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Miya Folick: Erotica Veronica: The Tour

Miya Folick: Erotica Veronica: The Tour

Event Details

Date

Thursday, May 15, 2025

Time

Doors: 7:00 PM - Show: 8:00 PM

Age Restriction

19+

Venue

Biltmore Cabaret

Address

2755 Prince Edward St, Vancouver, BC

About the Event

Artist Presale: January 29th @ 12PM PT
Live Nation Presale: January 30th @ 10AM PT
Front Of The Line® Amex Presale TicketsTM: January 30th @ 10AM PT
Spotify Presale:
January 30 @ 12PM PT

With support: Olivia Kaplan

The album cover of Erotica Veronica captures Miya Folick canted on the edge of a mud pit, limbs  flung wide like a fever-dream fossilized midway between earth and primordial soup. It’s an apt  portrait: Miya is driven by instinct, drawn to the murk and muck of growth rather than stalled by its  complexity. This brazen spirit is what led her to self-produce her latest full-length record, which is  saturated with her catchy lyrical sensibility, astute musical craftsmanship, and signature vaulting,  acrobatic voice

Both critically acclaimed precursors - her debut Premonitions and sophomore LP Roach - have  been lauded as coming-of-age rhapsodies. It is tempting to say the same of Erotica Veronica; after  all, this new album shows us a woman running headlong into sexual exploration, often teetering on  the adolescent edge of hedonism and fear. Unlike the feral freedom of youth, it is anchored by the  wisdom and depth gained only through lived experience.

Determined to make a straight-shooting indie rock record, Miya turned to guitar to write a majority  of the album. She brought on Sam KS (Youth Lagoon, Angel Olsen) as co-producer and drummer,  and recruited collaborators like Meg Duffy (Hand Habits, Perfume Genius) and Waylon Rector  (Dominic Fike, Charli XCX). Leaning musicians’ personal style and skills, she went into the studio  with the intention of capturing raw, live sound.

After a meteoric couple of years touring with Mitski, Faye Webster and Japanese House, as well as  scoring feature film Cora Bora, this record is a return to Miya’s private world. She lays it on us in  turns like honey and heartache, each medicinal in its own right. Erotica Veronica is her  psychosexual, psychosensual masterstroke: a kaleidoscopic portrait of self-realization and  integration.


Important Information

Venue Information

Biltmore Cabaret

2755 Prince Edward St, Vancouver, BC

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Miya Folick

Miya Folick photo

In Miya Folick’s new record Roach, she doesn’t refer to the album’s title until halfway through the tracklist. The song is “Cockroach,” a self-produced ripper that starts with droning synthesizers and bursts into dizzying drums. She sings “Crush me under the weight / Bitterness, jealousy, hate / Cause I’m a fucking cockroach and you can’t kill me.” It’s a fitting image, dropped right into the middle of an album that stares you straight in the eye.

On Roach, Miya shares her ugliness, her joy, her struggle, all of it, and does so in a way that lets you know it’s okay. That there’s going to be messiness, but she’ll get through it, and that’s okay.

Since her critically acclaimed debut album, Premonitions, came out in 2018, Miya has been through quite a bit of messiness and struggle. She quit drugs. She went through a breakup. She left her previous label (Interscope/Terrible) and signed with a new one (Nettwerk). She struggled to make this follow up record into what she wanted it to be, building and rebuilding each song, throwing away some full productions when she didn’t feel they were right. And just as she was finally figuring out this new record, her father suddenly passed away. The final pieces of the record were put together as Miya moved through her grief.

With earworm melodies, straight-shooting poetry, and genre-hopping production, Roach documents the head-spinning highs and soul-crushing lows of one woman’s bumpy, imperfect life. Says Miya, “It’s an album about resilience, growth, and honesty. It’s about trying to get to the core of what life really is.” The title pays homage to Clarice Lispector’s The Passion According to GH, a 1964 novel that heavily influenced Miya’s writing and thinking. “That book made me understand something about myself. This sense that I am always quivering. That somehow simple things feel huge and hard for me. There’s beauty in that sense of agitation but also danger.” Roach is something of a coming-of-age story housed inside a tilt-a-whirl. “I think over the course of writing this record, I actually did the work and got closer to the person that I really want to be,” she explains, “But that path isn’t linear, I still have moments where I disappoint myself, where I’m angry with myself. That’s why the album might feel a bit emotionally dizzying. It’s not a straight path.”

