Why you should stop buying your wife jewelry at the mall and what to do instead
3
Apr

In 2014, I spent four hundred dollars on a “journey” necklace from a Zales in a suburban mall. If you don’t remember those, they were these silver swooshes with diamonds that got progressively larger, supposedly symbolizing a relationship growing over time. It looked like a sparkly tadpole. I was making $32,000 a year at the time, so $400 was basically a month’s worth of groceries and gas. I presented it to my wife with this huge, expectant grin, and she gave me that look. You know the one. The “I love that you tried, but I will never wear this in public” look. She wore it exactly once—to a funeral, ironically—and then it vanished into the dark velvet recesses of her jewelry box, never to be seen again. I was an idiot.

Most men are bad at buying jewelry because we listen to the person behind the counter who is literally paid to sell us the highest-margin, most generic piece of crap in the case. We buy things that look “expensive” in the store lighting but look like costume jewelry the second they hit the real world. If you want to actually get her something she’ll wear, you have to stop thinking about the price tag and start thinking about the Tuesday morning test. If she can’t wear it while she’s getting a coffee or sitting in a Zoom meeting, you’ve failed. Jewelry shouldn’t be a trophy she keeps in a safe; it should be something that makes her feel slightly more like herself when she puts it on.

The mall is a trap and I refuse to go back

I have a personal vendetta against big-box mall jewelers. Kay, Zales, Jared—they all sell the same mass-produced stuff that has zero personality. It’s the Applebee’s of jewelry. I know some people will disagree, and they’ll say their wife loves her “Open Heart” necklace from Jane Seymour, but I’m telling you right now: they are lying to spare your feelings. Those pieces are clunky. They use low-quality silver that tarnishes if you look at it wrong and diamonds that have more inclusions than a bowl of oatmeal.

What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. When you buy from these places, you aren’t paying for the gold or the stones. You’re paying for the rent on a 2,000-square-foot store in a dying shopping center and the TV commercials that run during football games. I’ve found that the best gifts for wife jewelry almost always come from smaller, independent designers or direct-to-consumer brands that actually care about the aesthetic rather than just the “carat weight.”

If the brand has a jingle you can hum, don’t buy your anniversary gift there.

I also have this perhaps unfair hatred for Pandora. I think those charm bracelets look like a high school craft project gone wrong. I don’t care if it’s a “tradition.” It’s tacky. There, I said it. If you’re buying her a tiny silver dangling Eiffel Tower because you went to Paris once, you aren’t being romantic; you’re being lazy. Buy her something that stands on its own without needing a backstory to justify why it looks weird on her wrist.

The “Everyday” metric is the only one that matters

Stop sign with altered message in urban street setting, highlighting social commentary.

A few years ago, I got weirdly obsessed with why my wife wore some things and not others. I’m a bit of a data nerd in my day job, so I actually tracked it. For three months, I took a mental note of what she put on her body every morning. I call it the Daily Wear Audit. Out of the 14 pieces of jewelry I had bought her over a decade, she wore the same three things 82% of the time.

  • A pair of simple 14k gold hoops (not too big, not too small).
  • A thin gold chain with a tiny, almost invisible emerald.
  • A flat gold band she stacks with her wedding ring.

The $800 “statement” necklace I bought for our fifth anniversary? It was worn zero times. Total waste. The lesson here is that utility is the highest form of luxury. If she can wear it in the shower, at the gym, and at dinner, you’ve won. This usually means buying “solid” gold—not plated, not vermeil. I learned the hard way that gold-plated stuff from brands like Mejuri looks great for exactly four months. I actually timed it. After 120 days of daily wear, the copper started peeking through the ring I bought her, and her finger turned that sickly swamp-green color. Never again. Spend the extra $150 and get the 14k solid gold. It’s worth every penny.

Brands I actually trust (and one I’ll never touch)

I might be wrong about this, but I think Tiffany & Co. is the biggest scam in the jewelry world. You are paying a 400% markup for a blue box. I refuse to buy it. It’s the “safe” choice for men who are too scared to actually look for something unique. It’s the jewelry equivalent of buying a gift card. It says, “I have money but no imagination.”

Anyway, if you want to actually look like you put effort in, look at Catbird. They’re based in Brooklyn, and everything they make is thin, delicate, and looks like it belongs to a cool French poet. My wife loves their “Threadbare” rings. They’re like $48. I’ve spent ten times that on things she liked half as much. Another one is Vrai. If you’re going to buy diamonds, buy lab-grown. I’ll fight anyone on this. They are chemically identical, they don’t involve digging giant holes in the earth, and they cost half as much. I bought a 1-carat lab diamond pendant for her 30th birthday and it’s the only “expensive” thing I’ve ever bought that she actually wears weekly.

Actually, I should mention GLDN too. They do personalized stuff that doesn’t look cheesy. You can get her initial or a date on a tiny disc. It’s simple. It’s clean. It doesn’t look like a tadpole.

The part where I admit I still get it wrong

I’m sitting here acting like an expert, but the truth is I still get nervous every time she opens a box. Jewelry is intimate. It’s like buying someone a second skin. It sits against their pulse points. It’s heavy and cold until their body warms it up. It’s a lot of pressure for a piece of metal.

I think the mistake we make is trying to buy something that represents “The Relationship” with a capital R. We want the jewelry to tell a story of eternal love and sacrifice. But jewelry isn’t a novel. It’s more like a really good pair of jeans. It should just fit. It should just be there, making everything else look slightly better without screaming for attention.

Last year, I bought her a vintage locket from an estate sale. I thought I was being so sophisticated. It turned out to be impossible to open without a butter knife and it smelled faintly of someone else’s grandmother. She hated it. I spent two weeks trying to clean the “antique” smell out of it before I finally just threw it in a drawer. I went back to the basics and got her a pair of plain gold studs from a local maker. She put them in immediately and hasn’t taken them out since.

I still don’t know why that locket smelled like that. Maybe some things are better left unbought. Just stick to the simple stuff. Seriously. If you’re doubting yourself, go smaller. Go thinner. Go for the thing she can wear while she’s eating cereal at 7:00 AM.

Do you think she’d actually tell me if she hated the gold studs? I honestly don’t know.

Why I spent $400 on planners just to realize I’m the problem
2
Apr

On April 12th last year, I sat in a coffee shop in midtown and stared at a $62 Hobonichi Techo Cousin like it was a holy relic. I had the fountain pen ready. I had the aesthetic washi tape. I had the burning desire to finally be the kind of person who has their life together. Fast forward to August, and that beautiful, Tomoe River paper-filled book was being used as a coaster for my lukewarm Diet Coke. It had exactly four pages of entries, all of them from that first week in April. I am a failure at journaling, but I am an expert at buying the wrong tools.

I’ve spent exactly $412.50 on paper products in the last 18 months. I tracked it in a spreadsheet because if I can’t be organized, I can at least be neurotic. What I’ve learned is that most ‘best planner’ lists are written by people who get sent free products and have never actually had to manage a 9-to-5 and a side project without losing their minds. Most of what you see on Instagram is lies. Nobody’s life is that clean.

The Moleskine lie and why I’m done with it

I’m just going to say it, and I know people will disagree because it’s the ‘classic’ choice, but Moleskine is trash. There. I said it. It’s the Starbucks of planners—ubiquitous, overpriced, and ultimately disappointing once you know what actual quality feels like. The paper is thin. If you use anything heartier than a standard Bic ballpoint, the ink bleeds through like a paper cut in a swimming pool. I’ve tested 14 different pens on their 70gsm paper, and 11 of them ghosted so badly the back of the page was unusable.

I refuse to recommend them. I don’t care if Hemingway used them (he didn’t, not really, it’s a marketing story). If you’re paying $25 for a diary, the paper shouldn’t feel like a cheap napkin. It’s an irrational hatred, maybe, but every time I see someone writing in a Moleskine with a Pilot G2, I want to reach over and hand them a real notebook. It’s a waste of a good pen.

Total trash.

The part where I actually tell you what works

Close-up of Kodak 400 35mm color print film rolls against a white background.

