Rising Star #68

Welcome to Rising Star 68 — where the next wave of musical brilliance steps into the spotlight.

This isn’t just a showcase — it’s a movement. A gathering of bold voices, fresh perspectives, and raw, unfiltered creativity. Rising Star 68 invites you to experience music in its most powerful form: alive, evolving, and deeply human.

Each performance is a story — not just heard, but felt. From stirring ballads to anthems that demand the room’s attention, these emerging artists bring more than just talent — they bring truth. Passion pulses through every lyric, every beat, every silence between notes.

The stage at Rising Star 68 becomes more than a platform — it’s a canvas where emotions are painted in sound. It’s where innovation meets authenticity, and where music once again reminds us of its power to connect, challenge, and heal.

This edition is about discovery — of new sounds, new stories, and the artists who are quietly shaping what comes next. Diversity isn’t just celebrated here — it’s central. Because the future of music isn’t one voice, it’s a chorus.

So if you’re ready for something real — something that lingers long after the final note — Rising Star 68 is calling.

Be part of the moment. Witness the rise. 🌟

Record Review: Victor Morssali – Love

There’s something disarmingly brave about Victor Morssali’s new single Love. It’s not just the title that’s direct—it’s the way the Swedish singer-songwriter dares to peel everything back and simply feel. In a world increasingly cluttered by polished pop tropes and emotional detachment, Love comes as a breath of fresh, quiet courage.

Morssali, already known in Stockholm’s indie circles for his arresting live performances and rich, soul-tinged vocals, doesn’t chase after grandeur here. Instead, he leans into restraint. The production is sparse, letting the spotlight fall exactly where it should—on the tremble in his voice, the intentional pauses between lines, and lyrics that feel less like songwriting and more like confessions whispered into the dark.

The song’s message is deceptively simple: a yearning to be loved without masks, without pretense. “Love is about taking off the armor,” Morssali has said. And you feel that. Whether it’s the vulnerability in the melody or the bare-bones instrumentation that gives every word space to linger, this is a track that doesn’t shout its message—it breathes it.

What makes Love truly land is its emotional clarity. There’s no overproduction here, no forced hooks. Just an honest voice, haunting and human, asking the question so many are too scared to voice: “Can you love me as I am?” It’s that universal longing, stripped down to its rawest form, that makes this song quietly devastating.

Victor Morssali hasn’t just written a love song—he’s offered a kind of emotional permission. To drop the act. To be seen. And maybe, just maybe, to be loved anyway.

LOVE isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be. It’s real—and that makes it unforgettable.

Review: Irreverent Soul by Credito

With Irreverent Soul, Derrick Credito delivers more than a debut—it’s a reckoning. The Columbia, MD native, previously known for his work on bass in My Useless Self and Let Go Echo, uses this record to step fully into his own voice. The result is a raw, genre-blending album that wears its emotions on its sleeve and dares to confront grief, politics, identity, and purpose with unfiltered honesty.

At the heart of Irreverent Soul lies Credito’s need to process loss—of people, ideals, and illusions. Written in the shadow of personal tragedies and societal upheaval, the album resonates like a journal made public. “Wicked World” and “Death to the Man” open the record with emotional immediacy. The former is a deeply personal track that found its footing in studio polish, while the latter channels fury into art, sparked by the overturning of Roe v. Wade and a broader frustration with systemic oppression.

The musical backbone of this album is unmistakably unique. Bailey Dicus’ cello work doesn’t just accompany these songs—it transforms them. From mournful drones to soaring refrains, the strings act as both a second narrator and an emotional accelerant, elevating tracks like “Let Death Die” and “They Don’t Think About Me” from singer-songwriter introspection into cinematic territory. Alongside co-producer Christian Alfonso, Credito crafts a sonic landscape that’s intricate but never overworked.

Lyrically, Credito walks a delicate line between protest and poetry. On “Be Good To The Earth,” he manages to address environmental concerns without falling into cliché. “I Know The Feeling” stands out as an anthem of empathy in a time of disconnection. These are songs that make bold statements, yet they do so with an emotional undercurrent that invites listeners to look inward, not just outward.

