American Hangover is an album that thrives on contrast and cohesion, bringing together explosive energy, delicate textures, and a healthy dose of absurdity. The trio Moneyfriends, comprised of Brad Henkel (amplified trumpet, voice), Dan Peter Sundland (electric bass, synthesizer, voice), and Fabian Jung (drums, toys, voice), create a sonic landscape where moments of noise and chaos effortlessly blend into subtle, intricate improvisations. The trio’s stellar interplay and listening are at the heart of this album—each player leaves space for the others, while at the same time pushing boundaries and daring each other to take the music to new places.

The album opens with a noir-style first person narrative by a dog living in the Financial District, whose jazz-musician dogwalker is neck-deep in student debt. It sets the stage for an album that playfully alludes to the absurdity of trying to survive as an artist in a system that values money over humanity. Welcome to the world of capitalism, where even the dogs have more financial stability than most artists.

The trio’s music feels like an absurdist conversation—half protest, half prank. At times, it’s a full-on assault of amplified trumpet blasts, rumbling bass, and squeaking toys. At others, you’re left floating in moments of quiet reflection, wondering how the hell you got there. And just when you think you’ve figured it all out, a voice slips in quoting something bizarre from a billionaire documentary, just to keep you on your toes.

A standout moment on the album is Aria Pecunia Fiduci, composed by Sundland and sung by special guest, countertenor Johann Moritz von Cube. Yes, an aria. Why not? It arises from the ashes of an apocalyptic soundscape, where low trumpet moans, bass drones, hisses, bird tweets, and mumbling voices create a haunting atmosphere. With a Latin text meditating on the nature of money, the aria offers a brief, almost ethereal pause in the midst of the surrounding sonic intensity—a reminder of the strange beauty that can emerge from chaos. At its core, American Hangover is a powerful expression of collective improvisation. It’s messy, absurd, and full of surprises—just like capitalism itself. And in a world where even liner notes can be AI-generated, does anything truly make sense? Enjoy the ride, commies.