Best New Artists

We've been publishing some form of Best New Artists feature on Pigeons & Planes since 2013, highlighting the rising artists who we're most excited about at that moment in time. That used to take the form of a monthly list with 10-15 names and couple of lines of text, but times have changed.

These days, you're served infinitely updated playlists of new songs by DSP algorithms or scroll your social media platform of choice for a sensory overload of 15-second snippets and echo-chamber recommendations from labels' latest paid influencer campaign.

So instead of throwing more and more in your face, we want to slow down, provide context, and dig deeper on a tightly focused group of artists. These might not be the latest viral stars but they're all artists we believe are doing something fresh and have a story that's worth sharing—whether they're just getting started or have been grinding for a while and are now hitting a new peak.

Look back at all of our Best New Artists features here and keep up with them all on the Best New Artists playlist.

PUNCHING BAG

PUNCHING BAG's mission statement is “to represent the misconceptions, microaggressions, and indefinite scrutiny (or punches) that Black youth have to stomach for simply existing.” The duo is made up of Jahsy and Askari—both from Pomona, California—and they fittingly boast a visual identity inspired by the world of boxing. “The two of us met in middle school in 2014, but we drifted apart after attending different high schools. Seven years later, we reconnected in 2021 through music and haven’t looked back since.”

Whether it’s through utilizing the same font as boxing heavyweight EVERLAST on their socials, the Rocky-esque training montage that helped to announce their debut EP GYM RAT, or taking boxing equipment on stage with them whenever they perform, you would be hard-pressed to find a group committed to this level of detail and world-building so early on in their career.

While it’s still early days for the group, momentum keeps building, whether that’s getting an early co-sign from PARIS TEXAS in the P&P comment section or building with fellow up-and-comers like Igwe Aka and Mercury for recent shows. The group also opened for Flatbush Zombies at The Novo in Los Angeles a few weeks back, an especially impressive accomplishment considering it was only their eighth show ever performing together.

Looking forward, PUNCHING BAG, who is signed to the heavyweight independent label EMPIRE, tells us: “In the future we would love to open up for Tyler, The Creator, ScHoolboy Q, Show Me The Body, Enjoy, Jean Dawson, and Death Grips. We are really inspired by JPEGMAFIA, Fade ‘Em All, Paris Texas, and N.E.R.D. too.”

It’s difficult to encapsulate their message into just one single, but a song like “2-STAR PROSPECT" is a good place to start. “Being a Black man in this country is different from being any other man due to the history of this country,” the duo explains. “PUNCHING BAG is a symbol that serves to show you that no matter how hard they get hit, they will always find a way to stay standing.”

If you don’t already believe in the group's resilience, just reference their Instagram bio which actively updates their record in the ring (how many shows they’ve done). They're currently sitting at 9-0-0.

“We plan to continue adding more layers to the world we’ve built through our upcoming visuals for GYM RAT, and hopefully we will keep getting booked for more shows so we can connect with the people who appreciate our art most. This is all new to us, so we are grateful for every moment and are not taking anything for granted. To be able to make music—not only for ourselves, but for the people who understand what we are creating—is a privilege.”

Keep your eyes on the ring for much more from PUNCHING BAG in 2024 and beyond.—Riley Furey

Fcukers

Fcukers just want to have fun.

That three-letter word comes up 20 times in my 21-minute conversation with Shanny Wise and Jackson Walker Lewis, the duo behind the carefree music and raucous parties that have shaped Fcukers’ mystique. Fcukers (pronounced like the expletive, not like f-cuck-ers) released their first-ever single in March last year and their debut EP Baggy$ this September, but they’re far from newcomers to the music industry.

Lewis (bass, keys, production), Wise (vocals), and former Fcukers bandmate Ben Scharf (drums) had all been in bands for years, with Wise finding success making laid-back, softly spoken indie pop as lead singer of The Shacks from the mid-2010s onwards. With that perspective, they are somewhat nonplussed—although undeniably grateful—for the current buzz around Fcukers, which includes high-profile fans like Beck, Julian Casablancas, and Yves Tumor, festival bookings, and a placement in a recent Apple ad.

Formed out of the ashes of their previous bands, Fcukers (along with frequent co-producer Ivan Berko) started making music with zero expectations, “screwing around” in Lewis’ apartment for months, focusing on the process of creating together more than the end results.