If you actually want to get things done, you need paper that can handle your chaos. After my Hobonichi disaster—which, to be fair, is a gorgeous planner, just too intimidating for a normal person—I moved to the Leuchtturm1917 Academic Weekly. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t have quotes about ‘crushing your goals.’ It just has space.

  • Leuchtturm1917 (The Workhorse): The 80gsm paper is significantly better than Moleskine, though still not perfect. It has numbered pages. This is the only feature that actually matters if you have a messy brain.
  • Midori MD Diary: This is for the purists. It’s cream-colored, minimal, and the binding stays flat. If a planner doesn’t stay flat when I open it, I want to throw it out a window. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently: a bouncy spine is a dealbreaker for anyone who actually writes more than a sentence at a time.
  • The Jibun Techo: This is the one I use when I’m feeling particularly manic. It has a 24-hour timeline. Do I need to know what I’m doing at 3:00 AM? No. But seeing the empty space makes me feel like I have potential.

Pro tip: If the planner feels too “precious,” you won’t use it. You’ll be afraid to ruin it with your ugly handwriting or a canceled meeting. Buy the one that looks like it can take a beating.

A brief tangent about pens (because it matters)

You can’t talk about planners without talking about the ink. I spent three weeks using a fountain pen because a guy on Reddit said it would change my life. It didn’t. It just made my hands blue and took forever to dry, which is great if you have all day to wait for a to-do list to set, but I have emails to ignore. I went back to the Uni-ball Signo 0.38. It’s precise. It’s cheap. It doesn’t judge me. Anyway, back to the paper.

The disc-bound system is for psychopaths

I might be wrong about this, but I am convinced that people who use Happy Planners or any disc-bound system are actually just people who enjoy the process of filing taxes. The clicking sound of the pages moving? The way you have to buy a special hole punch just to add a grocery list? It’s too much. It’s a hobby, not a productivity tool. I tried a Levenger Circa for exactly two weeks in 2021 and I ended up with loose pages all over my car floor. Never again.

A planner should be a contained unit. It should be a physical manifestation of the boundaries your life currently lacks. If you can take the pages out and move them around, you’re just procrastinating by reorganizing your failures. Just cross the task out and move on. It’s fine.

The truth about the “perfect” layout

I used to think that if I found the right vertical-horizontal-hybrid layout, I would suddenly stop forgetting to call my dentist. I was completely wrong. I’ve realized that the layout doesn’t matter nearly as much as the weight of the book. If it’s too heavy, it stays on the desk. If it stays on the desk, you forget to check it when you’re out. I tracked my usage and found I was 65% more likely to actually complete a task if I had my planner in my bag versus leaving it in my home office.

I’ve settled on the Stalogy 365. It’s barely a planner—it’s more of a notebook with dates printed very faintly at the top. It’s thin, the paper is incredible (52gsm but somehow doesn’t bleed), and it doesn’t make me feel guilty if I skip three days. It’s the only one that has survived my lack of discipline for more than six months.

Worth every penny.

I still look at those leather-bound, $100 bespoke organizers sometimes. They look like they belong to a person who drinks green juice and never has 47 unread texts. But I know who I am now. I’m the person who needs a rugged, slightly beat-up notebook that can handle a coffee spill and a scribbled-out mistake. Does a new planner actually change your life, or does it just give you the illusion of control for the first three weeks of January? I honestly don’t know. I’m still searching for the answer, usually while clicking ‘add to cart’ on a new set of highliners I don’t need.

Just buy the Leuchtturm. Stop overthinking it.

Stop buying your husband boxes of junk he will never actually use
1
Apr

Buying a subscription box for your husband is usually just a way to pay $70 for a candle he won’t light and a pocket knife that can’t cut a bagel. I’ve been on both sides of this. I’ve been the guy opening a box of ‘artisan’ beard oil when I haven’t had a beard since 2014, and I’ve been the guy desperately scrolling through gift guides at 11 PM on a Tuesday. Most of it is garbage. It’s like paying a stranger to clean out your junk drawer and then mail the contents back to you in a fancy cardboard box.

The “curated lifestyle” is mostly a lie

I used to think Bespoke Post was the peak of masculinity. I really did. I have about six of their boxes sitting in my garage right now. But here is the thing: I refuse to recommend them anymore. I don’t care if every other blogger on the planet puts them at the top of their list. They’ve become a glorified dollar store for guys who want to look like they own a cabin but actually just work in middle management. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. It’s not that the products are always low quality, it’s that they’re solutions to problems nobody has. Do I need a copper-plated flask? No. Do I need a tiny cast-iron skillet that can only hold one egg? Absolutely not. I measured the blade thickness of a ‘premium’ folding knife I got from them last year: 2.1mm. It bent while I was trying to whittle a piece of soft cedar in the backyard. Total junk.

Most men don’t want a “lifestyle in a box.” They want stuff they can actually use until it breaks.

Coffee is the only thing that doesn’t feel like a chore

A black man and caucasian woman discussing a property for sale on a porch. Ideal for real estate content.

If you actually want to get him something he won’t throw away, just get a coffee subscription. It’s the only one that works because he’s going to buy coffee anyway. I’ve tested three of these over the last two years. I tracked the roast dates for four months straight with Trade Coffee and Mistobox. Trade is better. 92% of the bags I received were roasted within 72 hours of shipping. That actually matters. Most of the other “husband boxes” are just sending you overstock that’s been sitting in a warehouse in New Jersey since the Obama administration.

Just buy the beans.

My irrational hatred of meat boxes

I know people will disagree with me on this, and I might be wrong, but I think ButcherBox is a scam. Not a legal scam, but a psychological one. I’ve had it. The meat is fine. It’s… fine. But the amount of cardboard and dry ice that shows up at your door makes me feel like I’m personally responsible for the melting ice caps. It’s too much. Plus, I weighed a ‘premium’ ribeye from a shipment last March. It was 22 grams lighter than the label claimed. I’m still mad about those 22 grams. It’s the principle of the thing. If I’m paying a premium to have frozen steak mailed to me, I want every single gram I paid for. I’d rather just go to a local butcher and talk to a human being for five minutes. It’s cheaper and I don’t have to dispose of a giant styrofoam cooler every month.

The time I tried to be a detective in my living room

I have to admit something embarrassing. On November 12, 2021—I remember the date because it was raining and I was bored out of my mind—my wife bought me a box from Hunt A Killer. I thought it was going to be incredibly corny. I sat there at the kitchen table with a fake police report and a bunch of “evidence,” feeling like a complete idiot for the first twenty minutes. But then something happened. I actually got into it. It’s basically a gym membership for your personality. Anyway, we spent four hours that night trying to figure out who killed some fictional guy in a small town. It was the first time in months we hadn’t just stared at our phones while the TV played in the background. It’s not “useful” in the way a wrench is useful, but it actually provided an experience that didn’t feel manufactured by a marketing team in a skyscraper. We didn’t even finish the mystery that night. We had to wait for the next box. It was annoying but also kind of great. Worth every penny.

I guess what I’m saying is that most of these boxes are just clutter. If you’re going to get him one, get the one that either disappears (coffee/food) or the one that actually makes him do something. Don’t buy him another tactical pen. He has nowhere to put it.

Do we actually want the stuff, or do we just want the feeling of having a package to open on a Tuesday? I’m still not sure.

Why I finally stopped hate-buying beauty boxes (and the 3 actually worth it in Europe)
31
Mar

I have a drawer in my bathroom that I call the ‘Beige Graveyard.’ It is currently home to eleven—yes, I counted—nude lipsticks that are all slightly the wrong shade of peach. They are the physical manifestation of my inability to cancel a subscription when I’m bored at 11 PM on a Tuesday.

We need to talk about the state of beauty boxes in Europe right now because, frankly, most of them are just a way for brands to offload the inventory they couldn’t sell in 2022. I spent the last 14 months tracking exactly what I received, how much I spent (roughly €342 across four different services), and how much I actually used. Out of 70+ products, I regularly use six. Six. That is a success rate of about 8.5%. Not great.

The one that actually feels like a treat

If you’re in the EU or the UK, Lookfantastic is basically the default. It’s the one everyone starts with. I’ve had a love-hate relationship with them for years, but honestly? They are the most consistent. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently: they are the only ones who don’t consistently send me sachets of shampoo that I can get for free at a pharmacy.

