Karma Smile isn't just Coolonaut's third LP. It's what happens when you can't look away from what's going on. The project started in 2024 when the idea that human rights are for everyone was falling apart. Now, two years and three records later, the world's darker, more cynical, and more brutal. That darkness is all over this album.
Karma Smile isn't just Coolonaut's third LP. It's what happens when you can't look away from what's going on. The project started in 2024 when the idea that human rights are for everyone was falling apart. Now, two years and three records later, the world's darker, more cynical, and more brutal. That darkness is all over this album.
Coolonaut still sings about local people, personal quirks, and childhood memories from Scotland, but there's a troubling feeling: living in a messed-up reality where killing innocent people is okay, even celebrated sometimes. What hurts most isn't the horror, it's the silence around it. There aren't any anthems for dead kids. The big rock voices aren't speaking out; some are even defending the ones doing it.
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Coolonaut
Coolonaut
Coolonaut
With that emptiness, Karma Smile is a pushback. It's a raw reaction. If nobody sings for the dead, someone has to. If nobody shows anger at what's going on, then unknown artists have to step up. The record doesn't make you feel good. It stubbornly trusts that karma will eventually get those who allow and do violence. Coolonaut doesn't think now's the time for empty songs or endless romance stories. It's not that he wouldn't want to—he wishes we lived in a world where that was still possible—but he feels like we don't. These times call for more than just escape. Originally from Scotland, now in rural Australia, Coolonaut makes analog Psychedelic Mod music for today's world. He records and produces it himself on an 8-track analog machine. His sound isn't just for show, it's his stance. Capturing the feel of mid-to-late '60s music means accepting its limits: the vibe, the imperfect sounds, the creativity that analog makes you have.
With that emptiness, Karma Smile is a pushback. It's a raw reaction. If nobody sings for the dead, someone has to. If nobody shows anger at what's going on, then unknown artists have to step up. The record doesn't make you feel good. It stubbornly trusts that karma will eventually get those who allow and do violence. Coolonaut doesn't think now's the time for empty songs or endless romance stories. It's not that he wouldn't want to—he wishes we lived in a world where that was still possible—but he feels like we don't. These times call for more than just escape. Originally from Scotland, now in rural Australia, Coolonaut makes analog Psychedelic Mod music for today's world. He records and produces it himself on an 8-track analog machine. His sound isn't just for show, it's his stance. Capturing the feel of mid-to-late '60s music means accepting its limits: the vibe, the imperfect sounds, the creativity that analog makes you have.