“We both kind of felt like maybe our music career days were behind us in a way,” Lewis admits. “[Fcukers] was a place to keep making music just purely for us. It never felt like this could be something. I remember even when we were about to put something out, in my mind I was like, ‘Well, I'm not the best producer, so this is kind of lackluster, but this is maybe the best I can do right now.’”

The reaction, initially from their friends and community in New York and subsequently from listeners around the world, surprised them, with the feeling that something exciting was happening solidified by a sold out release party for their debut tracks "Mothers" and "Devils Cut" at Baby’s All Right. Since then, Fcukers haven’t deviated too far from the formula that’s been working, pairing polished, tasteful dance beats (generally rooted in house) with vocals from Wise that feel as if they’re delivered with a smirk and a shrug, possibly while exhaling smoke in your face.

Lewis grew up on guitar music (shoegaze, Joy Division, Devo, punk) but educated himself on club music through DJing and fell in love with house through buying records for his sets. “I remember going to record stores and when I look at the house section, I recognize nothing,” he recalls. “I just remember the first time I went to this store called Brooklyn Record Exchange being so intimidated by literally a full store-length rack for somebody that considered themselves a music snob.”

He may have considered himself a music snob, but the music that he references is far from the latest underground trends or edgy deep cuts that one might expect. Instead it’s big, crowd-pleasing, stadium-filling dance music from the mid-’90s like Chemical Brothers, Fat Boy Slim, Propellerheads, and Groove Armada.

Shanny chimes in with an even more surprising favorite band—Sublime. “When I was in high school or middle school I found them. I played Sublime covers at my talent show,” she says, laughing. “I think what I really liked about them was the not-give-a-fuck nature of it and the cracked out, bummy spirit of it. Something about their attitude, the way that the music sounds and the fusion of punk and reggae and rock all together, but it all sounds like them. It's very distinctive.”

With an opening slot on tour with Confidence Man through Europe, and four shows opening for LCD Soundsystem still to come in 2024, plus an album in the works, the fun isn’t stopping for Fcukers. Asked whether the new attention and expectation will change anything about the carefree approach to making music, Shanny is clear: “This is what I want to be doing. The process of making music is something I would be doing regardless, if no one ever heard it or if people hear it. So, I don't feel any way about it.”

The Baggy$ EP is out now.—Alex Gardner

Florence Sinclair

We’re rewinding to last November. Tucked in an industrial cul-de-sac in South London, Florence Sinclair quietly steps onto the floor. Outside, a varied crowd mills about—from a handful of industry folk, who caught wind of the underground buzz, to kids darting between units as another gig rumbles just a meter away, and those who’ve followed Sinclair since their early Bandcamp releases in 2021. Hand-rolled cigarettes smoulder and flatten under platform boots as the music begins to drift out.

We’re at Venue MOT, a cornerstone of London’s DIY scene. Sinclair, cast in shadows, a fitting backdrop for the avant-garde maverick, begins. They're unassuming but hypnotizing, casting spells, emotionally charged.

Since that night, Sinclair’s been busy: a string of shows across the US, several UK performances, a slew of new singles—including an otherworldly remix of Sega Bodega’s “Set Me Free, I’m an Animal”—and the building of a tight-knit team.

Online, Sinclair gives little away. Their Instagram has just six posts, dedicated solely to their work (and birds—a balanced display). With an elusive online presence, each post feels like a glimpse into their world, scattered pieces of a larger puzzle. Each piece is another song: an insight into the rich inner world, contemplations, frustrations, provocations, and poetry of Sinclair.

There are no binaries or boundaries here. Sinclair dives deep into their identity and experiences, challenging the status quo and encouraging listeners to confront their own assumptions. Cultural references root their work firmly in the UK, with samples spanning from The Smiths to Giggs, even nodding to Skins. In 2021, they released Gentle Decay, an ambient debut, followed soon after by It’s a Big Man Ting, a raw compilation that tells the story of a young Black British boy’s journey from life on the roadside to inner growth and self-acceptance. A “homage,” as described on Sinclair’s Bandcamp, “ingrained with UK influences.”

Two years later, Sinclair released Departures, Wonders & Tears, a sprawling 21-track album. The hazy soundscape weaves influences from trip hop, grime, experimental electronic, and post-rock, all underpinned by a restless energy. In “White Horse,” set against an eerie string arrangement, they intone, “There’s no place like home on the trainline,” while in “Half Life,” stripped down and raw, Sinclair admits, “At night I can’t fucking sleep / Been around the world from A-Z,” and questions, “Is this life really meant for me? The sweetest symphony.”

