Artist Reviews

Tambiotics’ Artist Page is HERE

Hasta las palabras más triviales pueden adquirir magia cuando se entonan en lenguas ajenas al idioma materno… ¡¡¡Sa – wa – lo – pat!!!

Es el grito de guerra con el que inicia “Simulan Na” del grupo Tambiotics, una canción que desde sus primeros segundos despierta curiosidad y deja claro que hay algo interesante por descubrir.

El ser humano siempre tiende a clasificar y comparar. Buscamos referencias, etiquetas, puntos de conexión. Y esta es, precisamente, una de las cosas que menos me gustan del ambiente musical: esa pregunta recurrente de “¿Cómo quién suenas?” o “¿A quién te pareces?”. La comparación puede convertirse rápidamente en un sesgo, una predisposición que condiciona la forma en que escuchamos.

Entonces, voy a intentar romper ese sesgo: esta canción suena genial y punto.

“Simulan Na” utiliza una estructura musical clásica y efectiva, construida para mantener una dinámica ascendente y envolvente. Transmite una sensación festiva y motivadora; su ritmo y su interpretación invitan al movimiento y consiguen de forma natural algo que muchos músicos buscan durante años: el groove. Ese punto en que ritmo, interpretación y energía se encuentran y hacen que el cuerpo responda casi de manera natural. Y quienes crean música saben que conseguirlo no es tan sencillo.

Ahora bien, para quienes disfrutan de las comparaciones, “Simulan Na” transita por territorios cercanos al rock alternativo y al rock latino. Dependiendo de la referencia musical de cada oyente, pueden aparecer distintas reminiscencias: quizás “Red Hot Chili Peppers” en determinados patrones rítmicos del bajo; “Blink-182” o “Foo Fighters” en la energía de las guitarras y el coro; baterías de “Maná”; incluso “Los Bunkers”, por la combinación de melodía vocal, guitarras y una interpretación de carácter orgánico.

Pero, en definitiva, que cada oyente encuentre sus propias referencias. Lo importante es que Tambiotics consigue que la canción tenga identidad y, sobre todo, que provoque ganas de escucharla nuevamente.

No hay mucho más que decir: ahora les toca a ustedes escucharla y sacar sus propias conclusiones… Aprecio que las compartan en los comentarios.

Felicitaciones Tambiotics. Excelente trabajo. Escuché otras canciones de ustedes y todas tienen un encanto especial. De corazón, les deseo lo mejor en su carrera musical.

Ojalá puedan recorrer el mundo haciendo lo que aman, llenar escenarios y vivir ese sueño que tantos músicos persiguen y que muy pocos logran alcanzar. Ustedes tienen todo para lograrlo, estoy seguro de que alguien con verdadera “influencia” los descubrirá y tomarán impulso para no detenerse jamás.

Sigan trabajando. ¡Ánimo! ¡Ánimo! ¡Y más ánimo!

English Translation

Even the most trivial words can acquire magic when chanted in languages other than one’s native tongue… Sa – wa – lo – pat!!!

That’s the battle cry that kicks off “Simulan Na” by the band Tambiotics, a track that piques curiosity from its very first seconds and makes it clear that there’s something compelling to discover.

Human beings always tend to classify and compare. We search for references, labels, connecting points. And that is precisely one of the things I like least about the music scene: that recurring question, “Who do you sound like?” or “Who do you remind me of?”

Comparison can quickly become a bias—a predisposition that shapes the way we listen. So, I’m going to try to break that bias: this song sounds great, period.

“Simulan Na” relies on a classic and effective musical structure, crafted to sustain a soaring, immersive dynamic. It conveys a festive and uplifting vibe; its rhythm and performance invite you to move, in a natural way achieving something that many musicians spend years chasing: the groove. That sweet spot where rhythm, delivery, and energy align, making the body respond almost instinctively. And anyone who makes music knows that’s no easy feat.

