You Still Like Bon Iver?

We previously noted that Night Beds lead singer Winston Yellen has a voice remniscent of Ryan Adams, but his deeply intense and revealing lyrics can only be compared to one man in the indie rock world—yup, Justin Vernon. There's an endearing awkwardness to Yellen too, the sense that he's made enough mistakes in his life to really feel attached to the sadness, like he knows just how hard and cold rock bottom is. But instead of sticking around down there, he clawed his way back up the cliff, and now stands triumphant at the top of some nearly insurmountable peak, detailing his fall and recovery with equal distinction. This Dead Oceans signee will be serenading sold-out arenas with his own brand of sorrow-rock in no time.

This L.A. quartet channel the steady build of the slow-rock movement, adding little flourishes like buzzing synth loops and stately piano. Shakers, swelling choral backers and moaning guitars fully flesh out the band's sound, pitting them firmly against any modern take on emo-folk. Drawing on influences as disparate as the Beach Boys and Bob Dylan, somehow the foursome split songwriting duties, switch instruments, and deliver songs so pleasing they almost don't feel sad anymore.

Tom Odell is channeling some sort of otherworldy pain. On the lead single "Another Love," Odell pretends to have used up all his tears, but he sounds on the brink of breaking down throughout the track. Artists who can convert their pain into lyrical and sonic excellence are rare to find, and Odell falls into the same caliber as Vernon on that front. This UK singer is one to watch, he's in the process of turning his tears into gold.

So much of today's popular indie music feels like the music of youth. For Phosphorescent's latest album, Muchacho, he took a break from life and planted himself in Mexico to gather his thoughts. Like Bon Iver's work, it feels like the music of an old soul, like the words of a man who has been through some shit and knows a thing or two about life because of it. If you're looking for music fit for sitting under a tree and getting lost in your own head, listen to Phosphorescent.

Treetop Flyers sound like they're straight out of the Laurel Canyon era, like they're hiking through tall grass and palms with the ocean just in sight—but no. Despite their knack for Americana the band are actually all British except for one member, and perhaps that's what allows them to give a slightly new twist on the time-worn treads of bluesy, finger-picking folk and huddled harmonies. More campfire medicine than Bon Iver's computer-blitzed pain, but the sweetly sung harmonies and elegant guitarmanship create a similar atmosphere to Vernon's music.

Daughn Gibson has one of those voices that sounds like an old, beat-up tire. The tread is thick but a little worn in some places, and the sheer force of it will mow you over just listening. It's no Justin Vernon falsetto, but it inhabits the same liminal space—an outlier in a landscape of sonic similarity. Don't let the tepid Pitchfork review fool you, his new album Me Moan broaches the subject of deep-roots country and 2013 in the same breath, and remarkably comes out with a modern solution that is impossible to write off and even harder to forget.

The first thing that's clear when listening to Joseph Childress is that the man can play guitar—he's on some Tallest Man on Earth level six string prowess. But then, just around the corner is his whispery croon, warmer and more filled out than Kristian Matsson's, and that's where the Vernon comparisons come into play. He may not have the same range but the playful ways he imbues inflection into the lyrics are remniscent of the best parts of For Emma Forever Ago.

The internet and Brooklyn have been abuzz with glowing reviews of the new Majical Cloudz album Impersonator, that came out earlier this year, with good reason. The firefly blink of Devon Welsh's willfully dark, spooling baritone is a reminder that some people are just born with impossibly unfair talents, and paired with the scaled-back production of his partner Matthew Otto, their emo-electro songs hit all the right nerves.

Jesse Woods is making helium-Americana, and even in Austin, Texas, that's enough to make the countryside take notice. Like a faded letter or an aging guitar string fraying into bits, Woods' voice sounds like an artifact that's been worn into a groove—and then filled with an inescapable lightness until it floats. Guns in the Sun will be putting out his debut record Get Your Burdens Lifted this August—and it sounds like this record will be on of those that make nights sitting alone under the stars feel like the most magic part of life. Hell, maybe those nights are the greatest thing about life after all. Either way, good music makes them feel even more meaningful, and there's enough weight behind Woods' feather-light voice to make a moment feel like it'll matter forever. 

Since their debut album depended so heavily on acoustic guitar and rootsy, earthy sounds, Bon Iver sometimes gets lumped in with other gentle singer/songwriters who know their way around a 6-string. But with their second album, Bon Iver proved to be much more than just a lonely voice out in the forest. With powerful melodies and a sometimes R&B-tinged falsetto that meanders in space, Justin Vernon has shown new sides of himself that make his collaborations with guys like Kanye West suddenly seem not-so-weird. If you like his strong grasp on complicated melodies and ability to work the human voice in with experimental production, check out Dead Times.

Australian singer-songwriter Scott Matthew doesn't really sing on his recent EP, Unlearned, so much as he does gasp. Short of breath on nearly every note, Matthew takes on three iconic ballads, and accents them with him with his own heartfelt, hypnotic drawl, the highlight of which is undoubtedly his version of Whitney Houston's 1987 classic "I Wanna Dance With Somebody." Partnered with a spare arrangement of pianos, acoustic guitars, and ukeleles, Matthew calls to mind the less burdened textures of For Emma, Forever Ago-era Bon Iver. Scott, you can't make me love you, but you're coming darn close.