There’s little online about Sinclair. In a rare interview with Document Journal, they talk about their upbringing and the feelings of displacement that run through their music. Growing up constantly on the move—from various corners of the UK to a brief stint in Canada—Sinclair found solace in creating music. At 12, they began crafting their own material, later recording albums in the garage they lived in. Making sense of their experiences, the world around them, and reconnecting with their own feelings are themes running through the music; it’s like stepping into Sinclair’s world.

Halfway through “Snowfall,” Sinclair undercuts into the night; “I came a long way from stealing bikes on the corner / I came a long way still need to get my life in order / I came a long way from not speaking my mind / Now I manifest things that I speak in perfect time.” Speaking their mind, and unapologetically so, it’s this raw honesty and curiousness that makes them one of the most compelling artists rising from the UK underground scene.—Rani Boyer

Alemeda

Alemeda is a rock star on the rise. Newly signed to Top Dawg Entertainment, she is reviving the nostalgic sound of the early 2000s and blending it with alternative pop and rock, making her the first rock artist to join the TDE roster. Her recent EP, FK IT, showcases her unapologetic approach to self-expression, blending personal experiences with a confident energy that resonates with listeners, particularly younger women (including myself) navigating similar challenges with self-love and relationships.

Raised in a Sudanese and Ethiopian family, Alemeda explains, "I grew up Muslim, and my mom was very strict, so we didn’t really listen to music. Any music I learned came later in life." But this postponed discovery of music didn’t stop her from finding an artistic identity. Instead, it became a springboard for her to develop a sound influenced by the TV shows, movies, and radio songs she enjoyed from her childhood.

“Growing up I really, really loved rock. I was a Disney Channel kid. Hannah Montana, Camp Rock, I was religiously watching that every Saturday a hundred times after I had already watched it the weekend before. A lot of it is just trying to recreate my love for the rock music I grew up listening to. I loved The 1975, I loved Arctic Monkeys, I loved Hannah Montana. My whole goal is to bring back that nostalgic rock sound that we were addicted to as kids”.

What makes Alemeda stand out is her fearless storytelling, often drawn straight from her diary. Songs like "Guy’s Girl" and "Don’t Call Me" exemplify her ability to take real-life moments of self-doubt and emotional turmoil and turn them into something empowering and relatable. Even her views on relationships, expressed in tracks like "I Already Dug Your Grave," strike a chord. One of her favorite lines emphasizes the importance of knowing when to move on: “The only way you'll change, only way you'll grow, is if you're six feet deep down a goddamn hole.”

In a world where so many are still learning the importance of setting boundaries, Alemeda's “cold cut” approach to moving on is refreshingly direct. "These are things that I've gone through and situations I've had with friends, relationships,” she says. “I just found that writing them in my diary and then taking my diary to the studio was the easiest way to just be real."

This authenticity extends beyond her lyrics and into her overall persona. In a landscape where artists are often still categorized based on their appearance or genre, Alemeda is breaking the mold. As a Black woman who proudly embraces alternative sensibilities, she’s challenging stereotypes and creating space for more diverse representations in rock and alternative music. As we discuss her music videos, she shares, "I want a lot of Black women to be seen in different aesthetics than what they’re used to being seen in.”

Looking ahead, we’re excited to witness Alemeda’s journey, especially given the backing of a label with a track record as strong as TDE's. Alemeda is not just an artist to watch—she’s an artist who’s redefining what it means to be a modern-day rockstar.—Marissa Duldulao

urika's bedroom

Some records have the ability to completely color our worlds, while others capture our lives exactly as they are: a moment in time. Without exactly putting our experiences into perspective, they reflect various liminal states of mind and being. While there isn’t necessarily a lack of this kind of transient music, there seems to be a greater appreciation for the space it holds in our lives. In this landscape, recently rejuvenated by artists like Mk.gee, ML Buch, Chanel Beads, and most recently, urika’s bedroom, listeners are encouraged to perceive music as a medium that enhances the transitional phases that make up the majority of our lives, as opposed to seeing it as a means to escape.

Putting this abstract concept into practical terms, in relation to their upcoming album, Big Smile, Black Mire (out November 1 via True Panther), urika’s bedroom explains over a Zoom call, “[It’s] just like a selfie of a burning building. It’s everything at once. And I think that’s like what people kind of feel nowadays. Like it’s not all happy, it’s not all sad, it’s not melancholy, but it’s my attempt at everything being present at once.”