Now, for those who do enjoy comparisons, “Simulan Na” moves through territories close to alternative rock and Latin rock. Depending on each listener’s musical background, different echoes may surface: perhaps Red Hot Chili Peppers in certain rhythmic bass patterns; Blink-182 or Foo Fighters in the driving energy of the guitars and chorus; Maná drums; even Los Bunkers, in the blend of vocal melody, guitars and an organic performance style.

Ultimately, though, let every listener find their own references. What matters is that Tambiotics gives the song an identity of its own and, above all, makes you want to hit replay.

There isn’t much more to say: now it’s your turn to listen and draw your own conclusions… I’d like you share them in the comments.

Congratulations Tambiotics. Outstanding work. I’ve listened to your other songs, and every single one has a special charm. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you the very best in your musical journey.

May you travel the world doing what you love, fill stages, and live the dream that so many musicians chase and so few manage to reach. You have everything it takes to make it; I’m certain that someone with real “influence” will discover you, giving you the momentum to keep moving forward without ever stopping.

Keep up the hard work. Keep pushing, keep striving, and never give up!

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: Senti-Ente

Their artist page can be found HERE

Terrestrial Animal’s Artist Page is HERE

My musical taste varies greatly, and some of the tracks that speak to me the most are instrumentals, especially the music of Terrestrial Animal. In April, Terrestrial Animal released a new album entitled Beneath the Ocean of Names: Where a Mind Once Held the Sky. It is filled with songs that tell powerful stories without the need for words. Much of the album explores the act of remembering those who have passed away and the emotions that accompany those memories. “Dreamless, I Spoke” is one of my favorite tracks because of the deeply personal story it seems to tell.

The song begins with a slow introduction of soft, low-key acoustic notes accompanied by a subtle drum beat. It feels as though you are either just awakening from a deep sleep or slowly drifting off to sleep. It is a solemn, reflective moment—almost like daydreaming.

The main instrumental theme introduces a different feeling. Suddenly, you realize you have some unfinished business to take care of, and it is going to take some time before you get there. As you make your way, your thoughts begin to wander, rehearsing what you are going to say. Still groggy from just waking up, your mind is not yet working at full capacity.

Then you hear the sound of brakes squealing, followed by the crash—glass shattering everywhere. The aftermath of the accident lies before you, yet it feels as though nothing has happened. You’re still trapped in your dreamlike state of thought. Then you snap back to reality, realizing what has just happened. What was I doing again? You remember that you still have something you need to figure out. The thoughts begin piling in once more. You’re still daydreaming, your mind weighed down by everything pressing on it. Then, all of a sudden, the entire instrumentation surges in tempo and volume. Something has come to mind—a revelation of sorts. You’ve remembered something crucial that must be said when the time comes.

The song returns to the same guitar chords as you continue your journey through your own mind. You’re back in your deep thoughts, drifting into an almost dreamlike state once again. As you turn everything over in your head, you continue to contemplate what you’re going to say and how you’re going to handle the situation. Perhaps you’re on your way to see someone close to you—a wife, a brother, or a best friend. By the time you arrive, you’ll have thought everything through and know exactly how to approach it. Thoughts and memories continue to flow through your mind.

Finally, in the last minute of the song, the time has come to confront the unfinished business. You approach the person—or perhaps the issue—that has been weighing on you and express the thoughts you’ve been contemplating for so long. The music becomes more upbeat, and it feels as though the pivotal moment you’ve been waiting for unfolds exactly as you had hoped. A sense of happiness and peace settles in as the song comes to an end. The journey is complete, and you realize that, in the end, all that reflection has paid off.

“Dreamless, I Spoke” is one of those songs that I feel tells the story of a journey that ends on a positive note after a long period of reflection. There is a sense of heaviness throughout most of the piece, but by the end, a resolution emerges and the weight is lifted. Whether this is truly what the song reflects is entirely up to the listener. Either way, it is a remarkable piece of progressive rock that demonstrates music does not always need lyrics to tell a compelling story.

