There’s something wildly satisfying about a song that sounds like it was made in a late-night burst of truth — especially when that truth sounds like a lost tape from the golden age of rock and psychedelic pop. That’s exactly where Magenta Moon hit us with “You Like Me”.
It starts with a heavy thump — a beat that feels like it’s dragging its feet through molasses, with just enough swing to keep your shoulders moving. It’s fuzzy and warped, like your brain on burnout, but instead of wallowing, Magenta Moon twist that exhaustion into a groove. This isn’t a sad song about being tired. It’s a cheeky, slightly chaotic celebration of giving in to the moment and doing something just because it feels good.
Elaina Whitesell’s voice feels unfiltered in the best possible way. It doesn’t scream for attention, it lures you in — a bit sultry, a bit aloof, and with a texture that makes it feel like you’ve known it for years. There’s a retro softness in the way she sings, but it’s never trying too hard to sound vintage. Pair that with Joey Petrarca’s guitar, which slashes through the track like it’s clearing out a fogged-up windshield, and we get this layered contrast that really sticks. Everything feels tight, but slightly askew — like a band that knows exactly what they’re doing but wants it to feel like it’s all happening live in someone’s garage.
And that arrangement? It’s low-key brilliant. You’ve got violin by Christopher Xue adding this elastic tension, Broadway B dropping keys that almost shimmer, and Pat Mannella’s drumming keeping everything glued together without getting in the way. There’s a pulse to this song that feels strangely personal — like the beat is mimicking your own internal monologue when you’re running on empty and still showing up for the love of it. And in a way, that’s exactly the point: not every track needs to be polished into oblivion. Sometimes, clarity comes out of the fuzz.
About Magenta Moon:
Magenta Moon isn’t just a band name; it’s a whole vibe. Based in Los Angeles but clearly orbiting somewhere else entirely, they blend surfy grooves with dreamy romanticism and rock sharpness. As co-pilots (and real-life couple) Elaina Whitesell and Joey Petrarca lead this spaceship, they’ve built a sound that’s equal parts vintage charm and future-facing experimentation. There’s a playfulness to their aesthetic, but don’t mistake that for a lack of depth — these are carefully crafted songs made to move bodies and tickle brains. If you’re into the messier side of Tennis, the early bite of The Growlers, or the analog warmth of Crumb, you’re in safe hands with The Moon.
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