The tracks creep in with a bassline that feels lived-in, defiant and more than a little dirty. It’s the kind of groove that knows exactly how good it sounds, doing just enough to drag you into its orbit before the synths kick up that queasy, decadent shimmer. There’s something undeniably ’80s in its DNA, a nostalgic, macabre sheen that drives it forward. This is synth-pop with something unspoken curling underneath, all wiry tension and tightly wound pleasure.

‘The Influencer/Co-Conspirator’ ooze the sort of sound that bands spend years trying to fake: enviably cool, carelessly stylish, effortless in its ambition.  The Itch have delivered a 7-minute epic of a double single that you’ll be hearing all summer.

Photo by The Itch

So Young is a new music magazine and our new issue is out now. Buy in print here. Subscribe here.
Issue Fifty-Five features Model/Actriz, YHWH Nailgun, The Orchestra (For Now), Westside Cowboy, Car Seat Headrest, Real Farmer, School Fair, Elias Rønnenfelt, feeble little horse, Kissing On Camera, Pooneh Ghana and Rhi Dancey.

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The interplay between vocalists Billy Ward and Vera Leppänen is nothing short of mesmerizing throughout, their harmonies weaving seamlessly to narrate a poignant tale of love and longing. The lyrics are rich and only add to the sense of a band starting to settle into the hype they’ve deservedly built for themselves. “I’d be the Adam to your Steve / But now you’re going overseas / Why’d you have to up and leave?” being the standout for its simultaneous depth and simplicity.

All in all,’Adam & Steve’ comes together to solidify Man/Woman/Chainsaw’s reputation as a formidable force, showcasing their continuous artistic growth in an utter diamond of a track.

Photo by Pooneh Ghana

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VLURE’s long-awaited return arrives like a sunrise across a field after a festival night. It is a nostalgia-laden treasure to savour at the start of spring as summer starts to feel tantalisingly close. In a time where everything feels poised to unravel, VLURE have given us a lifeline in the form of an existential rave hymn; an anthem for a generation haunted by the past, heartbroken by the present, but still clinging, fiercely, to the promise of tomorrow.

I know this all sounds overblown, but the return of VLURE has genuinely brought optimism back to my day-to-day life. Built on the skeletal rush of 90s dance royalty (think Orbital, Faithless, Underworld) and lit by the neon pulse of friendship, grief and joy, ‘Better Days’ is pure escapism through nostalgia. Its spoken-word verses, delivered like poetry scrawled on the back of a club flyer, float atop a track that surges like MDMA in the bloodstream. “There are always better days,” Hamish Hutcheson repeats like a mantra, and in that moment, you believe him.

Photo by Weronika Sikora

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‘The Letter I Sent’ is the instant classic you inexplicably haven’t heard yet. A jangly, full-hearted rush of joy that carries all the charisma of a lost hit from some alternate-history jukebox. The band’s devotion to major-key euphoria is fully realised here, their love for timeless rock‘n’roll wrapped in a fresh, electric sheen. There’s no artifice, no distance, just the sheer thrill of music that lifts you off your feet.

At its core, ‘The Letter I Sent’ is pure romantic yearning, the kind that belongs in the flickering glow of a ‘60s cinema screen. The lyrics ache with old-school sincerity, confessional and direct. The track is never weighed down by its longing though, instead it soars, with every bright, driving chord lifting you higher. 

It’s exactly what The Paris Match set out to do: get people moving, make them feel something immediate, unfiltered, and real. And in a world that often feels unrelentingly grey, this song is a technicolor escape.

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Clari Freeman Taylor’s vocals carry a tenderness that feels almost whispered, a nostalgia woven with the gentle fragility of someone who knows that her place in the world is one she’ll have to carve out herself.  Clari’s voice wraps around the melody in a way that feels quietly revelatory, as though she’s letting us in on a long-kept secret. This isn’t a song that tries to impress with volume or excess; instead, it relies on warmth and restraint, inviting the listener into a deeply intimate space.

mary in the junkyard are a band that know how to wield the subtle art of build and release, giving just enough to make each moment feel significant. The bass line finds its groove beneath the vocals, and the guitar lines bend and sway like a slow tide, echoing the band’s hallmark quality—intensity through softness. By the time the song reaches its understated peak, you’re lost in it, marvelling at how effortlessly they’ve drawn you in.

It’s hard to believe mary in the junkyard is just three people, such is the sense of fullness and completeness in their sound. This trio is marked by an uncanny musical maturity, as though they were born to create music. Every element feels meticulously placed yet never forced, giving ;this is my california’ an organic warmth that feels alive.

If ‘this old house’ was an introduction, ‘this is my california’ is a firm promise—mary in the junkyard aren’t just here to stay; they’re here to carve their own paradise in music, one tender, quietly transcendent moment at a time.

mary in the junkyard feature on the cover of Issue Forty-Eight of So Young. Pick up one of the last few copies here.

Photo by Herbie Bone

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Singer Julia Vassallo addresses her brother directly, creating an intimate, vulnerable space that feels achingly personal. Her voice cuts through the band’s refined shoegaze atmosphere, lending the track a visceral energy that feels both soothing and heart-wrenching, capturing a spectrum of emotions that surge and ebb with every beat.