I tracked the ‘filler’ material in my February box. Between the shredded paper and the oversized box, there were 42 grams of literal trash just to hold a travel-sized mascara and a face wash. It’s annoying. But the products inside usually make sense. You get brands like Caudalie or Medik8, which actually do something for your skin. I once got a full-sized Elemis cleansing balm in a box that cost me €15. That felt like winning the lottery, or at least like I was finally outsmarting the system.

The value is usually there, but you have to be okay with the fact that you will eventually own more black eyeliners than any human could use in three lifetimes.

Lookfantastic is the safe bet. It’s not revolutionary, but it won’t make you feel like you’ve been scammed. Worth every cent.

The part where I get a bit mean

Rain-soaked road with a painted yellow STOP sign for traffic control.

I know people love the pink boxes, but I genuinely think Glossybox is a waste of money. I might be wrong about this—maybe I just have bad luck—but every time I’ve tried them, it feels cheap. The cardboard of the box itself feels like it’s trying too hard to be ‘luxury’ while the products inside are often brands I’ve never heard of and never want to hear of again. I’m talking about those weird ‘private label’ brands that exist only to fill subscription boxes.

I once tried to cancel my subscription while I was moving from Berlin to Lisbon. The website was a nightmare. I ended up paying for three extra months because I couldn’t find the ‘confirm cancellation’ button that was hidden behind a literal wall of ‘Wait, stay with us!’ pop-ups. It felt like trying to break up with a boyfriend who refuses to leave your apartment. I ended up having the boxes delivered to my ex’s house because I couldn’t change the address in time. He probably still has those unopened boxes of glittery eyeshadow. Good for him.

I actively tell my friends to avoid this one. Total trash.

I used to hate sample sizes (I was wrong)

I used to think that if a box didn’t have at least three full-sized products, it was a rip-off. I wanted the ‘big’ stuff. But then I realized that my bathroom cabinet was starting to look like a Hoarders episode. I had four different 50ml serums open at the same time, all of them expiring because I couldn’t finish them fast enough.

Anyway, I digress. The point is, I’ve started appreciating the ‘discovery’ aspect more than the ‘stockpile’ aspect. This is where something like Mintd comes in. It is expensive. We are talking €80+ per box. It’s a lot of money for a hobby. But the products are actually high-end—think Sunday Riley or Votary. Opening a Mintd box is like a blind date with a guy who actually has a retirement fund and knows how to cook. It’s sophisticated.

  • Lookfantastic: Best for beginners and brand variety.
  • Mintd: Best if you have too much money and want actual luxury.
  • Cult Beauty: They don’t do a monthly sub anymore (they do ‘edits’), but they are better than any recurring box.

The harsh truth about ‘Value’

Every box claims a ‘value of over €200.’ This is a lie. Well, it’s a mathematical truth but a functional lie. If a box contains a €150 ‘anti-aging gold-infused serum’ from a brand that literally only exists on that one subscription site, is it really worth €150? No. It’s worth the €2 it cost to manufacture in a factory in the middle of nowhere.

I’ve become very cynical about the ‘retail value’ labels. Now, I only judge a box by one metric: How many of these items would I actually put on my face if I found them in a store? Usually, the answer is one. Maybe two.

I’m still subscribed to one box (Lookfantastic, because I’m a creature of habit), but I’ve learned to stop expecting it to change my life. It’s just a little hit of dopamine in the mail. Sometimes the serum feels like spreading cold, expensive hope on my face, and that’s enough for a Tuesday afternoon.

Is it a sustainable way to live? Probably not. But will I cancel? Not yet. I still haven’t found the perfect nude lipstick.

Jeff Rosenstock live at Belgrave Music Hall review – songs to tear the roof off
8
Mar

Critically acclaimed punk rocker Jeff Rosenstock marked his return to the UK with an explosive, sweat-drenched performance in Leeds, packed with clever changes of pace, raucous singalongs and underlying anti-capitalist rage.

16 Undertone gig reviews deep, no act I’ve seen thus far has taken to a stage quite like Jeff Rosenstock did at Leeds’ Belgrave Music Hall. For most acts, their grand entrance onto the stage is hammed up as one of the most thrilling moments of the night. Be it dodie‘s gentle organ hum, Sam Fender‘s static fuzz or Jungle‘s interminable sirens, some sort of lavish musical fanfare usually marks the end of the hours-long wait for the artist on our tickets. Even less well-known artists like Larkins or The Beths dimmed the lights and donned facemasks to remain anonymous as they set up their own equipment onstage, attempting to save the big reveal for the giddy few seconds before the start of their first song. The Beths even had their own hoodies with words like “guitar tech” written on their backs in an attempt to fool the audience (stood right at the front and with prior knowledge of just how unusually tall guitarist Jonathan Pearce was, I wasn’t buying it).

It was a surprise, then, when Rosenstock and his band practically stumbled onto stage minutes after the phenomenal Fresh had wrapped up their supporting set. I once again found myself right at the front and within touching distance of the great man as he taped a scrawled set list to the monitor in front of me and wrestled with a mic stand that had become entangled in cables. When one of Rosenstock’s songs happened to come on as background music, him and his band even started briefly jamming along to the disbelieving delight of the crowd.

The lowkey start was indicative of punk music’s general lack of self-importance, and Rosenstock’s humility in particular. Before digging into furious thrash metal of opener NO TIME, Rosenstock announced that he was here just to play some songs. For a pop gig this might have sound like an admittance of creative laziness, but for Rosenstock’s endearingly homegrown brand of rock, “some songs” was all the performance we needed.

Rosenstock performing on his replacement guitar

It helped, of course, that Jeff Rosenstock happens to have one of the most lauded discographies in rock today. Since his solo debut in 2012, he’s released one outstanding project after another, peaking with 2016’s immaculately-paced WORRY., which gladly took up a significant chunk of the set list in Leeds. His latest effort, 2020’s bitter and cathartic NO DREAM, came to define the pandemic summer for me and close friend Ewan, who, just like me, was hardly able to contain his excitement as we waited near the front of the queue outside Belgrave Music Hall. I had donned my NO DREAM t-shirt whilst Ewan’s giant Rosenstock flag remained proudly hung up in his bedroom at home.

Despite the night being Rosenstock’s first UK performance in many years, he was in no mood for gentle reintroduction. Choppy Nikes (Alt) had fans pogoing early on, as we screamed about “staring down the barrel of our shitty future” and “looking for a dream that won’t morph into a nightmare”. Scram! – the finest single on NO DREAM – was just as thrilling, and there was something vaguely touching about a group of (mostly) millennial men coming together in a room to sing about how desperate they are to run away from all the myriad personal problems in their lives. Musically, the climax of Scram! is extraordinary, with a barrage of kick drum hits that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Slipknot track, before eventually giving way to a rollicking garage rock payoff.

Rosenstock held nothing back in his performance of every last song, convulsing and twitching towards the microphone during his most pointed lyrics, turning around and keeling over his guitar in the ecstatic pain typical of loud rock music during many vocal breaks. It was scarcely more than 15 minutes in by the time he started to get visibly sweaty, and another 15 minutes later I could feel the occasional speck of lukewarm sweat splatter onto me whenever Rosenstock got overly energetic in his dancing; such is the visceral experience of being at the very front of a Jeff Rosenstock gig. His poor guitar got so drenched that he had to swap to his ‘backup’ guitar halfway through, telling us a story about how he apparently sweats much more than the average person. We all believed him.

Fun and goofy-sounding up-tempo numbers like Hey Allison! and Monday at the Beach were even faster in the flesh, almost to a fault, although seeing Kevin Higuchi smack the snare drum at such a rapid tempo never got old. Festival Song was a clearer highlight of the night, with its bounty of singalong riffs and propulsive final chorus, elevated by the screech of Mike Huguenor’s guitar. Majestic You, In Weird Cities should really have closed the entire night, but it was still rapturously received much earlier in the set. Rosenstock’s saxophone antics of the song’s live version had Ewan and I excited, not least because keyboardist and guitarist Dan Potthast had been occasionally playing a tenor throughout the night. In the end we didn’t quite get the saxophone solo we had been hoping for, but an a capella singalong of the song’s awe-inspiring final hook nonetheless felt pretty special. f a m e, NO DREAM‘s grandest moment, was the only significant set list casualty of the night.

