‘For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)’ review: Japanese Breakfast masters a dreamy sonic embrace

With an understated delicacy, the indie pop band Japanese Breakfast returns for their fourth studio album, For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women). The result is lush and sweeping in its romanticism as singer-singer writer Michelle Zauner steps back from the hyper-personal that’s defined the band’s previous albums and instead focuses on greater, overarching stories of love and loss. Considering the depth to which she’s examined her grief in the past and how her star rose with the near subsequent release of their third album, the towering Jubilee, and her memoir, Crying in H Mart, it makes sense that she’d take a more fictitious approach. And while at first listen it suggests a more informal, directionless result, the album mesmerizes with its gorgeous production and orchestral, subtle epic leanings.

At 30 minutes and with ten songs, For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) trades vibrancy for atmospheric gloss. While Jubilee was the closest Japanese Breakfast got to a pop album, their latest slows things down, sonically reminiscent of Soft Sounds From Another Planet and Psychopomp. Even still, it adopts a slow-burning pace, though it never becomes too gradual, intoxicating with its lavish production and sweeping instrumentation.

For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) kicks the album off with the doubleheader of “Here is Someone” and the first single, “Orlando in Love.” The former and its bell-piano instrumentation sets the tone for the album with its pretty and soft mood. It’s also one of the more personal ones that speaks to Zauner’s need to separate herself from her work, wondering if it’s okay to leave a life behind that “they’ve” worked so hard for. The meditative opener highlights Zauner’s playfully macabre lyricism, showcasing how those pretty vocals mask a persistent darkness, singing, “And I run my guts back through the spoke again.”

Japanese Breakfast delivers atmospheric excellence.

But even more telling is the line “Life is sad, but here is someone,” which is something of a thesis for the album as a whole. With its ‘90s alt-edged and plaintive vocals, the album produces an impressive cohesion of sound and flow. All the while, the lyricism plays with the truth of relationships, the necessity of grounding, and having that one person who makes a shit day sunnier. Zauner digs deeper into mythology and storytelling, utilizing Greek myth to heighten the already intoxicating romanticism.

In the softly pretty “Leda,” Zauner weaponizes an acerbic turn of phrase that makes for one of the album’s standout numbers. She waxes about how a mysterious person always takes things way too far, the line “your special way of ruining the mood” being particularly heavy-hitter. Perhaps it is no surprise then that the song takes its name from an Aetolian princess who became a Spartan queen.

Her single, “Orlando In Love,” suggests an artist grappling with identity and the fluidity that comes with preserving a sense of self. Referencing Virginia Woolf’s Orlando: A Biography, the song is another way Zauner utilizes larger-than-life stories and fantasies to create her rich world. This exploration is also found in musicality and instrumentation, as the album dabbles in multiple genres, such as pop, alt-rock, and country, all getting their moment in the sun.

Another highlight is “Honey Water,” which is straight out of a Mazzy Star catalog, with its jangly metallic guitars and atmospheric tone. The album’s greatest song, the intimate and tender “Picture Window,” fits in that same vein with a strong buildup but also introduces an unexpected twang in the instrumentation alongside some layered and effective vocals.

Not every number strikes with that same evocative push. “Little Girl” is too whispery and would’ve almost worked better as strictly an instrumental interlude. “Men In Bars,” featuring Jeff Bridges, is interesting in theory, but Bridges doesn’t match Zauner’s own tone, making for unfortunate dissonance that lacks purpose. A better match would’ve elevated the final product.

A confident final product.

Despite a few missteps, For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) masters a dreamy sonic embrace. With its orchestral leaning and evocative lyricism that utilizes fables to cut close to the bone, the album suggests an artist amid metamorphosis. Fans of Japanese Breakfast are no strangers to melancholia, and from the name alone, it’s an evident influence in their latest. But how they bottle that sensation — of the gravitational push of emotional tides, the inescapable press of change and movement — is sublime.

For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) might see an artist grappling with their place while detailing greater love stories, but the album itself possesses immense confidence. Each song offers something new and fresh while remaining cohesive. Propulsive, poignant, and pulsating with whimsy teaming with haunting qualities, it’s yet another knock-out for a band that continues to delight in the unexpected.

For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) is out now.  

Featured image courtesy of Dead Oceans.

Allyson Johnson

Based in New England, Allyson is co-founder and Editor-in-Chief of InBetweenDrafts. Former Editor-in-Chief at TheYoungFolks, she is a member of the Boston Society of Film Critics and the Boston Online Film Critics Association. Her writing has also appeared at CambridgeDay, ThePlaylist, Pajiba, VagueVisages, RogerEbert, TheBostonGlobe, Inverse, Bustle, her Substack, and every scrap of paper within her reach.