Weekend Recall | Monica Martin

by flaunt

Monica Martin is the LA-based singer-songwriter emerging into solo fields after fronting the experimental-folk-pop sextet, PHOX. Raised in rural Wisconsin, Monica was either making trips in a busted Geo Metro to underground punk shows in Milwaukee or listening to Billie Holiday slowly load on back-country dial-up. In 2017, PHOX went on indefinite hiatus leading Martin to pack her bags and head west. This fall, Monica released her debut hit, “Cruel,” and quickly followed up with, “Thoughtless;” Her bewitched alto resonance set a mood while lyrics document her inner confusions from past and present relationships, “I made hundreds of mistakes, so you don’t have to.” We caught up with the riveting singer-songwriter to catch a glimpse of a weekend in her life:


friDaze! My younger dream of a sister Bianca saw one more sunny day after being present for the four days of heavy rain that hits the city of angels once a year. We went to the water and took all the ubiquitous but ESSENTIAL ocean photos, before she rudely returned to Washington D.C., where she produces a show for NPR called 1A. 

whyyyyyy did I do this because now this sand is just forever a part of these boots. 

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Bianca in ‘majestic ass walking mermaid’

Friday night, Bianca and I stopped by Showboat Gallery in Eagle Rock to visit my best boo and art director, Desi Moore, who runs and curates the space. Hot Santa’s elf lookin ass.


Saturday Day: I was blesst to sing in a pack of some of my favorite vocalists for a Jeremy Daly and Woody Goss tune. (pictured: Mike G, Laura Mace, Theo Katzman, me) We’re available for birthday parties, serving divorce papers with harmony, or to serenade your first threesome.*

Saturday night I hit the roller rink with my dear friends, two of which play in my band. We got slushees and mini donuts and bruises on asses. SK8 OR DIE! 


Sunday night was the blood-wolf-super-moon eclipse, (which coincidentally was *also* my childhood nickname). I sat out by a fire with old and new friends, and we appropriately talked about creepy things such as the art created by serial killers and bad tinder dates.  My shaky hand iPhone shots did not capture the glory so this eclipse pic by our host that eve, Jesse Balmer.


Monday morning I needed to get my ass to the airport. The moon was lovely still, but now out of the earth’s shadow. Every photo in Los Angeles looks like a postcard. 

Even this one. Paint spill friend on route to coffeehouse.