The notion of staying present feels almost imperative to exploring urika’s discography. Primarily categorized by a textured sound, trademarked by guitar processing and gauzy vocals, peeling back the layers of a single like “Circle Games” or “Video Music” is simply part of the package. Built upon over the length of a given song, these layers create a sense of movement that is hard not to give into. And although they do adhere to a sense of uniformity, no arrangement dulls the next. “I try to make things cohesive. That is something I think about a lot, but at the same time I like surprises,” urika’s bedroom pensively admits.

The entirety of the upcoming project, which includes “XTC,” the first urika’s bedroom single that we heard, was produced and engineered by the Los Angeles-based musician. Coming from somebody whose first steps into music snowballed in an instinctual manner, this was less of a challenge and more of a natural disposition and a point of comfort for the self-proclaimed “control freak.” As for the actual palette and sonic shape their upcoming record has taken on, much of it is attributed to a restriction that eventually developed into a creative tool.

When asked about the quilted and cohesively fragmented nature of Big Smile, Black Mire, they reveal, “I think I was just trying to make a guitar album, but also something that is not a guitar album. So I was avoiding synthesizers and stuff but I am always thinking about texture.” In the end, holding true to the restriction, with the help of guitars and various pedals, was a balancing act that paid off and became a defining feature.

With the record about to be released on November 1, one would think that there isn’t much to change or expand upon in these songs. This is not exactly the truth. Currently on tour with Chanel Beads (after touring with Nourished by Time earlier this year), urika’s bedroom and their band are constantly finding new ways to transcribe the essence of their record, and older songs, into a singular live experience. “I think we do a lot in terms of maintaining the texture and the mood. But it is super important to our live process to kind of remix or rearrange a lot of the songs and structure so that people can really feel [the] dynamic movement of the songs.”

Always looking to capture a moment in time, whether its through ever-changing setlists or extended live versions of older singles, urika’s bedroom’s encourages us all to be present while exploring.—Olive Soki-Kavwahirehi

Bassvictim

Bach walked so Bassvictim could madly sprint with their asses poking out, G-strings and underwear joyously exposed. The London duo dropped one of the year’s sweetest songs and is quickly rising up the ranks. Amid a sea of Spirit Halloween indie sleaze cosplay, their debut tape Basspunk feels like the genuine thing, a jolt of infectious fun and shuddering electricity.

Launched by American-English producer Ike Clateman and Polish-English vocalist Maria Manow, Bassvictim remains shrouded in mystery. It seems like they’ve only ever done a single interview, in which Clateman chatted with his identical twin brother over WhatsApp. The silly strangeness crosses over to their online presence, which includes a slew of random photo posts—staircases, houses, mirror selfies—overlaid with captions that make them look like they’re from early Instagram. It’s affirmations for people who really love dirty bass.

Clateman and Manow studied at Goldsmiths in London, and “immediately disliked each other” after they met in 2022, per the interview. One night at Peckham Audio, Clateman landed on the group name after scribbling some Notes App poetry about how intense the sub-bass was: "im making out with the bass.. torture bass... bass torture... bass victim.” Manow was also there that night. He asked her if she wanted to form a band, and the rest is history. The following day, they recorded “Air on a G String,” a hilarious taunt of a song that sounds both X-rated and childish, with Manow trilling impishly over an addictive electroclash beat. It slyly coaxes you into cracking a grin, to loosen your clothing a little so you feel the wind as you dance.

Both members have solo or side projects—Clateman with RIP wowaka, Manow with FC MOLINA—but Bassvictim seems like their main focus. They’re slowly becoming the face of the local London underground, throwing shows with Two Shell and emerging oddballs like DJmegan23 and fakemink. They’re helping lead an amorphous scene that includes fellow bass-lovers like Suzy Sheer, EQ, and Snow Strippers.

2024’s Basspunk proved their first anthem wasn’t a fluke. Over 10 tracks (including two remixes), they weave in breakbeats, garish brostep wubs, distorted EDM hooks, even glittery cloud rap. The title is sort of a misnomer—there’s no spiky guitar; the mixes are sleek and synthetic—but serrated screams and torn-up glitches assault your ears. It’s like a sexier, less fried version of Machine Girl’s digital punk fused with the hands-up thrill of “I Gotta Feeling” and a sweet pop sheen. It’s music you could play at a birthday party but also a secret-location rave in a squalid sewer. As scary as their name sounds, they make being a victim of mad low end sound intoxicating. I’d happily let the pixelated Mario mallet of bass pound my brain to pulp.—Kieran Press-Reynolds