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: Creative Disaster (Gpet Productions)

Their artist page can be found HERE

Air Vibration Artist Page is HERE

The indie landscape is a beautiful ecosystem because it has a distinct role for everyone: the anthemic performer, the shredder, the folklorist, and the minimalist. Air Vibration falls firmly into that last category, possessing a rare ability to find depth in the everyday mundane that the rest of us often take for granted.

To understand the sound here, you have to look toward a very specific kind of performance art. Imagine Mike Myers in So I Married an Axe Murderer, standing beneath a dim spotlight in a smoky café and singing about his daily life alongside an improv jazz band in sharp, staccato couplets that are deeply investigative and almost entirely unemotive—until they suddenly erupt into a moment of revelation. This is exactly the artistic space where Air Vibration lives and breathes.

Born out of a genuine love for a vast spectrum of musical genres, Air Vibration emerged from the Dutch underground indie scene in 2017 before officially debuting as a globally distributed project in 2019. Over the years, the artist has meticulously built a reputation for a distinctive, heavily textured sound defined by faltering, melancholic guitars and rolling, organic drums, often drawing well-deserved comparisons to the raw, unfiltered delivery of Bob Dylan.

Air Vibration’s 2020 concept album, The Search, further cemented the project’s unique identity as one dedicated to exploring the internal, often quiet struggles of navigating personal change.

In the track “Early Morning Coffee,” you can almost picture the artist hunched over a cramped, weathered wooden chair in the stillness of the early morning, staring deeply into a dark mug of coffee that has become a psychological crutch after a sleepless, restless night, completely lost in its swirling colour and rich texture. He instinctively reaches for a guitar, loses himself in a steady, hypnotic strum, and free-writes an intriguing, unpolished ode to his morning cup.

There is something profoundly moving about that imagery. What makes it so relatable is that I think Air Vibration is really just singing a private note to himself. Linkin Park built an extraordinary career doing something remarkably similar. Their massive hit “In the End” can be interpreted as a heavy Post-it note to oneself that simply says: stop falling in love with lost causes. It is a form of self-preservation.

If Chester Bennington could communicate that idea so successfully on a global stage, why can’t Air Vibration do it in his own quiet, understated way?

He is essentially saying to his own reflection: Hey, remember to take a break. Remember to think. Remember to breathe deeply.

There is nothing selfish or absurd about that message. We live in a chaotic world where we are constantly overproducing and overextending ourselves, often forgetting that our time and energy are finite resources. Sometimes we need nothing more than a gentle reminder to pause.

So go ahead and veg out. Stare blankly into your cup of coffee—or your hot chocolate, herbal tea, or even a glass of cold water—and vibe with Air Vibration around one simple, grounding idea: slow down. You are not alone in this frantic pace of life. You’ve got this. And if you genuinely allow yourself that moment of stillness, you too might discover a peaceful, serene lake reflected in whatever small thing brings you comfort today.

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: Jake Sommer

Their artist page can be found HERE

Matt Kik’s Artist Page is Here

Hailing from Sheffield, Matt Kik released his self-titled solo debut, Eponymous, on 15 August 2025, offering twelve guitar-driven tracks that span more than 25 years. The album features songs he started writing in 2000 and continued to work on right up to the present day. With his band, Storm of Crows, currently on hold following the release of their Twenty-Five Years album, Matt decided to gather together songs that had lived with him for decades and shape them into a full album. What makes this record so impressive is that it feels both personal and carefully assembled, as if each track found its place exactly when the time was right.

I’ve known Matt for many years, so listening to “Smarter Than This” naturally carries a personal dimension for me. But beyond that connection, what really matters is that the music stands on its own. As a bassist myself, I’m always drawn to the low end and to the way a song’s rhythm section holds everything together, and that is something I truly appreciate here. A compact, tight rhythm section can make all the difference, and this record understands that perfectly.

What struck me immediately was the guitar riff that runs through the entire song. It is not only the track’s main musical thread but also the element that gives it its real power. The riff stays present from beginning to end, almost like a pulse that holds everything together, and that is exactly why the song hit me so strongly. It creates momentum, tension, and consistency at the same time, and it connects perfectly with the lyrics’ reflection on routine and the desire to break free from it.