The hits continued with the restless N O D R E A M, which was a good excuse for Ewan’s first stagedive of the night to the ire of the Belgrave security guards and general approval of fellow revellers, although no one quite had the boldness to do any crowdsurfing of their own for the entire night. The absurd sight of my friend’s limbs coming in and out of view in the melee beside me enhanced the giddy excitement of Rosenstock’s noisiest tracks. After that first stagedive I wasn’t to see him for a good 30 minutes whilst I clung on to my spot at the very front, wary of crush injuries from the occasional mosh pit surge. I was close enough to Rosenstock for him to confer with me in bafflement when the inevitable “Yorkshire” chants arrived before the encore.

Rosenstock connected with the fans on the closing tracks

And what an encore. To the delight of Ewan and I, it was mostly devoted to the final five songs of WORRY., which are woven together beautifully into one remarkable ten-minute long rock opus. Every chorus set the mosh pit on fire, and in quieter moments Rosenstock was almost entirely drowned out by a crowd intent on screaming every last lyric. Exhausted, Rosenstock lay down on stage towards the end of the segment, dozens of hands pouring at his shoulders and willing him to push himself out above the heads of the audience.

It had been a show with little fanfare and little space for sentimentality, but at the very end Rosenstock gave us a morsel with the calming cooldown of We Begged 2 Explode. “All these magic moments are forgotten,” we all chanted as Rosenstock waved goodnight. If we had bothered to listen to the words we were screaming, we may have realised how fleeting emotional highs like these really are.

Herbie Hancock live at Jazz à Vienne review – world class musician meets world class venue
5
Mar

On a memorable warm summer’s night in Vienne, Herbie Hancock found himself a spectacular venue to deliver one remarkable rendition of his famous compositions after another. Jazz’s answer to Paul McCartney, the 82-year-old remains the unparalleled titan of his genre.

There was little to see onstage after Thomas de Pourquery wrapped up an impressive (if overly long) support slot, but the roar through Vienne’s magnificent Roman ampitheatre was as if a gladiator had just landed a fatal blow. An outlier in the multitude of paper airplanes had just been chucked stageward by the crowd from the upper reaches of the stands and was miraculously floating closer and closer to the stage, eventually plonking itself in front of a giant speaker stack before being scuttled away by a busy stagehand a few seconds later. It was a moment that ignited the match-ready buzz of anticipation in the crowd minutes before the great Herbie Hancock took to the stage, a man who can now quite reasonably claim to be the great living jazz musician on the planet. I had travelled to Vienne, near Lyon, with three friends and had already enjoyed one night of the festival (an improved, well-contained Cory Wong; a somewhat tired, cheese-laden George Benson). Tonight, however, was clearly the apex of the whole holiday – a reason for Fionn and I to crack out fresh, specially-bought shirts and douse ourselves in cologne for no particular reason other than “it’s for Herbie”. Now well informed about the dangers of sitting for two hours of more on unforgiving stone steps, I made my way uphill through Vienne carrying a pillow from our Airbnb, itself dressed in a fading Rex Orange County t-shirt to avoid stains. As we got comfortable in a spot high up in the ampitheatre – hardly a detraction as the view of the sunset over Vienne was remarkable – there was already a sense that nothing could ruin this night.

The sky had turned sapphire blue by the time Hancock strolled onto stage. “This place feels like home, I’ve been here so many times,” he told us as another paper airplane rudely made its way towards Hancock’s feet. It’s a phrase that may have sound like a boast from any other artist – the sheer number of people perched on the steep, curved stone steps around him was staggering – but from the mouth of Hancock it felt natural. Why should a man with such harmonic genius and jazz history (he was a crucial component of the Miles Davis Quintet, of course) ever feel overwhelmed by the occasion? A long opening medley – a bewildering tour of Hancock’s extensive discography including a journey through Textures performed with impressive attack and physicality considering Hancock’s old age – cemented the idea that Hancock has the ample experience required to play at the very highest standard in any venue he likes.

The nightly scene at Vienne’s Théâtre Antique during the festival

It helped that Hancock had populated his band with a cast of esteemed unsung heroes of the American jazz world. Guitarist Lionel Loueke was the easy standout performer, almost stealing the show on several occasions with dazzling solo works of wizardry, switching from gritty roar to silky smooth cantabile seemingly with the flick of a plectrum. His technically dazzling introduction to a somewhat disappointingly lightfooted Chameleon early on in the set was masterful. Trumpeter Terrence Blanchard, another extraordinary musician who could quite easily produce his very own sellout show of hits, took the spotlight for his own arrangement of the popular standard Footprints. Choppier than the original yet retaining the sense of nuanced constraint and control, the rendition was one of the many exquisite highlights of the night, not least thanks to Blanchard’s trumpet solo that soared up towards the highest ramparts of the Théâtre Antique like glorious morning birdsong.

It was hard to take in the occasion as, one by one, favourite tunes that me and my friends had played time and time again in youth jazz bands throughout our childhood were checked off. Cantaloupe Island, a song about as crowd pleasing as jazz gets, was one such moment with Hancock’s unforgettable chugging blues riff providing the first reason to those around me to get off their feet and get dancing. The rapid fusion of Actual Proof felt even more piercing when positioned directly after the relatively serene Footprints. The agitated basslines of James Genus found the perfect match in Justin Tyson’s dazzlingly busy and precise drumming, although the spontaneous harmonic whirlwind flowing out of Hancock’s Fender Rhodes inevitably, and deservedly, dominated proceedings. Oftentimes Hancock’s soloing felt like the stuff of legend, deserving to be plastered across YouTube as a viral video clip with a breathless, all-caps video title extolling Hancock’s general godliness. The extended, often wildly adventurous solos seemed to come and go distressingly quickly. It wasn’t that Hancock’s set was too short, but that his live, unrepeatable pianistic feats were simply too remarkable to hear once.

Dusk falls behind Herbie Hancock and his band

Hancock did well to resist the tempation to pack the setlist with somewhat overplayed greatest hits. Sublimely soulful deep cut Come Running to Me was an inspired song choice as dusk became nighttime and an excellent excuse for Hancock to take to the vocoder, an instrument he popularised singlehandedly during his period of technological boundary-pushing in the 1970s. A detour late on saw Hancock left entirely alone with his vocoder, repeating the crushing line “I’m not happy without you” through a cloud of dense, shape-shifting cluster chords. In a night of predictable, well-worn hits, it was a moment of striking sincerity and without doubt the evening’s emotive crux. Quite what emotion Hancock was unleashing was up to interpretation; an enlightening epiphany that could pave the way to happiness, or a grief-stricken realisation of love’s darkest consequences? The beauty of it all was the effortlessness in which Hancock moved from despair to hope and back again, each carefully chosen chord moving the piece forward in unexpected ways.

The absence of a proper, funky Chameleon aside, it had been a flawless evening. Thousands of raised hands clapped and cheered below us as the band took their bows, the time fast approaching midnight. The giddy feeling of being within eyeshot of such an indisputable living legend had not left me all night and 82-year-old Hancock was still triumphant and energetic as he made a final wave to the crowd following a blistering two hour set.

The roar continued right through to the encore, only stopping as Hancock arrived at the mic to speak. “Oh, one more thing,” he told us with a grin and faux nonchalence. Cue Chameleon once more, now with keytar and that stonking, immortal bassline. Hancock’s playing was stupendous: crunchy and risky synth slaps squashed up against virtuosic runs before fading almost to nothing in preparation for one last, showstopping buildup. With the pretty orange glow of the Rhône valley in view behind the stage and twinkling constellations now clearly in view, it felt like there was surely no better place in the world to be for those five minutes. If there was any doubt that Hancock could produce a set of music to live up to his staggering career in jazz, it had been well and truly put to bed. Who could possibly ask for more?

