If you’re looking for something that sounds like everything else, keep walking. Miles Jenson’s new single “Country Club” is a genre mash with teeth—a woozy, groove-laced takedown of suburban hypocrisy that feels equally at home next to D’Angelo as it does Fiona Apple. It’s the kind of track that makes you pause mid-scroll, unsure of what you’ve stumbled into, but knowing it’s worth your attention.



Jenson doesn’t offer listeners easy hooks or sunny choruses. Instead, he wields lyrics like scalpels: “Quarterback in cotillion / Prom queens on heroin”—a stark observation that slices through media narratives and forces a double-take. Think faded glamor, broken chandeliers, and late-night confessions set to a slinky rhythm section. It’s unsettling, but you’ll want to live in it for a while.

His EP Sunshine Goldmine (out June 20) lands like a statement of purpose. Produced by King Garbage, the three-song release is reportedly filled with dark textures and lyrical gut-punches. And if “Country Club” is any indication, Jenson isn’t here to posture. He’s digging up the contradictions of privilege, perception, and pain.

That commitment to emotional honesty—paired with a sound that refuses to settle—positions Jenson as an artist who doesn’t need to follow any blueprint. With his theatrical delivery and literary lyrics, he’s staking out rare territory: emotionally raw, sonically rich, and completely unconcerned with fitting in.

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Photo credit: Tommy Petroni