Kitty Coen captivates across Conversations with the Moon, an album that moves seamlessly between alt-country allure, southern gothic storytelling, and hypnotic indie-folk intimacy. From the orchestral swell and solemn guitar twangs of “tell my mother” to the frolicking strings and thumping momentum of “grave dancin’,” Coen’s voice balances haunting vulnerability with defiant energy, crafting songs that feel vividly lived-in and cinematic. “This record came from those nights when you feel like the only thing listening back is the moon,” she says. “It’s about isolation, connection, and building a world you can step into when the real one feels too heavy.”
Succeeding with a sense of cinematic grandiosity, “tell my mother” 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 continue, exuding a sense of hope for bluer skies as wordless vocal entrancement combines with the heartrending strings for a sating close. The ensuing “cocaine jacket” succeeds in another aesthetical realm entirely, embracing a debonair rock pulse with southern grit. “Don’t test me boy,” Coen’s vocals caution, launching thereafter into a consuming organ-touched hook. Conversations with the Moon wastes no time in establishing a dynamic knack for both atmospheric moodiness and punchy melodic prowess.
Another standout track, “grave dancin'” enthralls with its frolicking strings and thumping alt-country momentum. Its “stuck in a rut” lyrical disposition furthers the thematic sentiments of “tell my mother,” as well as aspiring for better days following a collapse of love and identity. Debaucherously engaging imagery — beer cans, sirens, and late-night confessions — plays with carpe-diem temptations, evoking a mix of heartbreak and hedonism as Coen’s vocals admit: “It’s a self-destructive honky-tonk, we’re crushing all these beers, grave dancin’ in the yard.” Enamoring with its string infusions and vocal work especially, “grave dancin'” presents a fantastic melding of dark intrigue and party-set enthusiasm.
“strawberry” also delights, embracing the alt-country realm as well — though within a hazy, hypnotic delectability that combines moody guitar twangs with Coen’s dreamily absorbing vocal presence. Its “don’t outgrow me” pleas resonate within the textured guitars, while further lyricism plays like a meditation on love’s impermanence, conveyed through small yet impactful moments of care. “You dye your hair and tell me that you’re changin’ like the seasons,” she lets out, balancing the looming tides of change with hopes for some things, or relationships, to remain just as they are. “growing pains” then comes as a poignant follow-up, keeping the growth-related themes intact while now contextualizing them in oneself, rather than in another. Conversations with the Moon is a thorough success, fully showcasing Kitty Coen’s storytelling and vivid atmospheric constructions.
