Georgie Brooke

London experimental hip hop crew Nukuluk have carved a special place in the heart of Georgie Brooke I am always reaching for ways to hear things like Nukuluk’s Disaster Pop in my ears. Yesterday I made myself late to work because for some reason I had to panic-buy earphones from Spar to listen to it on the way. It’s addictive to me, chaotic. A series of peeling layers of sound, stripping down to wisps then bursting out with boisterous hip-hop energy.

Claire Cottrill moves to Massachussets, gets herself a dog, and snuggles up on new album, Sling. Georgie Brooke feels the warmth Clairo writes music that finds you in places – geographical and mental – and takes you out of them for a few minutes. They are songs that follow you around, that play on the radio as you’re driving on the motorway, or in a warm flat amongst a gathering of friends, something that sweetly permeates your stream of normalcy. I first found Clairo on a train to Manchester.

Owed Summer It is smack dab in the pit of May. I dream of sky caught between shades of pink heat and Fosters cans, alongside a thin plastic crate of cherries, you, eating their flesh to the stone, then making a gun of your mouth, my mouth silly under the crown of mindless yellow heat, sticky with peach scented lip gloss. And it felt like whole summers went like that, perching on the fire escapes of strange pubs between sets wearing bare legs looking down on streets all cigarettes and lip.