Japanese Breakfast: 'For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women)' Album Review + Giveaway

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Japanese Breakfast (@jpbrekkie) Comes to Aotearoa New Zealand for the First Time!

Japanese Breakfast is set to perform in Aotearoa New Zealand for the very first time on Saturday, June 7! The acclaimed artist will take the stage in support of their highly anticipated fourth studio album, For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women).

The show is part of the Auckland Winter Series—a new, curated concert experience from Live Nation, in association with Auckland Council. The other shows include Teeks, Sir Dave Dobbyn and Mall Grab.

Tickets are on sale now! https://www.livenation.co.nz/auckland-winter-series

Giveaway will be drawn May 31st, winners will be notified by email.

'For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women)' Album Review

I write this review with the official vinyl record playing in the background—leisurely, blissful, and content—while savouring the remnants of a slow Tuesday morning. 

‘For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)’, despite its very literal title, couldn’t be more subversive with its hauntingly atmospheric melodies and literary-esque lyricism. While Japanese Breakfast’s previous studio album capitalised on its high-flying, giddy pop synths, this one takes the listener by surprise, leaning into richer guitar acoustics and velvety melodic bridges. The pop indie band’s lead singer, Michelle Zauner, enthrals with her soft, delicate vocals—making each track a seamless blend of emotionally intense yet comforting storytelling. 

‘Little Girl’ lingers in the listener’s ears with its distinctive guitar plucking, sporadic lyrics interspersed between instrumental breaks, and fading synths to masterfully close the track. It feels natural to hum along and feel yourself being carried away on some hypothetical melancholic breeze—although, as autumn leaves fall and pumpkin spice lattes start brewing, perhaps the feeling is not so much hypothetical, but purely anecdotal. ‘Mega Circuit’ delivers a strong bass line and hypnotic percussion loops, showcasing the band’s impressive instrumental range. The gradual chorus of piano chords was a perfect complement. 

My personal favourite, ‘Winter in LA’, charms you with its wonderland-esque musical arrangements and wistful high notes tied up in crescendo-level riffs. The album experiments freely with sound, whether leaning into the luscious violin strings in ‘Leda’ or the impassioned electric guitar flourishes of ‘Picture Window’. 

When reflecting on the matured tone of the album, Zauner remarked, “As I get older, my emotions are in this place where they’re not extreme… it’s just a contemplative, pensive and dreamy state.” And in that very floaty and dreamlike landscape do we find ourselves listening, just as Zauner herself was when writing the album. 

As an amateur poet myself, Zauner’s thoughts on the songwriting process heavily resonated with me. “It’s fun to write with such a bluntness and stark language. Sometimes I think it’s actually more poetic.” 

Loyal followers of Japanese Breakfast will recall the star’s emotionally raw and deeply moving memoir, ‘Crying in H-Mart’, where she navigates the turbulent aftermath of her mother’s death from cancer and her rise to musical acclaim. Anyone familiar with the memoir will not be surprised at Zauner’s ability to blend deeply personal stories with fictional elements, weaving prose and poetry even through the most mundane fragments of daily life. That same gift carries through in this album’s lyricism—simple in phrasing, yet heavy with meaning, often poetic in its starkness. 

While abstraction and verbosity certainly have their place, the simplicity of Zauner’s lyrics—entirely sparse at times—is one of the album’s most striking features. And when her words do grace us with their presence, they cut right through the bone and speak with unflinching brevity. ‘Mega Circuit’ takes a long, hard look at the state of contemporary (toxic) masculinity, singing of “incel eunuchs” and “soft hearts of young boys so pissed off and jaded.” Other tracks prefer to show and not tell, with mentions of “honey water” and “port town ferris wheels” painting vast emotional landscapes in just a few words. 

If you’re a miserable daily commuter like me, you’ll find great solace in listening to this heartfelt album while dramatically gazing out the train window. Yes, Japanese Breakfast is certified amateur music video material. I wouldn’t be surprised if the album was used in the soundtrack of a quintessential coming-of-age film (‘Perks of Being a Wallflower’, I’m looking at you) or a youth drama episode. Nonetheless, the album transcends whatever reductive label one might draw from its tongue-in-cheek title. Truly, it’s music worth hearing far beyond the ears of your typical melancholic brunette or sad girl. 

In what can only be described as a measured balancing act between mellow pleasure and helpless yearning, Zauner elegantly weaves in Brontë-like literary allusions into whimsical melodies reminiscent of folklore scores. This album is well worth listening to—and just in time, too—for Japanese Breakfast’s world tour arriving at the Auckland Town Hall this year. 

And as the needle of the record player lifts and silence hangs in the air, I slowly pull myself out of the melancholic dream state, awake for Tuesday once more.