miki moondrops, fuwa fuwa music

miki moondrops, fuwa fuwa music

All at once natural, manmade, and the product of a dream: With Fuwa Fuwa Music, Miki Moondrops guides listeners through an ethereal world that hums, glitters, and bleeds with vivid watercolors. The allure of Fuwa Fuwa Music lies in its fantastical nature – this album breezily transports listeners to an enchanted forest that is part organic, part machine, and always breathtaking.

The second studio release from Miki Moondrops, the finely layered production of Fuwa Fuwa Musicbubbles over with enthusiasm and curiosity. The group is comprised of Miki Masuda Jarvis, on bass and vocals, and David Lord on guitar, synths, and glockenspiel (for this record, they are joined by William Erickson on drums and Ben Snook on electronic percussion). The work as a whole is peppered with clicks, whistles, and cartoonish bounciness that serve as markers for the passing of time, as they weave in and out of earshot, brightly punctuating spells of haziness. Airy synths paint a permanent sunset as the backdrop for hearty drums, psychedelic guitar loops, and unrolling spools of abstract lyricism. While each track carries an individual theme all its own, the zeitgeist provided by Fuwa Fuwa Music is consistently sunny – even through spasms of chaos or harsher distortion.

Listening to Fuwa Fuwa Music feels brand new and yet somehow deeply instinctual. For example, characterizing features of track “Bumblebee House” include the faint buzzing of honeybees alongside a fuzzy distortion, reminiscent of the stuttering twitch of insects’ wings. On “Ants”, Miki Moondrops shrinks us down to microscopic size and into a glittery, glitching realm that could only thrive hidden beneath the earth. Rapid, perforating melodies from vocals and guitar plucking alike read like an ancient language, paired with more “known” elements of electronica. “Dragonfly Wings” is another play at perspective: listening to it inspires contemplation of whether we are watching a dragonfly as it flickers and jerks in and out of the sonic frame; or if we are the creature itself, ascending ceremonially before lilting back down to earth, settling like fog.

Woven snippets of found sound and electronically produced noise are essential to Fuwa Fuwa Music. At times, these elements drive the song’s direction, like on “Orange to Pink, Mushroom to Turtle”; while at other points, they flit in and out of the mix and of frontal attention, providing space to appreciate Jarvis’s drifty vocals humming with reverb – see “When You See the Eyebrow, You Will See the Gnome”. At the top of opening track “Shells”, at least three psychedelic guitar loops and reverses take the stage, weaving through each other and the Jarvis’s vocal melody like ribbons in the wind.

The last two tracks from Fuwa Fuwa Music serve more as mood suggestions than as landscapes. In just a fleeting 1 minute 19 seconds, “Glassy Eyes” wisps the faint chirping of birds and gentle harmonies knit together by the melody of a lullaby. Final track “It Is Glowing” feels more anthemic than illustrative or inviting. Its undulating electronic percussion, ensnared by subtle guitar strokes, provides a groove that satisfies Miki Moondrops’ quota for psychedelic rock.


  1. Shells
  2. Orange to Pink, Mushroom to Turtle
  3. When You See the Eyebrow, You Will See the Gnome
  4. Ants
  5. Dragonfly Wings
  6. Bumblebee House
  7. Glassy Eyes
  8. It Is Glowing

You can follow Miki Moondrops here.

james delaney, “live it up”

james delaney, “live it up”

“Live It Up”, the newest single from LA up-and-comer James Delaney, opens to the playful bounce of a video-game bop and a twinkling tropicality – but don’t let that fool you. A closer listen reveals an ennui that borders on ironic.

To clue you in, the very first lyrics paint a picture of a certain brand of indulgence that feels very 2019: “We’ve been wasting time getting high and watching shitty tv shows / Feeling comatose in our dirty clothes.” Split right down the middle, the lyrical content of “Live It Up” resorts to indulgence and lethargy to escape life stress; while sonically, it’s neutrally cheery – a notion that is paralleled in the song’s structure, as the verses bear the weight of Delaney’s approach. Radiating synth and an unchanging mellow tempo meet Delaney’s clear-cut chorus, ringing with a might-as-well attitude: “Live it up, live it up, live it up.” The last few bars close out on a sax solo, whose hum suggests that Delaney is already off to follow his own advice.

Keep up with James Delaney here.

garçons, “froggin'”

garçons, “froggin'”

Its power lying in consistency, the unstoppable groove pulsating from Garçons’ “Froggin” is immediately infectious.  The track expertly weaves influences of Afrobeat, R&B, and hip-hop to churn out a jam that resonates deep.

