Japanese Breakfast stepped into the sunlight, seemingly for the first time ever, after the release of 2021’s bright and vivacious Jubilee. Soaking in sun and cherubic extraversion, lead vocalist Michelle Zauner shimmered as she was launched into the mainstream and cemented herself into indie-pop stardom with the release of her novel “Crying in H Mart.”
Now in the adolescence of their fame, Japanese Breakfast returns to the gloom that defined their first two albums with 2025’s studio release, For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women). The 2025 record greets us with a newfound polish — being the first of their four-album-wide discography to be produced in a professional studio setting. They are accompanied by producer Blake Mills, whose extensive resume includes the likes of Bob Dylan and Fiona Apple. Changes are stirring for Zauner’s quartet! Japanese Breakfast is growing up, settling in and coming into their own — but not without growing pains.
In a press release, Zauner stated the album was inspired by the “psychic state of poets on the verge of inspiration,” and indeed, the album borders upon an apparent reach-to-the-divine. Japanese Breakfast is perfectly dreamy and enveloped in a whimsical haze. This is most apparent in the gossamer of Zauner’s vocals, soaring over the twee guitar chords and twinkling synths patterned across the album. The magic Japanese Breakfast alludes to in the title of the album’s concluding track, “Magic Mountain,” is stored in her voice, in the barren sensitivities and vulnerabilities she is now broadcasting before the world.
But often, this melancholic whimsy is not enough to bring the album to life. Something stiff haunts the tracks, and despite the dreamlike fluidity threaded throughout, it threatens to steamroll the entire album. In moments Zauner should shimmer like gold, she instead fades into the backdrop. And while there is an inherent and undeniable beauty coating the album’s instrumentals, it often remains at just that — nothing more than pretty. Even in its most exposed moments, such as “Little Girl,” a song pulled from Zauner’s real experiences with paternal estrangement, something seems to fall flat. Tracks like “Little Girl” at least shine through with their intimate songwriting and lyricism; the track that follows, “Leda,” seems to merely float in its track position, scarcely doing anything more than simply existing. Perhaps For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) is too concerned with chasing a perception of melancholy rather than truly immersing itself in it.
These criticisms are likely the result of a shift in camera perspective, turning the lens outward and away from Zauner after the intense strain of her catapult to fame. For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women) exists in a dizzying afterglow, with Zauner caught in a state of vertigo. As a result, these fictional ruminations are merely beautiful artifacts that appear to approximate nothing. But this is not a unanimous truth — Zauner has not forgotten how to shine. “Honey Water,” the album’s lengthiest track, is quick to cement itself as a stand-out. The constant strumming serves as a driving force, propelling the track forward and crowning it with a certain momentum. The lyricism and overall composition are sharp and witty, while still retaining the titular melancholic shape Japanese Breakfast is so desperately chasing.
If this review seems overly critical, that’s because it is. Undoubtedly, this is beautiful work hailing from a sickeningly tumultuous point in Zauner’s life. From the ashes, Zauner rises like a phoenix to produce the dreamily tidy For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women). The lowlight reel’s greatest sin is being bland, which is hardly a shocking feat for a dream pop album. Ultimately, For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) is a souvenir from the adolescent era of Japanese Breakfast’s career, and despite any growing pains, Zauner’s constellation of whimsical gloom sparkles under the sunlight.
Music Beat Editor Amaya Choudhury can be reached at amayach@umich.edu
