Japanese Breakfast’s For Melancholy Brunettes (and Sad Women) opens with “Here Is Someone,” a wistful ballad built on delicate guitar plucks and sweeping strings. Unveiling the heart of the album almost immediately, its quiet intensity unravels slowly, like sunlight peaking through half-drawn curtains. The project’s title resonates with a duality that defines its sound—suggesting the mischievous pulse of the uptempo tracks while subtly nodding to the languid, blues-infused gravity of the ballads. “Orlando in Love,” the record’s lead single, functions almost as a prologue to the rest of the record, its sparse yet evocative lyrics hanging in the air like poetry recited in the stillness of a foggy morning, with the album’s title softly interwoven into its dreamlike imagery.

What distinguishes For Melancholy Brunettes (and Sad Women) is its ability to oscillate between intimacy and its own definition of grandeur without losing its emotional core. “Honey Water,” the longest and most freeing track, hits like the surge of confidence when you step into the spotlight at a karaoke bar. Built on a driving kick drum and a looping chord progression, the track envelops you in a realm that pulses with the cinematic soul of a ’90s Criterion film soundtrack. There’s a deliberate lack of urgency in the record’s pacing, inviting you to sink into its depth rather than rushing through it. The album isn’t so much a narrative as it is a series of fleeting moments, where small details—an unexpected chord change, a whispered harmony—leave an impression far more lasting than any sweeping gesture. This is music that thrives in its subtleties, drawing strength from what’s not said as much as what’s spoken.