Rising Star #69

Welcome to Rising Star 69—an immersive celebration of sound, vision, and the limitless spirit of creativity shaping the future of global music culture.

This edition raises the bar once again, inviting audiences to experience a night where raw talent meets bold innovation. Rising Star 69 isn’t just a showcase—it’s a pulse-pounding journey across musical genres, where every performance leaves a lasting impression.

Imagine a stage lit up by tomorrow’s trailblazers—emerging voices who aren’t just performing, but telling stories that echo long after the spotlight fades. From soaring anthems that ignite confidence to soulful ballads that stir emotion, each act offers something deeply personal and powerfully resonant.

Here, the stage transforms into a living, breathing work of art—each note, each lyric, each beat contributing to a larger tapestry of expression. It’s more than entertainment; it’s a moment of connection, where creativity and authenticity shine brightest.

Rising Star 69 champions individuality, diverse voices, and the magic of musical discovery. It's where rising talent steps into the light—and where the future of music begins to take shape.

Feel the spark. Witness the rise. 🎤✨

This is your invitation to be moved, inspired, and forever changed by what’s next.

Sunrise in Jupiter – Take Me Home

There’s something undeniably gravitational about Sunrise in Jupiter’s latest single, Take Me Home. Released as the emotional closer to Mission to Mars Vol. 1, the London-based rock outfit doesn't just deliver another track—they launch a sonic flare into the night sky and ask, “Is anyone still out there?”

From the opening bars, Take Me Home feels like a transmission sent across galaxies. The production is cinematic, textured with atmospheric synths and reverberating guitar riffs that swell into a chorus big enough to rattle the bones. There’s an ache to the song, a tangible pull between the cosmos and Earth, driven home by thunderous drums and a vocal performance that walks the line between desperation and hope.

Where their debut Satellite floated through ambient space, Take Me Home crashes down like a meteor of emotion. It’s a track built on contrasts—delicate verses laced with vulnerability, followed by towering walls of sound that refuse to be ignored. Think Muse’s epic urgency meets the emotional charge of early My Chemical Romance, with a touch of U2’s arena-ready melancholy.

Lyrically, the band places listeners inside the helmet of an astronaut nearing the end of their mission—a metaphor that hits hard in a post-everything world. The song becomes a plea, not just to return home physically, but emotionally. It’s about reconnection, belonging, and the universal fear of being left unheard in the static.

What makes Sunrise in Jupiter particularly compelling is how committed they are to the narrative thread woven throughout their work. Take Me Home isn’t a single for the sake of chart positioning—it’s a pivotal chapter in a larger story. And that depth of intention sets them apart from many of their peers in the modern rock scene.

With Take Me Home, Sunrise in Jupiter doesn’t just ask you to listen—they ask you to feel. To drift, crash, cry out, and maybe, finally, find your way back.

Death by Selfie – Vampire

French electro-pop duo Death by Selfie aren’t shy about evolving. Following the release of their full-length debut Techno(o(on) in late 2024 and a Lynchian homage in early 2025, their new single Vampire lands like a sharpened fang in a velvet glove — stylish, polished, and quietly menacing.

“Synth pop with bite and punch” isn’t just a clever tagline — Vampire lives up to it. At first glance, the track draws from familiar 80s territory: glimmering synths and cold electronic textures reminiscent of Depeche Mode or early New Order. But unlike their shadow-drenched predecessors, Death by Selfie opts for a cleaner, more contemporary sheen. The song pulses with modern production muscle — the bassline is thick and moody, the beat is heavier than anything they’ve released before, and the synths shimmer with an acidic edge.

There’s evolution in the songwriting too. Vampire marks a first for the duo: lyrics and vocals entirely in English, and no vocoder in sight. This nakedness — vocally and emotionally — makes the venom hit harder. The titular “vampire” isn’t a cape-clad nightcrawler; it’s something more familiar, more human: the manipulative friend who cloaks harm in false intimacy. That real-world toxicity gives the track its emotional charge, elevating it from moody synth-pop to something a bit more haunting.

