New Music Radar: Kiz, Hommeboy, Squeak and more –

No more and no less than the best bands on our radar at the moment.

Looking for your next obsession? We’ve got the biggest earworms around town right here.

These are the very best bands on our radar, and you have to check them out!

Eden Stone – Dreamchaser

One kid, one room, no rules. From Yass, the teenage multi-instrumentalist builds everything himself, every note, every production choice, every left turn. ‘Dreamchaser’ moves like someone still figuring out what they’re capable of, which is exactly what makes it compelling.

Muse-sized ambition collides with Tame Impala’s wooze, but Eden bends genres until they snap. It sounds less like a finished statement and more like a creative pulse speeding up. Raw, restless, and answerable to nobody.

Emmie Li – cosmic treasure

From school stages to something much bigger, this Australian Taiwanese pianist carries a pop lineage that runs deep. One Direction’s stadium rush, Delta Goodrem’s piano poise, Shawn Mendes’ confessional pull, all filtered through a young songwriter finding her own footing. ‘cosmic treasure’ sits at that intersection where heartfelt lyrics meet melodies built to lift.

It is music that knows where it wants to go, big stages, international rooms, connection with anyone listening. Grounded, ambitious, and written with a quiet belief in the power of a good chorus.

Armach – Scatter

Brisbane based, German born, and a decade deep in the shadows of other people’s records. Armach has spent years as the engineer behind the scenes, shaping sounds for bands, rappers, and producers. ‘Scatter’ is the moment he steps forward. It moves with a producer’s precision, minimal on the surface but restless underneath.

Genre fluid, electronically minded, and built with a clarity that only someone who has spent years inside a mix could achieve. This is not a side project. This is a statement from someone finally ready to be heard.

Body Tax – Infused and Confused

Melbourne’s Jackson Greatz sheds the electronic alias and picks up a guitar. ‘Infused and Confused’ runs on that particular dread of saying you are fine while something inside is caving in.

The bass rattles, the chorus hits with a pub rock grit borrowed from the 80s, and the scream cuts through. It is the soundtrack for parties that ended badly, relationships that dissolved in daylight, and the bleak humour of picking through the wreckage. Slowed down, tense, and uncomfortably recognisable.

Kiz – Truth

Palapa hip hop from Lutruwita, where identity and resilience hit with equal weight. Kiz carries his culture in every bar, but ‘Truth’ is not about easy answers. It is about accountability, the courage to sit with hard moments, and the willingness to evolve without forgetting where you came from. Beyond the music he builds platforms, creates pathways, strengthens community.

Hip hop for him is not posturing. It is honesty made audible, anchored in culture, and delivered with the kind of clarity that only comes from living what you rap.

22mackie – Imprint

Twenty three years old, self produced, and building a world that sits somewhere between euphoric and uneasy. Imprint is the full picture, anxiety wrapped in colourful production, vulnerability buried under synths that feel both nostalgic and forward looking.

Electronic bones, hyperpop instincts, indie heart. He draws from Porter Robinson’s emotional weight and New Order’s pulse, but filters it all through a Naarm bedroom and a restless need to be honest. This is not a polished introduction. It is a raw one, and that is exactly the point.

Hymn Ripper – Bellum Sacrum

No soft entries, no safe landings. Hymn Ripper arrives with a title that translates to sacred war, and the music does not soften that promise.

‘Bellum Sacrum’ carries themes that refuse to apologise or look away, built for listeners who do not flinch at the uncomfortable. This is not background music. It is confrontational, unyielding, and deliberately abrasive. The warning is not a gimmick. It is a doorway, and only those prepared should step through. What waits on the other side is loud, unsettling, and utterly without compromise.

Eternal Empathy – Rebel Phase

Part code, part pulse, something in between. Eternal Empathy exists as a hybrid entity, digital architecture learning human emotion through rhythm and tone. Rebel Phase does not pretend to be organic, but it reaches for something deeply felt anyway.

An album that bend genres into unfamiliar shapes, all delivered with an inviting warmth that feels almost contradictory given the artificial origins. It is music made by something learning what feeling means, and the result is strangely, unexpectedly affecting.

Storyboard Concept – The Loss of You

No filter, no distance, no buffer between feeling and sound. Storyboard Concept works as a direct line from internal state to external noise, acoustic one moment, distortion the next, depending entirely on what needs exorcising or embracing.

‘The Loss of You’ arrives as whatever it needed to be in the moment of creation, raw and unprocessed. There is no calculation here, only translation. What you hear is exactly what was felt, with nothing smoothed over or dressed up for comfort.

