Earlier this year, Wisp released Pandora, her debut EP, after her first song went so viral that she was signed to a major label. It must’ve been a dizzying experience for the 19-year-old, but she made a good decision teaming up with Tanukichan for this new tune. Tanukichan have been one of the most underrated bands in this genre for a while, and “It Gets Easier” is both Tanukichan and Wisp at their best. Gauzy guitars crash around their breathy voices, creating a magical atmosphere that ends much too soon. —Danielle

Not to burst your bubble, but the idea that winning the lottery actually makes your life worse isn’t rooted in a whole lot of fact. Winning a large sum of money, in most cases, will not hamper your general happiness. But those few stories of lottery winners who subsequently destroyed their lives served as an inspiration for “Lucky Number,” the latest single from New York indie rockers Closebye. “That’s right, you guessed it/ I’m bleeding perfection,” the band’s Jonah Paul Smith whispers in the opening lines over a cacophony of gentle, arpeggiating guitars. But the track’s enticing, airy ambiance seems to mirror how easy it can be to turn a good situation sour: “Take a look at what I destroyed/ Why even bother to lie?” You don’t necessarily have to be careful what you wish for, but it’d behoove you to be prepared for the ones that come true. —Abby

Supposedly the NYC-based Jersey natives in Starcleaner Reunion call their music “Euro-pop” half-jokingly, but they’re seriously good at channelling the spirit of Stereolab’s fuzzed-out francophone pop while applying a range of other appealing touchpoints to the sound. “The Hand That I Put Down,” the opening track from the band’s forthcoming EP, works as a striking introduction. The vocal melodies brim with metropolitan sophistication and twee joie de vivre. The guitars approximate controlled chaos, merging into Weezer-grade power chords and breaking out into the kinds of brightly shining hooks Weezer’s pal Ric Ocasek used to write. The bridge takes flight into a sort of contented melancholia, making masterful use of seventh chords and subtle dynamic shifts. Near the end the band locks into a sort of Sonic Youth stomp, swaggering their way toward one more gorgeous chorus. I can’t decide whether I’m more eager to hear the rest of the EP or to run this one back a few dozen more times. —Chris

“Faded And Golden” is a delicate but powerful elegy. Caroline Sallee sings in resigned sighs as she meditates on loss in poetic fragments: “Even on a blue day there were clouds in you/ And you were every face in a crowded room,” she lulls over melancholy acoustic guitar. About the song, she said, “We may yearn for an old friend or lover, especially one from our teenage years and our hometown. But there is a bittersweetness to any reunion.” “Faded And Golden” grapples with the pain of change, especially resonant as she sings the moving, vivid final lines: “You and me stoned/ In the July sun/ Thought we’d never come down.” —Danielle

Have you seen the video of Chat Pile playing Sound And Fury? It is priceless. They’re at the biggest hardcore festival in America, playing to thousands of kids who want to mosh and stagedive and crowdkill. It’s a mass ritual, and the band’s music is an unconventional but effective soundtrack for that ritual. But Chat Pile are only interested in the ritual if they can do something weird with it. In between every song, Raygun Busch, shirtless in gym shorts, holds forth on the comparative values of different cinematic Shakespeare adaptations. It’s who he is. It’s who they are.

Something similar happens on “Masc.” We already knew that Chat Pile can scream and skronk and growl and glurge with the best of them. They do all those things here, but all that noise comes in service of a haunted, ominous solitude trip. Busch’s narrator is an awkward, shambling mess, and maybe you think you can save him, but you shouldn’t. He warns you not to let him in, and then he chants three words again and again: “Trust and bleed.” In the song’s music video, muscles pop and chainsaws dance. If you’re going to take part in a ritual, you should know what you’re getting yourself into. —Tom