Perhaps most importantly, you can feel the duo’s hands on the machines. For the first time, both members took on synthesizer and sequencer duties themselves, and it shows — there's a visceral, tactile quality to the production, like each arpeggio and bass hit was painstakingly sculpted.

With Vampire, Death by Selfie doesn't just revisit the sounds of the past — they repurpose them, inject them with fresh blood, and point them forward. It’s dark pop with brains, bite, and just enough sleaze to make you dance and think twice about who you invite into your life.

Zachary Mason – Madness Gladness

Zachary Mason’s latest single Madness Gladness unfolds like a slow-burning letter to love—tender, conflicted, and poetic in its hesitation. A far cry from the louder promises of “more rock” teased in previous press, this dreamy, reverb-soaked track leans instead into the softer corners of Mason’s songwriting palette, drawing influences from dream pop, soft rock, and folk rock to create a warm, reflective sonic haze.

Originally penned and first recorded in 2021, Madness Gladness has clearly lived multiple lives before reaching its final form. After a short-lived attempt at inclusion in an abandoned album project, the track was finally revisited and brought to life again in early 2025. It now arrives with the richness of experience—matured and distilled—mirroring the emotional complexity at the heart of the song. The lyrics center on a character caught in the beautiful chaos of love: maddening and euphoric in equal measure. It’s not hard to see the autobiographical threads stitched subtly into the fictional narrative.

Sonically, the single feels intimate yet expansive. There’s a dreamy looseness to the arrangement, with lush guitars and a gentle rhythm section that serve as a fitting backdrop to Mason’s understated vocals. Drummer Nate Barnes lays down a solid yet sensitive foundation, while bassist John Thomasson (of Little Big Town) brings a quiet elegance to the low end. The mixing and mastering by Derrick Lin—marking his fifth collaboration with Mason—add polish without sacrificing the track’s organic charm.

For longtime listeners, Madness Gladness might feel like a detour away from the rockier terrain of Mason’s earlier work, but the artistic risk pays off. This is a song that doesn’t push for attention—it invites you in, slowly. And when it finally settles, it leaves behind a gentle ache, like a dream you can almost remember.

Zachary Mason, now nine singles deep and counting, has built a quietly impressive catalogue. Based in Guildford, UK, the 27-year-old has recorded around 200 demos since receiving a home setup from a relative in 2021. His DIY beginnings have blossomed into something far more visible, with features in Rolling Stone en Español, SPIN Magazine, and indie charts recognition for tracks like I Wish Humans Were Made In A Factory… and I’ll Get Through. With influences that span from Neil Young and Dylan to Leonard Cohen and The Beatles, Mason is a student of the song above all else—and Madness Gladness feels like a heartfelt continuation of that pursuit.

It may not be the loudest track in his discography, but Madness Gladness is easily one of Zachary Mason’s most emotionally resonant. It’s a delicate balancing act of sorrow and sweetness, and it shows just how much beauty can be found when an artist dares to sit in the space between.

Ethos by Axiom Tha Wyze

— A Triumph of Truth, Grit, and Growth

In a world where rap albums often blur together with copy-paste production and surface-level bars, Ethos, the latest—and most personal—release from Axiom Tha Wyze, carves its own lane with clarity, depth, and intention. This is not just a debut in self-production for the Boise-based emcee; it’s a bold declaration of independence, a raw narrative of struggle, and a milestone that feels earned rather than manufactured.

Over the last decade, Axiom has steadily cultivated a dedicated fanbase, building his name brick by brick in the underground scene. Ethos feels like the culmination of that journey. It’s the sound of an artist who’s not only found his voice but taken full creative control to mold it into something undeniably authentic. Every beat, bar, and break in this record is handled by Axiom himself, and that autonomy breathes a rare kind of soul into the project—one that Hip-Hop purists and newcomers alike will feel from the first track to the last.