Clinny P, JJ4K – Refine Me

Sunshine Coast, late night hours, a voice that never raises above a calm murmur. Clinny P trades rap’s sharp edges for R&B’s warmer pull on ‘Refine Me,’ smoothing out without softening up. JJ4K meets him there, two voices circling distance, love, and the slow work of self correction.

The production breathes, atmospheric but never crowded. This is not music that demands your attention. It waits for it. Quietly confident. Built for headphones, solitude, and the kind of listening that happens after everything else has gone quiet.

JVYDEN – I Bet

A Rotorua raised barber with a blade and a microphone, now cutting shapes in Brisbane. JVYDEN carries D’Angelo’s silk, PARTYNEXTDOOR’s midnight haze, and PHABO’s velvet ache through every note of ‘I Bet.’ He found production through a school friend and never let go.

The R&B arrives unhurried, measured, built for dimmed lights and second listens. When he is not crafting slow burners, he is shaping hair, teaching craft, or framing shots behind a lens. The man knows precision across mediums. The music proves it.

Dan Higgins – Night Light

Four track porta studio beginnings, now an ancient MacBook and a wife who counts guitars with quiet resignation. Dan Higgins writes from the other side of becoming, husband, father, a man recalibrating.

‘Night Light’ carries the weight of those transitions, Britpop’s melodic pull tangled with 2000s indie and the pop punk muscle he learned young. There is something honest about music made in spare hours, between nappies and quiet nights, recorded with whatever is on hand. Adelaide hears it now. The rest of the world might catch up.

T.Y – Inside Out

Two voices, one Melbourne room, a shared instinct for the kind of pop that lands in the chest before the head catches up. T.Y work in close quarters, harmonies stacked like whispered confessions, melodies that loop back long after the track ends.

‘Inside Out’ arrives unguarded, built for the kind of listeners who scroll for connection and find it in a hook. No elaborate staging, no manufactured distance. Just two songwriters who understand that the best pop feels less like performance and more like someone finally saying what you have been trying to name.

Surface Detail – Tabs

A love story written across fifteen thousand kilometres of fibre optic cable. ‘Tabs’ arrives from that strange 2020 window when the world stopped but collaboration found new routes. Surface Detail is three minds working in parallel, Australia and the UK trading files through lockdown nights.

New wave bones, electronic pulse, a galactic framing that somehow makes the personal feel even heavier. Diamond Rain covered that distance. Tabs continues the transmission, proof that some connections do not care about geography or isolation. Just signal. Just song. Just reach.

Roarcuss – Fuck AI

Six women, Melbourne assembled, no patience for shrinking shelves or shrinking respect. Roarcuss runs punk muscle through ska’s brass backbone, rhythm sections locked tight, hornbag sections cutting through with bite. ‘Fuck AI’ lands exactly as promised, irreverent, loud, and aimed at whatever needs deflating.

They write about the kind of weather that ruins laundry day, the weight of misogyny, the absurdities of daily survival, and they make it all sound like a celebration of survival itself. Fun is not a distraction here. It is the whole point, weaponised and delivered without apology.

KTV – Melt

Nineties grit, 2025 voltage. KTV were there the first time, Riot Grrrl roots, Sleater Kinney support slots, the kind of pedigree that leaves a mark. They burned out, scattered, reformed when the timing finally felt right.

‘Melt’ arrives as a re-entry burn, all punk pop muscle and lived in fury, Kat O’s voice carrying decades of perspective. The rhythm section locks tight, bass from a Bad Manners veteran, drums that hit like a second pulse. This is not nostalgia dressed as revival. This is a band picking up exactly where they left off.

Krustie Nguy, JC SHARP – Boy Bye

Footscray Bahn Mi, y2k pop divas as surrogate parents, and a debut single that lands like a shot of something sweet and sharp. Krustie Nguy pulls JC Sharp into ‘Boy Bye,’ a track built for sticky club floors and bestie scream alongs.

The bass bounces, the harmonies pile on, the whole thing moves with the kind of reckless fun that only comes from someone who grew up worshipping the right era of pop. Chinese Vietnamese heritage, Melbourne bred, and already sounding like she has been doing this forever. Consider this an introduction.

Hommeboy – NEXT UP!

Shares a birthday with Rihanna and Cobain, which feels less like coincidence and more like a sign. Hommeboy moves through hip hop like it owes him something better than tired trap tropes, pulling funk, pop, and punk into a shapeshifting whole that refuses to sit still.

‘NEXT UP!’ lands with charisma that does not need to shout. It is sensual, mystical, grounded in duality and the quiet confidence of someone who knows that masculinity does not have to be a cage. Atlanta bred, but this sound belongs to anyone searching for a new mirror.

