After encountering heartbreak and grief, Moonwreckers understands the importance of feeling seen and validated.

The Metro Detroit-Ann Arbor quartet of Matt Galbraith (vocals, guitar), Matt Konkle (drums), Paul Stiem (guitar), and Jamus Sumner (bass, vocals) explores that emotional need and its evolution on the album, Why Look Here?.

“It certainly is autobiographical. At the time, I was married, and we were having issues, and we did eventually divorce. A lot of these songs were written around the time when I was in my early 30s, so shit hit the fan between us and we had been together since we were 18 years old,” said Galbraith about the band’s indie-rock-meets-emo debut release.

“I didn’t know what a world looked like without that, so I was very lost, and it was scary to me what life looked like outside of that relationship. There’s some coming-of-age stuff in there, too, but a lot of it has to do with that relationship, the struggles and the attempts of trying to reconcile things, and then failing and rinse and repeat."

Moonwreckers examines that trajectory across 12 personal tracks on Why Look Here?. The album’s honest lyrics, plaintive vocals, and evocative instrumentation prompt listeners to process their emotions and struggles alongside the band.

I remember the moment I fell in love with hip-hop.

It was 1985, and my older brother had rented VHS copies of the films Breakin’ and Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo from our local video store.

Seeing the breakdancing prowess of Kelly, Ozone, and Turbo in the films instantly captured my attention and spurred nine-year-old me to experiment with some moves of my own.

While I couldn’t quite emulate the popping, up-rocking, down-rocking, or power moves of the films’ heroes, I embraced a love of dancing and developed my own quirky style over the years.

As I grew up, I danced to the music of Run-D.M.C., Beastie Boys, Salt-N-Pepa, LL Cool J, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince, Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock, Young MC, MC Hammer, and others.

By high school, I had started learning about three of the five elements of hip-hop—rapping, DJing, and breakdancing—and would encounter the other two—graffiti and historical knowledge—as an adult.

Today, these five elements provide the foundation for a hip-hop history exhibit curated by the University of Michigan’s Department of Afroamerican and African Studies and on display at Haven Hall’s GalleryDAAS through September 4.

Known as Hip Hop @ 50: Defs, Dates, Divas, Detroit & Dilla, the exhibit celebrates the 50th anniversary of the culture and explores its evolution across music, society, fashion, language, entertainment, and politics.

After two decades, Jim Bizer realized it was time to release a new solo record.

The Dexter singer-songwriter hadn’t focused on his own album since 2004’s Connected and had spent ample time working on several collaborative projects, including a duo with Jan Krist and groups The Yellow Room Gang, Diamonds in the Rust, and Floyd King and The Bushwackers.

“It’s crazy that I’ve taken that long,” said Bizer about his new folk album, About Time. “I’ve done things in between, and the thing I did the most was the duo with Jan, but I wound up in a few different bands and made records with some of them.”

Even as he worked on different projects, Bizer’s songs for About Time started brewing in 2005, and they began accumulating.

He eventually landed on 13 tracks for his third solo album and noticed a theme of time had emerged. On About Time, Bizer brings that theme to life through evocative lyrics and soundtracks it with earnest folk instrumentation.

“Not that every single song deals directly with time, but a fair number of them do. I got a kick out of writing ‘Going Nowhere’ about slowing time down and what that could mean and how that would work,” said Bizer, who produced About Time and played guitar, bass, and guitjo.

“There’s also the fact that it’s been so long since I put out my last record, and time played a piece of that. And I think of these songs as a time capsule of the last 20 years, so time was so much on my mind as I was putting the record together.”

To learn more, I spoke to Bizer about his latest album ahead of a July 7 show at Livonia’s Trinity House Theatre.

For Hannah Baiardi, Phoenix represents a bold spiritual awakening.

The Ann Arbor singer-songwriter, pianist, and producer chronicles a personal transformation while encountering unrequited love on her latest album.

“The album shows that certain people come into our lives to be catalysts and light us up. Sometimes, our imagination is a huge part of the creative process and gets the best of us,” said Baiardi about her sophisti-pop release.

“It’s a beautiful thing to catalyze for music, albums, and songs, but when you come back to reality and the present moment, it doesn’t often translate.”

In her musical realm, Baiardi easily converts that inspiration into a mesmerizing concept album filled with intimate lyrics, cathartic instrumentation, and soulful vocals.

The dozen tracks featured on Phoenix explore the cycle of a potential relationship and the powerful emotions that accompany it.

“It almost felt like this was a fantastical world I had entered, or I had found this portal—like a rabbit hole. While I was making sense of it, the album was coming together,” said Baiardi, who wrote, recorded, and produced the album. “I started to see the early days of it as I was healing and getting into this surrender mode and soothing the heartbreak.”

I recently spoke to Baiardi about the album’s storyline and creative process.

When it comes to grief, Annie Bacon doesn’t want people to feel alone.

The Ann Arbor singer-songwriter and guitarist views it as a shared emotion that fosters connection and growth with others.

“Something that I’ve done with my art and that I feel like is important is to take on this role and say, ‘I don’t know if anybody understands me, but I’m going to explain what I’m going through in a way that hopefully other people can feel seen and understood,’” said Bacon, who performs under the moniker Annie Bacon & Her Oshen.

“I try to find the places where my experience might be universal and create these little bridges into my experience. That’s one of my philosophical approaches to songwriting: I want to as accurately as possible describe the experience I’m going through in the hopes that it creates a witness for somebody else.”

Bacon masters that honest songwriting approach and explores grief in all its forms on her new folk-rock album, Storm. The record’s 14 poignant tracks take listeners on an emotional odyssey through death, divorce, job changes, the pandemic, and a loss of identity.

