Wherever you are in the world: good morning, good afternoon, good evening, good night. It is time for your 5 a day.

One day, the UK government said, "You should eat 5 portions of fruit or veg[etables] per day." Turns out you should probably eat more than that. But we think it's pretty catchy, so we've hijacked it. Here we'll list FIVE pieces of music per DAY that we think you should check out. As the Italians say, we'll be catching two pigeons with one bean (prendere due piccioni con una fava): we help spread the word about MORE artists, plus we're giving YOU more music to listen to. It's all a joy for us, really!

There's an electronic symphony to begin with, a pulsing rework by Turtle of Matt Emery's 'L For Luna', and then we have a bobbling bouncy Ellie Herring remix of 'Clean Cut' by Shy Girls that summons ambient nocturnalism, before we move onto the epically energetic 'River' by Berlin-based Swedish band Tula. We finish up, firstly with Princess Chelsea's cyclical and sombre otherworldliness in 'Too Many People', secondly with bsd.u and Jetson, who provide us with some short-'n'-sweet, decayed and wonky cracklesome boom bap flavours. Today, we're taken on a lunar journey…

"Let's try flying to the moon." Your boat speaks. Intrinsically morphed and modified beyond believe thanks to some nameless magic powder, it wants to test its new capabilities. You soar up and up and up. The boat rattles, creaks, shakes violently as you break through Earth's atmosphere. How am I not crushed, how can I breathe, you think. The moon looms up ahead.

It's the moon. Your head hurts. You can feel a lump on your temple; there's blood. You look around: your boat strewn everywhere. It must've exploded on arrival. Thought it was magic, you say to yourself. Squinting, you can make out fragments of the hull still hurtling slowly through the air, in the distance. You note your lack of dying, ability to breathe, and begin the long task of gathering the scattered pieces of the boat that took you to the moon.

With all the fragments in one pile you sit on a nearby rock, exhausted. How will I get back to Earth? you think. You stare at the broken pieces of boat ahead of you. Without warning the pile erupts into a ball of pink, blueish flames, the fire racing along every edge. "What the fuck?" you shout, unable to hold back tears as the remains of your vessel disintegrate. Is this really happening?

You run off, away from the lunar fire. Realising where you are, and without thinking very much about it, you jump with all your strength and find yourself hurtled well above the surface of the moon in no time. There's no sign of you stopping, you wave your arms and legs, trying to stop yourself, swim through space, but you end up spinning slowly as you get further and further away from the moon. The pink glow from the fire shows up as a bright speck on the ghost surface far, far below.

You're floating through space, a lump in your throat, your eyes stinging, your breathing panicked. You're not even sure you're floating in the right direction. Is there any direction anymore? Suddenly you relax, thinking of your immunity to space conditions. "Am I a superhero?" you wonder. You begin to enjoy the unadulterated view of the Milky Way that you're getting. You lie back, cross your legs, put your hands behind your head: might as well enjoy the ride.