Long before he started corralling sweaty stagedivers as the lead vocalist of Chattanooga hardcore punks Gumm, Drew Waldon preferred being alone — so much so, in fact, that the preference backfired and eventually became something like paralyzation instead. “Running in place/ Thinking I can hide/ Doesn’t keep me safe/ it only keeps me blind,” Waldon shouts on “New From The Pain,” the headrush lead single from Gumm’s forthcoming album Beneath The Wheel. Before the track’s two minutes are up, however, Waldon envisions a new version of himself, one that’s mobilized his pain into community and love. If you, too, are searching for an escape from debilitating loneliness, I hear jumping into the pit is a good start. —Abby

The guitars in Equipment’s “Gloves” do not fuck around. Taken from the emo band’s surprise new EP First time using slang, the song catapults forward with caustic riffs that almost have a metallic edge. I’m not sure what “She only wears gloves inside” means, but it serves as an invigorating, ominous hook. It’s by far the heaviest tune out of the three tracks, and it’s a real ripper. —Danielle

The unnamed “they” who want that old Danny Brown might be satisfied with “Starburst,” a song that finds the Detroit-raised, Austin-based emcee reverting to the wild yap that made him famous. But his reason for bringing back his former vocal style is to engage with production that represents a new frontier for Brown. The most musically voracious rapper in the underground has spent the past few years enthusing about hyperpop, forging connections and collaborating with key figures in the scene. Stardust represents the culmination of that campaign. It means we get Brown going on about Evanescence and Winona Ryder over a squiggly, screeching, hyperactive beat, with spoken word from one of the Frost Children tacked on as an epilogue. Just when we thought he was settling down, he has found a new way to bring back the old him. —Chris

Ratboys can write a three-minute ripper with the best of ’em, but when they give themselves space and time to stretch out, you better fucking be ready. That happened two years ago, when they built “Black Ice, WI” into a towering edifice of feelings. It happens again on “Late Night Mountains All That,” which starts as a jaunty, sparkly, vaguely countrified emo tume before growing into a six-minute trip-out jam. On a song like this, we get to hear everything this band does — the erudite disappointment, the soaring melodies, the face-melt shreddage. Julia Steiner chants this line again and again: “You didn’t care, you didn’t care.” But imagine hearing this and not caring. —Tom

When Karly Hartzman was a teenager growing up in Greensboro, North Carolina, a clique of so-called popular girls at her high school spread a rumor that one of her close friends had been giving handjobs during class. That rumor would henceforth affirm this friend’s status as the school slut — or, as Hartzman puts it on “Townies,” as “someone always down.” Even after graduation, Hartzman struggled to reckon with the idea that no matter how kind, smart, or funny you are, there’s always a chance your former peers will remember you only for the most salacious thing people say you’ve done.

“Townies,” a rousing, hooks-for-days stunner from Wednesday’s new album Bleeds, finds Hartzman returning to her hometown after some time away. A number of things have changed in the past few years: The guy who once spread around Hartzman’s nude photos, for example, is dead now. But the old landmarks and dive bars and highways are still there, and the locals who’ve stuck around still invite her over to catch up at their bonfire parties. “Townies” is an ode to making peace with a checkered past, to the bad reputations that evolved into good stories, and to the handjob accusations which — as Hartzman revealed during her NYC solo set last month — turned out to be true after all. —Abby