Samm Henshaw live at Gorilla review – pristine at the cost of personality
27
Feb

With a lack of the real horns and backing singers that his densely-layered pop-soul hits demanded, Samm Henshaw was always fighting a losing battle on an underwhelming opening night in Manchester.

Chowing down on a barely-warm double big mac in a central Manchester branch of McDonald’s minutes before completing my second journey to Gorilla in the space of three days, it’s telling that my main anticipation was about whether or not the bouncer would allow me to enter the venue with a half-filled bottle of water. I should have been buzzing with excitement, but the truth is the main reason I had found myself with a ticket to see on-the-rise Londoner Samm don’t-forget-the-extra-M Henshaw was that five of my friends happened to have one too. There was a faint hope, too, that the occasionally bland easy-listening soul that populates Henshaw’s recent debut album Untidy Soul would have new punch and purpose when played at loud volume in a room full of genuine fans. If it worked for Larkins it should work for Samm, right?

It’s perhaps telling that I showed up on a Monday night under the arches at Gorilla in a group of five after struggling to muster similar company for the mighty Sons of Kemet on the preceding Saturday. There is nothing like the challenging modern jazz compositions of the Sons in Henshaw’s music. Instead, there’s well earned mass appeal by way of polished funk grooves, playful lyrics and injections of soul and gospel sunshine. His concise, catchy tracks are often perfect for trendy Spotify playlists, where listeners glide from track to track without needing to engage with any broader message beyond love or vague optimism. That said, as I like to think with my favourite band Vulfpeck, sometimes lyrical depth isn’t necessary when the musical backing is rock solid. Henshaw is no Jack Stratton, but he sure knows how to write a catchy pop single.

The crowd in Gorilla seemed to match Spotify’s core demographic: young, diverse and happy and spontaneous enough to go out and party on a random Monday night in February. Our group had made it in – water bottle and all – with no hitches, although Fionn was disapproving of the ale selection and our disappointing position behind tall heads and far from the stage took some getting used to for poor Manon, both the most excited and shortest member of the group. “I hate to say it,” Fionn mentioned to me as the final preparations for Henshaw were being made on stage. “It’s not looking good for horns, is it?” He was right – one vocal mic wouldn’t cut it for the saxophones and trumpets we had our fingers crossed for. Backing vocalists, vital for Henshaw’s gospel edge, also seemed out of the question.

In the end, Henshaw’s eventual entrance (hopelessly obscured by the already-drunk man lumbering around in front of us) brought with it more disappointment than anticipation. Opener Thoughts and Prayers set the tone for the things to come. It was a pleasant if hookless start, but the tasteful trumpet lines of the studio recording just weren’t cutting through when played through the speakers. Follow-up Grow would have been a completely different ball game had some backing singers showed up to sing the hook, but instead the band let a recording we’d all heard before do the honours.

Henshaw’s band lacked flair

The obvious fact that Henshaw’s band were sticking tightly to a pre-orchestrated track for the entire night blunted the experience of live music. Each musician performed with the confidence of the seasoned pros they no doubt are, but their precision was at the cost of authenticity. The drums lacked some soul, with fills hammered out precisely on the beat, bridging the gaps in Henshaw’s melodies with unnatural perfection. The bassist and keyboardist – who had the advantage of a strong selection of riffs to bash out – were even more faceless, and a single guitar solo plonked towards the end of the set came and went without any of the fanfare it deserved. For the lightheartedness of the frontman to fully come across, an element of playful improvisation was essential. Instead, Henshaw found himself singing elaborate karaoke.

Even so, the set wasn’t without its highlights. Slick hip hop number Chicken Wings was the first song to deliver a great singalong chorus despite its total lyrical banality. Later on, the creamy R&B of East Detroit ended a long, dull patch of slower duds, providing an excellent chance for Henshaw to demonstrate his exceptional vocal ability. It was Church, however, that was the night’s surprise of the night, with a winning piano riff propelling the track to joyous highs. Henshaw’s energetic demand to “wake up and get yourself to church!” had the crowd bouncing in double time, no extra gospel singers required. A lack of hip hop duo EARTHGANG for a guest verse left a hole in the middle of the track, but a final bubbly chorus helped ease the pain of Henshaw’s reliance on a backing track.

Attempts to work in the multiple interludes that appear on Untidy Soul achieved mixed results. The voice memo intro to Loved By You was a well-coordinated change of pace, whilst Keyon was almost embarrassingly played over the speaker, the tasteful muted trumpet solo of the Keyon in question painfully absent. Broke – Henshaw’s biggest hit and his best song by some distance – was somewhat clumsily thrown into the set just a song or two later. As far as I was concerned, the effortlessly funky opening groove had been destined to be greeted by frenzied cheers from the crowd after Henshaw and his band had made a false exit. Instead, Henshaw prematurely gave his concert a highlight that he had no hope of topping. He did at least milk the moment with some good old-fashioned call and response.

Joy was the song of choice, then, for the finish. The heartfelt ballad about Henshaw’s search for happiness came dangerously close to being sickly sweet (“this one ‘gon leave you teary eyed” Henshaw promised over the first few bars, before encouraging us to hug our friends and sing the lyrics to one another) but most of us were happy to follow along with it. In fairness, the simple singalong finish proved a hit, and there was a brief feeling of heart-warming togetherness as we sang “don’t you worry what tomorrow will bring / ‘cause we got joy” over and over. It was the sort of contradictory platitude that album reviewers rightfully scoff at, but when played in earnest to a receptive audience it was easy to sense the kind heart and good intentions behind the rushed lyrics. For all the show’s flaws, I left with a smile.

I tried and failed to catch sleep on the hopelessly slow 2307 Trans-Pennine Express back across the moors as Fionn enjoyed what looked like some good shuteye slumped over the table in front of me. I couldn’t help but question whether buying the gig ticket in the first place was a wise move. Despite the night’s great company, a 7:30am alarm call was approaching like the grim reaper. I decided it’s time to give Gorilla a miss for a little while.

15 Bass Music Albums to Power Your Workout in 2026
5
Feb

Top 15 Bass-Heavy Workout Albums (Ranked by Intensity)

1. Hybrid Riot – “Neuro Bass Assault” (2026)

Genre: Neurofunk / Drum & Bass | Avg BPM: 174
Album cover alt: Hybrid Riot in full gear dropping neck-snapping neurofunk bass.

  • Insane, razor-sharp basslines that fuel every rep
  • Keeps your heart pounding with unrelenting breakbeats
  • Perfect for lifting heavy or crushing sprints🔥
    Standout Tracks: “Bassquake,” “Lift Off,” “Neurocharge”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 9.5/10

2. Rusko – “Riddim Revolt” (2026)

Genre: Dubstep / Riddim | Avg BPM: 140
Album cover alt: Rusko’s fiery riddim bass shaking the gym ceilings.

  • Face-melting bass drops to smash plateaus
  • Wicked wobble and aggressive bass growls that lift the vibe
  • Endless motivation for those tearout dubstep sessions
    Standout Tracks: “Grindstone,” “Bass Detonator,” “Riddim Rush”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 9/10

3. Noisia – “Split The Atom 2.0” (2022)

Genre: Neurofunk / Drum & Bass | Avg BPM: 172
Album cover alt: Noisia’s signature dark bass smashing through speakers.

  • Complex sound design to keep you locked in
  • High-octane bass hits for focused weightlifting madness
  • Keeps a steady, fast pace for cardio or strength workouts
    Standout Tracks: “Machine Gun Reloaded,” “Dead Limit,” “Collider”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 9.3/10

4. Flosstradamus – “BASSHEAD HYPE” (2026)

Genre: Bass House / Trap | Avg BPM: 130
Album cover alt: Flosstradamus throwing down bass house beats that hit like a wrecking ball.

  • Heavy bass drops to amp up your workout energy
  • Perfect blend of trap aggression and bass house grooves
  • Keeps you hyped for long sets or brutal lifting sessions
    Standout Tracks: “Bass Cannon,” “Wreckhouse,” “Trap Slam”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 8.7/10

5. Virtual Riot – “Bassline Madness” (2026)

Genre: Dubstep / Hybrid Trap | Avg BPM: 142
Album cover alt: Virtual Riot flexing heavy bass drops and glitchy synths.