This track bares a party-ready confidence, marked by incisive marimba, dangling cowbell, and a beat like the fuzz of a blown out speaker. Vocalist Deelo Avery’s vocals strategically shift in and out of the forefront of the mix, blending a satisfying crescendo, as the vibrating bass is met by the contrast of tight claps. Garçons have meshed these elements to pump out an instant head-nodder that remains breezily versatile – “Froggin” is equally effective in capturing a solitary focus or entrancing a crowded dance floor.

While “Froggin” finds freshness in an emphasis on dance beats, this track comfortably parallels the R&B leaning of Garçons’ previous work. The last release from the Ottawa duo, comprised of vocalist Deelo Avery and producer Julian Strangelove, was 2018’s Body Language. If the next work they put out is anything like “Froggin”, we’re totally on board.

Follow Garçons on social media here:

corey harper, barely put together

corey harper, barely put together

Corey Harper’s newest EP Barely Put Together hones in on young adulthood, deftly blending moods colored with snug optimism, taut despondence, and wistful recollection. The five-track EP exhibits Harper’s talent for constructing songs that deliver the immediacy of a live performance; some with the resounding power of a stadium anthem, and others, the gentle intimacy of an acoustic set.
Opening track “Blind” is warm, woody, and feels hopeful despite the fretting lyrics, dealing with the questionable aspects of an unstable relationship. Minute details produce an endearing familiarity, as well as contribute to the feel of a live performance: A close listen reveals the clicks and scratches of Harper’s fingers along the acoustic as he plays, and the generous reverb on his vocals ghost behind as if echoing across a stadium.
Moody, syncopated chords on second song “Don’t Hate Me” are reminiscent of the biggest hits of Justin Bieber and Shawn Mendes, as Harper evokes vulnerability following a tenuous relationship. He begs his significant other for a diplomatic split: “If we’re breaking up, we’re breaking up, just don’t hate me / That’s the only thing I couldn’t live with, baby”. A resounding anthemic club beat punctuates the severity of the chorus here, emphasizing the lyrics’ unabashed heartache. After the first chorus, a hidden gem in the form of a bluesy electric riff sneaks by, a segue to Harper’s bare vocals bolstered by a deeply funky bass line. His mercury-smooth vocal runs contribute the perfect dash of R&B freshness.  Of all the tracks on the EP, this song welcomes the widest range of elements spanning several genres.
What follows exhibits confidence, defiance, and acceptance that life doesn’t always make perfect sense. Track 3 from Barely Put Together is titled “Better”, and carries the easy-breezy swagger of a California boulevard, as the chorus declares: “I like it better knowing I don’t have it all together.” Harper’s soaring falsetto complements the peppered lead guitar riff, giving listeners plenty of sunny texture to look forward to.
Track “Dried Blood” is a dip in atmosphere and stripped down in comparison, the acoustic picking pensive and cautious. This song’s lyrical melody is beautifully melancholy, but the strumming patterns are never dark; offering a versatile intimacy that could flourish within the walls of a solitary bedroom or floating alongside a each breeze. Harper faces the difficulties of healing from past failures, and casts out his doubts about the future in a fluttering falsetto: “Waiting for the waves to crash, [I’m] too far out to make it back.” Comparable to the scratching guitar strings from “Blind” is the slightest rustling noise in the background during the verses of “Dried Blood” – it suggests Harper is shifting positions in his seat as he plays. These “imperfections” cast a spell that is enthralling because it is realistic, as listeners are able to visualize Harper playing the music live.
Harper is at his most raw and desperate for the final track of Barely Put Together: “Best of Me” is an anthem best characterized by its rising anticipation and stadium earnestness. The first chorus offers a head-turning twist, as the muted beat and strumming actually shift to the back of the mix, granting Harper an open stage allow his vocal presence to take precedence. Electronica-style vocals layer behind the clear belting and gripping rasp, weaving a crowd of voices that proclaim Harper’s drift from heartache: “You’ll never get the best of me.”

