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Sold out tour, new music, anything but muna can do it

Tour Dates

  • May 10 - London, UK - The Garage (SOLD OUT)

  • May 12 - Brighton, UK - The Great Escape Festival

  • June 5 - West Hollywood, CA - OUTLOUD Raising Voices Music Festival at WeHo Pride

  • July 28-July 21 - Chicago, IL - Lollapalooza

  • July 30 - Cleveland, OH - Rock & Roll Hall of Fame

  • August 2 - Columbus, OH - Newport Music Hall

  • August 3 - Pittsburgh, PA - Mr. Smalls Theater

  • August 5- Louisville, KY - Headliners

  • August 6 - St. Louis, MO - Delmar Hall

  • August 7 - St Charles, IA - Hinterland Music Festival

  • August 8 - Minneapolis, MN - First Ave (UPSIZED FROM FINE LINE DUE TO DEMAND)

  • August 11 - Boise, ID - Knitting Factory

  • August 12 - Seattle, WA - Day In Day Out Festival

  • August 13 - Portland, OR - Wonder Ballroom (SOLD OUT)

  • August 15 - San Diego, CA - Observatory Northpark

  • September 18 - 19 Boston, MA - Royale ( SOLD OUT)

  • September 20 - Washington, DC - 9:30 Club (SOLD OUT)

  • September 23 - Nashville, TN - Marathon Music Works

  • September 24 - Atlanta, GA - Masquerade - Heaven

  • September 26 - Washington DC - 9:30 Club (2nd SHOW ADDED - SOLD OUT)

  • September 27 - Toronto, ON - Phoenix Theater (SOLD OUT)

  • September 28 - Philadelphia, PA - Fillmore (UPSIZED FROM THE FOUNDRY DUE TO DEMAND)

  • September 30 - October 2 New York, NY - Irving Plaza (SOLD OUT)

  • October 4 - Detroit, MI - The Majestic Theater

  • October 6 - Kansas City, MO - The Truman

  • October 10 - Houston, TX - House of Blues

  • October 11 - Dallas, TX - The Echo Lounge & Music Hall

  • October 16 - Denver, CO - Gothic Theater

  • October 17 - Salt Lake City, UT - The Depot

  • October 19 - Phoenix, AZ - The Van Buren

  • October 23 - San Francisco, CA - The Fillmore (SOLD OUT)

  • October 24 - San Francisco, CA - The Fillmore (2nd SHOW ADDED)

  • October 25 - Los Angeles, CA - The Wiltern (SOLD OUT)

  • October 26 - Los Angeles, CA - The Wiltern (2nd SHOW ADDED)

Los Angeles-based trio MUNA - comprised of Katie Gavin (she/they), Naomi McPherson (they/them), and Josette Maskin (she/they) stopped by The Ellen Degeneres Show to perform their new single “Anything But Me.” It’s another banger MUNA performance and shows the band at the absolute top of their live game. They recently announced a North American tour with many dates selling out and new shows being added due to demand. Watch the video below to see why fans are so excited.

MUNA will release their upcoming self-titled album out June 24th via Saddest Factory Records. The band’s first single “Silk Chiffon feat. Phoebe Bridgers” was released to widespread critical acclaim, not only becoming a queer anthem around the world but also being hailed as one of the best songs of 2021.

MUNA is a career defining record, from a band who continue to push their own artistic boundaries, who aren't afraid to be vulnerable and are fiercely honest in all aspects of their craft. MUNA might just be their masterpiece.


Follow MUNA:

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More on MUNA….

MUNA is magic. What other band could have stamped the forsaken year of 2021 with spangles and pom-poms — made you sing (and maybe even believe) that “Life’s so fun, life’s so fun,” during what may well have been the most uneasy stretch of your life? “Silk Chiffon,” MUNA’s instant-classic cult smash, featuring the band’s new label head Phoebe Bridgers, hit the gray skies of the pandemic’s year-and-a-half mark like a double rainbow. Pitchfork called it a “swirl of stomach butterflies,” NPR a “queerworm,” Rolling Stone “one of the year’s sweetest melodies, radiating the kind of pure pop bliss so many bands go for but almost never get this right.” For Naomi McPherson, MUNA’s guitarist and producer, it was a “song for kids to have their first gay kiss to.” And several thousand unhinged Twitter and TikTok memes bloomed.