What makes Irreverent Soul so effective is its refusal to compromise. “Tired of Losing,” perhaps the most visceral track on the record, feels too jagged for radio but perfect for anyone nursing old wounds. Credito doesn’t try to sanitize his emotions or package them for mass consumption. Instead, he leans into discomfort, offering songs that are rough-edged, emotionally unguarded, and profoundly human.

The recording process itself adds a layer of intimacy to the project. Captured in Baltimore’s Highlandtown neighborhood at The Creative Space, the album channels the texture of the city—gritty, diverse, unpretentious. With Alfonso’s melodic instincts and Dicus’ classical soul, Credito had the perfect collaborators to bring this vision to life. And with Grammy-nominated Mat Leffler-Schulman mastering the project, every nuance hits with clarity.

Ultimately, Irreverent Soul is more than a collection of songs—it’s a survival story set to music. It’s a deeply personal project that manages to echo universal truths, standing as a reminder that vulnerability, when harnessed honestly, can be its own form of rebellion. Whether you’re drawn in by the cello, the politics, or the poetry, you’ll leave with something that sticks.

For fans of: David Bowie, Third Eye Blind, Fiona Apple, Jeff Buckley

Rating: ★★★★½

Review: Wild Horse – “Read My Mind (Vibes Song)”

There’s a moment, right as the chorus kicks in on “Read My Mind (Vibes Song)”, when it all clicks. The guitar shimmers, the rhythm lifts, and Jack Baldwin’s voice lands with the warmth and urgency of someone who’s been there—stuck in the blur of early mornings and late commutes—yet still manages to find a reason to smile. This is the sound of Wild Horse in 2025: sharper, bolder, and fully in stride.

Formed in East Sussex by brothers Jack and Henry Baldwin alongside longtime friend Ed Barnes, and now newly invigorated with Jade Snowden on keys, Wild Horse have built a reputation on tireless work and vibrant songwriting. If 2024 was the grind—touring, recording, building—then 2025 looks like the payoff. “Read My Mind (Vibes Song)” is the first taste of their new era as a four-piece, and it lands like a statement: this band is only getting better.

Produced by the seasoned Gary Stevenson, the track is a polished indie-pop groove wrapped in a feel-good funkiness that has always been a Wild Horse signature. But there's more maturity here—sonic confidence paired with lyrical clarity. Jack’s songwriting reflects that hard-earned balance between chasing dreams and navigating real life, and the result is both relatable and uplifting.

You can hear the years of gigging in the tightness of the performance. There’s no excess, no filler—just four musicians totally locked in. Snowden’s keys add a new layer of texture that subtly elevates the band’s sound without overwhelming their gritty charm. It’s the kind of track you’d blast driving home from a long shift, windows down, letting the beat shake off the day.

And the industry is noticing. Wild Horse have long been darlings of BBC Introducing, with a handful of “Track of the Day” nods and a staggering seven BBC Live Lounge appearances—the most recent just last month. Their momentum isn't a fluke; it's the result of relentless passion and craft. Even Parliament took note in 2023.

“Read My Mind (Vibes Song)” doesn’t reinvent the wheel. It doesn’t need to. It refines it—polishing what Wild Horse do best into something radio-ready without losing the rough-around-the-edges charm that’s endeared them to so many.

Wild Horse aren’t just vibing—they’re thriving.

Review: Lost Cathedrals – The Hunt

Some songs grab you by the collar and don’t let go. The Hunt by Lost Cathedrals is one of them.

From the opening seconds, there’s a palpable tension in the air—a brooding energy that hints at something deeper lurking beneath the surface. This is the third release from the Australian duo made up of Rusty Parlett and James Robson, and without question, it’s their boldest, most cinematic track yet. A sonic fusion that leans into the drama of Muse, the soul of Jeff Buckley, and the restless experimentation of Radiohead, The Hunt doesn’t play by the rules. And that’s exactly its power.

Lyrically, the track is introspective without being self-indulgent. Parlett’s voice cuts through with purpose, delivering lines that feel both personal and universal: a kind of inner monologue for anyone who's ever searched for meaning in the noise of the modern world. It’s a song about looking inward—a reminder that the answers we seek often aren’t out there, but already within us. There’s vulnerability in that idea, but The Hunt packages it in a big, anthemic sound that feels anything but fragile.

