If you’ve ever had a sweet crush that made your heart feel like it was on a trampoline, “PG-13” will resonate with you most awesomely. Starchild, the queer dance punk musician and poet from Williamsburg, VA, swaps out distortion and misery for something softer, sunnier, and just as emotionally potent on this indie pop reggae gem.

“PG-13” is a cacophony of butterflies-in-the-stomach innocence seen through a rainbow-tinted lens. With lax reggae grooves underneath airy pop melodies, the tune emits a nostalgic warmth. It is the musical equivalent of doodling hearts in the margins of your notebook when you should be working on your homework, daydreaming about somebody who makes you feel like everything out of your imagination becomes suddenly electrified.

“PG-13” dances into your ears with an irresistible, frolicsome charm that epitomizes the essence of summer break in song. Starchild’s self-assured lyrical exposure is a breath of fresh air. Inspired by the cutest girl Starchild has ever seen, it cut the preamble from an unbridled rush of giddy, unfiltered emotion. The voice is earnest, a little breathless, and completely real, bringing a tender specificity that strikes home, especially for queer listeners who very rarely hear their first crushes celebrated in such an open and joyful manner.

It’s a taut song, and the reggae undertow gives it an easy lilt and confidence that grounds things just the right way. It’s that mandate of lightness and depth, a musical tightrope that Starchild easily walks. “PG-13” doubles down on the awkwardness, the shine, and the exposure of first feelings, and in so doing, it lodges itself directly in your heart. It’s both an homage and an innovation, a celebration of queer joy, innocence or ignorance, and the power of seeing someone and feeling like you’re feeling everything at once. And in a world that often rushes right past the R-rated material, “PG-13” reminds us that the true magic is sometimes in the blush rather than the smooch. And Starchild nails that magic.

Gabrielle Manna’s latest single, “Curse Your Name,” is an uncommon auricular paradox that is utterly danceable and emotionally shattering. With pulsating synths, bold pop-rock touches, and a funk-infused rhythm that dares you to move, Manna delivers a song that takes you by surprise in the best way possible.

Underneath the groove, a soul-baring story snarls. “Curse Your Name” is Manna’s courageous face-off with that past, a near-unbearable, deeply personal reckoning with the trauma wrought by her late stepfather, who loomed ominously over her formative years like some evil specter, leaving scars that still howl. If anything was buried or silenced, this is a melodic storm of resilience now.

This isn’t your typical empowerment anthem. Manna doesn’t sugarcoat or simplify the difficult path of healing. She doesn’t ignore the shame, the self-blame, the impossibly heavy internalized burden that survivors too often lug around that comes with sharing these stories. But in vibrant lyricism and a nearly contrarian vocal performance, she reasserts the power balance. This is a new self-claiming. There’s a peculiar beauty to the juxtaposition trauma unspooling across disco-tinged synths and the kind of sharp, catchy, bowling-alley-magnetic hooks that her young, mosh-pitting audiences can latch on to even as they put in the bathroom line.

The rare song belongs to the release of singing it loudly and the exposure of knowing precisely what it means. In this track, Manna displays emotional maturity. Manna is calling out an aching past and forgiving herself, leaving space for you to follow suit. There’s freedom in her voice, a whiff of peace starting to parachute down from the ashes of the chaos. This is therapy decorated in sequins and synths. In “Curse Your Name,” Gabrielle Manna leaps and dances through the flame, coaxing us to do the same, not to forget what bruised us and burned our pride, but to make sure it no longer leaves a welt with every step.