“Smarter Than This” is especially effective in the way it builds around that central figure. The repetition gives the song a sense of insistence, almost mirroring the daily grind between home and work that the lyrics describe. At the same time, the arrangement never feels stuck; instead, it keeps moving forward with purpose. That balance between repetition and development is one of the things I like most about it.

The guitar solo is short, but it adds a lovely touch of character, with a slightly Spanish feel that gives the song some extra colour without distracting from its core. I like it when a solo does exactly what the song needs and no more, and that is very much the case here. It feels like a small gem placed exactly where it should be.

The closing lines — “We only get one chance to sing our song / Only one life, it’s not really that long / Smarter than this / I’m gonna be smarter than this” — leave me with a real sense of hope. They suggest that it is never too late to step out of routine and try to become a better version of ourselves. That message resonates with me not only as a listener but also as someone who cares deeply about music as a way of leaving something behind that lasts.

For me, that is part of what makes this song and the album around it so meaningful. “Smarter Than This” stands out on Eponymous for its strong songwriting, clear musical identity, and message that feels honest and genuine.

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: PortobelloExpress

Their artist page can be found Here

Gail Vogel’s Artist Page is HERE

“Pleiades 2.0” de la artista Gail Vogel es una obra para quienes buscan en la música algo más que entretenimiento: un refugio de introspección y expansión mental.

Lejos de ser una composición minimalista, su aparente sencillez esconde un trabajo minucioso y profundamente intencionado. La pieza plantea una progresión narrativa que se siente como un viaje geográfico y espiritual: la música emerge de las profundidades oceánicas, se asienta firmemente en la tierra y, finalmente, se proyecta hacia la inmensidad del cosmos.

Uno de los aspectos más interesantes de esta obra es la simbiosis entre instrumentos orgánicos y sintéticos; Gail Vogel logra dar vida a una auténtica entidad sonora. Para ilustrarlo mejor, si en lugar de una pieza musical se tratara de una obra visual, encajaría sin esfuerzo en el personaje de Kusanagi Motoko, del anime Ghost in the Shell (de Ota Masanori), ya que evoca de inmediato esa dualidad existencial entre lo humano y lo artificial.

¿Se han dado cuenta de que, en ocasiones, reaccionamos de forma casi instintiva al ritmo de las percusiones? Es como un “latido primordial” grabado en el ADN, en el alma o en algún otro rincón de nuestro ser. Los sonidos de los tambores poseen la magia de un legado ancestral, una memoria que parece trascender el tiempo. Con Pleiades 2.0 sentí esa conexión en distintos momentos del recorrido.

¿Qué opinan ustedes? ¿Alguien más sintió algún tipo de conexión al escuchar Pleiades 2.0? Los invito a compartir sus impresiones en los comentarios.

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: Senti-Ente

Their artist page can be found HERE

Crossing Waves Artist Page is HERE

As a kid, I spent quite a bit of time studying popular musicals alongside rock, pop, and classical music. One song that always stood out for its dark brilliance was “Poor Jud Is Dead” from the immortal Oklahoma! It is a bizarre, morbid, and surprisingly fun tune in which the protagonist fantasizes about the death of his rival, Jud Fry, specifically to imagine how the townspeople might react once he is gone. It is a masterfully crafted study of macabre character development, and recently, I found its modern spiritual successor in a track called “Ballad of Robert Stone” by the indie project Crossing Waves.

The song opens with a deceptively catchy guitar strum that feels lighthearted, masking the weight of the narrative. It tells the story of Robert Stone, a neighbor living two floors down who met a sudden, calamitous end during an unfortunate night walk. Following his passing, the neighborhood “buzz” begins to paint a vivid, if slightly eccentric, picture of the man: he had long hair and a grey mustache, he was a total loner, and, according to local gossip, he was essentially married to his umbrella. He was the kind of person who existed solely in the background of everyone else’s life: a mystery that no one bothered to solve while he was still breathing.

