As the daylight shortens, granting all the more reasons to indulge in a tipsy night, and to let introspection creep in. A soft, delicate male vocal layers over an indie rock foundation, murmuring weary poems; psychedelic yet laced with the gentle warmth of folk. You are bright and fresh, still inescapably fragile and melancholic. The complex facets of humanity blur into the night, as turbid as the twilight stretching infinitely between light and darkness. 

Hailing from Fukuoka, Japan, the three-piece band yawn club captures the subtle ups and downs of everyday life and the nuances of human emotions through delicate vocals, hazy melodies, and a dreamlike sense of weightlessness. Their music seems to lead listeners into a space between sleep and wakefulness, drifting along the boundaries of reality and fantasy to create a warm, ethereal dreamscape. 

A woman's love takes a thousand forms, blooming solely for the sake of a radiant visage. RAYE's phenomenal album released this year not only boldly pursues true love, but also frequently self-deprecates amidst the fluctuations of the search. Like finding oneself in a Broadway musical, RAYE "voice-acts" the autumn of a Parisian woman, blending jazz, R&B, multi-part harmonies, and a big band arrangement, turning minor affections into a grand, sweeping epic in the blink of an eye.