Viji - So Vanilla (LP) - Transparent Cream Vinyl

Viji’s debut album, So Vanilla, lands like a Polaroid of 90s alt rock taped to a bedroom wall in 2023, all fuzzed edges and bright hooks with a wordless shrug in the middle. She has always dealt in dream logic and heavy guitars, but this record finds a sharper focus, a no-fuss kind of confidence that suits her. Put it on and the first thing you notice is how the guitars sit, not oversized, just chewy enough to make the choruses bite. The second thing you notice is her voice, cool and close, almost conspiratorial, like she is leaning across the bar to tell you a secret she might later regret.

The lead single Karaoke is the gateway drug here. It swings on a simple riff and a melody you start humming before the second chorus has finished. There is a small grin in the delivery that keeps it from drifting into pure nostalgia. The reference points are familiar, think The Breeders and Veruca Salt, but Viji flips the mood with subtle changes in tone, a little drop of reverb here, a dry confession there. The whole thing feels lived in rather than retro, like a favourite op shop jumper that somehow fits better than anything new.

Across the album she writes about self sabotage and small victories with a light hand. Nothing is laboured, nothing is oversold. Songs slide into view and hold their ground with two or three smart choices. A glinting counter melody on the guitar. A drum fill that ducks out early to let the chorus hit. When she goes slow, the air thickens and the bass gets chewy, and when she goes fast the cymbals spit and everything feels a bit dangerous in a good way. There is craft here, but the seams do not show.

It helps that So Vanilla arrives on Speedy Wunderground, a label with a knack for capturing lightning in a jar. The album sounds like a room, not a spreadsheet. You can hear the air move around the kick drum and the slight grit on the strings, the sort of detail that makes So Vanilla vinyl a very tempting spin. On a turntable the guitars bloom and the vocals keep their cigarette paper intimacy, which is exactly how these songs want to live. If you are chasing Viji vinyl in a Melbourne record store, this is the one you pull out and pass to a mate with a raised eyebrow that means you have to hear this.

Karaoke is the calling card, but the deeper cuts do the heavy lifting. Viji leans into hooks without sanding off the roughness, and she lets her voice sit slightly behind the beat just enough to keep things elastic. Lyrically she is plain spoken, fond of clean images and sideways humour, more diary scribble than poetry slam. It is a relief to hear a debut that does not overreach. She keeps the palette tight, and the pay-off is cohesion. You come out the other side remembering tunes, not just textures.

The album also benefits from a clear sense of place. This is London guitar music, humid with rehearsal room sweat, but she brings a cosmopolitan tilt that keeps the edges soft and the choruses tidy. When a fuzz pedal kicks in, it is there to underline the feeling, not to disguise it. When the band drops out, the song does not fall apart. That balance gives So Vanilla real replay value, the sort of record you put on while cooking, then find yourself stopping mid stir to catch a line.

For collectors, this sits neatly next to beabadoobee and Hatchie, but it has its own crooked smile. If you buy Viji records online, you will be happy to know the pressing is a quiet one, the low end round and the top end polite. It slides into a set of Viji albums on vinyl that feels like the start of something rather than a tidy summary of influences. And if you are in the market for vinyl records Australia wide, this is a safe recommendation for anyone who likes their indie pop with teeth.

So Vanilla is the rare debut that works as both a postcard and a promise. It tells you exactly who Viji is right now and hints at where she could go next. No grand concept, no bloat, just a songwriter with a firm grip on mood and melody, and a band that knows how to keep it simple. The kind of record you lend out and immediately want back.