BlackDig – Walking On Fire

Central Jakarta, 2023, five bodies locked into something that refuses to stay quiet. BlackDig plays like the room is already on fire. ‘Walking On Fire’ lives up to the name, sharp riffs cutting through, vocals that sound pulled from somewhere raw and unpolished.

They do not pretend to be precise. The attitude does the heavy lifting, late night shadows and unheard screams forming the backbone. This is music for anyone who finds light in the dark places, who knows that escape and resistance are sometimes the same impulse. Honest. Intense. Scarred. And utterly unbothered by polish.

Remy Boccalette – Don’t You Dare Go Getting All Sentimental On Me

Brisbane’s Dänmark is less a band and more a convergence. Members carry pedigrees from The Paper and The Plane, We Set Sail, Hungry Kids of Hungary, a tangled web of two decades in Australian underground scenes.

‘Don’t You Dare Go Getting All Sentimental On Me’ arrives from that collaborative gravity, born from loss in 2018 and built into something far bigger than catharsis. Midwestern emo’s emotional pull meets trumpet flares and string sweeps. Jimmy Eat World’s ache, Appleseed Cast’s reach, all filtered through a quintet that finally found its shape.

Sierra Fotouhi – Be Me

LA based, guitar driven, and unafraid of the space between shaky and sure. Sierra Fotouhi writes indie pop rock that lands like a conversation you did not know you needed. ‘Be Me’ leans into that tension, catchy on the surface, carrying weight underneath.

Since 2022 she has been mapping relationships, identity, the quiet turns that rearrange a person. The hooks hook, the lyrics linger, and somewhere between nostalgia and now, a voice emerges that sounds less like performance and more like recognition.

Squeak – Something New

Hong Kong raised, Sydney based, and building from a bedroom that travels with him. Squeak makes music that feels like movement, restless and searching, exactly what ‘Something New’ promises. Producer first, artist second, though the line blurs with every track.

There is a spaciousness to his sound, electronics that breathe rather than crowd, a willingness to let silence do its part. The city changes but the approach stays the same, curious, unhurried, and open to wherever the next idea lands. Something new indeed.

Steve Bond – Tarkine

Tarkine country, Tasmanian wilds, a man who works in stone and sound with equal gravity. Steve Bond sculpts across mediums, abstract forms in galleries and farms, guitar lines that carry Spanish romance through local markets.

‘Tarkine’ echoes that duality, flamenco inspired improvisation meeting a landscape that demands patience. He sings in Spanish, lets the sax surface when the moment calls, and moves between disciplines like they are simply different languages for the same instinct. A solo voice, but the weight behind it suggests something larger, older, deeply rooted in place.

new new – 5truck

Two words, no filter, all pulse. new new arrives with ‘5truck,’ a track that wears its simplicity like armour. Real pop, they call it, and the description fits. No overthinking, no genre bending for its own sake. Just rhythm that locks, melody that sticks, and a production that knows exactly when to pull back.

There is a confidence in that restraint, a refusal to clutter what works. The kind of pop that does not explain itself. It just lands, repeats, and stays. Less is more, but only when you know exactly what to leave out.

Matthew S – ahahahah

Italian electronics, two decades deep, still searching for new frequencies. Matthew S builds from analog warmth and cinematic instinct, ‘ahahahah’ arriving as another chapter in a catalog that refuses to repeat itself. MTV Digital Days recognised him early.

The work since has only widened the orbit. Ambient textures, minimalist melodies, meticulous sound design that never feels cold. This is electronic music with a pulse, technology meeting emotion in rooms where both are given space to breathe. Millions of streams later, the restlessness remains. That is the point.

Alice Geary – Singing About My Problems

London based, bassist for deary by night, solo songwriter by daylight. Alice Geary turns internal monologue into indie pop that does not flinch at the mess. ‘Singing About My Problems’ arrives bright and shimmering, guitar lines warm, vocals carrying that particular exhaustion of being in your twenties and feeling everything at once.

Megan Bush’s production keeps it buoyant, never letting the weight sink the melody. This is confession music, but the kind you scream along to. The kind that reminds you that being lost is not the same as being alone.

Hunter Stacey – A Scraped Knee

Wagga Wagga, one room, every instrument handled by the same hands. Hunter Stacey does not outsource the noise. ‘A Scraped Knee’ arrives fully self made, songwriting through to final master, no filter between impulse and playback. Alternative rock that holds vulnerability and swagger in the same breath, gritty textures rubbing against personal lyricism that does not hide behind metaphor.

