates pop music in its most open, life-affirming form. For Polaroid Frequencies, this is exactly the kind of moment we love to capture: an artist embracing evolution while staying unmistakably themselves.

Find Happiness is a widescreen, fist-in-the-air anthem that leans fully into its big-hearted ambitions. Built on driving guitars and a soaring hook, the track swells with an epic, communal energy that feels tailor-made for packed rooms and late-night singalongs. There’s a clarity of purpose here too — emotionally direct without losing any punch — that gives the song real staying power.

As the lead single from their latest EP We All Feel the Same, it sets the tone perfectly: bold, inclusive and unafraid to aim high. Fans of Inhaler’s stadium-ready indie will feel right at home — Find Happiness has all the makings of a crowd favourite, and then some.

Limbo No. 5 is a swaggering, high-impact cut that perfectly captures Pabst’s knack for blending grit with melody. Lifted from their latest EP This Is Normal Now, the track thrives on its unique vocal delivery — half sneer, half anthem — giving it a restless, lived-in energy that pulls you straight into its world.

Big, dirty bass lines do a lot of the heavy lifting here, locking in with broad, fuzzed-out guitars that feel built for sweaty rooms and blown speakers. There’s a real sense of confidence in the arrangement: raw enough to feel dangerous, but sharp enough to stay catchy long after it ends.

Sonically, Limbo No. 5 taps straight into the spirit of the ’90s and 2000s indie scene. Fans of classic British indie like Manic Street Preachers and Air Traffic will recognise that punchy, emotionally charged backbone, while flashes of American influence — think Panic! at the Disco and Fall Out Boy — add a slick, hook-heavy edge.

The result is a track that feels both nostalgic and forward-facing. Limbo No. 5 doesn’t just nod to its influences — it fuses them into something bold, modern and unmistakably Pabst. A standout moment from an EP that proves this band are operating on their own terms.

People Watching is the sound of an artist at the absolute peak of his powers. A record that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant, it fully justifies its Mercury Prize win, standing tall as one of the defining albums of the year. From widescreen indie rock anthems to moments of bruising vulnerability, Sam Fender delivers a body of work that is cinematic, compassionate and unflinchingly honest.

What makes this album truly special is the unmistakable voice behind it — that incredible Geordie talent capturing working-class stories, emotional weight and social observation with rare clarity and heart. Every track feels lived-in, purposeful and urgent, elevating People Watching beyond a collection of songs into a genuine work of art.

Fender’s impact stretches far beyond the music itself. By donating his Mercury Prize winnings to the Music Venue Trust, he’s cemented his status as a true hero of the UK underground — actively supporting the grassroots spaces that shaped him and continue to nurture future talent.

Powerful, principled and unforgettable, People Watching is an essential listen — a modern indie rock classic and an absolute must for any indie fan.