Emmy The Great - April / 月音 (LP)

Emmy The Great’s fourth album, April / 月音, arrived on 9 October 2020 on Bella Union, and it plays like a gently lit postcard from Hong Kong. That matters, because Emma-Lee Moss was born there and returned in the late 2010s, and you can hear that homecoming in every corner of this record. The title pairs English with the characters for moon sound, and the music feels exactly like that: nocturnal, reflective, a soft glow on wet streets.

She has always been a smart storyteller, from the diaristic folk of First Love to the subtle electronics on Second Love, but this is the most patient and tender version of her craft. April / 月音 leans into memory and myth. The opener sets the tone with clean guitar, hush-close vocals, and a slow build of synth air. Then comes Chang-E, named after the Chinese moon goddess, and suddenly you are in that festival light, watching lanterns move as if they could drift right off the pier. It is not a big song, not in the radio sense, but it sneaks up on you with finely drawn detail and a melody that keeps circling back like a thought you cannot shake.

Dandelions/Liminal was one of the advance tracks, and it shows how she folds city life into pop shape without losing the small textures. Little flourishes of keys flicker like signage. The rhythm settles into a light step, almost a walk through a neighborhood, while her voice threads scenes together in a calm, knowing way. Mary, another standout, feels like a confidant’s letter. It is plainspoken and affectionate, and the arrangement leaves a lot of space so her phrasing can do the heavy lifting. A Window/O’Keeffe nods to the painter by staying focused and spare. The track looks hard at a single image and lets that become a whole life, which is what Moss has done well since her earliest singles.

Even when the songs drift toward the ambient, there is always something to hold. A little bass figure. A guitar peal. A harmony that lands on the exact right note and changes the temperature of the room. You can tell these songs were lived with, not just demoed and cut. Moss has talked about the album as a love letter to Hong Kong, and that rings true. You hear ferries and temples only if you bring them with you, but the mood suggests them. There is a calm urgency to how she writes about place, like she knows she is catching something that could vanish.

The production keeps everything close to the ear. Nothing shouts. Acoustic guitar and soft synths share space, and the drums stay brushed and polite. That does not mean the record is thin. It blossoms when you give it time. By the time you reach the closing stretch, the themes of return and change have quietly settled in, and the melodies feel baked into your day. This is the type of writing where one lyric about a window or a flower carries a whole season.

If you like hearing micro detail, the April / 月音 vinyl pressing is worth the shelf space. The quiet arrangements bloom on a turntable, and side breaks frame the album like chapters. Crate diggers who stumble across Emmy The Great vinyl often get hooked by the intimacy of her records, and this one is a sweet entry point if you are new. If you cannot find it locally, it is easy to buy Emmy The Great records online, and a good shop will steer you toward her earlier albums on vinyl as well. I pulled my copy after an afternoon trawl through a Melbourne record store and it has lived near the player since. This is a record you reach for when the house is dim, tea is cooling, and you want words that feel like company.

April / 月音 does not chase trends, which is part of its quiet power. It stays small and luminous, rooted in a specific city and a specific moment, yet open enough to unlock your own memory bank. If you have followed her since the MySpace era, it is a satisfying chapter. If you are just now curious, this is a graceful place to start, and it makes the case for keeping Emmy The Great albums on vinyl within arm’s reach.