Julia, Julia
Sugaring a Strawberry
SUICIDE SQUEEZE/HAPPY SUNDAYS
Like Arya Stark without the training of an assassin, Julia Kugel is a musician with many faces: She leads The Coathangers, Soft Palms, the all-star squad Julia & the Squeezettes, and her own solo project, Julia, Julia. Her ambition is particularly remarkable given that, when I’ve touched base with her over the course of 2025, humility seemed to be her ostensible calling card. And it is on Sugaring a Strawberry, even if she’s releasing it through the seemingly self-focused moniker. Her second album as Julia, Julia magically resolves the inherent contradiction of the trendy term “mindfulness”: How can a practice intended to integrate one’s self with the outside world be reconciled with the fact that it is by definition a selfish exercise?
Let’s clarify: In a modern-day gathering of earnest people seeking to find peace in an overwhelming—if not downright oppressive—world, a mindfulness guru would instruct them, after they’ve assumed a suitably healthy posture, probably in the lotus position, to gently hold a strawberry and examine it, or connect with it, for an hour. Count the number of divots in the strawberry’s skin. Smell the strawberry without plucking off its stem. Admire its color, shape, texture, and so on. Kugel does that on Sugaring a Strawberry, a caressing collection of songs during which she treats each note from each instrument as a delicate item to be savored and appreciated from a state of mindfulness.
But here’s what makes her second record a marvel: Kugel sprinkles sugar on the fruit, branding it in the most delicate way possible. In the process, she makes it all her own. In its minimalism, intimacy, and fragility, Sugaring a Strawberry harkens back to The Magnetic Fields’ 69 Love Songs, regarded as a masterpiece thanks to Stephin Merritt’s devotion to exploring the titular subject matter from every conceivable angle. Kugel does that, too, yet what makes her artistry distinct is that she’s instinctively drawn out of her head, which happens to be where her muse is also found.
Adding to the warmth and love that permeates Sugaring a Strawberry is the participation of her long-time collaborator and husband, Scott Montoya, who handles mixing duties on the record. Just as Kugel is there for us during this uplifting but never over-the-top listening experience, so is Montoya there for her. Accordingly and appropriately, her soft singing is complemented by light touches of tape hissing (“A Love That Hurts”), library-quiet guitar (“Bound”), and additional airy instrumentation that Montoya provides but, of course, never imposes. Naturally, they recorded Sugaring a Strawberry in their home studio; curiously, they employed vintage analog audio equipment called the “Flickenger clone" to ensure the album’s warmth and TLC. A consummately comforting record, Strawberry feels forever.
