Emerging Voices and Bold Sounds Shaping the Year
The following feature is now included in our online magazine which is also available in print.
Issue #7
Online Magazine | Print MagazineFor more details contact us at: volechomag@gmail.com
Wotts — Soft Lies in a Psychedelic Glow
Ottawa’s indie-pop duo Wotts return with He Spoke With Conviction, a track that drifts through the speakers like a half-remembered dream. Jayem and Ricky 100 lean into their earlier psychedelic instincts here, letting lo-fi warmth and soft, analog shimmer carry a story that unfolds gently but cuts deeply. The result feels like waking up mid-daydream—colors blurred, details softened, emotions sharper than expected.
At its core, the song explores the lies we tell ourselves—the small, comforting untruths that help us make it through stretches where life feels heavier than usual. It’s introspective without being bleak, reflective without sinking. Jayem’s production builds a world of drifting synths, warm guitars, and textures that sound dusted in sunlight. Meanwhile, Ricky 100 keeps the track grounded with a bassline that refuses to overcrowd the mood. Together, they create a sense of hazy forward motion, like navigating a familiar street through shifting fog.
Fans of early Tame Impala, Pond, Homeshake, or Mild High Club will immediately recognize the psychedelic contouring: the VHS-tinted synths, the softened edges, the dreamy pacing that feels almost weightless. It’s the kind of track that would sit easily in the more reflective scenes of Euphoria, where the world tilts but never fully slips.
He Spoke With Conviction serves as a gateway to Wotts’ upcoming EP COPE, which follows their emotionally heavier previous effort, FLANK! If that record dealt with what breaks you, COPE lingers in the space after the dust settles—when you try to move forward but aren’t sure your feet are steady yet. Wotts don’t offer fixes; they offer reflection, and it’s that honesty that makes this new chapter resonate.
The single releases November 21, with a video arriving a week later, and if the EP carries this balance of warmth and unease, Wotts may land one of their most affecting projects yet. This is music for late-night thinkers, quiet mornings, and anyone learning the difference between letting go and simply continuing on.
Luka & the Nightbirds — Last Resort and the Weight of Starting Over
From Metz comes Luka & the Nightbirds, a project built from a lifetime of musical immersion and a recent shift toward rawer, more human storytelling. Luka grew up listening to Chopin, Debussy, Duke Ellington, and The Beatles—absorbing classical clarity and jazz looseness before falling fully in love with Abbey Road at six years old. His early solo career with Mercury and Universal brought chart success with tracks like “Rêves polyesters” and “Je ne pars pas sans toi,” but his newest phase with the Nightbirds feels more lived-in, more vulnerable, more real.
Their lead single Vertigo, from the forthcoming album Last Resort, is a gentle emotional exhale. It’s a song about loss—acknowledged but not indulged—carried by Luka’s grounded, unforced vocal delivery and a band that understands the power of letting a moment breathe. Recorded live at Angie Studio in rural Cantal, Vertigo holds the warmth and small imperfections of real rooms, real breaths, real people. That openness recalls the stark honesty of Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska or the quiet emotional cracks that make Big Thief’s recordings feel alive.
There’s a cinematic quality to the track too, though not one painted in widescreen drama. Instead, it evokes those late-night scenes in films like Lost in Translation, where the world softens and meaning slips in sideways. Luka writes like someone who has weathered storms and no longer tries to polish the rough edges away. The Nightbirds follow suit, shaping an atmosphere that holds emotional weight without squeezing it into neat shapes.
Fans of The National, Ben Howard, or the softer corners of Wilco will recognize the blend of melancholy and gentle propulsion. Last Resort arrives November 14, 2025, and if Vertigo is a clue, the album will carry the bruises of a hard year while still letting small sparks shine through. This is music built from experience rather than performance—a reminder that beginning again rarely looks clean but can sound profoundly honest.
Mad Morning — The Circle and the Sound of Breaking Free
Essex trio Mad Morning are done easing into anything. After the explosive impact of their debut Painkiller, they return with The Circle, a track that kicks its way into the room with sharp edges, louder instincts, and a restless energy that feels ripped straight from modern life’s accelerating churn. Their blend of post-grunge abrasion and indie hard-rock bite evokes the punch of early Alice in Chains meeting the tight ferocity of Royal Blood.
The song digs into the cycles that trap us—financial grind, control, pressure, the endless race to keep pace while losing what matters. Rob Jarvis delivers lines like “take the money, I’ll keep my pride” with the dry grin of someone calling out the rat race while running through it. Kevin Hein’s drumming hits like a steel beam dropped from height, and the guitars slice with a jagged precision reminiscent of Velvet Revolver or the darker corners of Soundgarden. It’s a track built for Friday nights, sweat, and rooms that vibrate at the edges.
