Sophia Kennedy - Monsters (LP)

Sophia Kennedy’s second album, Monsters, arrived on May 7, 2021 via City Slang, and it still feels like a room you discover behind a bookshelf. Kennedy, born in Baltimore and based in Hamburg, has a way of stitching together vivid pieces of pop history and film-score suspense until the seams vanish. She does it with a co-conspirator’s precision too. Longtime collaborator Mense Reents, known from Die Goldenen Zitronen, helps shape these songs into something sly and cinematic, the kind of production that keeps pulling new details out of the shadows with every listen.

If you came in through the singles, you already know the grip this record has. Orange Tic Tac is a quick hit of surreal pop, glossy on the surface but packed with tiny rhythmic traps. Seventeen glides on a bittersweet melody that feels instantly familiar yet not quite traceable, like a half-remembered TV theme you can’t place. Cat On My Tongue leans into a jittery, percussive pulse, with Kennedy’s voice playing the starring role, shifting from cool narrator to conspiratorial whisper. These tracks led the charge for a reason. They show how Kennedy can bend melody, arrangement, and character acting into a narrative that never quite resolves, which is part of the thrill.

Monsters is a pop album, sure, but it takes pop through a house of mirrors. Kennedy pulls from vaudeville, pre-rock croon, golden-age Hollywood strings, dusty hip-hop loops, and synths that hover like static on an old TV. None of this lands as a collage exercise. It plays like an auteur’s cut. The transitions feel natural because the voice at the center is so assured. She can slide from a torch-song line into a spoken aside, then pivot into a hook that sticks. Reents gives her the space to make those moves, balancing oddball samples and crisp drum programming with piano flourishes that could light up a smoky club.

There is a sense of creature-feature fun in the title, but Kennedy has said the monsters are more internal than cinematic. You hear it in the lyrics that sidestep literal storytelling and live inside feelings that spike and fade. The mood carries across the album’s arc. A bassline snarls, a string figure tiptoes, a choir of Kennedys stitches itself together, then a single synth note holds like a warning siren. The result is a set of songs you can dance to in one moment and puzzle over the next. That duality made her 2017 self-titled debut so intriguing, and Monsters sharpens the lens.

Put this on vinyl and the textures really bloom. The low-end thump in Orange Tic Tac sits warmer, and the room around Kennedy’s voice feels more defined, which suits the ghostly theater the album conjures. If you are crate-digging and you see Monsters vinyl on the wall, do not overthink it. Fans who like their art-pop with teeth will get plenty of replay value, and collectors hunting Sophia Kennedy vinyl will appreciate how this pressing flatters the spacious, slightly haunted production. It pairs nicely with the first LP too, for anyone looking to stack Sophia Kennedy albums on vinyl and trace her leap from promising to fully formed.

Monsters picked up strong notices on release, and that tracks. Critics keyed into how Kennedy writes character as much as melody, and how the record sits comfortably between avant-pop and earworm craft. What I love is the sense of play. Even the brooding moments have a wink. A piano figure nods to old standards, but a chopped snare undercuts the nostalgia. A crispy sample suggests a lost radio broadcast, then the chorus arrives like it has been on your turntable for years. It is a rare trick to make the unfamiliar sound like home.

If you are looking to buy Sophia Kennedy records online, this is the gateway. Local shoppers flipping through a Melbourne record store rack will clock the City Slang spine right away, and it is showing up steadily across shops that specialize in imports and adventurous pop. Even if you are hunting through vinyl records Australia wide, Monsters tends to be the one you spot first. It is approachable, memorable, and just strange enough to keep you leaning in. That tension is the hook. Once it clicks, you start hearing all the little ghosts Kennedy and Reents tucked into the mix, and the album turns from a good listen into a favorite.