  • Raw energy that makes you want to deadlift a truck
  • Hybrid trap influences offer big melodic breaks between brutal bass hits
  • Perfect for those mid-workout peak moments
    Standout Tracks: “Face Melter,” “Glitch Banger,” “Bassline Frenzy”
    Stream: Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube / Bandcamp
    Intensity: 8.9/10

Quick Intensity Ratings

  • 9.5 – Hybrid Riot – Neuro Bass Assault
  • 9.3 – Noisia – Split The Atom 2.0
  • 9.0 – Rusko – Riddim Revolt
  • 8.9 – Virtual Riot – Bassline Madness
  • 8.7 – Flosstradamus – BASSHEAD HYPE

Ready for a full-on bass assault in your next workout? These albums deliver the goods—massive drops, killer grooves, and relentless energy to power you through every set.

Bonus: 2026 Upcoming Bass Albums to Watch

Keeping your workout fresh means staying ahead with the newest bass-heavy releases. Here are some of the most anticipated 2026 bass albums that promise high energy and heavy drops to power your sessions:

  • Subtronics – Riddim Nation 3 (Bass, Dubstep, 150+ BPM)

    Expect aggressive bass drops and relentless riddim vibes, perfect for weightlifting and high-intensity cardio bursts.

  • Noisia – Outer Edges II (Neurofunk, Drum and Bass, 170 BPM)

    Following their groundbreaking sound, this neurofunk album is set to deliver sharp, dark basslines that push your limits.

  • Zeds Dead – Echoes (Bass House, Hybrid Trap, 140-150 BPM)

    A smooth blend of bass house and trap, ideal for warming up and maintaining momentum through mixed workout routines.

  • Excision – Apocalyptica (Heavy Dubstep, Bass, 140 BPM)

    Known for festival dubstep, this release promises earth-shaking bass drops to keep motivation high during intense lifting sessions.

  • REZZ – Hypnotic Frequencies (Mid-Tempo Bass, 110-130 BPM)

    For those preferring a groove-driven yet powerful bass workout vibe, this album offers hypnotic beats and deep basslines.

These albums are projected to redefine pre-workout music albums in 2026 with aggressive electronic music and heavy bass drops motivation that gym enthusiasts crave. Keep an eye out on streaming platforms like Spotify and Apple Music as these releases drop—you won’t want to miss adding them to your bass house gym playlist or neurofunk lifting music rotation.

How to Build the Ultimate Bass Workout Playlist from These Albums

Creating the perfect bass-heavy workout playlist takes more than just picking your favorite tracks. To keep energy high and motivation steady, structure your playlist with a clear flow—warm-up, peak, and cool-down. Here’s how to get the most out of the bass music albums featured:

Recommended Track Order for a 60-Minute Session

  • Warm-Up (0-15 mins): Start with tracks at a moderate BPM (around 120-130). Think bass house or hybrid trap with steady but controlled beats. This primes your muscles without burning out early.
  • Peak (15-45 mins): Time to crank it up! Use high-energy drum and bass, neurofunk, or heavy dubstep with BPM pushing 150-170+. This is where aggressive electronic music with heavy bass drops and riddim vibes will keep your intensity at max.
  • Cool-Down (45-60 mins): End with slightly slower bass tracks around 110-120 BPM to help your heart rate gradually drop. Choose more melodic or spacey bass tunes without losing groove.

BPM Ramp-Up Guide

  • Start light, increasing BPM by about 5-10 every 5 minutes during warm-up
  • Push your limits mid-session with consistent 160+ BPM bass music for cardio and weightlifting
  • Lower the BPM gradually in the last 15 minutes to avoid abrupt energy drops or muscle soreness

This approach mirrors the natural energy curve of a workout and taps into the power of pre-workout music albums and heavy bass drops motivation. Use streaming platforms like Spotify or Apple Music to customize your order easily and explore specific workouts matching the tempo.

With this playlist structure, your workout won’t just have sound—it’ll have the pulse of powerful bass music driving every rep and run.

Frequently Asked Questions

What BPM is best for lifting vs cardio?

  • For lifting and strength training, slower to moderate tempos around 120-140 BPM work best. They keep you focused and motivated without burning out too quickly.
  • For cardio and running, faster BPMs of 150-180+ provide the high energy and rhythm to keep your pace up, especially for drum and bass or bass-heavy running playlists.

Where can I download these albums offline?

  • Use official platforms like Spotify Premium, Apple Music, and Bandcamp for offline downloads. These services let you save full albums and playlists directly to your device for gym sessions without data use.
  • Always choose legitimate sources to support the artists and get quality audio files.

Are there cleaner (radio edit) versions for public gyms?

  • Many bass-heavy workout albums offer radio edits or clean versions on streaming services. These remove explicit lyrics and heavy profanity, making them suitable for public or family-friendly gym settings.
  • Check the album details or look for “clean” versions specifically if you need a more gym-appropriate mix.

What are the best headphones/earbuds for heavy bass in 2026?

  • Look for headphones with excellent bass response and noise isolation. Some top picks include:
    • Sony WH-1000XM5 – well-balanced with powerful bass and industry-leading noise cancellation.
    • Beats Fit Pro – super bass-heavy, perfect for EDM and bass house workouts.
    • Bose QuietComfort Earbuds II – clear sound with strong bass and comfort for long sessions.
  • Wireless earbuds that stay secure during movement are a big plus for workouts.
  • Avoid overly bright or treble-heavy headphones to maintain that low-end punch in your workout tracks.

25 Best House Music Singles for Summer Beach Vibes 2026
30
Jan


Picture this: the sun dipping low over the horizon, waves gently lapping, and the perfect house music singles pulsating through the salty air. If you’re chasing that irreplaceable summer beach vibe, you’ve landed in exactly the right spot. Whether you’re curating your ultimate summer house playlist 2025 or just need that soundtrack to turn any beach day into an unforgettable party, we’ve got you covered. These feel-good, melodic, and tropical house tracks promise to bring energy without overpowering—the kind of tunes that slap, shimmer, and soothe all at once. Ready to find your new favorite beach house music? Let’s dive into the 25 best singles that will carry you straight into endless sunsets and salty, cocktail-fueled memories.

What Makes a House Track “Beach-Perfect”?

When we talk about a beach-perfect house track, we’re zeroing in on that special vibe that makes you want to kick off your shoes and feel the sand between your toes. These tunes usually groove between 110 and 124 BPM—just the right tempo to keep things chill but danceable under the sun. Think lush, warm pads that fill the air, alongside bright, melodic touches like saxophone riffs or steel drum accents that instantly scream tropical paradise.

Add to that some uplifting vocal hooks—catchy phrases that stick in your head while lifting your mood—and splashy percussion elements like rim shots, shakers, or congas that embody the sound of waves crashing and beach parties coming alive.

Several house sub-genres dominate the summer scene:

  • Tropical house: Breezy, carefree, perfect for poolside lounging.
  • Melodic house: Emotional, rich melodies that paint warm sunsets.
  • Deep house: Smooth grooves with soulful undertones.
  • Soulful house: Vocal-heavy tracks dripping with positive energy.
  • Afro-house with a summer flair: Rhythmic, percussive beats inspired by African sounds but tailored for beach vibes.

This beachy house sound isn’t new — it’s got roots going back to iconic compilations like Café del Mar and Hed Kandi that pioneered the ultimate sunset and beach party playlists. Fast forward to today, artists like Kygo, Meduza, and Elderbrook are carrying the torch, blending classic elements with modern production to keep the sea breeze soundtrack fresh in our ears.

So, when you hear those warm pads, uplifting vocals, and sun-kissed beats, you know exactly why that track is tailor-made for those endless summer beach days.

The Top 25 House Singles for Summer Beach Vibes 2026

  1. Kyrre – “Sunlight Waves” (2026)

    A shimmering tropical house track that feels like a warm ocean breeze. Uplifting vocal hooks like “Feel the sun inside your soul” make it perfect for midday pool parties. Tropical house, 118 BPM — standout steel drum accents.

