Signed in for Boston tickets right on time, made it to ticket selection, all that was left was balcony (no GA), and then when I tried to buy it told me even the balcony tickets were gone. Did they not put GA in the presale or is there just an insane number of people buying tickets?
When I read the tour dates last week for some reason my brain went “awesome that’s a Friday” aaaaaand it a Tuesday so that ain’t happenin
album is good, but isn't clicking with me as effortlessly as the last one did. I think the title track is far and away my favorite still, which is a bummer since it was the first song they released. Probably just need more time with it.
Giving a plug to Hearing Things, a writer-owned music site started by five former writers from Pitchfork etc who wanted to start a site that allowed them more freedom. It's a gated subscription, but I really like the writing and podcasts that they do and wanted to share the writeup for this album: It’s time to roll out the carpet for the most heartbreakingly perfect, big-time pop album of the year so far. I have a soft spot for bands that keep getting better—perhaps they give me something to believe in as I stare down whatever time I’ve got left—and Muna are one of those bands. The L.A. trio converted me to their cause with their breakout 2022 self-titled album, which answered the question: What if Katy Perry were queer, smart, genuine, and subtly wistful? Dancing on the Wall gives us more of all of the above as it pinpoints the band’s bipolar songwriting strategy: Shiny, synthy, and hard on the outside, weary, angry, and fragile underneath. It’s a style that Robyn built up and mastered with records like Body Talk, and Muna are ready and willing to pick up that torch. (And yeah, I do like Dancing on the Wall more than Robyn’s recent Sexistential.) On the surface, this album is about an endless series of ill-advised crushes and unrequited loves—and it is about those things, but not only those things. Swirling in the background of these songs are existential worries about the end of the world and what it means to be deeply unloveable forevermore. Dire shit that becomes less dire, and maybe even more manageable, when communicated through a pop song. So while opener “It Gets So Hot” is about a woman who is very fucking hot, it takes place in a swealtering Los Angeles apartment with no air conditioning that is only gonna get hotter as the climate crisis continues to compound in the coming years. So it goes throughout Dancing on the Wall. “Wannabeher” is sleazecore that borders on obsession, as singer Katie Gavin attests on the spiraling bridge, “If I can’t be her, then I wanna be with her/Hoping that she’ll rub off on me when I kiss her.” (Generally, the bridges on this album are Brill-Building immaculate.) “On Call,” “Girl’s Girl,” and the title track nail that pitiable feeling when you find yourself putting your own life on hold for someone who will never really care about you. The lyrics and hooks to these songs, which are credited to the full band, are as pithy and quotable as great lyrics should be but rarely are: Like, “You’re a real girl’s girl, but the girl ain’t me.” Also, “I wanna be somebody to you/But If you just need a warm body, that works too.” Every track has these kinds of lines. (And if you find yourself flipping on Michael Jackson YouTube videos in light of his estate’s latest coup, I highly recommend playing “On Call,” which sounds a lot like prime-era Michael, instead.) Whenever Gavin gets a little too down, her fellow band members, Josette Maskin and producer Naomi McPherson, wisely up the tempo in an attempt to glitch out the depression. “So What” plays like a spiritual successor to the 1975’s bittersweet 2020 single “Frail State of Mind,” riding the same kind of twitchy beat as Gavin tries to convince herself that she doesn’t need someone else’s love. (Seeing the singer tear up during a recent performance of the song gave me full-body chills.) But sometimes you just have to lean into those collapses to get past them. On the album’s finale, “Buzzkiller,” the band go ahead and center all of the doubt and self-hate sneaking around the rest of the album. Against a strobing synth and some minor piano chords, Gavin lets it bleed: And the band’s doing well I mean, we’re doing all right But I’m past my prime, and everyone knows it I made it to the protest The speech made me cry But then I came home and I still feel hopeless Who among us hasn’t been in essentially that exact same position, especially under a constant crush of insane headlines, especially as the birthdays stack up, especially as things veer off into a bleak unknown. We need Muna to chronicle this feeling, to help us live with it to get through the day. –Ryan Dombal
Random parallel I made: the last minute or so of So What reminds me a lot of the ending bit of All Or Nothing by Mutemath and I love it
Album is really opening up to me tonight. It’s way more straightforward in the copping of sounds from the 80s than their other records, while revisiting the dark and lonely feelings of their first record. Growing on me every day
the release show in Brooklyn last night was absolutely incredible. I haven't felt crowd energy like that in a really, really long time. confirms that this album was fully made to be played live. I wish I could relive "Buzzkiller" over and over, the way they arranged that was absolutely stunning.