01. Blind
02. Don’t Hate Me
03. Better
04. Dried Blood
05. Best of Me
Follow Corey Harper here:
sidney gish @ philamoca

sidney gish @ philamoca

Loop pedal and guitarist goddess Sidney Gish just began a month-long, coast-to-coast U.S tour, and this past Friday she was emphatically received by a full house in the City of Brotherly Love. The 14-song set was the perfect length, given the relative brevity of Gish’s indie rock/blues infused jams. A majority of the setlist were numbers from her 2017 album No Dogs Allowed, with a healthy mix from slightly earlier 2017 album Ed Buys Houses, as well as a classic Talking Heads cover thrown in the mix.
Accompanied by opening group Another Michael, Gish played the PhilaMOCA, whose ambiance is a welcoming cross between a large house show space and a small theatre. It is comprised of one large room, its l walls plastered with posters from past events, and lined neatly by a carpeted second floor balcony, wrapped in twinkle lights that provide a comfortable dim. Upstairs on the balcony, worn-looking sofas and easy chairs were inhabited by cozy-looking people. The entire vibe was ideal for Gish’s set, which demands rapt attention to her rapid fire lyricism, as well as the rhymes she drops like flies.
Gish’s self-conscious sense of humor was both immediately endearing and a lovely show of levity; as she addressed the crowd with quips like “I love to tune instruments, I really do!” Throughout her time on stage, sometimes in the middle of songs, she’d check the inside of her wrist for her handwritten set list. Gish’s stage presence is an act in itself, because though she seems cheerily nervous, her jokes land – and that’s hardly to mention that her musical consistency remains solid and unflappable.
The singer-songwriter opened with deeper cuts, then filed into her more commercially popular songs as the night went on. First was “Mouth Log”, followed by “I’m Filled With Steak, and Cannot Dance”, both from No Dogs Allowed. The latter track is a prime example of excellent vocal control in sliding, perhaps even cascading, down waterfall runs that smoothly drop you off only a few feet from where they picked you up. Plucked harmonics and a perpetuating bongo on loop punctuate this track, and breezily perforate any tension found in the room.
The next three tracks Gish played were all gems mined from No Dogs Allowed: “Good Magicians”, “Impostor Syndrome”, and “I Eat Salads Now”. Always with meticulously intentionality,  Gish grants herself plenty of room to play in the spaces between spiteful and vulnerable, dynamic and gentle, raspy and fluttery. Her fingers flying on the jazzy riff within “Impostors Syndrome”, she seamlessly shifts from demanding attention to turning it away. Gish launches her inward-facing observations up into the hall, open confessions to everyone.
In the moments following the fading applause, Gish chirped cheeky narrations to the crowd, her eyes cast down as she set up her guitar: “I play it on this capo, normally.” She looked up and giggled: “Information for no one.” The next song, “Friday Night Placebo”, is a tribute to her gifts of sarcasm and satire, bubbling along a guitar tone that is deep, ringing, and somehow nautical. Lyrically, this track is reflective of fragility and vulnerability – but only on the surface. Gish’s sardonicism cuts to the core, as she chides, “It’s fine, I’ll pop sugar pills all night.”
After a cover of Talking Heads staple “This Must Be The Place”, Gish hit the crowd with three of her most popular tracks: The clicky “Sophisticated Space”, mesmerizing “Rat of the City”, and communal “Homecoming Serf”.  An augmented vocal presence is a marker for these tracks, as the singer’s rasp (no doubt a parallel for her indignation toward mundane suburban life) continues to escalate among the captivating vocal melodies.
Next up from Gish’s repertoire were three of my personal favorites in immediate succession: “Sin Triangle” and “Persephone” from No Dogs Allowed, and “Presumably Dead Arm” off of Ed Buys Houses. “Sin Triangle” is arguably Gish’s grooviest track, and would fit quite comfortably on a party playlist; unlike “Persephone” and “Presumably Dead Arm”, which are reflective and thought provoking; each one a cure-all for listeners’ varying feelings of being misunderstood. That said, all three were fascinating to experience visually: The building anticipation in the room was tangible as Gish built the loop tracks for each song, riff by riff.
The last song of the night was “If Not For You, Bunny,” and though sonically, its recording crystallizes seamlessly with the rest of No Dogs Allowed, Gish used it to cast an undeniably punk spell upon the crowd in Philadelphia. Murky, crunchy  guitar distortion and the wailing, bittersweet solo that it tore through the end of the song emanated that, however selectively, Gish puts the “rock” in indie rock.
“Unapologetic” is not the word for Sidney Gish, because it’s clear she never even considered apologizing – Why would she? Gish offers up her flaws but never asks for comment on them; painting herself as
reactive, self-assured, and captivatingly self-conscious all at once. It was a fantastic show, and we can’t wait to hear (and hopefully see) more of Sidney in the very near future.
You can listen to Sidney Gish here. You can follow her on social media below: