Sea Oleena - "Island Cottage".

A song about plain things, sung in cold colours - blues, whites, silvers. It's the knot of these things, the lace of colours, that catches you. You can get lost in a sky, you can go swimming in a sea. Layering guitar, synths, voice, lost claps, Sea Oleena makes this stuff seem very simple. But there are ten thousand bedroom artists laying layers in GarageBand. The trick is the whole, the more-than-the-sum, the way Sea Oleena's gorgeous assembly does not feel made - it feels fallen.

[hear more / Sea Oleena is from Montreal]

Baby Eagle - "Child of the Weather".

     She looked him over and said, "You're not as tall as you look."
     He wanted to laugh but he didn't. He was trying to steel himself, to not be smitten.
     "You're as short as you seem," he offered.
     "So-so," she said. She had hazelnuts in her eyes. "So, so, so, so."
     He wished he had said something funnier. The grass was green, and it was summer, and the garden was brightly lit despite the late hour. The yard was full of people, tipping bottles between their lips, quieter than you'd expect. Over K's shoulder, M saw a trio of owls sitting on the plywood fence. She saw him staring.
     "What?" she said.
     He had already realised they were fake. "Nothing."
     She looked. "What?" she repeated.
     "The owls. I thought they were real."
     "They don't look real," she said.
     "How would you know? Have you ever seen real owls?"
     "Yes," she said.
     "Yes?"
     "Yes," she said. "I'm from the sticks. Of course I've seen real owls."
     "Three of them, standing in a row?"
     "Yes," she said, smile curling, raising her beer.
     "On a fence?"
     "Sure."
     "At a party?"
     "Yep."
     "Just standing there, watching."
     "Sure, millions of times," she said.
     "What did they see?"
     "Bonfires," she said. "Barbecue. Stars. Lovers' quarrels."
     "Are we lovers?" he asked, emboldened.
     "We've only just met."
     "So not yet," he said. "Are you really from the sticks?"
     "Yes. Are you really from the city?"
     "No," he said.
     "I was born at the top of a mountain."
     "I was born in a tree."
     "I'm ten thousand years old."
     "I'm a torn newspaper."
     "I'm bonfires, barbecue, stars."

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(artwork by Alex Roulette)