Miles Jenson hits a nerve with "Sunshine Goldmine" a sinister, soulful portrait of modern escapism
05 June 2025
Newsdesk
There’s something quietly jarring about “Sunshine Goldmine,” the new single from emerging songwriter Miles Jenson. It doesn’t announce itself with bombast—it creeps in, unfolds slowly, and lingers long after it ends. Built around a memory of mistaken drug use at a teenage party, the track offers a lens into how chaos can masquerade as clarity and how beauty often coexists with denial. Paired with eerie orchestral textures and Jenson’s steady, expressive vocals, it marks a defining moment in his debut EP, arriving June 20th.
Where his previous single “Country Club” tackled media bias and class perception through funk-laced satire, “Sunshine Goldmine” is darker and more personal. The production—crafted with Grammy-winning duo King Garbage (Jon Batiste, The Weeknd, Leon Bridges)—leans into slow-burning orchestration and tension: icy string swells, fractured piano lines, and Jenson’s smooth but haunted vocals. There’s no explosion, no redemption arc—just the quiet unraveling of someone realizing the party isn’t worth the price of admission.
Jenson says the song came to him in 15 minutes, but it carries the weight of years. “It’s about chasing peace through chaos,” he explains, describing a moment from his youth when he accidentally took ketamine at a party. “That night became a metaphor for how we use appearances to avoid uncomfortable truths.” It’s an unflinching admission, but also a keyhole into Jenson’s artistic ethos: the illusion isn’t just out there—it’s in us, too.
The Sunshine Goldmine EP may be brief—just three tracks—but it’s rich in both scope and vulnerability. Jenson doesn’t posture as a provocateur; he’s more of a diarist with a taste for subtext. Whether tackling systemic injustice or wrestling with sobriety, he delivers each line with a kind of raw composure that’s more disarming than dramatic. “I speak candidly about my flaws,” he says. “Because when you’re honest, you invite in grace.”
That grace didn’t come easy. A jazz musician’s son who taught himself piano by feel, Jenson’s journey has taken him from Nashville’s country roots to Atlanta’s hip-hop industry machine, and finally to Los Angeles, where he’s begun carving out space as an independent artist. Early on, he struggled to reconcile authenticity with commercial viability. “I was making fear-based decisions,” he says of his time on a major label. Walking away gave him room to rediscover who he was making music for—and why.
The collaboration with King Garbage, which began with a cold call, became the catalyst for his most realized work to date. “He was the first person that understood what I was doing,” Jenson recalls. The result is an EP that feels less like a debut and more like a mission statement. There’s promise here, yes—but there’s also a clarity that suggests Jenson already knows the stakes of his own voice.
With Sunshine Goldmine set to drop June 20th and a full-length project on the horizon, Jenson is preparing to take the songs on the road this fall. Don’t expect a polished act; expect a conversation, a confession, maybe even a confrontation. Jenson isn’t selling an image—he’s sharing a mirror. Whether you look into it is up to you.