The production—courtesy of Robson—is equally ambitious. There’s a rich layering of textures, with jagged guitars and pulsing electronics coexisting in a surprisingly natural harmony. It’s rock music that isn’t afraid of the synth pad, indie that knows when to go full throttle. The build is masterful, growing from intimate reflection to a wide-screen climax that feels tailor-made for the final act of a movie you never want to end.

There’s a precision here, but also a rawness that keeps things grounded. That balance is what makes Lost Cathedrals so intriguing. They’re not chasing trends—they’re crafting experiences.

Whether you’re curating a rock playlist, looking for the perfect soundtrack to a moody late-night drive, or just in the mood to feel something real, The Hunt delivers. It’s the sound of a band coming into their own, and if this track is any indication, Lost Cathedrals aren’t just hunting—they’re arriving.

Put it on repeat. Let it chase you.

Review: Be The One by Ticket To The Universe

Released April 8, 2025

In a world where overproduction often overshadows emotion, Be The One by Ticket To The Universe emerges like a handwritten letter in a sea of automated replies. There’s a rawness, a vulnerability in this debut single that doesn’t just whisper its story—it sings it out with conviction, heartache, and the kind of hope only a true romantic could hold onto.

Hailing from the quiet town of Lenart, Slovenia, Ticket To The Universe is not your typical pop newcomer. There's no high-profile team behind him, no A-list collaborators or pristine studio polish. Just a living room turned recording space, a mic, a laptop, and a soul so full it spills out in every line. And that soul? It's captivated—utterly and unapologetically—by a muse he may never even meet. But rather than letting that love fester in silence, he turns it into art.

Be The One pulses with the DNA of modern pop—catchy hooks, synth touches, and a bassline that moves—but at its core, it’s steeped in something timeless. You can feel echoes of The Beatles, not in sound per se, but in spirit. Like Lennon writing “Julia” with a broken heart and full hope, Ticket To The Universe sings like someone who believes. Not just in love, but in music as the vehicle to find it, understand it, and maybe even be saved by it.

The lyrics aren't trying to be cryptic or clever. They're earnest, sometimes unpolished, but deeply sincere. “She’s different and strange and she’s a witch but that’s okay because I love real witches,” he says in an artist Q&A—and weirdly, that’s exactly what makes this song work. It’s not performative vulnerability. It’s real. And that raw honesty seeps through every note.

What truly sets Be The One apart is the DIY spirit that doesn’t compromise ambition. From recording vocals and acoustic guitar live to building the rest of the arrangement in Logic Pro, everything here was self-made. And yet, it doesn’t sound amateur. It sounds personal. Like you’ve stepped into someone’s diary and found yourself nodding along to the beat of their heartbreak.

This isn’t just a pop song. It’s an introduction to an artist with a story—and a fire—that can’t be manufactured. Sure, there’s no label, no upcoming tour, and no orchestra backing him up (yet). But that’s almost irrelevant. Because when a track carries this much emotional weight, it doesn’t need flash. It just needs a speaker—and a listener who’s willing to feel something.

Ticket To The Universe may be just one man in a living room dreaming about a girl and a future onstage, but with Be The One, he’s already captured the one thing so many others chase for years: authenticity. And that alone makes him one to watch.

Verdict: ★★★★☆

Be The One is an honest, beat-driven love letter from a dreamer who refuses to give up. Expect goosebumps. And maybe, a little black magic.

Review: Pourquoi? C’est L’Amour! by La Need Machine

Written like a fan who stumbled into something truly fresh

Seattle's indie rock scene just got another feather in its cap with La Need Machine’s latest record, Pourquoi? C’est L’Amour!, a vibrant, heart-forward collection that’s as emotionally intelligent as it is musically infectious.

From the moment the opening track hits, it's clear this band isn’t here to follow formulas—they’re here to connect. At the core of their sound is a dynamic mix of soaring harmonies, feel-it-in-your-chest rhythms, and lyrics that manage to be both introspective and totally singable. The album feels like a set of stories told across a well-loved mixtape—personal yet universal, familiar yet new.

