Some albums impress with technical ideas. Others leave their mark through atmosphere and feeling. Forgotten Moon does both. Arriving independently on November 27, the debut album from Melbourne duo My Lovely Haunting is built around a rare blend of folk, ambient, and electronic elements, while also carrying real emotional weight beneath its distinctive sound.
That balance grows out of two different creative worlds meeting: Alex Taylor’s background in the film industry and Lucy Graham’s delicate, introspective songwriting, shaped through her neoclassical work as Luminem. In that sense, Forgotten Moon feels less like something that was carefully engineered and more like something that naturally found its own shape, unfolding like folk moving through the glow of a slow, half-lit dream.
One of the most instantly striking things about the album is how seamlessly it blends its influences while still giving you room to sit with your own thoughts. Cinematic ambience, soft acoustic lines, drifting synths, muted piano and keys, subtle drones, and layered vocals all coexist without ever feeling crowded or overworked. More than the range of sounds themselves, it’s the sense of space that truly defines the record: the kind that lets emotion stretch out and settle. The record moves with a quiet gravity, at times mysterious, at other moments sad, yet often strangely comforting, and before you realise it, you’re halfway through, fully absorbed. Even at its most cinematic, when the sound grows wider and more expansive, that inward pull never breaks.
That emotional pull largely comes from how the album balances sorrow with acceptance, with tracks like “Drifting” and “Star Gazing” as clear examples. The former pulls you in with Lucy’s voice moving gently over subdued guitar lines, while Alex’s deeper vocals slip in almost like an echo of the heavier feelings underneath. “Star Gazing,” one of the album’s standout moments, captures emotional overwhelm with remarkable gentleness. Built around soft piano and Lucy’s delicate delivery resting atop a subtle, droning undercurrent, it creates a nice contrast between lyrical vulnerability and sonic stillness.
The album also constantly moves between mystery and tenderness, as if the listener is hovering between waking and dreaming. That feeling is established immediately by the instrumental opener, “Intro,” where distant, choir-like textures and slow, swelling synths suggest a cosmic, sci-fi atmosphere touched with bittersweet warmth. “Lost Again” pushes further into unease, lingering in internal tension without erupting into drama. “Medieval Lullaby” then softens that shadow, using subdued guitar and drifting synths to blur darkness into quiet intimacy.
By the time “Carnival” fades out with its eerie seaside ambience, it feels like stepping out of a film in which you also caught quiet glimpses of your own life. Whether you call it ambient folk, alt-folk, or their self-coined “Bladerunner Folk,” that lingering feeling is where Forgotten Moon really makes its mark. It’s hypnotic, quietly affecting, and clearly built to last, which is pretty impressive for a debut.
Check out the album here:
Bandcamp | Spotify | Apple Music
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Find similar music in our Soft & Dreamy Indie Folk playlist.
We discovered this release via SubmitHub.
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