This is crucial context for understanding what might otherwise seem like a jarring departure. Here is an artist whose debut album *LUSTPRINZIP* was mixed by Dean Hurley—David Lynch's longtime sound supervisor—and whose follow-up *COCOON* earned top 10 placement from various indie blogs for its vinyl-only release in 2022. An artist known for outspoken zeitgeisty messages, genre-bending chaos, and live shows that deliver entertainment "full throttle" on both musical and visual levels. So when this self-proclaimed musical chameleon arrives with an EP explicitly designed to give you "a warm, fuzzy feeling" and the reassurance that "everything will be ok," it's worth interrogating whether such earnest hopefulness can survive contact with her established aesthetic.
The answer, surprisingly, is yes—though not without some fascinating tension along the way.
Produced with Grammy Award winner Ainsley Adams, *The Tides Will Turn* finds Koan honing in on hope with almost meditative precision. But this isn't the toxic positivity that's become so ubiquitous in our culture of mandatory wellness. This is hope as hard-won survival strategy, medicine taken by someone who's genuinely felt the weight of the world's darkness. There's a difference, and Koan knows it instinctively.
The production throughout is deceptively sophisticated—warm without being soporific, soothing without sacrificing the textural richness that's always been a hallmark of Koan's cinematic approach to sound. Adams brings a deftness that allows these tracks to comfort without condescending, to offer solace without infantilising the listener. These are songs that understand you might need reassurance precisely because you're intelligent enough to recognise how precarious everything feels.
What's particularly striking is how Koan's theatrical instincts—those same impulses that drive her to incorporate props and surprising visual elements into her performances—manifest here in more subtle ways. The vulnerability isn't performed at you; it's simply present, threaded through the recordings like an undertow. The conversations with her daughters that inspired these songs have clearly taught Koan something about directness, about stripping away some of the elaborate armour she's worn so well on previous releases.
Vocally, she sounds more grounded than we've heard her, less interested in prowling around the edges of the frame and more willing to stand centre and deliver something approaching tenderness. For an artist whose stock-in-trade includes "intense emotions wrapped in—and elevated by—a badass sound," this restraint represents genuine bravery. It takes more courage to be simple and sincere than to hide behind layers of sonic complexity and theatrical distancing.
The EP's thematic coherence—its insistence on concentrating on beautiful things in the face of overwhelming darkness—could have resulted in something treacly and forgettable. Instead, Koan and Adams have crafted a work that acknowledges precisely why we need such focusing exercises in the first place. The darkness isn't denied; it's the context that makes the light meaningful.
The Tides Will Turn exists not to showcase Koan's full range but to serve a particular purpose—to offer comfort, to model the practice of finding beauty in small things, to suggest that concentrating on one's immediate circle of love might be the most radical act available in times of widespread despair.
Whether Koan will return to her badass sound and full-throttle entertainment remains to be seen. (One suspects she will, because chameleons don't stop changing.) But for now, she's given us something unexpectedly generous: permission to soften, to hope, to believe that things might yet be alright. Coming from an artist with her pedigree for intensity and edge, that generosity carries weight.
The tides will turn, as they always do. For now, Koan has chosen to ride the gentle swell rather than fight the storm. It suits her better than you'd think.