SINGLE REVIEW: Martina and the Moons – Laundry Mat

‘Laundry Mat’ is a glorious mess of emotion and distortion — the kind of track that sounds like it was recorded in the middle of a storm and loved every second of it. The all-girl Irish four-piece channel the golden age of ’90s Britpop and post-punk but twist it through a modern, sharper lens. Think Elastica’s angular guitar hooks colliding with Lush’s dreamlike textures, only rougher around the edges and infinitely more direct.

It’s a song of contrasts. The opening feels fragile and exposed — delicate vocals floating above chiming guitars — before everything bursts open into a thrashing wall of noise. The shifts between sparse and dense textures give it a pulse that feels alive; every quiet passage hums with tension, every eruption feels deserved. That oscillation between soft and feral captures the essence of the band’s sound — vulnerability meeting grit, emotion spilling over into chaos.

Martina herself is magnetic at the centre of it all. Her delivery swings from wounded confession to fiery confrontation, keeping you right on the line between empathy and adrenaline. When the spoken element cuts through, it adds a whole new layer — half art-school performance piece, half rage-driven monologue — and it works brilliantly, giving the track a sense of movement and purpose that feels spontaneous yet perfectly judged.

What makes ‘Laundry Mat’ stand out is how it fuses worlds. It takes post-punk’s experimental gloom, folds in post-rock’s sweeping crescendos, and still finds room for jangly indie sparkle. The result is something both nostalgic and defiantly current — a song that could have lived on a smoky stage in 1995 but feels every bit as vital now.

Raw, cinematic, and emotionally charged, ‘Laundry Mat’ proves Martina and the Moons aren’t just reviving old sounds — they’re reinventing them.