Lead vocalist Elise Dahlberg delivers each line with an earnest confidence that cuts through the noise. A proudly neurodivergent artist, Elise brings a refreshing authenticity to the project. Her voice—sometimes soft and reflective, other times bold and electric—sits right at home among the rich layers of cello, saxophone, guitar, and keys that define the band’s sound.

La Need Machine makes a habit of clever arrangement, blending instruments and voices in ways that make each track feel like a mini episode in a larger series. It’s not quite a concept album, but it’s close—more like a stack of baseball cards that, when laid out together, reveal a bigger picture. The cohesion is undeniable, but it never feels forced. There’s just something deeply satisfying about how the band trades leads and textures, with members like Al Dams, Brian Hassler, Dawn Madsen, and Sebastian stepping into the spotlight in turns. Credit also to producer Bear Davis, whose touch ties it all together without sanding off the edges that make this record feel alive.

Pourquoi? C’est L’Amour! arrives at the perfect time. 2025 has brought its fair share of confusion and chaos, and this record meets the moment with something sorely needed—hope. There’s an undercurrent of optimism to these tracks that feels earned, not manufactured. It’s the sound of a group that’s seen the world for what it is and still chooses to dance.

La Need Machine isn’t just another indie rock band with a saxophone and something to say—they’re a reminder that music can be smart, gutsy, and joyful all at once. Pourquoi? C’est L’Amour! is proof that even in uncertain times, there’s still room for sincerity, connection, and a killer hook.

Review: Resonance by Bill Fox

In an era where musical myth-making has gone digital and every would-be troubadour curates their mystery online, Bill Fox stands as one of the few artists whose enigmatic legacy feels earned. A cult hero of Cleveland’s underground since the mid-’80s, Fox’s path veered from the expected stardom trajectory early on—just as The Mice, his whip-smart punk-powerpop trio, were poised for a bigger stage. But that stage never came. Instead, Fox disappeared into a world of four-track tapes and lo-fi solitude, emerging only when he had something real to say.

And with Resonance, released April 15th via Eleventh Hour Recording Company, Fox has a lot to say. It’s his first new album in eight years, a stunning collection of 11 tracks that rummage through the dustiest corners of his vault and re-emerge not as archival oddities, but as timeless, vibrant pieces of songwriting.

From the opening chords of “Wings of December,” it’s clear that Fox hasn’t lost his touch. His voice—now weathered but somehow more expressive—threads its way through jangly acoustic strums and warm analog textures. The songs feel at once intimate and expansive, like overhearing a private performance in a room that echoes with decades of quiet brilliance.

What’s most striking about Resonance is how effortlessly it balances vulnerability and confidence. On “Wildflower,” which features a gorgeous, understated guitar solo by Doug Gillard (Guided by Voices, Nada Surf), Fox turns a simple melody into something profoundly moving. It’s the kind of track that unravels slowly, revealing new emotional layers with each listen. Then there’s “Got Her On My Mind,” the album’s closer, where Fox lets loose with full-band energy and the kind of hooky exuberance that wouldn’t feel out of place on a lost Big Star record.

Despite the tape-hiss aesthetic and homespun charm that have always defined his work, Resonance doesn’t feel like a museum piece. There’s a vitality here that many artists half his age struggle to summon. Fox stretches his vocal performances beyond anything fans might expect—at times fragile, at times soaring—and in doing so, reminds us that reinvention doesn’t require reinvention at all, just fearless honesty.

For longtime listeners, Resonance is both a homecoming and a revelation. For newcomers, it’s a rare chance to discover an artist who, in his own quiet way, helped shape the very indie landscape we now take for granted. If you like Elliott Smith’s confessional hush, Robert Pollard’s melodic chaos, or the ghostly soul of Arthur Russell, Fox’s music will feel not just familiar—but essential.

In a career built on mystery and myth, Resonance doesn’t demystify Bill Fox. It doesn’t need to. It simply lets him be what he’s always been: one of the finest songwriters of his generation, still chasing the perfect song, still not quite letting us catch him.