Monday 10/19: Sun June—"Karen O"
Today, we share our thoughts on a new song by the Austin, TX dream-pop band Sun June.
Welcome to Endless Scroll, the brainchild of Eli Enis (he/him) and Eric Bennett (they/them). Since Feb. 2019, we’ve been a weekly podcast about music, the internet, and where those two things intersect. Now we’re, also a M-F newsletter about songs. Our format is simple: a link to a song and a short take from each of us about what we think of it. Each day of the week has a corresponding genre: Monday is indie, Tuesday is punk, Wednesday is hip-hop, Thursday is pop, and Friday is misc.
Today, we share our thoughts on a new song by the Austin, TX dream-pop band Sun June.
Sun June—"Karen O"
Eric Bennett:
The first thing I notice about Sun June is how their music feels so perfectly serene. The space between each lyric and minimal production gives their songs an interesting stillness. Their new single “Karen O” is an ode to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs frontwoman herself, and seeing her live in Brooklyn. At first thought, you might not place her within a frame of such calmness, considering that chaos and fire made the Yeah Yeah Yeahs iconic. However, back in 2014, O released a solo album entitled Crush Songs. The record was a collection of minimalist tunes so roughly recorded that they bordered on demos. Sun June sounds more polished, but they remind me so much of Crush Songs. “Karen O” sounds like the sky at twilight, faintly glowing blue. It doesn’t need to boast to mesmerize you.
Eli Enis:
This is a truly beautiful ballad. Sun June vocalist Laura Colwell sounds a little bit like Angel Olsen at points, but I really love how this song builds until it suddenly stops. The pacing is on the money, the instruments are stark yet pretty, and Colwell’s voice is engaging throughout. However, my favorite part are the lyrics. It’s a song about seeing Karen O in a basement, but it’s written in a way that sketches everything else that happened that night: the O gig just being the easiest timestamp for her memory. “Had a dream that night / that you came back to me / my father called three times / I stayed up all night,” she sings during its first hook. The second time around she reveals that her mailbox is full of her father’s messages (though he probably doesn’t know it), and the song ends with this detail as its instrumentation climbs in tandem: “And I don’t want to leave Manhattan / So I climb the stairs / To get to your apartment.” It’s a special one.