Lunadira gracefully departs from saccharine romance, shedding the guise of a girl confined to the realm of ukulele covers. i’ll be alright, right? though, doesn’t mark her initial sojourn into existential themes. Embodying the orange-hued damsel in “am i gonna die?”, it was a production riding the trend of nihilistic yet buoyant tunes, channeling the styles of 2020 “indie it-girls” such as Clairo and Girl in Red. 

Amidst the oversaturated colour palettes and Y2K outfits, Lunadira and Reddi Rocket formed a vocal tandem, seamlessly oscillating between sweet serenades and baritones. The release of her last EP Tangerine was four years ago, and it’s not surprising that her voice has matured into a deep and sultry cadence. She’s just more gestural in materializing the terrains of womanhood, where the portrayal of grief no longer feels animated. 

Lunadira once again joins forces with her long-term collaborator and producer, Reddi Rocket and introduces DJ I-SKY to the mix of “crying over nothing (wah wah)”. Both active runners in Kuala Lumpur’s electronic scene, they fueled her experimental edge for the album. I was initially surprised when her single “forever’s not our thing” coveted the opening spot in the album – I questioned if it signaled a remastered rendition of an old fan favorite. The familiar intro then takes an unforeseen plunge into turmoil, backed by a gamelan-like impetus, setting a lucid stage for the album. The accompanying lyrics feel like a chilling prose, forming a swelling chorus of voices that resemble a trance. In the original cut, Lunadira heavily leans on first-person narratives – “I’ll leave it in the past”, “but I loved you so”, “I’ll fall in love with someone new”. Instead, she gently flips the script, redirecting the gaze away from herself — “Cause feelings never last / and you didn’t stay,” she sings. 

The finality hints at a stout, albeit bitter embrace of reality: a resolve that binds her songs together. There’s bitterness, there’s mourning, perhaps a touch of imposter syndrome in her repertoire,  and we are getting front-row seats to witness the fullness of her vulnerability. As reflected in her album cover art, Lunadira’s evolution feels like witnessing a sunset – transitioning from vibrant oranges to the tranquil purples of dusk. The night then unfurls, setting a groundwork for her introspective sound. 

As wistful falsettos recur, the subsequent tracks maintain a consistently brooding tone. In her track “BITTER”, she deftly taps into maternal longing – “Say it loud you’re getting weaker / I don’t think Mama’s proud,”she whispers.

Still, this doesn’t stop her from venturing into new avenues of singing. At the infamous Good Vibes Festival 2023, she once captivated the audience by crossfading into a narcoleptic, metal delirium during the interlude of “i’ll be alright, right?” Moshing to Lunadira was, once, an unspeakable reality. This was apparently a spontaneous act that no one had expected, not even herself, all caused by the struggles to listen to herself through the earpiece. It was the moment that boasted her versatility, Lunadira’s voice now transcends the boundaries of her bedroom walls – a stronger force that beckons the listener to enter an immersive headspace.  

Making history as the first Malaysian artist to perform in the YouTube show COLORS, “Go Slow” cascades like a ripple, providing a first glimpse into her jazzy sensibility. This comeback has paved the way for international stages like SXSW, where she performed alongside a lineup of artists such as Balming Tiger, Lil Cherry and Shye. The track reminds me of NPR Music’s Tiny Desk concerts — a witty, lightweight, stripped-down elegance. She avoids intimacy, giving us something to savour before she dives into deep waters.

In the track “BIRTHDAY” her intentionally honest songwriting glows: I wonder if you could tell I’m struggling / I don’t write as much as I want to / da-da-da-da-da-da-da” — throwing whimsical elements or a filler representing the writer’s block – who knows?

In a BFM interview, she shares her fear surrounding her music making process, that “should just be seen as more of like, look you’re making music for the fun of it.” Not every production in the album has to be heavy, paired with hopscotch beats and unconventional arpeggios, “Go Slow” offers a snackable zest that is compatible with her mature artistry. 

“WISH YOU WERE DEAD” is a personal favourite of mine, kicking off with a Billie Eilish-like bassline, backed by distorted vocals that channel a seductive, femme-fatale edge to the track. While she needs to maintain a more harmonious and cohesive dynamic range, it is nothing short of a refreshing side to Lunadira. 

Take the likes of Mitski who once wrote “Nobody” about being isolated in Malaysia’s urban jungle, and Lorde,  who breathlessly crooned about being her mother’s child in “Writer In the Dark”. Similar to the alternative pop princesses, Lunadira’s work in her debut album is not a display of vocal prowess; instead a storytelling device, or a eulogy of truce, as she lays her emotions bare and wades through the creative slump that birthed the entire album. 

Ultimately, the Lunadira experience is like a young woman sticking to her guns amid life’s chaos: second-wave emo storytelling, wistful dream-pop synths and jazzy electronic trills. On the surface, her debut album might be reduced to the pop girl who commenced her “villain era”, or the “old Taylor can’t come to the phone” rebrand towards experimentation – but at her core, she remains unequivocally Lunadira – it’s about love gone awry, a morbid plea for help and a struggle with solitude. 

Stream: Spotify / Apple Music