Laura Burhenn is having a party, and you’re all invited. “It’s my album’s birthday,” she beams, talking about the long-awaited full release of The Mynabirds’ Be Here Now—a record born in the ashes of America 2017 and raised through a slow drip of three-song EPs, just to keep things weird. “We’re having a big party in LA to celebrate, which is great,” she says, sounding both surprised and relieved.
Surprised, because release day doesn’t quite hit the same when the songs have been trickling out like leaky political headlines. “I guess I didn’t really think of today as being a very special day,” she admits, almost guiltily. “We’ve been releasing these songs as three-song EPs, but it seems like people are still excited about it.” The modern condition: singles, streaming, and the ever-blurring lines of what an album even is anymore. “It’s kind of, no, it’s a different era, right? There’s so many people just putting out singles. Are people buying records anymore? I hope so.”
Here’s the twist: the record, for all its fragmented rollout, sounds like one cohesive, fire-breathing beast. “I definitely put it together as one big piece,” she insists. Even if the release strategy played hopscotch, the vision was whole. The title track, fittingly, was the last one she wrote, and by then, it needed something to punch through the weight of the times. “We need a party song,” she told herself. “We can’t finish this record without a party song.” Because even in the heart of the resistance, somebody’s gotta spike the punch.
This is protest music for people who are tired of protest music sounding like a funeral march. Written and recorded in the icy political hangover of January and February 2017—right after the inauguration, right after the Women’s March—the album feels like a dispatch from the eye of the storm. “They were written about a specific time and place,” Burhenn says. “Which is America in 2017. So I wanted them to come out as soon as possible.”
But urgency aside, she’s not here for the broad strokes. “When you’re writing a record like this, and, you know, a politically inspired record, there are lots of very specific moments on it,” she says, navigating the tricky terrain of making politics personal without turning it into a hashtag. These aren’t vague anthems to universal struggle—they’re snapshots, diary entries, pointed fingers.
Still, she wrestles with the same question every artist in this brave new world does: how do you stay timely without sounding dated in five minutes? “It was complicated,” she says about breaking the songs into threes. “I felt like I had to tell mini stories each time.” And yet, somehow, it still works. “It does sound like one piece,” she’s told. “Thank you,” she says, gracious but already a step ahead.
Burhenn doesn’t care if it’s not 2017 anymore. The record’s still speaking. And now that it’s all out there—fully formed, fully loaded—there’s only one thing left to do: celebrate. “We need a party song,” she repeats, with just enough bite to remind you this isn’t just confetti and candles. This is revolution with a dance beat.
Listen to the interview above and then check out "Golden Age" below!