What makes Mad Morning’s momentum so striking is how quickly their live presence caught fire. Before releasing a single piece of recorded music, they were already selling out venues like The Black Heart in Camden and The Waiting Room in Stoke Newington, with fans shouting lyrics that didn’t technically exist yet. Jarvis, seasoned from his years in the U.S., sings with the urgency of someone on his third or fourth reinvention. Hein, with his German metal-scene roots, plays with force and surgical consistency. Together, they compress stadium-scale energy into a three-piece roar.
If Painkiller was the spark, The Circle is the ignition. Fans of Foo Fighters, Royal Blood, or the heavier edge of Queens of the Stone Age will latch on instantly. The track feels built for needle-drop moments in gritty films—the neon rush of Drive or the explosive tension of Peaky Blinders.
With The Circle out October 31 via Saviour Music, Mad Morning establish themselves as one of the UK’s most dangerous new rock prospects. Loud, sharp, and unwilling to compromise—they’re just getting started.
Allegra — Red and the Birth of an Adult-Pop Era
London’s Allegra steps into a new chapter with Red, a track that signals a clear shift from youthful dance-pop toward a deeper, darker, more self-possessed sound. Fresh off a #1 on the Music Week Commercial Pop Chart with Wildfire, she arrives here with unmistakable confidence—no longer leaning on momentum, but defining her path. Red, the first glimpse of her upcoming second EP, moves on a deep, slow-burning bassline, airy synths, and vocals that hover between a whisper and a challenge. It’s intimate, late-night, and tinged with emotional weight beneath the sheen.
The visualiser doubles down on that new identity. Allegra alternates between stark white and pulsing red, her performance measured and magnetic. The choreography is crisp enough for TikTok loops, yet the overall atmosphere feels more like the smoldering minimalism of a Dua Lipa cut or the mood-drenched glow of early Euphoria sequences. It’s a reinvention—one shaped carefully but confidently.
The full EP outlines the arc of someone stepping into adulthood in real time. Ash lingers in a reflective haze, Slow Dance blends warmth with club-friendly clarity, Waterfall drifts breezily, and Love Me A Little stands as the emotional centerpiece: tender, stripped-back, honest. Alongside them, Upgraded balances sadness with lift, while Refund channels the bite of a breakup anthem meant to be shouted with friends. Together, the tracklist forms a narrative of transition—messy, thrilling, and human.
Allegra’s rise has been steady but substantial. Collaborations with Tiësto, Alok, Tobtok, Full Intention, Majestic, and R3HAB have pushed her into international territory, while millions of streams and support from major UK media have built a solid foundation. Magazines from Rollacoaster to Wonderland have spotlighted her trajectory, and her singles consistently climb global charts from the UAE to the Billboard Dance Chart.
Now, Red marks the moment her sound matures into something more textured. Fans of Tate McRae, Rita Ora, Mabel, Olivia Rodrigo, and Gracie Abrams will find easy entry. But this era feels distinctly Allegra—cooler, richer, and poised for the shift from rising talent to undeniable presence.
Janet Devlin — Not My First Emotional Rodeo (Deluxe)
Janet Devlin has always written like someone handing over pages torn straight from her journal, but the deluxe edition of Not My First Emotional Rodeo opens that door even further. The original album already topped the iTunes Country Chart, yet this expanded version reveals new corners and tensions, stretching her sound from twang-edged swagger to quiet, cinematic introspection. It’s not a reinvention—it’s a deepening.
From the fiery punch of Candy to the wounded honesty of If He Wanted To He Would, Devlin navigates emotional extremes with steady control. Plastic Pistol sharpens the mood with a darker undercurrent, while Psycho Ex carries a smirk that conceals its sting. But it’s her stripped-down take on The Gambler that anchors the deluxe. Recorded live with little more than a guitar, she sings with the weight of someone who understands how silence can hold a story. The performance carries the kind of late-night stillness found in A Star Is Born or the roadside tenderness of Nomadland.
Part of Devlin’s appeal has always been her ability to blend vulnerability with grit. Fans of Kacey Musgraves, Orville Peck, or Noah Kahan will feel immediately at home here, yet Devlin maintains a tonal identity distinct from all three: sharper than Musgraves, more melodic than Peck, and less confessional-pop than Kahan. She writes like someone who has been collecting emotional weather patterns for years and finally decided to map them with precision.
The deluxe edition isn’t just an expansion—it’s a recalibration of the album’s heartbeat. If Emotional Rodeo was the forward sprint through heartbreak, confusion, and defiance, this new version is the reflective walk afterward, when adrenaline fades and clarity settles in. It feels more lived-in, more human, and more unguarded.
For listeners seeking modern country that doesn’t lean into clichés or over-polish, Not My First Emotional Rodeo (Deluxe) is a full-evening experience—one best consumed in low light, with plenty of room to feel whatever rises to the surface.
Follow Our Playlist For More Music!