Taste Test, Edition #10: COTE, Savannah Sgro, Eli Shane & more

Welcome to Taste Test, a review wrangling of SubmitHub-only gemstones.

“Restoration” by COTE

Taryn Randall’s voice is buried in sparse brush. It’s angelic but weighted with two-ton anvils of songwriting heft. Seeking to glue her soul back together, she turns to folk tradition as the kind of industrial-strength adhesive she needs. “Restoration,” from her self-titled new record, sees her emptying every drop from her being. “In the wake of my restoration, I break, I fall, I choose to loosen my grip on explanation,” she sings, mesmerizingly lilting and breathy.

“blonde” by Isaac Dunbar

Isaac Dunbar wrecks his own heart for the pleasure of a succulent electro-pop feast. “blonde,” palpitating in love-stung dips, permits the 15-year-old to writhe around in production that’s creamy and sticks on the ears. “Let her ruin my emotions / Couple of demotions / Taking the whole world,” he sings, before expressing oozing disgust for his own sins. The follow-up single to viral hit (and his cannonball-sized debut) “freshman year” is equally as striking and highlights the pop freshman’s penchant for inescapable hooks.

“Phobia” by Savannah Sgro

It’s an act of bravery to expose your newly-healed scars for the world to see. Savannah Sgro decorates her wounds with spacious, starry-eyed piano on “Phobia,” in which she confesses her greatest fear in this life. “I’m afraid you’ll grow out of me,” she weeps in the song’s final moments, as she tries to cope with a reality that could very well transpire. “I’m not even afraid of dying,” she also admits, a rather startling acknowledgement that peels back humanity’s complex journey. But amidst a fuzzy blanket of sound, bouncing around a dazzling thin vocal, it is somehow warm and enveloping.

“i feel like chet” by mxmtoon

The singer-songwriter feeds on their dreams, a high-protein fuel that is ever-present in much of their work. Armed with their lush-stringed ukulele, mysteriously only known as mxmtoon, they wax romantic, rather hopelessly, on “i feel like chet.” It’s dressed up as a hushed lullaby, which subtly tears at the silvering clouds overhead, and their voice acts as a knife through sizzling butter. “My glasses are tinted rose pink,” they sing on the song, which references Chet Baker’s “I Fall in Love Too Easily.” They’re certainly cut from the same cloth but learns to embrace their quickness to infatuations with a quiet resolve.

“Put It All on Me” by Phil Good

Jared Maldonado is stubbornly off-beat. His Phil Good moniker sashays between sturdy conventions and wanting to deconstruct the powers that be. “Put It All on Me,” blipping and blooping like a tightly-crafted Nintendo soundtrack cut, clicks with tinny, yet warped, ’80s synths and paired up with a twisted, dazzling funk. “I hope I give you all you need,” he sings. Such a bold admission is empowering, and in a world of fake people, places, things and feelings, it’s a moment of relief pop music so desperately needs.

“The View” by Eli Shane

Lost connections are a tragic state of living. Folk musician Eli Shane falls prey to the earth-scorched embers of a dying relationship with “The View,” off his new EP, Flip on Fiona, and digs his way out of the subsequent ash as best he can. “You used to step on top of everything I’d always do,” he sings, charred spits falling from his lips and onto the crusted dirt at his feet. He sends up a list of wishes for himself and the other person, both a naive and hopeful act of faith. Even given the sour state of things, he yearns for what it felt like anyway.

“Once in a Lifetime” by Carmen

Twirling in the lamplight of R&B and pop, newcomer Carmen second guesses her instincts of life, love and pursuit of a greater happiness. “Once in a Lifetime” is hyper-charged with a lo-fi charm while grasping at a slick, classically-90s beat. “I now know that things will never be the same,” she sings on the bridge, casting off her former shell and stepping into who she was always destined to become. The production ascends from the watery depths of solitude and vulnerability into a momentous and towering peak.

“Ode to the Lonesome” by Robert Connely Farr & the Rebeltone Boys

The vitality of the Mississippi Delta has long been the breeding ground for the kind of swampy Americana music that defines a way of life. Robert Connely Farr, backed by an esteemed group of players known as the Rebeltone Boys, engages the senses and relinquishes a rootsy, front-porch-picked romper called “Ode to the Lonesome,” igniting his latest record, Dirty South Blues, with sheer ferocity. “Take me down to the cypress swamp / Sit me down at the bottom of the stump / And let me dream my dreams,” he sings at the outset. The melancholic sharpness erupts from his vocal chords, and when bestowed with such a grim fate, he clutches his life closer to his chest.

“Note to Self” by T. Nile featuring Sadowick and Dave Quanbury

There’s no escaping death, and you can never be ready for her. In the aftermath of her father’s passing, T. Nile wielded her pen to heal, to learn, to love again. “Note to Self,” lit with a smokey, on-fire, end-of-the-world flame, is a mournful ballad about not only the act of dying but witnessing her own rebirth. “Will you love me like this?” she asks herself, her voice as fragile as life itself in the linger glow of the sun’s setting rays. It’s the lead single to her forthcoming new album, Beachfires, out in 2019, and one that is so ghost-like, you’ll assuredly hear it in your sleep.

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