Musically, Ethos is rooted in boom-bap, but it refuses to live in the past. Axiom crafts beats that are both nostalgic and forward-thinking, blending dusty drums and soulful loops with subtle modern textures. There's a lived-in warmth to the soundscape, like flipping through a photo album filled with memories that still ache—but also heal.

Lyrically, Axiom bares all. He digs into fatherhood, addiction, faith, fear, and the thin line between surviving and falling apart. But what’s most striking is how he never lets the darkness win. There’s a steady pulse of perseverance throughout Ethos—a refusal to sugarcoat life’s challenges, but also a refusal to be defined by them. It’s the kind of album that doesn’t just invite you to listen; it asks you to reflect.

Standout moments come when Axiom leans fully into vulnerability without losing the sharpness of his pen. There’s no posturing here, just pages pulled straight from his life and set to rhythm. The production supports this honesty—gritty where it needs to be, stripped down when the words need to breathe.

Ethos isn’t just Axiom Tha Wyze’s best work to date—it’s a blueprint for what happens when an artist refuses to compromise. It’s Hip-Hop at its core: personal, political, poetic, and powerful. And more than that, it’s a reminder that even in the midst of chaos, growth is possible, and the mic can be a tool for healing.

For those tired of disposable records and hungry for something with substance, Ethos delivers—and then some. This one’s built to last.

ZOOLOOK – Power of the People (Radio Edit)

In a musical landscape often driven by fleeting trends, ZOOLOOK’s latest single Power of the People (Radio Edit) arrives like a thunderclap of vintage soul and present-day protest. The San Francisco-based multidisciplinary artist digs deep into the DNA of funk, soul, and electronic music to deliver a track that feels both timeless and fiercely relevant.

ZOOLOOK isn’t chasing nostalgia—he’s resurrecting it with purpose. Born from the vinyl stacks of his childhood—where Motown’s golden grooves lived beside the synth-laced voyages of Jean-Michel Jarre and Kraftwerk—Power of the People channels that sonic spirit into something defiantly modern. The track opens with a bassline that practically walks into the room on its own, strutting with Bernard Edwards’ flair and wrapped in shimmering synth textures that feel like a knowing nod to Herbie Hancock’s Future Shock era.

But this isn’t just a groove for groove’s sake. ZOOLOOK’s music carries messages, and this one is rooted in resistance. Originally titled Power to the People, the song took on a new life after ZOOLOOK watched Senator Cory Booker’s 25-hour stand on the Senate floor. That marathon moment of political courage flipped the phrase into a truth: “The power of the people is greater than the people in power.” That philosophical pivot gives the song an added layer—it’s not just a call to action, it’s a reminder of where the real strength lies.

Clocking in at a digestible few minutes for streaming platforms, the Radio Edit still packs the emotional and musical punch of something much larger. Yet, for those wanting the full journey, a 6–7 minute version is available exclusively on ZOOLOOK’s website and Bandcamp—a fitting move for a song about direct connection and cutting out the middleman.

The fusion of live bass, analog textures, and digital sheen makes Power of the People stand out in today’s algorithm-fed playlists. There’s an irie warmth here, a dubby pulse beneath the funk that hints at ZOOLOOK’s broader influences in reggae and roots music. You feel the past in this track—not as a shadow, but as a guiding light.

In Power of the People, ZOOLOOK doesn’t just revisit the music of the ’60s through ’80s—he reignites its purpose. It’s a rallying cry wrapped in a groove, the kind of song that makes your head nod while your heart listens. At a time when so many artists play it safe, ZOOLOOK steps forward with something bold, rich, and necessary.

Verdict: 9/10 – A soulful, synth-soaked anthem that dances with the past while marching into the future.