There is a rawness here that feels deliberate, a refusal to smooth the edges. He builds soundscapes that breathe, that let silence and distortion share space. Real and authentic are not just descriptors. They are the whole operation.

Kiro’s Stigma – VAMP!

Journal entries set to rhythm, wondering made audible. Kiro’s Stigma moves through hip hop with a melancholic pulse, each verse a portrait of heartbreak painted in careful strokes. ‘VAMP!’ arrives from that same space, soulful lamentation meeting urban sprawl, the wonderkid turning sadness into something almost beautiful.

There is poetry in the ache, a refusal to let sorrow be purely heavy. Instead it becomes shared, a corridor walked together. The beats hit. The words linger. And somewhere between longing and resilience, a voice emerges that knows exactly how to hold both.

The Replicants – I Remember

Basement bred, unlikely to afford the stairs. The Replicants make the kind of indie alt rock that feels like it has always existed, slipping between decades without ever sounding dated. ‘I Remember’ lands with that rare timelessness, a track that could have surfaced in the 90s, the 00s, or right now, and still hit the same.

There is a tension in their sound, the kind that comes from making music purely for the love of it, no industry calculus, no chasing trends. Too good for the shadows, but the shadows suit them. For now.

Jutt Huffman – Smooth Sailing

Ohio grit, Nashville polish, Florida heat, all channelled through a guitar that has seen more honky tonk floors than most. Jutt Huffman built his name the old way, a decade of nightly performances, sharing stages with country heavyweights while staying firmly underground.

‘Smooth Sailing’ arrives after years of refining, stepping back from recording to sharpen the craft. The live energy is electric, soulful vocals cutting through, musicianship that never overshadows the song. Twenty five thousand followers worldwide, and still playing like every room matters. Country music built on sweat, not algorithms.

Mike Kuster – So I Won’t

Traditional country, lived in and loved, not the sterilised version radio sometimes serves. Mike Kuster carries that weight through every track, a sound built on steel guitar, fiddle, and the kind of songwriting that earns awards without chasing them.

‘So I Won’t’ arrives from that real life space, Entertainer of the Year, Songwriter of the Year, accolades that reflect not just talent but staying power. Dr Ford’s productions bring in players who understand the lineage, pedal steel and dobro weaving through the mix. This is country music that feels like memory, worn in and warming with every spin.

Low Stakes Band – Upon The Wall

Done with polite art, allergic to pretense. Low Stakes Band runs on that specific tension, taking the work seriously while refusing to take themselves too seriously. Eric Colville and Ann Holbrook write like they talk, unfiltered, defiant, and sharp enough to leave a mark.

‘Upon The Wall’ arrives from that space, music that feels like a conversation with the saltiest, most honest friend you have. Furious at the news, laughing at the wrong moments, wondering how you got here and still glad you did. This is the soundtrack for that.

Mitchell Broodley – Don’t Go Sayin

South Carolina raised, Vermont settled, a country artist who walked away from Nashville early to gather better stories. Mitchell Broodley writes when the house finally quiets, trading polish for perspective, and finding something real in the silence.

‘Don’t Go Sayin’ arrives from that space, heartbreak and distance mapped across melody, each track specific enough to feel lived in, universal enough to land. He builds songs that sound like memory, the kind that linger long after the last note fades. Country music for the quiet hours, when reflection hits harder than any chorus ever could.

Zack Morris – Let Her Go

Electro pop with a songwriter’s spine, Zack Morris builds from cinematic textures and honest confession. ‘Let Her Go’ arrives atmospheric and deceptively simple, a voice so relaxed it almost disguises the weight beneath.

The production moves like the realisation itself, unstable at first, then smoothing into something resembling peace. Noah Kahan’s intimacy, Alec Benjamin’s storytelling, all filtered through a sound that feels both fresh and lived in. The harmonies swell, the beats drift, and somewhere in that ebb and flow, a singer finds his footing. Growing momentum, growing clarity, growing into something undeniable.

Zachary Mason – Sweetheart

Guildford based, two hundred demos deep since 2021, a recording kit gifted into the right hands. Zachary Mason moves between genres with the ease of someone who learned by doing, acoustic, electric, keys, whatever fits the moment.

‘Sweetheart’ is another entry in a catalogue that has already caught attention from Rolling Stone En Español, SPIN Magazine, and sync placements that suggest a wider reach. Neil Young’s ragged honesty, Bowie’s shape shifting, Dylan’s storytelling, all absorbed and refiltered. A quiet builder of songs, steadily accumulating, letting the work speak.