Every artist unlucky enough to release an album in 2020 has faced an unenviable choice about whether or not to address a certain elephant in the room, whether or not they consider themselves to be a “political” outfit. They can either try to ignore the horrors of the current administration and chance coming off as out-of-touch or ignorant, or choose to tackle the Trump era head-on, and risk feeling dated after the next geopolitical shift (remember all those Rock Against Bush compilations? Me neither, and I was their target audience). For heartland folk-punk singer-songwriter Austin Lucas, though, it was never even a question. He even went a step further by choosing to document a specific section of a specific year—namely, the late spring and early summer months of 2020, when the initial burst of the coronavirus pandemic and the Black Lives Matter uprising spurred by the killing of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor captivated the nation.

It was a move that felt entirely in character for Lucas, whose sound occupies a sweet spot at the intersection of folk, punk, country, and Americana. The Bloomington, Indiana-born artist has long sported a “This machine kills zombies” sticker on his guitar in a clear reference to Woody Guthrie’s warning to fascists, and is open about his own anti-fascist politics, as well as his background in the DIY punk scene. The punk delegation has historically tended to excel at this particular task ever since the Reagan era ushered in a generation of vital hardcore (Anti-Flag’s rollicking, venomous 20/20 Vision is an excellent contemporary example), and Lucas released an anti-fascist anthem of his own with “Already Dead,” the first single off his new album, Alive in the Hot Zone.

It has a poppy, anthemic feel that belies its sobering lyrical content. In just over three minutes, Lucas storyboards out the frustrating trajectory of slowly losing a loved one to the lure of fascist rhetoric, opening with the weary entreaty “Let’s talk, though we have nothing to say.” There are shades of Bruce Springsteen’s hangdog working-class malaise (as well as his stadium-filling sensibilities) tucked amidst the peppy chords, and Lucas nails the exasperated futility of a familiar conversation that was never going to go anywhere anyway.

“Already Dead” is one of ten songs that offer direct commentary from the troubadour’s perch in Mainz, Germany (where he unexpectedly found himself weathering the pandemic after a trip abroad turned into an extended lockdown). While most of the album keeps to an even keel, the dystopian “American Pyre” comes barreling in with a woozy surf-rock vibe, and the twangy, nostalgic “Shaking” was made for playing in a busted-up van on a trip through big sky country. In other tracks, he slows it down, as on “The Truth Is Supposed to Hurt,” a poignant slice of Rust Belt gothic Americana, or the sweet, lonesome dirge of “Anyone.” Lucas’ voice reaches unexpected heights on the delicate album closer “Holy Sparrow,” showcasing the upper reaches of an elastic vocal range that serves him well throughout but shines extra bright when he pushes it outside of his grittier comfort zone. (There must be something special about sparrows, because country icon Dolly Parton has been known to exhibit the same tendency).

Though it was made in the midst of a deadly pandemic while its creator was stranded far from home and worrying about the fascist creep at home, Alive in the Hot Zone is more than just a diary of the plague year. It’s an emotional plea for empathy from someone who’s weathered more than a few runs of bad luck and heartbreak himself, as well as a call for political action. Lucas has been in this particular game for over two decades, and has used that time wisely in honing his sound and carving out a unique niche. Americana, punk, and folk all attract their fair share of misfits, but there’s no one quite like him.

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Jim-E Stack has hovered around the fringes of electronic indie-pop music for a while now, first crafting homespun hybrids of club and dance music on 2014’s Tell Me I Belong. He’s worked with left-of-center pop artists as a producer and songwriter since, providing reverb-heavy synths and shuffling, distorted kick drums to songs by Charli XCX, Empress Of, and Caroline Polachek. On his second solo LP, EPHEMERA, Stack moves past the sample-happy instrumentals of his debut and instead teams up with several former collaborators for an upbeat 20-minute set emphasizing funk and synthpop arrangements that feel charmingly loose and lived-in.

Stack pieced together EPHEMERA over the past few years from sessions with artists working on their own projects, but despite the title, the album doesn’t feel like a total hard-drive dump. Empress Of is laid-back and in high spirits on “Note to Self,” a chugging synthpop track with pitch-shifted vocal accents and shimmering piano. The song barely feints at a chorus, but the fractured details add up to a jubilant shot of self-confidence. Stack keeps the breeziness going on “Sweet Summer Sweat,” propped up by a hazy guitar loop and honeyed vocals from L.A. artist Dijon. Midway through, a lean club break packed with echoing sirens and cycling drums adds a euphoric kick of momentum.

As EPHEMERA bends from blissful songs to more melancholy interludes, Stack builds on moods rather than memorable hooks. Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon lumbers over “Jeanie,” a scuffed R&B track submerged in guitars that resemble Jai Paul’s watery electro-funk (see also: the yearning, ruptured instrumental “Be Long 2”). The garbled “Lost Man” fares better, with an assist from London rapper Octavian over a snapping backdrop that calls back to Tell Me I Belong’s mid-tempo highlights.

Stack doesn’t linger in the downcast headspace for long. On “Can We,” a gauzy pop song featuring Kacy Hill, he offers more solid structural and rhythmic ground. Stack produced the bulk of Hill’s airy second album this year, and the pair’s alchemy together feels weightless; here, Hill’s voice is slightly pitched up, dancing over rolling drums, whizzing synths, and funky guitar licks. EPHEMERA doesn’t make much of an effort to break new ground, but on “Can We,” Stack dials into his sweet spot, melding a dulcet vocal delivery with his own understated, soothing flourishes.

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