Of Justin Vernon's many vocal talents, his most powerful may be his ability to tear through any one of his intricately-tailored lullabies with one, punishing, digitized moan. By filtering his voice through an Auto-Tune mesh, Vernon can take the gentle pulses of a track like "Best/Rest" and give it a completely new, richer heart in a way that few can mimic. Included in those talented few, though, is the L.A. songwriter, Gallant, an up-and-coming artist who has managed to harness those same strained, worn-out cries for his own compelling uses. While the melody on "Please? (Vignette)" may seem atmospheric, it belies the state of man who has clearly been dragged through the dirt. Check it out, along with "If It Hurts," from his forthcoming Zebra EP.

Hailing from South London, singer-producer Jamie Isaac reminds us of Bon Iver much in the same way that his fellow crooning, post-dubstep Brit, James Blake, does, pairing his cracking, weepy vocals with a collection of melodic textures that could easily score your favorite film-noir. Though he's only 18, Isaac has a well-aged ear for emptiness, dotting his sonic landscapes with ambient clicks and claps that can break through any silences like ripples on a still pond. If you ever find yourself driving through the night, down some lost highway in rural America, Isaac will be exactly what you're looking for.

Trust New York to give us the M83-out-in-the-woods that we really needed, this city just always comes through on the musical front. Caveman recently inked a deal with indie connoisseurs Fat Possum, and that co-sign is just the tip of the iceberg for this five piece. They open up the ideas of psychedelic guitars, '80s-hearkening synths and a killer falsetto to the wide open expanses of folk harmonies and simple rhythms. Lead vocalist Matthew Iwanusa sounds like Bon Iver's long-lost cousin, one who grew up in the South instead of the Midwest, and his band that have taken their name from the concept of prehistoric man have flipped that moniker on its head by establishing a sound that's an evolution in itself.

Sometimes an act comes along that combines two things you already love with such ferocity that the mix feels overwhelming. That's how Pony Bwoy feels, specifically on their track "Ævum (Time Crawls)." The way this Minneapolis duo mix the production elements of hip-hop with electronica, folksy harmonies and even some pretty stellar rapping is a testament to their adroit musicality.

Sailor & I are safely described as "post-Bon Iver" in my book. There's no way Alexander Sjodin's Stockholm-based project could've existed—or taken off the way it has—without the path that Justin Vernon blazed through the mainstream landscape. The heartbreak, pounding drums, monumnetal synths—it's all there. Stream and bask in the sorrow, being sad never felt so good.

A collaborative project between Sun Kil Moon frontman, Mark Kezelek, and The Album Leaf's Jimmy LaValle, Perils of the Seas finds one of its greatest strengths in its simplicity—specifically, the manner in which Kezelek's vocals are pushed into the spotlight, nearly untouched. There's a visceral quality to the bareness of his voice; one that forces the connection with the listener that Kezelek seems to so desperately desire. Complemented by LaValle's steady chorus of electronic and acoustic plinks and plunks, Kezelek's somewhat unhinged, and completely stream-of-consciousness, lyricism finds him spread out all over the map, name-checking anyone from Manny Pacquiao to his Korean Air stewardess, J.H. Park. But while he always seems to be speaking out of turn or against his better instincts, Kezelek somehow transforms that awkwardness into something completely endearing. Perhaps it's because, much like Bon Iver, amid all of this troubled foreplay and confusion, Perils' focus always seems to orbit around the same center: you.

Some albums are good for falling asleep to. These albums get a bad rap, as critics claim that a sleep-inducing effect is the sign of boring music, but this isn't always true. Just as some albums hype you up and make you want to throw your hands in the air and stay up all night, some can literally slow your heart rate and hypnotize you into a state of relaxation. With swaying melodies and a steady temperament, Bowerbirds is music to slowly drift off to. This has been one of the harshest criticisms of Bon Iver, but when it's 3 in the morning and you need some music to keep you company, it suddenly doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

If you like Justin Vernon, you'll probably like other bands that he's in besides Bon Iver. Yes, Justin has lent his falsetto and grizzled electronic production to a number of other projects—not just Yeezus—and Volcano Choir happens to be one of them. The Shouting Matches, his bluegrass-tinged guitar trio may not suit the typical indie palette, but Volcano Choir delivers on emotions and experimentation in spades. With a second album out this September through Jagjaguwar, it looks like Volcano Choir will be another facet that  furthers the Vernon brand in its many iterations despite the screams from the haters. Go ahead, click play—you might realize that your hatred is unfound. If nothing else is said about him, no one can deny his musical talent.

Molly Hamilton's voice is feminine, but it reaches the same mountain-top peaks and husky, darky valley lows as Bon Iver's infamous falsetto. Not only that, but her pastoral-referencing lyrics tend to inspire the same sort of wide-open-space longing that a Justin Vernon tune brings on. The additional jangling, nickel-and-dime guitar rock of Robert Earl Thomas add a '70s infusion to their songs that melts into the folk-pop with buttery smoothness.