Amid a world of disposable hooks and songs gone before the lifetime of the fly, Twisted Linguistics gives you something else, something deeper in their new single, “Sometimes.” Here, on a single with the spellbinding Dana D. and Midwest underground piano virtuoso Mesh One, the track heals and hovers in your chest long after the last note has fallen away. “Sometimes” felt like a hushed revelation. Piano work by Mesh One forms the heart and soul of the song, stitching together a sonic landscape that feels equal parts sentimental and forward-thinking. It’s that kind of song that hooks you in immediately, like an old photograph you forgot you were meant to remember.

Then there is Dana D., breezing in with a chorus that sounds almost otherworldly. Her touch beings floating in delicate, aching, angelic heads of sound, a mist that encircles your thoughts. It’s haunting in the best way, like the voice of a dream you can’t remember. Twisted Linguistics, whose earthbound lyrics yank the listener down to earth with a voice that’s lived-in, knowing, and unafraid of service for the sake of the in-between. His delivery is consistently, quietly, unsentimentally truthful, the sort of storytelling that doesn’t run begging for attention and commands it nonetheless. There’s a nice tension here that works wonderfully, the supernatural versus the earthly, the seen versus the felt.

The push and pull makes “Sometimes” an experience you feel and remember. “Sometimes” is remarkable, above all, for its refusal to be pinned down. It’s available without being cheap. Emotional without being heavy-handed. But Twisted Linguistics and company aren’t just producing music, they’re making moments that make you stop, breathe, and think. With this song, Twisted Linguistics further crafts an inimitable aesthetic of their own, something that explores vulnerability, memory, and the imperfect humanity in which it was born. “Sometimes” is a number of things and a quiet triumph.

With his newest single, “Farthest Thing,” Andy Branton filters those long miles and backroad ruminations into a slow-burning, emotionally raw track that digs in deep. From the dive bars of West Alabama to the uninterrupted drone of Kentucky roadways, Andy Branton’s life plays like a decades-old pocket paperback filled with smoke-filled rooms, late nights, and the kind of yarns you just can’t shake. The guitar work of Branton, who ground it out for years in country and rock & roll bands, sits not just below the lyrics but breathes alongside them.

There’s a weariness to it, but there’s also resilience. Each chord sounds lived-in, like an old truck that’s down on its luck but cranks over every morning. “Farthest Thing” is a bare-bones confession, drenched in the southern soil and real-life spirit. Branton’s voice is the voice of experience, not life with lost love or empty promises, but that kind of thoughtful soul-searching that can only be done alone on a dark stretch of road, somewhere between where you’ve been and where you’re going. What sets “Farthest Thing” apart from its counterparts isn’t only the craftsmanship. The delivery carries the burden of untold stories.

Stories gathered through years of playing in smoke-filled bars, from talking at 2 a.m. at gas stations to watching the world change through a bug-streaked windshield. Andy Branton doesn’t write songs as much as he catalogs moments. “Farthest Thing” is evidence of that. It’s a track that seizes your attention slowly like a friend telling you some truth after many months of silence. Andy Branton’s “Farthest Thing” With a storyteller’s heart beating in time with country blues and a rock and roll edge, Andy Branton is bringing some stirring vibes to the folk format, and “Farthest Thing” is one of those songs you return to when you need something real.