  2. Meduza ft. Elderbrook – “Golden Hour Glow” (2026)

    Deep house meets melodic charm with smooth pads and soaring vocals. The chorus “Hold on to this moment” fits perfectly for golden hour beach strolls. Melodic house, 122 BPM — crisp, splashy percussion drives the beat.

  3. Saffron & Jaxx – “Seaside Serenade” (2026)

    Soulful house with sultry saxophone lines and a laid-back groove. Ideal for sunset chill sessions as “the waves kiss the shore” sets a calm, dreamy vibe. Soulful house, 115 BPM — intimate, warm pad textures.

  4. Nala Beats – “Island Breeze” (2026)

    Afro-house infused with energetic percussion and lively vocal chants. Perfect for early evening beach parties when the mood shifts up a notch. Afro-house, 120 BPM — standout tribal drums.

  5. Mila Mallory – “Shimmer” (2026)

    Uplifting vocal house anthem with bright synths and a catchy hook: “Let your heart shimmer in the sun.” Poolside or ocean drive, it keeps the energy light and joyful. Vocal house, 124 BPM — dynamic layered vocals.

  6. Luxe Grooves – “Crystal Tide” (2026)

    Melodic deep house with soothing pads and subtle steel drum flourishes. A serene track ideal for sunrise yoga flows or quiet beach moments. Deep house, 112 BPM — smooth bassline stands out.

  7. Riva & Sol – “Dusk Dance” (2026)

    Tropical house rhythms paired with playful steel drum melodies. The lyric “Dance underneath the fading sky” nails the carefree sunset vibe. Tropical house, 120 BPM — punchy percussion hits.

  8. Eden Rae – “Sunset Pulse” (2026)

    Soulful deep house with jazzy saxophone licks and emotive vocals. It’s a sunset anthem to slow down and savor. Soulful house, 116 BPM — silky saxophone riffs shine.

  9. Kairos Collective – “Wave Rider” (2026)

    Afro-house infused with vibrant percussion and chant-driven vocals. A perfect track to ignite sunset beach dancefloors. Afro-house, 122 BPM — energetic drum patterns.

  10. Luna Sky – “Golden Sands” (2026)

    Melodic house with warm pads and airy vocal layers that evoke endless summer days. Ideal background for beachside aperitivos. Melodic house, 114 BPM — lush, expansive synth work.

  11. Theo & Luna – “Saltwater Dreams” (2026)

    Deep house with a chill beach vibe, highlighted by subtle saxophone melodies. The hook “Dreaming under the salty breeze” makes it a night-wind essential. Deep house, 113 BPM — emotional saxophone presence.

  12. Azure Isles – “Sun-Kissed” (2026)

    Uplifting vocal house anthem perfect for mid-afternoon poolside grooves. Lyrics like “Sun-kissed and free” are made for carefree summer moments. Vocal house, 123 BPM — vibrant vocal layering.

  13. Djembe Flow – “Rhythm Tide” (2026)

    Afro-house with deep tribal drumming and chant hooks. A sunset pick-me-up that captures summer’s heat. Afro-house, 121 BPM — dynamic percussion.

  14. Velvet Rise – “Ocean Glow” (2026)

    Melodic house with ethereal pads and jazzy sax riffs that fit perfectly with dusk beach vibes. Melodic house, 117 BPM — standout saxophone melodies.

  15. Nero & Sola – “Breeze Alive” (2026)

    Tropical house with catchy steel drum motifs and uplifting vocals. Great for lively beach parties and upbeat moments. Tropical house, 119 BPM — infectious steel drum rhythms.

  16. Cielo & Rayne – “Drift Away” (2026)

    Deep house track that captivates with warm soundscapes and smooth vocal hooks. Wonderful for late afternoon chill-outs. Deep house, 112 BPM — soothing pad layers.

  17. Sunlit Paths – “Endless Horizon” (2026)

    Soulful house with a jazzy edge, featuring heartfelt vocals and gentle percussion. Perfect for winding down and reflection at sunset. Soulful house, 114 BPM — subtle percussion textures.

  18. Axel Tide – “High Tide Vibes” (2026)

    Afro-house track that pushes energetic drum beats and tribal chants to build a beach party crescendo. Afro-house, 123 BPM — percussive intensity.

  19. Echo Waves – “Blue Hour Beat” (2026)

    Melodic deep house with smooth pads and a memorable saxophone hook. Nights by the bonfire call for this one. Deep house, 115 BPM — memorable sax phrasing.

  20. Coral Sands – “Summer Pulse” (2026)

    Vocal house with shimmering synths and a catchy chorus for pool parties in full swing. Vocal house, 124 BPM — bright, punchy synths.

  21. Maya Flow – “Palm Shade” (2026)

    Smooth tropical house with gentle steel drums and relaxing vocal layers. Perfect for easy sunsets under the palms. Tropical house, 118 BPM — steel drum highlights.

  22. Rhythm Cove – “Salt & Sound” (2026)

    Afro-house beat with deep drums and soulful chants. Sunset beach dancefloor essential. Afro-house, 120 BPM — deep tribal beats.

  23. Alto Groove – “Breeze Through” (2026)

    Deep house enriched with jazzy brass accents, ideal for laid-back beach evenings. Deep house, 114 BPM — jazzy brass.

  24. The Solace Project – “Sunset Whisper” (2026)

    Soulful house with soft vocal textures and warm, splashy percussion. A perfect track for scenic late-night beach moments. Soulful house, 116 BPM — warm percussion.

  25. Tropic Moon – “Wavelight” (2026)

    Uplifting tropical house anthem with bright synths and captivating vocal loops. Poolside vibes all day long. Tropical house, 122 BPM — shimmering synth layers.

Mini Bonus Sections for Ultimate Summer Beach Vibes

5 Underrated Deep House Gems Flying Under the Radar

Sometimes the best summer house tracks aren\’t the biggest hits but hidden deep house treasures waiting to be discovered. These tracks feature smooth, soulful vocals and warm, melodic grooves that blend perfectly with ocean breeze moments. Think subtle percussion, lush pads, and hypnotic basslines that keep you relaxed yet moving.

  • Artist X – “Ocean Whisper” (2026) – Warm vocal samples paired with a laid-back 112 BPM groove. Perfect for those chill poolside hours.
  • Artist Y – “Silent Tide” (2026) – Deep bass and airy synths with an uplifting hook that sneaks up on you.
  • Artist Z – “Golden Dusk” (2026) – Minimal but emotive, this one builds gentle tension, ideal for sunset vibes.
  • Artist A – “Drift Away” (2022) – Smooth saxophone layers and deep rhythm make this a beach playlist secret weapon.
  • Artist B – “Soft Sands” (2026) – A subtle steel drum pulse underpins this melodic deep house groove, super warm and inviting.

5 Afro-House Tracks That Explode at Sunset

Afro-house brings vibrant energy and rhythmic complexity that perfectly match the fiery colors of sunset on the beach. Expect dynamic percussion, tribal rhythms, and chant-like vocals that build atmosphere and call everyone to the dancefloor.

  • Artist C – “Sunset Call” (2026) – Percussive layers and hypnotic vocals, hitting 120 BPM for that dance-ready feel.
  • Artist D – “Savanna Breeze” (2026) – Rich drum patterns mixed with airy pads, an Afro-house anthem for pool parties.
  • Artist E – “Golden Hour Glow” (2026) – Uplifting vocal phrases paired with traditional percussion elements.
  • Artist F – “Twilight Steps” (2026) – Smooth melodic hooks fused with deep, tribal beats—sunset energy in sound form.
  • Artist G – “Dusky Rhythms” (2026) – Dark bass and rhythmic chants create an immersive beach dance vibe.

5 Throwback Hed Kandi-Style Vocal House Classics (2000s–2010s)

Nothing says summer beach vibes like the classic vocal house era from Hed Kandi compilations. These feel-good anthems combine catchy lyrics, upbeat melodies, and rich production that instantly transport you to Ibiza or a stylish pool party.

  • Artist H – “One Day In My Life” (2005) – Classic vocal hooks with bright, splashy percussion. Timeless feel-good energy.
  • Artist I – “Sunshine” (2007) – Uplifting story-driven vocals with that signature Hed Kandi melodic groove.
  • Artist J – “Move Your Body” (2010) – Infectious chorus and vibrant synths perfect for beach dancefloors.
  • Artist K – “Perfect Sunset” (2009) – Smooth saxophone accents and warm basslines that never get old.
  • Artist L – “Happy Days” (2006) – Bright piano riffs combined with catchy vocals, pure summer anthem gold.

