Album Review: Monami by Foreign Diplomats – A Sonic Road Trip Through Indie Vibes and Retro Dreams
Let’s get one thing straight: Monami isn’t just another indie rock album. It’s the kind of record that sneaks up on you when you least expect it—like finding an old mixtape in your car’s glove compartment and realizing it still slaps. Released in 2019 via Indica Records, this Canadian gem from Foreign Diplomats blends rock, pop, and alternative vibes with a dash of retro synth wizardry. And trust me, once you hit play, there’s no turning back.
First off, can we talk about how stacked the credits are? Tony L. Roy is basically everywhere—bass, vocals, engineering, even keys—and Charles Primeau brings some serious pedal steel magic to the table. But what really ties this whole thing together is producer Jace Lasek (yep, the dude behind The Besnard Lakes). His touch gives Monami that warm, analog feel, like listening to vinyl on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Now, onto the tracks. If I had to pick two standouts, they’d be “Trendy Night” and “Demon (Slamador).”
“Tender Night” feels like walking through a neon-lit city at 3 AM after a long night out. The guitars shimmer, the synths hum softly in the background, and Élie Raymond’s lyrics somehow nail that bittersweet feeling of wanting connection but settling for solitude instead. There’s something almost cinematic about it—it makes you wanna grab a camera and start filming random strangers because life suddenly seems so poetic. Plus, Ariel Comtois’ sax solo? Pure gold. It’s the kind of moment where you pause whatever you’re doing and think, “Damn, music can still surprise me.”
Then there’s “Demon (Slamador),” which flips the script entirely. This track kicks down the door with its gritty energy and relentless groove. Lazer Vallières’ drumming hits hard, while Thomas Bruneau Faubert layers in enough vintage synths to make you question whether you’ve been transported to the ‘80s. What sticks with me most here is how chaotic yet controlled everything feels—it’s messy in all the right ways, like dancing wildly in your bedroom mirror without caring who sees. By the time the trombone solo rolls around, you’re either fully onboard or totally confused. Either way, it works.
What’s wild about Monami is how cohesive it feels despite jumping between genres and moods. One minute you’re floating on dreamy melodies; the next, you’re headbanging to crunchy riffs. Credit goes to the band for pulling it off—they know exactly when to hold back and when to let loose.
But here’s the kicker: as much as I love the music itself, what stays with me is the artwork by Brice Postma. It perfectly captures the vibe of the album—a little surreal, kinda nostalgic, and undeniably cool. You could frame that cover and call it modern art.
In the end, Monami reminds me why I fell in love with indie rock in the first place. It doesn’t try too hard to impress; instead, it invites you into its world and lets you explore. Sure, not every track will blow your mind, but isn’t that true of any great road trip? Sometimes it’s the detours that leave the biggest impression.
Oh, and one last thought: if aliens ever land on Earth looking for proof of human creativity, hand them this album. They’ll probably beam us aboard just to hang out.
