Mixtape: Releases from Tobias Jesso Jr., Searows, mercury, Hudson Freeman, emory

Sarina Feng, Editor-in-Chief • November 19, 2025

A week of releases features music releases from indie artists. Grammy winning songwriter Tobias Jesso Jr. released his first piece of independent work in a decade. Photos courtesy of Hudson Freeman (top left), R&R Digital (top middle), Last Recordings on Earth (top right), Julia Fernandez (bottom left), Mercury Records / UMG Recordings, Inc. (bottom right).

This week’s recent music releases feature sonic snapshots from emerging and established indie artists.

The world goes barren and quiet as winter waxes and fall wanes. Press your ear to that silence. There is ambiance in gusts of wind and percussion in brittle leaves and melodies in crickets and migrating flocks. Behind the vivid and the dull, the sound and the silence, lies despondency: the sense that we do not know what to do with ourselves now that this year’s legacy is almost set in stone. So, we laugh and we mourn. We remain frostbitten and numb. We listen to music.

Tobias Jesso Jr.: “I Love You”

(Spotify)

“Shatter the cracks wide open and say / ‘I love you’”

Canadian musician Tobias Jesso Jr. released the single “I Love You,” his first individual piece of music in a decade, this Thursday. Since his previous release, he co-wrote and produced songs for artists including Adele, Justin Bieber, Dua Lipa, Harry Styles and more, winning the 2023 inaugural Grammy for Songwriter of the Year. The single precedes the release of eight-track album “s h i n e” on Nov. 21.

“I Love You” opens similarly to the first song Jesso Jr. wrote on piano, “just a dream,” with a gentle piano motif. When vocals enter, they are soft but steady, trailing off into the soundscape of a simple instrumentation. They cradle a narrative about watching a loved one become lost within themselves, lulling listeners into a melancholic peace. Verbs like “I hear,” “I feel,” “I want” and “I see” create a sense of remoteness despite the narrator’s longing to provide comfort, and the shift of subject from “you” to “she” extends this detachment. The subtle, harsher pronunciation of the word “love,” adds an almost undetectable disturbance to the calm. It prompts a pause, but a new verse soon sweeps in, and we settle.

At 2:48, a slight crescendo is the only warning before an abrupt tom drum and cymbal crashes down, staggering and pounding against Jesso Jr.’s quiet mantra of “I love you.” We jolt, making sure that the sound is not coming from elsewhere. The beats roll in, one after another, increasing in entropy like a freight train racing by or a series of explosions. They leave as quick as they come, bringing Jesso Jr.’s voice along, and the song unfolds back into the beginning piano motif.

Upon first listen, the work sounds “ruined.” But there is something compelling within this ruin. There is solace in the tattered remains of the song after drums barrel through. With love, the act of being present provides enough comfort.

Searows: “Photograph of a Cyclone”

(Spotify)

“Old machine, headlock / Wasting hours in outlaw country / Sing the anthem absentmindedly”

Searows’s “Photograph of a Cyclone,” released last Wednesday, is a jagged piece of upcoming album “Death in the Business of Whaling,” scheduled to drop on Jan. 23 next year. The title frames the track as an exploration of stillness within chaos. While there is not much to be said about the instrumentation, it reflects this idea. The drums are insistent and loud, but grounding, almost rising from within us. Searows’s voice blends with the guitar in shades of gold and green, providing a sense of warmth against the desperate lyrics which carry the song — “give me anything, please.”

Taking a photograph of a cyclone is, by nature, a dangerous act, one that involves capturing motion and ruin by holding still. There is a steady trappedness here, a sense of walking in circles only to return to the same place. Searows said the song is about “repeating cycles you learned from your surroundings or culture… witnessing chaos in your world and not knowing what else to do but watch it happen.” The track rises and falls, yet only to a certain point, never breaking. While we are hurt by the annihilation that life often carries, we cling to it because it inspires us to create and reflect. Caught in the midst of despair, watching a tempest descend, sometimes all we can do is frame it in a photograph.

mercury: “Heaven”

“Going / going / it never stops”

Tennessean indie band mercury’s single “Heaven,” unveiled Nov. 11, is bathed in relentless waves of sound. Triggered by an ambient wash and an anacrusis from the drum, an electric guitar riff creates an overcast sky, breaking to let project architect Maddie Kerr’s voice shine through.

Between verses, the vocals and backing track trade off in a kind of dialogue, before slamming together in the chorus, where Kerr’s voice soars on the back of the instrumentation. “Heaven” and a pair of headphones makes it easy to lose yourself.

With the release, Kerr said, "I surrender to the things that will always have a hold on me," and provided insight into the song's meaning.

In the dizzying, spinning soundscape, Kerr’s voice has an enthralling drag to it. She cries out, wounded and resigned, unleashing a cosmic storm in an endless string of paradoxes: “go” versus “hold on” and “forget” versus “accepted it.” In a way that can only be described as ethereal, “Heaven” shimmers.

Hudson Freeman: “If You Know Me,” “Wild Horses”

(Spotify)

“If you know me like you say you do / You'd be humming along, you'd be singing the tunes”

Texas-born and Brooklyn-based folk artist Hudson Freeman shared full versions of singles “If You Know Me” and a cover of the Rolling Stones’s “Wild Horses” last Thursday, following a demo of the first song from September.

The first track, “If You Know Me,” opens with a long, laid-back guitar riff full of bends and hammer ons. Vocals ease in, lazy and flat, in the style of a soft campfire singalong. In the homesick, wistful sound of the guitar and the breaks in Freeman’s voice, a sense of loss shines through. It is a song to hum, to find company in, when feeling down. Behind it all is a raw and imperfect lack of production.

“Let's do some living after we die / Wild horses couldn't drag me away”

In the cover of “Wild Horses,” the instrumentals are rougher and more distorted than the clarity of the guitar in the first song. Freeman describes it as a cover of "My Bloody Valentine’s cover of the Sunday’s cover of the song.” It brings the same easy nature of Freeman’s voice to the original song, with turns and rises climbing up an octave. Compared to a pure sense of sadness that comes through when listening to the original work from the Rolling Stones, Freeman’s version aches but sounds almost freeing and liberating, evoking an image of racing over an endless, empty field.

With a style especially visible in the cover, Freeman brings a laidback sway to both songs. Listeners cannot help but sway along.

emory: “dirt”

“But the river will move / And the old rope swing will wear down / You and I are capable / gentle / now”

Emerging indie artist emory’s “dirt,” released last Friday, is a tender piece of work that leans into simplicity, in a soundscape shaped by repetitive instrumentation and soft vocals. The pedal steel’s sliding tones and descending lines sound animalistic at times, whining softly, lending a vulnerability to the track. Compared with single “bends,” released two days prior, which had an autotune quality and a dissonant, disturbed ending, “dirt” revolves around a more intimate, authentic sound.

Patient devotion exudes from the lyrics in promises and reassurances in the face of change: “I think I can love you kindly / kinder than you love yourself … I swore I could move the earth / I swore I could still believe in you.” In these warm messages, the narrator recognizes that impermanence always prevails: rivers will move, old rope swings and houses will wear down. Still, a tender hand guides us to bend to change; we will be “capable,” “gentle,” “older” and “warmer” by the time it comes. We are fragile in the face of the world, as time erodes what we construct. But emory’s hidden gem of a work shows us that we are always adapting, growing and withstanding the slow wear of life.

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About the Contributor

Sarina Feng, Editor-in-Chief

With a pack of instant noodles, a freshly ruined sleep schedule and her new desk companion — Bob the felted chicken — Sarina Feng is ready to take on senior year and her third year on the Falconer. As Editor-in-Chief, she hopes to strengthen the bonds within the tight-knit staff while delivering impactful reporting and a quality publication. Feng’s list of hobbies has grown alongside her love for journalism; outside of school and other responsibilities, she enjoys writing, photography, composing music, trying new experiences, overthinking and stargazing on the beach. Other beloved pastimes include listening to music and rewatching favorite animated films. Most often, you can find her sunbathing on the floor or working on some obscure passion project. She looks forward to a final year of high school filled with lasting memories in the newsroom and beyond.