Kitty Coen captivates throughout Conversations with the Moon, an album that strikes seamlessly between alt-country attract, southern gothic storytelling, and hypnotic indie-folk intimacy. From the orchestral swell and solemn guitar twangs of “inform my mom” to the frolicking strings and thumping momentum of “grave dancin’,” Coen’s voice balances haunting vulnerability with defiant vitality, crafting songs that really feel vividly lived-in and cinematic. “This document got here from these nights whenever you really feel like the one factor listening again is the moon,” she says. “It’s about isolation, connection, and constructing a world you possibly can step into when the actual one feels too heavy.”
Succeeding with a way of cinematic grandiosity, “inform my mom” opens the album with tuning up orchestral intrigue, then maneuvering into lushly memorable strings and solemn guitar twangs. Coen’s vocals emerge with a gripping solemnity, aspiring to “get out of the gutter.” “Can’t be that far,” her riveting vocals proceed, exuding a way of hope for bluer skies as wordless vocal entrancement combines with the heartrending strings for a sating shut. The following “cocaine jacket” succeeds in one other aesthetical realm completely, embracing a debonair rock pulse with southern grit. “Don’t take a look at me boy,” Coen’s vocals warning, launching thereafter right into a consuming organ-touched hook. Conversations with the Moon wastes no time in establishing a dynamic knack for each atmospheric moodiness and punchy melodic prowess.
One other standout monitor, “grave dancin’” enthralls with its frolicking strings and thumping alt-country momentum. Its “caught in a rut” lyrical disposition furthers the thematic sentiments of “inform my mom,” in addition to aspiring for higher days following a collapse of affection and id. Debaucherously partaking imagery — beer cans, sirens, and late-night confessions — performs with carpe-diem temptations, evoking a mixture of heartbreak and hedonism as Coen’s vocals admit: “It’s a self-destructive honky-tonk, we’re crushing all these beers, grave dancin’ within the yard.” Enamoring with its string infusions and vocal work particularly, “grave dancin’” presents a improbable melding of darkish intrigue and party-set enthusiasm.
“strawberry” additionally delights, embracing the alt-country realm as nicely — although inside a hazy, hypnotic delectability that mixes moody guitar twangs with Coen’s dreamily absorbing vocal presence. Its “don’t outgrow me” pleas resonate inside the textured guitars, whereas additional lyricism performs like a meditation on love’s impermanence, conveyed via small but impactful moments of care. “You dye your hair and inform me that you just’re changin’ just like the seasons,” she lets out, balancing the looming tides of change with hopes for some issues, or relationships, to stay simply as they’re. “rising pains” then comes as a poignant follow-up, protecting the growth-related themes intact whereas now contextualizing them in oneself, fairly than in one other. Conversations with the Moon is a radical success, absolutely showcasing Kitty Coen’s storytelling and vivid atmospheric constructions.