Photo: Joseph McMurray

LA artist Jonny Kosmo has built a dedicated following fusing immaculately-produced 70’s-vintage funk/soul tunes with an at-times truly surreal visual sense that evokes contemporaries Unknown Mortal Orchestra, albeit with a seemingly more playful and innocent heart. But with his latest video, “Fool,” which also serves as a preview for his upcoming album, “Pastry” (out June 4th on Feeding Tube Records in the States), he’s upped his game on both fronts. 

The track itself is a warm, pleasantly viscous slab of gently psychedelic slow-funk steeped in 70s Stevie Wonder-era synths, shimmering tremoloed guitars with occasional wah-wah lead flourishes, a bass line as thick as hash oil, and soulfully gauzy close-mic’d vocals.  

The accompanying video, however, left us questioning our sanity in the best way. Set in a hilly beige meadow that could’ve served as a Windows ’95 desktop background, Kosmo sings the title track while intently at work with a metal detector. He ends up crossing paths with an unusual new friend, and the dance party ensues. It’s simultaneously hilarious and unsettling, another example of the David Lynch-lite vibe that is quickly becoming a Jonny Kosmo signature. Gabe Hernandez

Nataliya Nikitenko debuts elegantly with a single titled “Oil & Water” that shows off her vocal prowess, fluid through a vivid lead piano melody that trickles as she ascends and descends flawlessly. With rich harmonies and well-timed string instrument swells to adorn the debut track with simmering feelings of loss and realizations of acceptance, the composition is a melancholic standout. An accomplished songwriter, having penned tracks such as Little Mix’s “No More Sad Songs (ft. Machine Gun Kelly)” and “Heavy” by Anne-Marie, Nikitenko joins the ranks of artists such as LP who step out of the shadows and into their brilliance, a spotlight awaiting them that no other could take. In “Oil & Water,” Nataliya Nikitenko appreciates the end of something, watching as it separates: the process, and its sound, are something to behold; stream the new single below. - René Cobar

Sapphire Hart has a new music video out for her single “Toxic Love Story,” where she displays the cool-smooth sound of her trap-soul style. The new song trots irregularly to Hart’s passionate-elegant vocals, with piano chord changes that sustain long enough to be felt beyond heard. The new song has an accompanying black and white music video that adds a seductive and profoundly emotional level to the story of love and expectations not met. Hart has a style that is direct and modern, fitting indeed for an age of intricate relationships and fast-track emotions. Stream the new music video for “Toxic Love Story” below for a glimpse at a rising Los Angeles artist. - René Cobar

Jordan Suaste is both the creator and spectator of the brilliant sonic rivers of romance that flow in his latest single, “Patience.” Where some would fear allowing their emotions to flow, Suaste does not as he flexes his vocal prowess to posh instrumentation comprised of cute piano leads and sway-inducing beats sprinkled with the sweetness of R&B. Suaste debuts in “Patience” a glossy heartbreak track that serves both as a winter warmer and a shinny treat you can’t help show your friends. As Suaste ascends vocally in the song’s bridge, you cannot help think he is a young man that knows where he is headed, and it is up there; take a moment to stream the new music video for “Patience” below. - René Cobar

L.A’s Sara Noelle offers us her atmospheric take on Judee Sill’s “Emerald River Dance” and does the popularly covered song justice. The track is a weaving of swelling tones and nature-oriented rhythms that create a serene soundscape that is soothing for troubled minds. Noelle’s vocals have an elegance to them and emotional precision that wholly create a version of the song that belongs to her. With piano-key trickles and pulsing synths, the cover has a heartbeat of its own, and it is worth listening to; stream Sara Noelle’s cover of “Emerald River Dance” below for an ambiance to enjoy. - René Cobar