O.G.Bling – Tropical Hoon

Released: April 18, 2025

There’s a moment when you press play on Tropical Hoon that makes you feel like you’ve just stepped into a warm, twilight-soaked street in Pattaya, Thailand—breezy but buzzing with rhythm. That’s exactly the kind of energy O.G.Bling captures on their debut single. It’s confident. It’s slick. And above all, it’s personal.

Behind the track lies a collaborative heartbeat. Produced by Alex Base (Alexander Basov), with lyrics co-written by Alexander Goryachev and O.G.Bling himself, Tropical Hoon is more than just a debut—it's a statement of intent. The track is laced with subtle but inventive production choices, some of which were sparked by an impromptu idea during the final stages of mixing. These touches—layered textures, sharp vocal cuts, and a bassline that walks with swagger—give the record its polished, genre-blending sheen. Mixing engineer Pavel Ivashinnikov deserves a nod here for preserving both the clarity and the grit of the track’s sonic palette.

Drawing on influences from Post Malone’s moody melodies, Eminem’s lyrical bite, 50 Cent’s attitude, and the groove-driven finesse of Marcus Miller, Tropical Hoon blends hip-hop, R&B, and funk into something that feels unmistakably O.G.Bling. The artist’s voice is the centerpiece—rich, rhythmic, and emotionally present—backed by delicate female harmonies from Jelly Ranchai that add unexpected softness to the track’s muscular vibe.

But what truly makes Tropical Hoon stand out is the sense of team spirit and momentum pulsing through it. It’s not just about one artist’s debut; it’s about the foundation of a creative collective. According to the artist, this song is only the beginning: “We’ve formed a cool, close-knit team, and it was decided—we’re not stopping here.”

O.G.Bling isn’t rushing into the spotlight with this release—they’re building something long-term. There are no tour dates in sight until 2026; instead, the focus is firmly on crafting a “heavyweight album” in the studio throughout the year. That patience and intention show. Tropical Hoon is measured in its boldness, and yet it delivers a knockout first impression.

In a world of fleeting singles and fast fame, O.G.Bling’s debut is refreshingly grounded. As the artist puts it: “F*** and doubt, I’m on track—my name’s in motion.” With Tropical Hoon, that motion has well and truly begun.

Jonsor – Atseginean Atsekabe

At just 22, Jonsor—a multi-talented musician from the Basque Country—has released Atseginean Atsekabe, a debut album that feels anything but amateur. After nearly two years of patient, solitary craftsmanship in his bedroom-turned-studio, the result is an 11-track progressive rock journey that blends technical depth with accessible melodic charm, somehow balancing nostalgia and defiance in equal measure.

From the first track, it’s clear this isn’t a project looking for instant gratification. Atseginean Atsekabe invites you to lean in, to take the winding path with it. Jonsor threads pop sensibilities through the spiraling complexity of progressive rock—not in a way that dilutes the genre, but rather sharpens its emotional clarity. Influences like Genesis, Porcupine Tree, and local icons Itoiz are easy to spot, but he never leans on imitation. Instead, Jonsor uses those foundations as a springboard to construct his own sonic architecture: melancholic yet hopeful, intricate but never indulgent.

What makes this record particularly compelling is how human it feels. Perhaps it’s the raw self-production, done entirely in his bedroom, or the lyrical weight that rests on personal dualities—pleasure in sadness, as the title translates. There’s a sense of someone reckoning with inner contradictions, both musically and emotionally. One moment, you’re floating in lush, layered harmonies; the next, caught in a jagged time signature shift that jolts you upright.

Behind the music is a resume that quietly but firmly proves Jonsor isn’t new to the stage. From playing local festivals like Aste Nagusia to winning statewide contests like SkySound 2024, he's no stranger to recognition—though Atseginean Atsekabe feels like a conscious turn away from competition and toward expression. This is someone who’s played in rock bands, busked on street corners, taught music for a living—and all of it feeds into a debut that feels lived-in and fully formed.

