It’s been more than six years since All Our Exes Live in Texas released their sole studio album, ‘When We Fall’. With all four members singing in addition to playing their respective instruments – accordion, guitar, mandolin, ukulele – the band’s debut funnelled old-world folk through pop sensibilities, carried by syrupy harmonies.
Mandolinist Georgia Mooney’s solo debut, ‘Full of Moon’, shifts drastically from her earlier work. Across 10 songs, Mooney zig-zags between ’50s pop and sci-fi futurism, resulting in an anachronistic art-pop record that, at its best moments, gloriously defies categorisation.
Cinematic opener ‘War Romance’ begins with dramatic, lilting piano and Mooney’s quavering vocals, a quiet tension underscored by the burgeoning strings beneath. That tension breaks with catharsis as Mooney heads into the song’s chorus: a grand, soaring release buoyed by retro synths and an ethereal refrain. We’re introduced to the richly textured world Mooney crafts on ‘Full of Moon’: a desperate planet where the colours are surreal and the stakes are high.
Largely acoustic, the songs on All Our Exes’ ‘When We Fall’ felt like they had their feet planted in the soil. By contrast, the most radical departures on ‘Full of Moon’ feel – by design – like they’re being beamed in from outer space. If it’s not made clear by the album’s title and artwork – which depicts Mooney lying in a lunar crater – the vintage-sounding electronics, shimmery strings and Mooney’s distinctive voice catapult these songs firmly into the stars.
‘Full of Moon’ was co-produced by Mooney and Noah Georgeson, whose production can be heard on Joanna Newsom’s debut ‘The Milk-Eyed Mender’ and Cate Le Bon’s ‘Mug Museum’: both artists whose work draws on tradition while feeling decidedly otherworldly.
Like those records, the most interesting moments on ‘Full of Moon’ come when Mooney leans all the way into her weirder impulses. ‘Break It Off’ is a desperate anti-torch song that foregrounds lounge singer-yearning with brassy synths and slowed-down disco drums.
‘Some of Us’ is the album’s boldest experiment. This campy, intoxicating song pushes even further outside the bounds, combining the album’s more celestial textures with jazzy big-band and baroque-pop influences, like a showtune in a space opera. When executed with this much aplomb, the seemingly disparate pieces of the puzzle align so perfectly, it stuns.
Given how truly spectacular those moments are, one can’t help wishing Mooney leaned into those impulses a little more wholeheartedly throughout. Mooney’s background is obviously in folk music, and sparser, acoustic-led cuts like ‘What an Inconvenience’ and ‘What’ll I Do’ are beautiful songs, meticulously arranged and passionately delivered. But rather than providing a counterpoint to the more exciting sojourns and unexpected, attention-grabbing twists on the album, they end up feeling like they’re lacking something.
For most of the album, though, Mooney succeeds at wielding the tools in her wheelhouse toward ambitious goals. Her vocals in particular elevate even the weaker compositions, with an operatic flair that channels both the high drama and raw emotion of Kate Bush. It’s a vocal style that many attempt but very few actually pull off. In this case, Mooney knocks it out of the park.
At its best, ‘Full of Moon’ is a dazzling, inventive pop record: richly textured, captivating and gleefully strange. While its scope sometimes feels too wide to feel coherent, Mooney carries each song with sheer commitment and a willingness to explore unorthodox ideas. When she refuses to play it safe and swings for the fences – or, as it were, the cosmos – magic happens.
