Brijean
Macro
GHOSTLY
The duo of vocalist/percussionist Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart have kept busy this year leading up to the release of Macro, their second album as Brijean. After releasing a pair of tracks later featured on the record, they also resurfaced on a cover of “Genius of Love” alongside Toro y Moi (with whom Murphy has long collaborated) on A24’s Stop Making Sense tribute album back in May. It wasn’t long afterward that the new LP’s effervescent single “Euphoric Avenue” shot to number one on KCRW.
Which paved the way for the psychedelic dance-pop of Macro, an evolution of Brijean’s identity long in the making. The textures, tones, and pacing feel more polished than ever as Murphy and Stuart venture through downtempo, psychedelia, folk, indie pop, house, funk, and disco—Stuart’s impeccable synth work serving as the backbone to the duo’s sound, elevating Murphy’s laid-back singing like a perfect marinade.
Multi-layered and capturing the beautiful yet terrifying ambivalence of life, Murphy’s lyrics are both contemplative and playful throughout the record. Macro’s pop sensibilities help soften the blow of this contradictory reality Murphy establishes, circumventing negative emotions through hypnotic sound production—it’s as if rococo and romanticism combined to create a secret third thing shrouded in darkness yet profuse with light pastels. It’s not brutal, but still carries weight as Murphy wrestles with metaphysical ambivalence, exploring life and death, pleasure and pain, and beauty and change all multitudinously being part of one subjective experience.
Still, Macro is overwhelmingly life-affirming. It celebrates these contradictions instead of finding them absurd. “Worlds of beauty and pain,” Murphy sings gently as the intense strings and ominous chords sprinkled across “Euphoric Avenue” add gravity to Murphy’s emotional ambivalence, word-painting her mental state as she seeks release. It’s not all doom and gloom, though. On “Breathe,” Murphy fantasizes about escaping our capitalist hellscape: “I want to do things that don’t take currency,” she sings, searching for a space where she can just be. It starts mellow, but then crescendos into a cathartic rhythmic section as it exhibits another moment in which Macro sees the duo in full bloom. It doesn’t give answers, but does provide emotional catharsis.
The lushness of “Laura” bookends the record with an intense ending, perfectly showcasing Brijean’s ability to feel spontaneous. Macro can be enjoyed on many levels, but two stand out: You can get lost in its bouncy mellifluousness or intellectually wrestle with its philosophical implications. Either way, it’s a journey worth taking.