The Whiskey Charmers often find creative inspiration in a dream.

The Detroit duo of Carrie Shepard (vocals, acoustic guitar) and Lawrence Daversa (electric guitar, backing vocals) took that route while writing the title track for their new alt-country album, Streetlights.

“I had a dream that I was watching Chris Stapleton perform his new song,” Shepard said. “In my dream, it’s the chorus of the song, and I woke up, remembered it, and sang the chorus into my phone. It’s not a real song—it was just made up in my dream.”

Right after her dream, Shepard converted that imaginary song into “Streetlights,” which features exploratory lyrics and fiery electric-guitar solos.

She sings, “Was running under streetlights, in my dreams / Flying down the stairway, defying gravity / Then I felt lightning from the sky / Yeah, I felt a white light hit me / Right between the eyes.”

“I think of it as a weird, dream-like state that’s a little bit unsettling. I do have the one part of the [song] where I’m saying I fly down the stairway defying gravity, and I have dreams of people chasing me,” Shepard said.

“In my dream, if somebody’s chasing me, when I get to a stairway, I know I can just fly down. That’s where that came from. We tried our best to make the recording in that vibe to get that across.”

For Cece June, life is filled with near-misses and unresolved emotions.

The New York City singer-songwriter processes a gamut of feelings—from heartbreak to frustration to hope—about unclosed chapters on her latest indie-folk EP, How Did This Get So Heavy?

“It's a feeling that emulates the void when something is no longer in your life. It’s that feeling of trying to grapple with not having people around anymore or accepting that you’re going to have to move on,” said June, a University of Michigan alumna from Barcelona, Spain.

“It’s also feeling displaced or feeling frustrated. For instance, on ‘Things Unsaid,’ you’re [ruminating] on why something could have gone wrong and thinking, ‘I could potentially have an idea of what went wrong, but if I wanted to talk to the person for them to tell me and for me to get closure I can’t because they’re no longer in my life.’ There’s no way to answer those questions to let you move forward and move on easier.”

Despite those challenges, June faces her emotions head-on and looks to the future on her sophomore release. She chronicles loss, acceptance, and growth across eight tracks, which feature cathartic lyrics and wistful stripped-down instrumentation.

“I found solace in seeing the songs evolve as I evolved as a person myself. This EP was written and recorded over two-and-a-half to three years,” June said.

“There were songs that would ebb and flow, and there were times when I was recording them in the thick of the pain or times when I was reminiscing … and no longer being in the depths of that feeling or the grief or the heartbreak.”

To learn more, I spoke with June about her EP and the inspiration behind it.

Pia-Allison Roa makes an honest self-assessment on her Getting Better EP.

The Detroit singer-songwriter who performs as pia the band recognizes the importance of re-evaluating life plans and priorities and making changes along the way. 

“These are the four songs that I felt were most ready to be out,” said Roa about her debut EP. “Once we recorded all four and then put it all together, it popped out to me that these are all about overcoming things.” 

As part of that process, pia the band examines past situations and relationships through contemplative lyrics and ethereal indie-rock, dream-pop, and shoegaze-folk instrumentation. 

“It felt good to get all those out … but then it was even more special looking back at what the songs meant, what they could mean now, and how they can be interpreted by other people,” said Roa, who’s also a clinical pharmacist specialist at Wayne Health.

To learn more, I spoke with Roa about Getting Better ahead of her May 28 show at Ziggy’s in Ypsilanti.

Kitty Donohoe is celebrating 50 years of writing and performing a timeless mix of original and traditional folk music, including Celtic, Maritime, Canadian, and other sounds from the British Isles.

“It’s almost crept up on me—50 years down the line from my beginning," said the Ann Arbor multi-instrumentalist. "It’s actually been 52 years, but I’m ignoring those two fruitless COVID years. I’ve performed in so many wonderful spots around the country.”

In the ‘80s, Donohoe ventured east to Cambridge, Massachusetts to perform at Club Passim and The Birchmere in Alexandria, Virginia. But one of her most memorable live shows occurred in Arlington, Virginia on September 11, 2008.

“I sang ‘There Are No Words’ at the Pentagon for the dedication of their 9/11 Memorial,” said Donohoe, who penned the track on the day of the attacks.

“That was almost surreal to be surrounded by then-President George W. Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney and others from the cabinet and to be looking out at a sea of regular people who were personally impacted by 9/11. That was a profound experience—I doubt I could top that.”

Another special night will be Donohoe’s May 19 show at The Ark, which will spotlight her professional milestone with a special performance featuring several friends and the acceptance of the 2024 Michigan Heritage Award. The honor recognizes her 30-plus years of entertaining audiences with her original songs about Michigan.

To learn more, I spoke to Donohoe about her music career ahead of her show at The Ark.

Kat Steih takes a bold look beneath the surface on I Am Not My Self.

That deep examination reveals the challenges people often face with presenting one persona externally while wrestling with another self internally.

“Each person has an outer persona and an inner world. Even if my persona is funny and easygoing, what’s really holding the strings is what’s on the inside,” said Steih about her new album out May 17. 

“The puppet master can be in pain while still conducting a pretty, whimsical dance—something nice or fun to amuse herself or to self-soothe. I use music to acknowledge things that I feel. Some may call it bold, and it empowers everybody.”

The Ann Arbor singer-songwriter especially shares that courageous and empowering message on the title track, which features fearless electric guitar, bass, and drums. 

Steih sings, “I am the candle, and you are the flame / Fingertip to fingertip, your voice animates me / Tremors I detect in the seismic quake / The look on your face rearranges me.”

The title track also reflects the honest lyrics and emotive new-wave, hard-rock, and pop-punk instrumentation that flows throughout I Am Not My Self’s six tracks.