The band’s production choices, rooted in their Brooklyn home studio, highlight their unique take on shoegaze, blending the genre’s lushness with a newfound clarity. Each note is sharpened to reveal the complexity of processing loss, crafting a sonic space where grief coexists with love and memory. The song explores the transformative nature of time and how, as we move forward, we carry pieces of those we’ve lost with us. There’s an artful tension here, capturing the way grief lingers even as it softens, filling space rather than fading away.

‘Brother’ is a powerful statement on the importance of music as a medium for understanding and sharing grief. Slow Fiction has created a piece that not only honours personal loss but speaks to something universal, bridging the listener to their own memories and emotions. By facing this experience head-on, they offer a path forward. The result is a song that’s as cathartic as it is beautiful—a testament to the resilience of memory and the ways art can carry us through our deepest pains.

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Throughout the track, as a listener, you can’t help but be in awe of the sheer scope of its sound. There’s a ferocity to the rhythm section, with a pounding bassline that pulses like the heartbeat of a long-lost Joy Division track. It’s urgent, frenetic, yet carefully controlled, evoking the intensity of early 2000s indie-disco—but with a darker, heavier undertow. The track’s motorik tendencies—produced by none other than Dan Carey, known for shaping bold sonic statements—drive it forward relentlessly, making every second feel like it’s hurtling toward some cataclysmic event. The tension builds and builds, much like the dogfight Orme sings about, spinning us through the chaos of war, only to leave us breathless in the aftermath.

But it’s the haunting beauty of Orme’s vocals that elevate the track into something otherworldly. There’s a solemnity to the delivery, particularly in the ghostly harmonies that flutter in and out like war memorial hymns sung in abandoned cathedrals, each word hanging heavy with grief.

Lyrically, ‘Warplane’ feels staggeringly real. This is history made real, and it hits like a gut punch, leaving you grappling with its unfathomable truth. The way the personal and the historical are woven together makes the song feel like a lament not just for one man, but for all the unknown soldiers lost to time. The highlight is when the song soars, only to then crash, with Orme’s visceral dedication to William Gibson Gordon, the young Spitfire pilot who perished at just 20 years old during World War II. Orme paints the moment with heartbreaking clarity, as his Spitfire crumples like “an angel losing its extraordinary wings.”

With ‘Warplane’, Heartworms not only solidifies her vision but also asserts a fearlessness in her art. The ambition is staggering—this is not just an artist experimenting with sound, but someone cementing an identity. The result is an anthem for the bold, a testament to Orme’s determination to fly against the current, leaving you eagerly awaiting the full scope of her debut album ‘Glutton For Punishment’—because if this single is anything to go by, we’re in for something monumental.

Photo by Gilbert Trejo

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Since their formation in 2021, the band has built a reputation for crafting irresistible anthems, and this track is no exception. With its bright riffs, radiant synths, and British irreverence, ‘All My Freaks’ feels like a song you already know the words to on the first listen—instantly catchy.

The song takes a witty, self-aware swipe at the ego-driven struggles of being a musician, especially from the perspective of an artist outside London’s usual spotlight. Tiger Cohen-Towell’s lyrics, full of humour and insight, explore the rollercoaster of public approval and the delusions of “making it,” while proudly embracing the band’s Midlands roots. It’s a refreshing, sharp commentary on the music industry, delivered with the warmth and authenticity that Divorce have made their signature.

As always, Divorce balance playfulness with emotional depth, and ‘All My Freaks’ is no different. The intertwined vocals of Cohen-Towell and Felix Mackenzie-Barrow pull you into a world that’s both personal and universal, their unique chemistry anchoring the track’s irresistible energy. With each release, Divorce seem to be reaching new heights, and this single only strengthens their growing legacy.

With ‘Drive to Goldenhammer‘ set for release in March 2025, Divorce are poised for even bigger things. If ‘All My Freaks’ is any indication, this album will be a bold, anthemic exploration of identity, home, and the messy, beautiful journey of being an artist.

Photo by Flower Up & Rosie Sco.

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Their new single, ‘Can’t Pretend To Know’, feels like the culmination of this journey—a razor-sharp anthem that captures everything we’ve come to love about The Murder Capital, except now distilled to its most potent form. Recorded in Los Angeles with renowned producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen), the track bristles with urgency, cutting through with a slicing riff that commands attention. Described by McGovern as “a stained glass hurricane inside your mind,” the song rushes in like a whip of colour, blurring the lines between childhood innocence and the surreal chaos of youth.

Lyrically, McGovern takes us on a breathless journey through the fragile bridges we burn as we navigate the strangeways of growing up. His words reflect the push and pull of playing the parts asked of us—always moving forward but never truly knowing anything at all. There’s a newfound directness to his lyrics, even as his vocals are delivered softly, almost buried within the mix, creating an intriguing tension between clarity and dreamlike subtlety. 

Musically, the band is sharper than ever, with that standout riff serving as the heartbeat of the track, relentlessly pushing it forward. It’s a hook that encapsulates the track’s urgency and gives it an almost cinematic quality, drawing you deeper into its stormy atmosphere with every listen. The band’s ability to combine emotional weight with undeniable hooks is on full display here, making ‘Can’t Pretend To Know’ feel like an instant classic—powerful, unrelenting, and beautifully disorienting.

As The Murder Capital gear up for a UK tour and support slots with Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, ‘Can’t Pretend To Know’ serves as a thrilling announcement of their evolution. It’s the sound of a band fully embracing their strengths and stepping onto a bigger stage with renewed confidence and intensity. This is The Murder Capital at their most immediate and electrifying—impossible to miss.

Photo by Hugo Comte

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