MUNA’s Dancing on the Wall Is Their Most Cohesive, Streamlined LP Yet

MUNA’s new album, Dancing on the Wall, arrives as the band’s tightest, most focused statement to date. Produced by the group’s multi-instrumentalist Naomi McPherson, the record pares back excess and foregrounds hard keyboard stabs, percolating beats, and concise pop songwriting.

The group did not reach this moment easily. After two major-label releases, MUNA was dropped by RCA for, in its words, “not making enough money.” The trio then issued their 2022 self-titled album through Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory imprint. That release included the hit “Silk Chiffon,” which helped push the band into a broader pop conversation.

Dancing on the Wall continues that trajectory. The record is as pleasure-seeking as MUNA’s earlier work while acknowledging the frayed edges of modern life. Tracks move from the post-punk sneer of “Wannabeher” to the near-Prince effervescence of “Girl’s Girl.” The title track finds Katie Gavin hoping a flaky partner will finally reciprocate. “So What” is built around dancing until the ex fades from view.

At the same time the album keeps one foot on the dance floor and another in politics. On the unrelenting “Big Stick,” Gavin delivers a line that addresses global inequity directly. The lyric reads:

“We give kids in Palestine PTSD / But we’ll never fuckin’ ever give ’em something to eat.”

That tension—between euphoric production and anxious lyrics—runs through the record. It feels like a playlist of pointed moments rather than a loose collection. The record’s clarity is a credit to McPherson’s production and to the trio’s ability to condense big ideas into pop formats.

You could play Dancing on the Wall at a party without killing the vibe. But several lines on the album will pull listeners’ attention back to what’s happening off the dance floor.