Katie Gavin, MUNA’s lead singer and songwriter, wrote “Silk Chiffon” right after finishing the band’s 2019 album, Saves the World. That was an LP whose lead single began “So I heard the bad news/ Nobody likes me and I’m gonna die alone in my bedroom/ Looking at strangers on my telephone,” and which ended with a hypnotic, self-searching confession about failure and consolation. Since the beginning of their career, MUNA has embraced pain as a bedrock of longing, a center of radical truth, a part of growing up, and an inherent factor of marginalized experience — the band’s members belong to queer and minority communities, and play for these fellow-travelers above all. But in “Silk Chiffon,” there was just longing, and it was blissfully requited at that. “It’s kind of a smooth-brain song,” Gavin says. “Saves the World was therapy on a record, and I was starting to see changes in my life, more moments of joy. It’s a big deal that someone like me could write that smooth!” What makes the confetti-gun refrain of “Silk Chiffon” so potent, though, is the underlying sense that the band understands exactly what has to be suppressed, or reckoned with, in order to sing it. “We are three of the most depressed people you could ever come into contact with, depending on the day,” McPherson said, with a smile.

Gavin, McPherson, and Josette Maskin, MUNA’s guitarist, are coming up on ten years of friendship. They began making music together in college, at USC, and released an early hit in the 2017 single “I Know a Place,” a pent-up invocation of LGBTQ sanctuary and transcendence. Now in their late twenties, the trio has become something more like family. They spent much of the early pandemic as a pod, showing up for each other and for MUNA — a project that at this point feels bigger than them — even when they weren’t sure about anything regarding the future. They’d been dropped by RCA, and there was little in terms of income, no adrenaline to work off of, no live shows with audiences reminding them of the succor their songs provide. They asked each other: Is this career even feasible in this new reality? Can we find a way to be self-motivated, to be fulfilled intrinsically? For months, they surrendered to this confusion, to the reality of being humbled by change. “You have to let things fall apart,” Gavin said. “And it was only possible because of this tremendous trust. I have so few relationships in my life where I have the kind of trust that I do with Naomi and Jo — where I can trust that there’s a higher purpose, that we can work through all the boundaries and compromises and mess that comes with long-term relationships, and then return to form.”

MUNA, the band’s self-titled third album, is more than a return. The band’s period of uncertainty and open questioning burned everything away, leaving a feat of an album — the forceful, deliberate, dimensional output of a band who has nothing to prove to anyone except themselves. The synth on “What I Want” scintillates like a Robyn dance-floor anthem; “Anything But Me,” galloping in 12/8, gives off Shania Twain in eighties neon; “Kind of Girl,” with its soaring, plaintive The Chicks chorus, begs to be sung at max volume with your best friends. MUNA is working the source code of pop that pulls at your heartstrings; the album is full of longing and revelation and hard-won freedom. They’d made their first album themselves, with free plugins, in a home studio; they’d made the second one in proper sessions with co-producers, thinking they ought to professionalize. With MUNA, they did it all by themselves again, with newfound creative assurance and technical ability — in terms of McPherson and Maskin’s arrangements and production as well as Gavin’s songwriting, which is as propulsive as ever, but here opens up into new moments of perspective and grace.

“What ultimately keeps us together,” Maskin said, “is knowing that someone’s going to hear each one of these songs and use it to make a change they need in their life. That people are going to feel a kind of catharsis, even if it’s a catharsis that I might never have known myself, because I’m fucked up.” McPherson added, “I hope this album helps people connect to each other the way that we, in MUNA, have learned to connect to each other.” And that’s what MUNA does, in the end: it carves out a space in the middle of whatever existential muck you’re doing the everyday dog-paddle through and transports you, suddenly — you who’ve come to music looking for an answer you can’t find anywhere else — into a room where everything is possible, where the disco ball’s never stopped throwing sparkles on the walls, where you can sweat and cry and lie down on the floor and make out with whoever, where vulnerability in the presence of those who love you can make you feel momentarily bulletproof and self-consciousness only sharpens the swell of joy.