I have never been a person who romanticizes the past. I could stand to live in the present a little better, instead of always fretting about whatever’s coming down the pike. But who couldn’t? That’s everybody. “Live in the now” is a sort of self-care mantra that we all know we should live out, but it actually becomes easier to do when the messaging is delivered the way Courtney Marie Andrews sings it. On her gently undulating “These Are The Good Old Days,” Andrews provides a poignant reminder that the “now” is important, and it’ll be gone before any of us knows it. —Rachel

Growing up tends to put things in perspective. Alex G sounds humbled on “Miracles,” an understated and wonderfully executed song from his forthcoming God Save The Animals. Between more existential concerns, like wondering if he’s ready to have a kid or what’s the point of writing all these songs, he finds stillness and beauty in sunsets and companionship. “After all/ There’s no way up from apathy,” he sings. “You and me/ We got better pills than ecstasy/ They’re miracles and crosses.” It’s a mature and welcome departure from the anxiety that can so often course through Alex G’s music, exuding graciousness and gratitude at the, corny as it sounds, simple miracle of being able to exist. —James

It’s nice when a song title is also a set of instructions. In the case of “Flip,” the first single from Carolina hardcore band Excide’s first album, the title is also a nice little one-syllable summation of what you should do when you stagedive to the song. You could just do one of those twisty launches where you try to land ass-first, or you could just trust fate and do the face-first leap into the unknown. But for full impact, if you’re limber enough, you should really try one of those somersault legdrops, like Booker T used to do. Pick the right moment, like when that monster churn-riff first kicks in, and you will look cool as fuck, even if nobody catches you and you break your tailbone on the floor. —Tom

Do you ever walk past someone’s house and see a light on, then find yourself wondering what the people inside do for a living? Or how they’ve arranged their furniture? This is fun to think about when it’s a stranger; not so fun when it’s an ex. Anyway, I love the Rear Window imagery Sorry use in their video for “Key To The City,” a gasping, angst-filled meditation on a — as Lady Gaga would say — bad romance. In Sorry’s case, they’re caught in the cognitive dissonance where they’ve acknowledged a lover’s toxicity, and yet that person still knows how to psychologically dismantle them. Over crashing cymbals and finger-plucked guitar, Asha Lorenz grumbles, “I know that you’re somewhere out there, out there/ Getting fucked in someone else’s bed.” Still, she sighs, “You are the key to my city.” Sucks how two things can be true, and usually it’s much better not to know what your ex is up to. (Block and mute!) —Rachel

During their rise through the underground ranks, Wednesday have proven capable of noise-fucked heaviness, densely melodious shoegaze, tender balladry, slugdy country-rock, and more. The Asheville rockers show off that range on their first single for new label home Dead Oceans. Clocking in at eight and a half minutes, “Bull Believer” is a shapeshifting epic strewn with all kinds of glorious guitar mess. Karly Hartzman’s quivering bellows sound spectacular against hard-driving drums and a cavalcade of nasty riffs, and that’s even before you learn her lyrics are inspired by Mortal Kombat and the most recent season of the genius country music podcast Cocaine & Rhinestones, which leaves its listeners to connect dots between the history of Spanish bullfighting and the tragic, terrifying life of George Jones. And then, six minutes in, the song levels up by descending into discordant chaos. Hartzman screams “FINISH HIM!” with unsettling abandon, her bandmates bash the shit out of their instruments, and Wednesday’s coronation as one of the best bands in indie rock feels complete. —Chris