While you might find yourself wandering through the intoxication of the melody, the song eventually hits you with a keen, stinging observation: “His life had no attention, his death got quite a lot.” It is a profound look at the irony of human interest and the inherent selfishness of communal curiosity. Crossing Waves uses Robert’s story to showcase the “faux friendships” and performative grief that suddenly bloom the moment a TV camera or a news reporter appears.

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: Jake Sommer

Their artist page can be found HERE

Last “Ravage” Opinion’s Artist Page is HERE

Para mí, existe una verdad fundamental en el arte musical: la ausencia de letra no es un vacío, sino una expansión de posibilidades. La música instrumental posee la gran virtud de potenciar la comunicación emocional pura, permitiendo que el rango de interpretación sea prácticamente infinito y profundamente personal. En este escenario, “Maga Noctis”, de Last “Ravage” Opinion, emerge como una pieza con dinamismo cinematográfico, capaz de guiar al oyente por una narrativa sonora en constante evolución.

La obra comienza sumergiéndonos en una atmósfera tranquila, de carácter onírico y misterioso, donde el sonido se manifiesta de forma sutil. Sin embargo, lo que hace destacar a esta composición es su desarrollo: desde la calma, se transmuta gradualmente hacia una atmósfera heroica. Esta característica posiciona a la pieza como un acompañamiento ideal para una producción audiovisual de ciencia ficción o fantasía.

En ciertos pasajes se percibe una influencia de Jean-Michel Jarre. Esto provocó en mí una conexión sonora con mi infancia. Siempre me ha sorprendido la magia que tiene la música; en este caso, su poder para viajar en el tiempo con la mente. Quién sabe si en el futuro se logrará hacerlo de forma física, como ocurre en “Visiones de Robot”, de Isaac Asimov, o en relatos de siglos pasados.

La música es quizá el único vehículo que nos permite habitar otros mundos y épocas distantes en pocos segundos. Al prestar atención y sumergirme en la canción, me pregunto: ¿a dónde los transporta a ustedes? ¿A un futuro tecnológico o a un recuerdo de la infancia? Los invito a compartir su viaje en los comentarios.

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: Senti-Ente

Their artist page can be found HERE

Jezuro Artist Page is HERE

There is a peculiar phenomenon in art where a new creation feels like a recovered memory. “Better Living Underground!” by Jezuro is a premier example of this kind of “hallucinated recognition.” At first listen, the track feels so much like a classic cover that it practically demands a deep dive into the archives of 1950s jazz. Yet the research yields a surprising result: it is a contemporary original. While it draws its lifeblood from the Fallout universe, the song is a modern triumph of stylistic mimicry. If broadcast on an oldies station, most listeners would nod along, convinced they had heard it on a grainy transistor radio decades ago. That ability to fabricate nostalgia is the mark of a high-caliber creator.

The track functions as a study in “the uncanny.” Stephen King famously suggested that true terror is not found in a man with a knife, but in coming home to find your entire life replaced by a perfect, reasonless facsimile. Jezuro taps into this idea perfectly. By recreating the sonic landscape of the mid-century with such precision, he forces us to wonder what he is trying to teach us about our own timeline. Let me take a crack at that.

“Better Living Underground!” serves as a moment where music acts as a reflective mirror for society. In hindsight, the lyrics highlight the absurdity and hubris of believing we can survive a volatile geopolitical climate using the same survivalist tropes we have leaned on for generations. Jezuro suggests that we are navigating a 2026 armory with 1950s logic, a combination that is as dangerous as it is delusional. The “underground” is not just a physical bunker; it is a psychological retreat from a reality that has become too complex to manage.

Production and Performance

The technical execution of the track is where the illusion becomes airtight. The song opens with a disorienting charm, sounding as if a Benny Goodman or Johnny Mathis record has hijacked your digital device. It bridges the gap between the sleekness of modern streaming and the warmth of vinyl.

Jezuro utilizes a specific “white fuzz” and analog saturation to replicate the texture of a bygone era. This is not just a filter; it is an engineered atmosphere that evokes the dust on a needle.

