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MUNA is magic. What other band could have stamped the forsaken year of 2021 with spangles and pom-poms, could have made you sing (and maybe even believe) that Lifes so fun, lifes so fun, during what may well have been the most uneasy stretch of your life? SilkChiffon, MUNAs instant-classic cult smash, featuring the bands new label head Phoebe Bridgers, hit the gray skies of the pandemics year-and-a-half mark like a double rainbow. Since MUNA lead singer/songwriter Katie Gavin, guitarist/producer Naomi McPherson, guitarist Josette Maskin began making music together in college, at USC, theyd always embraced pain as a bedrock of longing, a part of growing up, and an inherent factor of marginalized experience: the bands members belong to queer and minority communities, and play for these fellow-travelers above all. But sometimes, for MUNA, after nearly a decade of friendship and a long stretch of pandemic-induced self-reckoning, the most radical note possible is that of bliss.

MUNA, the bands self-titled third album, is a landmark the forceful, deliberate, dimensional output of a band who has nothing to prove to anyone except themselves.The synth on What I Want scintillates like a Robyn dance-floor anthem; Anything But Me, galloping in 12/8, gives off Shania Twain in eighties neon; Kind of Girl, wit hits soaring, plaintive The Chicks chorus, begs to be sung at max volume with your best friends. Its marked by a newfound creative assurance and technical ability, both in terms of McPherson and Maskins arrangements and production as well as Gavins songwriting, which is as propulsive as ever, but here opens up into new moments of perspective and grace. Here, more than ever, MUNA musters their unique powers to break through the existential muck and transport you, suddenly, into a room where everything is possible a place where the disco balls never stopped throwing sparkles on the walls, where you can sweat and cry and lie down on the floor and make out with whoever, where vulnerability in the presence of those who love you can make you feel momentarily bulletproof, and self-consciousness only sharpens the swell of joy.

MUNA is magic. What other band could have stamped the forsaken year of 2021 with spangles and pom-poms, could have made you sing (and maybe even believe) that Lifes so fun, lifes so fun, during what may well have been the most uneasy stretch of your life? SilkChiffon, MUNAs instant-classic cult smash, featuring the bands new label head Phoebe Bridgers, hit the gray skies of the pandemics year-and-a-half mark like a double rainbow. Since MUNA lead singer/songwriter Katie Gavin, guitarist/producer Naomi McPherson, guitarist Josette Maskin began making music together in college, at USC, theyd always embraced pain as a bedrock of longing, a part of growing up, and an inherent factor of marginalized experience: the bands members belong to queer and minority communities, and play for these fellow-travelers above all. But sometimes, for MUNA, after nearly a decade of friendship and a long stretch of pandemic-induced self-reckoning, the most radical note possible is that of bliss.

MUNA, the bands self-titled third album, is a landmark the forceful, deliberate, dimensional output of a band who has nothing to prove to anyone except themselves.The synth on What I Want scintillates like a Robyn dance-floor anthem; Anything But Me, galloping in 12/8, gives off Shania Twain in eighties neon; Kind of Girl, wit hits soaring, plaintive The Chicks chorus, begs to be sung at max volume with your best friends. Its marked by a newfound creative assurance and technical ability, both in terms of McPherson and Maskins arrangements and production as well as Gavins songwriting, which is as propulsive as ever, but here opens up into new moments of perspective and grace. Here, more than ever, MUNA musters their unique powers to break through the existential muck and transport you, suddenly, into a room where everything is possible a place where the disco balls never stopped throwing sparkles on the walls, where you can sweat and cry and lie down on the floor and make out with whoever, where vulnerability in the presence of those who love you can make you feel momentarily bulletproof, and self-consciousness only sharpens the swell of joy.

656605389844
Muna
Artist: Muna
Format: CD
New: Available $14.98
Wish

Formats and Editions

DISC: 1

1. Silk Chiffon
2. What I Want
3. Runner's High
4. Home By Now
5. Kind of Girl
6. Handle Me
7. No Idea
8. Solid
9. Anything But Me
10. Loose Garment
11. Shooting Star

More Info:

MUNA is magic. What other band could have stamped the forsaken year of 2021 with spangles and pom-poms, could have made you sing (and maybe even believe) that Lifes so fun, lifes so fun, during what may well have been the most uneasy stretch of your life? SilkChiffon, MUNAs instant-classic cult smash, featuring the bands new label head Phoebe Bridgers, hit the gray skies of the pandemics year-and-a-half mark like a double rainbow. Since MUNA lead singer/songwriter Katie Gavin, guitarist/producer Naomi McPherson, guitarist Josette Maskin began making music together in college, at USC, theyd always embraced pain as a bedrock of longing, a part of growing up, and an inherent factor of marginalized experience: the bands members belong to queer and minority communities, and play for these fellow-travelers above all. But sometimes, for MUNA, after nearly a decade of friendship and a long stretch of pandemic-induced self-reckoning, the most radical note possible is that of bliss.

MUNA, the bands self-titled third album, is a landmark the forceful, deliberate, dimensional output of a band who has nothing to prove to anyone except themselves.The synth on What I Want scintillates like a Robyn dance-floor anthem; Anything But Me, galloping in 12/8, gives off Shania Twain in eighties neon; Kind of Girl, wit hits soaring, plaintive The Chicks chorus, begs to be sung at max volume with your best friends. Its marked by a newfound creative assurance and technical ability, both in terms of McPherson and Maskins arrangements and production as well as Gavins songwriting, which is as propulsive as ever, but here opens up into new moments of perspective and grace. Here, more than ever, MUNA musters their unique powers to break through the existential muck and transport you, suddenly, into a room where everything is possible a place where the disco balls never stopped throwing sparkles on the walls, where you can sweat and cry and lie down on the floor and make out with whoever, where vulnerability in the presence of those who love you can make you feel momentarily bulletproof, and self-consciousness only sharpens the swell of joy.

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