Giuseppe Bonaccorso isn’t interested in making music you can half-listen to while scrolling your phone. His latest single, “L’Ombra della Terra” (The Shadow of the Earth), asks for your full attention across its four minutes and eleven seconds—this isn’t background music by any stretch.

Released September 1st, this track comes on the heels of “Playground in Gaza,” which already had critics taking notice of the Italian composer’s refusal to play by anyone else’s rules. But where that previous single sparked conversations, “L’Ombra della Terra” feels like Giuseppe Bonaccorso throwing down a gauntlet. The track now has an official music video on YouTube that adds another visual layer to the already complex sonic experience.

The song opens with this slow-building atmosphere that’s almost cinematic—layers of synthesizers and ambient sounds that pull you in before a driving rhythm kicks everything into gear. What’s striking is Bonaccorso’s vocal approach. He’s not really singing in any traditional sense; it’s more like he’s delivering poetry over this shifting musical backdrop. Distorted guitars weave through the mix, keeping things grounded even when the experimental elements threaten to float away entirely.

The Italian lyrics paint a vivid picture that’s both mystical and rebellious. Bonaccorso writes about shamans with glass skin, eyes being dragged far away, and a world that’s fallen asleep and turned upside down. There’s imagery of prayers dissolving like smoke rings, references to automatons with maps and compasses trying to figure out the world’s geometry. The narrative voice addresses a father figure, talking about sin and debt, invoking Charon (the mythological ferryman) and thirty pieces of silver. The whole thing culminates with the narrator seeing their reflection in Earth’s shadow—which gives the track its title.

What makes these lyrics fascinating is how they blend classical mythology with modern disillusionment. You’ve got ancient references sitting next to images of mechanical beings, creating this temporal collision that feels both timeless and urgently contemporary. The recurring theme seems to be about breaking free from imposed guilt and spiritual debt, rejecting the idea that we owe something to powers that claim authority over us.

This release makes more sense when you know Bonaccorso’s background. The guy’s not just a musician—he’s a published poet with actual awards, started out doing ceramic sculpture as a kid in Caltagirone (a Sicilian town known for its artists), and has studied both computer science and philosophy. That multidisciplinary approach shows up in how layered his compositions are.

What’s refreshing about Giuseppe Bonaccorso is his complete disinterest in chasing streaming numbers or viral moments. He’s been releasing music since July 2024, starting with “Roaming in a wood,” then “On a solitary beach” in August. His interpretation of “Ave Maria” did pull in over 50,000 Spotify streams, which shows people are paying attention, but you get the sense he’d be making this music regardless.

“L’Ombra della Terra” isn’t background music for your workout playlist. It’s the kind of track that asks you to sit down, put on decent headphones, and actually listen. In an era where most music feels designed to be consumed and forgotten, there’s something almost defiant about creating something this deliberately challenging.

The single and its official music video are available worldwide on Spotify, Apple Music, and YouTube.

For more from Giuseppe Bonaccorso, visit his website, follow him on X, or check out his Instagram.

Matan Hamish begins by admitting that pausing his creative process nearly destroyed him. The Tel Aviv–based songwriter-producer set music aside during medical school—a practical decision that made sense until it didn’t. When a personal crisis hit a few months ago, he didn’t reach for his medical training; he returned to what he’d left behind: making music.

“Music helped me rise up from the darkest of places in my life,” he says, and you can hear that darkness threaded through tracks like “Tunnel Vision,” with its drowning imagery and themes of exhaustion, or “Hallucinating,” which captures the paranoia of being gaslit through pulsing electronic production.

What’s fascinating about Hamish isn’t just the emotional weight of his work—it’s how he refuses to stay in one lane. One track pairs warm country guitars with vulnerable vocals. The next builds into dark house territory. Then there’s a piano ballad with ethereal strings and pads. Each song serves its own emotional purpose, and Matan Hamish seems perfectly comfortable letting the message dictate the genre rather than the other way around.

How did you first get into music and songwriting?

I started getting into music and writing back when I was a teenager listening to metal bands, as a way to express myself. As I grew up, I opened up to many more genres of music and I find myself enjoying writing in any genre that fits my current mood and the message the song is trying to convey. After a long hiatus due to studying medicine and working as a doctor, I got back to writing music to help me get through a deeply personal recent struggle.

Your catalog jumps from country-influenced tracks to dark electronic production. How do you approach such different genres?

Big, melodic, a bit dramatic—like me—and always catchy. That’s the thread running through everything, regardless of genre. Whether it’s “Homeland” with its warm guitars and touch of twang, or “Mono to Stereo” with its house/EDM style, I let the emotion and message guide the production choices. The genre becomes a tool rather than a limitation.

Can you walk us through some of your tracks and what they represent?

“Oxygen” is this beautiful piano arrangement with ethereal pads—it’s about finding the strength to let go of lost love and relearn how to breathe on your own. “Hallucinating” goes completely different with its electronic build and hard-hitting crescendo. That one captures what it feels like when someone you love makes you question your own reality. “Tunnel Vision” leans more rock, using drowning imagery to express holding on too long and that painful relief when you finally let go.

You handle everything from composition to production but bring in vocalists. Why that approach?

Singing was never one of my strong suits—luckily for everyone’s ears! But honestly, I love directing different vocalists and seeing how they interpret the emotions I’ve written. I write, compose, arrange, and produce everything, then work with various singers to bring each song to life. It keeps things fresh and lets each track have its own identity.

Dream collaborations?

Christina Aguilera, Sam Carter, Anyma, Max Martin. Pretty varied list, right? But that’s the point.

What do you hope listeners take away from your music?

A home. A voice they were looking for and still haven’t found in other songs. I want people to feel less alone in whatever they’re going through.

What’s next for you?

I’m reworking some of my songs with extremely talented producers right now. Great things to come—bigger and better productions. I’m also looking to connect with publishers and managers who see the potential in getting these songs recorded by artists worldwide.

There’s something refreshing about an artist who doesn’t apologize for being “a bit dramatic.” Matan Hamish wears his influences openly—from teenage metal to contemporary pop production—without trying to smooth out the contradictions. His cat Chvostek makes an appearance in his profile photo, and somehow that detail fits perfectly with someone who balances pediatric medicine by day with late-night production sessions.

The range in his catalog could feel scattered in less capable hands, but Matan Hamish’s emotional honesty acts as connective tissue. Whether he’s crafting a country-tinged meditation on isolation or building an electronic anthem about mixed signals, there’s an authenticity that cuts through. These aren’t exercises in genre-hopping; they’re different languages for different kinds of pain and healing. And maybe that’s what happens when you come back to music not for career advancement but for survival—you stop worrying about staying in your lane and start saying what needs to be said, however it needs to be said.

Check out Matan’s work at his SoundCloud, listen to his curated best-of playlist, or follow him on Instagram. For inquiries: matanhamish2@gmail.com

There’s something refreshing about an artist who doesn’t chase volume. “I don’t make music to sound loud. I make music to sound deep,” says iurisEkero, and after diving into his catalog, you get exactly what he means.

Born in Mendoza, Argentina, iurisEkero (stylized in lowercase, like his approach to fame) grew up in a house where music wasn’t just background noise—it was the main conversation. His grandfather recorded albums as a vocalist, his father played trumpet, and young Iuris absorbed it all. But here’s what’s interesting: instead of just carrying the torch, he’s completely reimagined it.

Now splitting time between the USA and Argentina, iurisEkero creates what he calls “sonic exploration”—pop mixed with electronic textures, ethereal vocals, and these atmospheric moments that genuinely make you want to hit pause on everything else. He pulls inspiration from unexpected places: cities at night, red wine, those comfortable silences between people who know each other well, and what he describes as “the glitch of memories.”

His latest single, “This Summer Night,” dropped on August 19th and perfectly captures that specific magic. At 3:17, it’s packed with synths that stick in your head and a melody that somehow feels both nostalgic and brand new. Other tracks like “The Sun, The Wine and You” and “Midnight Drive” show his range—each one catching different emotional frequencies while keeping that distinctive warmth that comes from his bicultural perspective.

The numbers tell their own story. Nearly 3 million Spotify streams. Over a million YouTube views. But when you mention this to iurisEkero, he seems genuinely surprised. “I don’t even understand those numbers,” he admits. “I just enjoy and am grateful.”

What he hopes listeners take away is simple: that urge to play a song again, whether you’re remembering someone, dancing alone in your kitchen, or waiting for something you can’t quite name yet. Even his breakup songs somehow feel optimistic—there’s always this undercurrent of possibility in his work.

Currently working on a new album featuring various guest artists, iurisEkero seems ready for whatever comes next. The sound explorer from Mendoza has found his frequency, and people are definitely tuning in.

Find iurisEkero’s music on Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube Music, and other streaming platforms, or visit his official website and follow him on Instagram.