The vocal performance is a masterful display of crooning. The tones are reminiscent of the records that once sat atop schoolbooks in wood-paneled bedrooms. The delivery is smooth, haunting, and pitch-perfect for the era it inhabits.

Sometimes music transcends simple entertainment and becomes a living portrait. Like the most enduring art, “Better Living Underground!” only begins to educate the listener once they are willing to look beneath its polished, retro surface. It is a track that invites multiple listens, allowing the underlying message to slowly unravel. For those who appreciate music that challenges their sense of time and place, this is a highly recommended experience. It is a piece that does not just belong on a playlist; it belongs in a museum of cultural echoes.

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: Jake Sommer

Their artist page can be found HERE

Antoni Grzyb’s Artist Page is HERE

Despojarse de lo literal para abrazar lo abstracto es una acción de gran generosidad en una pieza musical. El oyente deja de ser un receptor pasivo, anclado por los versos y por el idioma, y se convierte en coautor del significado emocional: una experiencia única para cada persona.

Esa libertad interpretativa se refleja de forma perfecta en la canción “If I Could See You Now”, del autor Antoni Grzyb. Es directa y sincera; no abruma con progresiones complejas, sino que se sostiene sobre una estructura que privilegia la serenidad y la sensibilidad. Se siente como el abrazo de un ser querido que no has visto en mucho tiempo.

Esta pieza tiene un “motivo musical” que todos podrán identificar, pero su genialidad radica en la prosodia de la frase musical. Usa tu imaginación y podrás escuchar las palabras del título sin ser cantadas. Si te cuesta imaginarlo, te invito a cantar la siguiente estrofa justo en el tiempo 00:21; ahí se produce la magia:

If I could see you now
If I could see you now
If I could see you
If I could see you
If I could see you
Now

Esa estrofa es pegajosa, fácil de recordar; es lo que se conoce como un “hook”. ¿Qué sucedería si esta composición se transformara de un estilo “neoclásico contemporáneo” a “K-pop”? ¿Podría ser un éxito comercial? Sin duda. No importa el género: es una muy buena obra porque posee una gran eficacia melódica.

¿La música instrumental es la cúspide de la “ingeniería emocional”? Independientemente del género —clásico, electrónico, autóctono, new age, entre otros—, este tipo de obras siempre mueve algo en el interior del oyente. Y qué decir del compositor: todas las ideas y emociones que surgen durante el desarrollo de una pieza así forman parte de su profundidad.

“If I Could See You Now” es una pieza para ser contemplada. Escúchala y anímate a escribir comentarios sobre tu interpretación de esta obra y sobre la música instrumental.

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: Senti-Ente

Their artist page can be found HERE

MIK’s Reaction Artist Page is HERE

I have been a dedicated fan of MIK’s Reaction for quite some time. Whether I am hitting the pavement for a morning run or unwinding after a long day, I frequently find myself appreciating, saving, and liking his work. However, for me, among a catalog of impressive releases, “Incredible to Me Now” stands out as his most profound achievement.

From the very first bar, the track establishes a palpable, dysphoric mood. It does not scream for attention; instead, it seeps into the listener’s consciousness. The song opens with a delicate acoustic strum, shadowed by distant atmospheric echoes that roll in like a gentle morning fog over a silent valley. It is an exercise in restraint.

Soon, the bass line carefully anchors the guitar work, followed by an ascending drumbeat that provides momentum without ever sacrificing the song’s intimacy. The production ensures the instruments never overtake the lyrics, which are characterized by a quiet, heartbreaking sadness rather than outward blame.

The lyrical heart of the track lies in the repetition of the phrase “I don’t know why.” It is delivered with the weight of a perseverating, intrusive thought, the kind that circles the mind in the middle of the night and refuses to resolve. It serves as a haunting refrain of perceived failure and the hollow, quiet devastation that follows in its wake. There is no catharsis here, only the honest admission of being lost within one’s own history.

This review was submitted by fellow NAS artist: Jake Sommer

Their artist page can be found HERE