Premonitions was rightly praised for how it showcased Miya’s arresting, athletic, once-in-a-lifetime voice. As soon as it was completed, though, Miya knew there was a deeper and more honest place she wanted to live, lyrically. Some of the language on Premonitions she describes as “a bit opaque,” saying, “I was writing from a place of fear. I didn’t want to look at myself directly, so I created lyrical obscurities. It felt like I was masking my insecurities with poetry. Putting Premonitions out into the world and singing those songs on tour made it very clear to me that I wanted to make songs where I was not hiding.”

She was determined for her subsequent project to be more direct and honest, an aesthetic dealbreaker that begot a great deal of in-studio trial and error, with Miya eventually recruiting behind-the-scenes personnel who brought out the best in her and in the music, including Gabe Wax (War on Drugs, Fleet Foxes), Mike Malchicoff (King Princess, Bo Burnham), Max Hershenow (MS MR), and a team of some of LA’s best players. The resulting album feels incredibly intimate. “When my best friends listen to this record they’re like, This is you,” Miya says. “This is what it’s like to hang out with you.”

Listening to the finished songs — which are earnest and raw, with plenty of huge hooks and dark comedy — it’s immediately obvious that all the effort and experimentation was worth it. “Bad Thing,” which Miya co-wrote with Mitski and Andrew Wells and produced with Gabe Wax, is a paradoxically blissed-out burst of dancefloor-ready melancholia, its frank lyrics about the hazards of hedonism functioning like a thesis statement for Roach’s narrative of personal transformation: “This time I will take it slowly / Say no to everything I don’t need.” Here, and all across the record, Miya’s percussive diction steers the song’s momentum, proof that her voice is a singularly prolific instrument, even when it’s not doing gravity-defying acrobatics.

Roach is an exhilarating mix of sounds and styles, an eclecticism that reflects Miya’s increased writerly confidence and playful disposition. With its pulsing drums (Sam KS), head-banging guitars (Greg Uhlmann), and unflinching lyrics, “Get Out of My House” is pure punk catharsis, a better-off-without-you breakup song designed for thrashing around your bedroom like no one’s watching. Otherworldly saxophones (Sam Gendel) and a soulful bass (Sam Wilkes) bring magic to “Mommy”, a song that Miya self-produced in her bedroom and then brought to Gabe Wax for the finishing touches. “Mommy” is a folky trip-hop meditation on ancestry. The Matias Moraproduced “Cartoon Clouds” is glitchy bedroom-pop, delicate and handmade with a beat that will hit you square in the chest. “I felt like people wanted me to choose one, ‘Either you’re indie girl or you’re pop girl,” Miya says, reflecting on past production experiences. “But I don’t think those distinctions matter anymore; I just want a song to feel true to itself.”

The Chicago songwriter Gia Margaret adds piano to the acoustic atmosphere of “Ordinary,” a soulful track that recalls Mazzy Star’s wide-open dream-folk. “Our life is small but it’s big enough for me,” Miya croons, over a bed of lush bass (Patrick Kelly). It’s an ode to a less-chaotic way of living. Like a lot of creatively restless minds, Miya has always felt drawn to intensity: intense emotions, intense people, intense experiences. These new songs aren’t about banishing that excitement from her life — they celebrate finding it in more tender, more forgiving places. “Rather than finding joy in rushing into things, I’m finding joy in patience, in quiet, in getting to know somebody slowly. I’m letting myself pause,” she explains.

“Tetherball,” a sweeping song that begins with Miya’s vocal alone and builds into a churning dance beat with hooky synths, is the second time Miya invokes the album’s title. But this time it’s a quieter triumph. It’s an image of Miya sitting in a car, curled up like a roach, finally speaking her truth, asking for another start.

Above all, Roach is a tribute to perseverance, to messiness, to stillness, to resilience. It’s a real achievement — a gorgeous, labored-over time capsule of life’s pains and joys.

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