There is music made for the everyday, and then there is music made for worlds that hover just beyond our reach. My Lovely Haunting’s debut album Forgotten Moon, released November 27, 2025, belongs to the latter. It is an album that takes you by the hand and leads you through flickering memories, mist soaked alleyways, neon drenched horizons, and intimate unspoken emotions.
Crafted by Melbourne duo Alex and Lucy, the project feels like a cinematic dream unraveling in slow motion, echoing with tenderness, loss, wonder, and the quiet ache of remembering something you never quite lived. Their self coined genre, Bladerunner Folk, could not be more apt. Forgotten Moon is a place where futuristic ambience and ancient folk roots collide, where reverberating vocals hover like ghosts and each melody feels carved from light and longing.
The album opens with Intro, a stirring piece that immediately announces the duo’s devotion to world building. It feels like stepping through a portal into another dimension, guided by swelling pads and haunting textures. There is a sense of ceremony in the way the track unfolds, as though it is preparing listeners for the journey ahead. Intro could easily soundtrack a lost sci fi classic, setting a tone that is both cinematic and mysterious.
Drifting follows with a deeply intimate weight. Lucy wrote the track about the day her father passed away, and the song holds the kind of emotional clarity that can only come from lived experience. Her voice glides over Alex’s atmospheric production with heartbreaking softness, weaving sorrow and acceptance into a single breath. Drifting captures the strange calm that sometimes exists within grief, the way memory softens sharp edges without erasing them. Beneath the sadness is a sense of stillness, a recognition of life’s impermanent beauty.
Star Gazing shifts the emotional palette into a realm of quiet overwhelm. It is a song for anyone who has ever stepped outside at night because the noise inside felt too heavy. Lucy writes with striking honesty, exploring the tug of war between wanting to feel everything and wanting to disappear into the sky. The arrangement is understated yet evocative, glowing like a lone streetlight on a deserted road. It is both a confession and a release.
Lost Again, released on Halloween, carries that rawness even further. Its earliest version began as an improvisation recorded through a humming guitar amp with distant, organ like keys. The final track preserves that fragile immediacy. Alex’s lyrics cut straight to the marrow, examining pain in its countless shapes. Lost Again sounds like memory captured in amber, trembling yet powerful. It is one of the album’s most emotionally gripping pieces, a reminder that vulnerability can be its own kind of strength.
Medieval Lullaby offers a moment of peace. This instrumental piece drifts with an ethereal softness that feels otherworldly, like a forgotten melody from centuries past. Its serene textures provide a gentle pause amid the album’s emotional intensity, allowing listeners to simply breathe and let the sound wash over them. It is a quiet, luminous dream suspended between chapters.
The Window brings the album back into lyrical intimacy with a mantra repeated like a soft incantation: I love and accept myself for who I am. Lucy originally wrote this as something she would whisper to herself during difficult moments, and its presence in the song feels like a small flame held against the dark. What began as a simple acoustic folk sketch evolved through collaboration into a sweeping cinematic ballad, as Alex layered atmospheric touches and Belle Murphy’s production elevated it into something truly expansive. The Window is self compassion turned into sound, glowing with sincerity.
One More Day carries that sense of resilience into a more forward moving space. Anchored by a powerful synth that pulses beneath the track, it blends heartfelt songwriting with a strong cinematic lift. For anyone who has ever had to take life step by step, breath by breath, One More Day offers solace and encouragement. It acknowledges struggle without judgment and finds strength in persistence.
Carnival closes the album with a haunting elegance. Featuring ocean field recordings captured at Kennett River, the song creates a surreal environment where eerie piano motifs drift in and out like lanterns bobbing on black water. Carnival feels like the final scene of an art house film, fading out on mystery rather than answers. It embodies the album’s balance of human emotion and otherworldly atmosphere, leaving listeners suspended in a sense of ethereal wonder.
Forgotten Moon is more than a debut. It is a fully formed universe. Alex and Lucy craft sound with intent and imagery, each track built like a scene from a story that spans centuries and timelines. Alex’s background in film and photography shapes the album’s visual quality. His love of analogue synths and tactile sound manipulation gives the project a cinematic weight, the kind that feels both nostalgic and futuristic. Lucy, with her neoclassical roots and dream soaked songwriting instinct, brings the heart of the project. Her melodies cling to the listener long after the music stops. Her voice, delicate yet commanding, carries the emotional truth of the record.
My Lovely Haunting began with a reverb pedal and an acoustic guitar, but Forgotten Moon proves how far that initial spark has grown. This is a duo who understand atmosphere, storytelling, vulnerability, and world building on a level that is rare and refreshing. Their music feels like walking through an abandoned city at night, guided by soft lights, echoing memories, and a voice that gently asks you to look inward.
Forgotten Moon is a journey best taken from start to finish, a sonic film that flickers across the mind like forgotten dreams. My Lovely Haunting embrace the uncanny, the intimate, and the sublime, offering an album that feels both deeply human and beautifully unreal. In a world that moves too fast, Forgotten Moon invites listeners to pause, breathe, and wander through the shadows with their hearts open.