Best Remixes of 2026 That Elevate the Original to Beach Status

Sometimes a remix transforms a track from a club banger to a beach anthem. These remixes dial in the tropical house and melodic deep house vibes, with reworked percussion and added uplifting vocal layers that make you want to hit the sand immediately.

  • Artist M Remix of Artist N – “Sunrise Drive” (2026) – Adds bright steel drum accents and slows the BPM to 118 for ultimate chill.
  • Artist O Remix of Artist P – “Ocean Lights” (2026) – Transforms a dark original into a melodic house beach party staple with airy synths.
  • Artist Q Remix of Artist R – “Feel the Breeze” (2026) – Uplifting vocal hooks and splashy percussion, perfect for sunset sets.
  • Artist S Remix of Artist T – “Island Dreams” (2026) – Infuses tropical house elements that transport you to ocean waves.
  • Artist U Remix of Artist V – “Last Wave” (2026) – Smooth deep house rework with warm pads and an irresistible chorus.

How to Use These Tracks – Playlist Scenarios

These house music singles aren’t just great individually—they shine when matched to the perfect summer moment. Here’s how to make the most of them throughout your beach day:

  • Sunrise Yoga Flow: Start with mellow melodic house and soulful deep house tracks around 110–114 BPM. Think gentle pads, smooth vocal hooks, and subtle percussion to set a calm, uplifting mood as the sun rises.
  • Golden Hour Aperitivo: Transition to tropical house and vocal deep house tunes that bring a warm, relaxed vibe. Look for splashy steel drums and saxophone accents to pair perfectly with that golden light and a refreshing cocktail in hand.
  • Peak Beach Party: Turn up the energy with Afro-house and uplifting house anthems in the 120–124 BPM range. These tracks deliver strong rhythms, catchy vocal hooks, and vibrant percussion—ideal for dancing barefoot in the sand.
  • Sunset Chill: Slow it down with soulful house classics and throwback Hed Kandi-style vocals. Deep basslines combined with emotive melodies create a magical sunset soundtrack that matches the fading light and cool breeze.
  • Late-Night Bonfire: Close out with deep house gems and melodic house tracks that have a more intimate, warm feel. Smooth grooves and jazzy accents keep the vibe laid-back while friends gather around the fire.

Tailoring your playlist to these different moments creates a seamless soundtrack for your summer beach experience.

Skylights live at Whelan’s review – lads on tour have the place bouncing
22
Jan

Carried by a wave of support from a large and boozy entourage of travelling fans, Leeds locals Skylights seemed to be having the time of their lives on a one-off night in Dublin. Who cares if their music wasn’t very good?

Iknew I was out of my depth as soon as I asked for a drink at one of the many bars in the gloomy upstairs quarters of Whelan’s, one of Dublin’s most renowned drinking and live music establishments. “J2O? What’s J2O?” the bartender replied, appearing genuinely baffled by my request. “And first of all, have you got a ticket?” he followed, pointing at the visibly annoyed ticket steward behind me that I had just unknowingly sauntered past. I apologised and awkwardly loaded up the ticket on my phone. Back at the bar, I settled for a Coke (not available by the tap, but a few bottles in stock), relieved that at least this beverage did indeed exist on this side of the Irish Sea.

A general feeling of discomfort stayed with me for the whole night. I had spontaneously taken a cheap flight out of Leeds Bradford Airport that morning, embarking on my first ever trip outside the UK alone mostly for a thrilling but comfortingly short new adventure, although there’s surely no more familiar and pleasant foreign destination for a Brit than Ireland. Standing alone in a dark corner of Whelan’s cradling my glass of Coke, I began to feel my age as the Guinness flowed around me, the drinkers invariably twice my age.

Yet, I waited in Whelan’s with the credentials of one of the main act’s ultra fans. Skylights are Acomb, York lads after all (although their allegiance these days lies much more strongly with Leeds, and Leeds United football club in particular), and I even found myself falsely telling Belfast support band Brand New Friend (after an exceptional performance) that I had travelled abroad just for my beloved Skylights, just like the many men around me who were already warming up with chants of “Leeds! Leeds! Leeds!”. The chants only grew louder and the men more lairy, culminating in a roar as the four Skylights lads appeared from the side of the crowd. Raised beers replaced the raised iPhone cameras I had become used to seeing at the bigger gigs I had attended back in England.

The four-piece wasted no time bashing out their hits, endearingly excited and pumped up for their first ever gig outside of the UK and a rare outing beyond the realm of Leeds’ vibrant indie music scene. Particularly with so many football fans around me, the gig felt bizarrely like an exciting non-league cup tie – Whelan’s is hardly Wembley, but this was still the beloved hometown heroes making the journey to the big, unfamiliar city, kept company by their most loyal followers. Skylights are certainly non-league musicians; bassist Jonny Scarisbrick works at a building society during the day, guitarist Turnbull Smith is an electrician. The surreal thrill of travelling to a different country and playing your homemade songs for a modest but enthusiastic crowd of 100 was evident on the musicians’ faces, not least Smith, who seemed to spend the entire gig beaming from ear to ear. Frontman Rob Scarisbrick was the most outwardly nonchalant of the group, only releasing a smile on the many occasions a tipsy man emerged from the crowd to give him a fist bump mid-song.

Amongst all the boozy fervour for the band in that cramped room in south Dublin, it would have been easy to overlook all the musical flaws had I not been standing aside from the main action in the crowd, arms crossed with my 330ml of Coke. The truth is, Smith only really seems to have one guitar riff up his sleeve: a sort of washed out, Oasis rip-off that felt tired from about ten minutes into the set. Scarisbrick was hardly charismatic as a frontman, often taking breaks in vocals to stand well back from the mic and stare blankly into the mid-distance, waiting for his next cue and extinguishing all the on-stage energy in the process. It was a relief on the occasion he picked up a tambourine and gave it a bash to keep himself occupied in the breaks. Drummer Myles Soley was undoubtedly the most technically accomplished member of the group, but got into a habit of overplaying just to prove it: too loud, too many fills and not enough solid groove to bring out the best from the three men in front of him.

And yet, of course, no one seemed to care, and excitement amongst the crowd built steadily through the band’s catchier numbers like Enemies and What You Are, culminating in a glorious finale of dancing and beer sloshing. I’ve never witnessed an atmosphere at a gig quite so merry; this is what indie venues like Whelan’s live for. The band’s debut single YRA in particular tore the roof off, and for once I could begin to understand why. With a bit more mainstream attention, Scraisbrick’s straightforward, instantly unforgettable hook could quite easily find its way into the chanting repertoire at Elland Road, and Whelan’s was certainly packed with fans who had already learnt all the words by heart. A simple song structure and even simpler three chord loop leant the song the same appeal as a cheesy but loveable Eurovision entry – everything in me said I should dismiss it like all the other forgettable Britpop songs in the set, but I found myself soon getting swept up in the mindless joy of the music. YRA would certainly flop in the professional jury vote but dominate the televote, and I wasn’t complaining when the band decided to milk the adoration of the crowd and reprise the song for the end of the show, in probably the first genuinely unrehearsed encore I’ve ever seen.

With the gig wrapped up, Skylights headed for backstage via the audience right in front of me (it was that sort of venue) and I had time to give them a quick pat on the back, ditch my empty glass at the bar and swiftly take the next bus back to my hostel, keen to spend no longer than necessary in the uncomfortable surroundings of people in their forties getting plastered (Scarisbrick promised a long night of partying ahead as he left the stage). It hadn’t been an altogether brilliant night – I tended to watch all the action rather than attempt to get involved in the mayhem as I would usually do with familiar company in more familiar venues – but, as my solo adventures tend to be, it was a great way to make new memories and venture a little out of my comfort zone. I may not be the Skylights superfan I professed to be but, as the band’s following continues to grow, I’ll still be proud to say that I was there the night our York lads played Dublin.