There’s an honesty here that sidesteps the algorithm-chasing tendencies of modern pop. Instead of flattening his influences into something trendy, Jonsor leans into complexity, layering his Basque identity, musical upbringing, and progressive instincts into a sound that’s deeply his own.

Atseginean Atsekabe isn’t just a debut album—it’s a statement of intent. And if this is where Jonsor begins, it’s thrilling to imagine where he might go next.

Tomasz – Elysium

Some records make noise. Elysium makes space.

With his latest album, Tomasz doesn’t just offer music—he invites listeners into a meditative state where time bends, memory pulses, and the quiet between notes matters as much as the notes themselves. Elysium feels less like a traditional electronic release and more like a sonic painting: fluid, immersive, and disarmingly human.

There’s a kind of stillness here, but it’s never static. Tracks swell gently, built on processed piano textures, delicate field recordings, and understated rhythms that reveal themselves gradually, like sunlight creeping into a room. Tomasz isn’t chasing trends—he’s crafting an atmosphere, a mood. And in doing so, he leans into an aesthetic that’s part ambient, part neoclassical, and entirely personal.

What makes Elysium particularly striking is its restraint. Tomasz avoids the temptation to overproduce. Every detail feels deliberate, every sound curated to serve a deeper sense of emotional clarity. The piano plays a central role, but it’s never flashy; instead, it emerges like a memory—sometimes blurred, sometimes sharp, always meaningful.

There’s a cinematic quality here too. Not in the sense of dramatic swells or orchestral grandeur, but in the album’s ability to conjure imagery. You don’t listen to Elysium so much as you experience it. One track might evoke the hush of a snowy morning, another the quiet ache of nostalgia. You don’t need to know where Tomasz recorded the rustle of leaves or how he processed the harmonics—they’re felt, not analyzed.

Elysium arrives at a time when overstimulation is the norm, and in that context, it’s radical in its softness. It asks the listener to slow down, to pay attention, to feel. It doesn’t demand; it offers. And that offering is quietly profound.

For those attuned to the likes of Nils Frahm, Ryuichi Sakamoto, or early work from Max Richter, Elysium will feel like a kindred spirit—an album that values texture over tempo, honesty over spectacle. It’s not background music. It’s music that seeps in if you let it.

In a word? Elysium is sanctuary.

Marcus: the Apex Predator! – Newborn Fossil

Detroit’s own Marcus: the Apex Predator! crash back onto the scene like a long-simmering storm with Newborn Fossil, a chaotic and calculated EP that manages to feel both freshly unearthed and millions of years in the making. For those who’ve been waiting since their 2018 debut, this is less of a return and more of a controlled detonation — a release that makes it clear they’ve been quietly sharpening their claws the entire time.

Calling them “post-hardcore” only captures part of the picture. Marcus and company whip genre tags into an emotional whirlwind — equal parts art-damaged punk sermon, metal-laced melody, and existential poetry spat through a fuzzed-out megaphone. Each track feels like a page torn from a diary kept on the edge of collapse. There’s a lived-in intensity here, like they’ve been carrying these songs in their guts for years.

Opener “Newborn Fossil” sets the tone: lurching riffs, snarling vocals, and a rhythm section that stomps more than it grooves. But beneath the grime is a surprising amount of detail — tightly wound arrangements that reward repeat listens. It’s not all brawn; brains and heart are in abundance. Marcus writes like someone who's seen things and needs you to see them too.

There’s a palpable sense of Detroit throughout — not the polished skyline version, but the scorched brick, basement show, gas station at 2AM kind. That said, Newborn Fossil doesn’t feel confined by geography. Its emotional reach stretches way beyond city limits. It’s a record about time: what we bury, what we dig up, and what refuses to stay dead.

It’s also a reminder that some bands don’t just want to entertain you — they want to move you. Knock you sideways. Hold a mirror up and dare you to look. With Newborn Fossil, Marcus: the Apex Predator! aren’t just back — they’re evolved. Leaner, meaner, and a whole lot louder.