Moon Construction Kit is the musical project of Lausanne-based Swiss musician, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and producer Olivier Cornu. Blending psychedelic pop, indie rock, dream pop, synthpop, and cinematic textures, Cornu creates richly layered music where late-’60s psychedelia, ’80s synth sounds, and retro-futuristic atmospheres meet modern alternative songwriting.


A self-described “studio creature,” Cornu writes, performs, and produces the music himself, with a particular fascination for intricate arrangements, dreamy vocal harmonies, and carefully constructed soundscapes. His influences stretch from The Beatles, The Beach Boys, and The Zombies to The Pixies, Pavement, and Temples, with classical and bossa nova influences also informing his harmonic approach.


You’re from Lausanne, Switzerland. What kind of place is it?


First and foremost, it’s a city to live in if you want serious leg muscles; it’s built on steep hills. I used to admire the cyclists here, but now that they’re all on e-bikes, they’re all cheating… It’s no contest anymore.


More seriously, it’s a city that has really opened up and transformed over the years. Growing up, it felt a bit gray, quiet, and slightly depressing in retrospect, but today there is a vibrant cultural pulse. I truly love living here.


Could you tell us a little about your childhood?


Although my father died when I was only three, I had a pretty happy childhood. The serious soul-searching came much later.


I remember my mother’s huge piano sitting in the middle of our living room. I’d be lying if I said music was an integral part of my early childhood, but without that piano taunting me every single day, I don’t think I would have ever played a note. I learned guitar first, but it was when I sat down at the piano that my obsession with music really took over.


When did you start writing songs?


In my teens, playing in a high school band. We couldn’t play a note, so it started as a sort of chaotic noise-psych experiment. Punk rock covers were the next logical step after that! But noise-pop and shoegaze were definitely our main influences back then.


Can you tell me a bit about the creative process behind “Right Across the USA”?


The track actually originated a couple of years ago, though it sounded completely different back then—much colder and far more synthetic. The writing process was unusual for me: instead of starting at the piano or with an acoustic guitar, everything was built around that driving synth-bass groove.


When I picked the demo back up recently, I scrapped everything except the bass. The goal was to keep that pulse but rebuild it with power-pop energy: jangly guitars, vocal harmonies, and that extended coda at the end, complete with beatboxed percussion to set the groove.


As for the lyrics, there’s definitely a sense of nostalgia for what the USA represented when I was growing up, compared to the current state of affairs there. It’s not a political song per se, but it touches on it in my own way.


You and I are both avid Brian Wilson fans. Which of his albums is your favorite, and why?


The answer changes every few years, but right now it has to be Sunflower (with Wild Honey and Friends right behind it). “Slip On Through,” “This Whole World,” and “Our Sweet Love” are among my favorite Beach Boys tracks. It’s their most collaborative effort, but you still hear Brian’s touch throughout most of the record, which I find fascinating.


As for Brian’s solo output, his 1988 self-titled debut remains unmatched for me, even with the dated production. “Love and Mercy” and “Baby Let Your Hair Grow Long” are two personal favorites.


Going back to the Beach Boys, I’m also fascinated by the production on The Beach Boys Love You: the quirkiness, the oddball factor, and the synths, of course! But I have a really hard time with the melodies; going from “I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times” straight into Love You’s “Mona,” for instance, is a genuinely painful experience for me.


What’s a song you secretly love that people would never expect you to like?


I had to dig deep for this one, because 99% of what I listen to is pretty predictable. But if I had to pick two: Justin Timberlake’s “Rock Your Body” and Rupert Holmes’s “Terminal.” Every time I hear it, I get this Love Boat vibe, but in a sad, bleak kind of way. I love it.


Which musician would be the most fun—or the most disastrous—to be stuck in an elevator with?


There are several recipes for disaster here, as I’m truly one of the worst small-talkers in the world. But curiously, I’d love to be stuck with someone like Robert Smith. Shyness without the awkwardness.


I love that guy; he’s a huge hero of mine and seems like a very decent, good-natured human being.


What’s something about the music industry that you misunderstood before you entered it?


My answer won’t be original, but it’s sincere: I expected to spend a lot more time making and producing music than trying to get it heard once it’s out. I hate social media and self-promotion with a passion; I wish I could just focus on production and nothing else.


But at the same time, I don’t see any point in making music just for myself without sharing it.


When do you know a song is finished?


Most of the time, it’s when I’m satisfied with the vocals, and specifically the harmonies. Even if I was contemplating changing a verse or a chorus before that, once the vocals are locked and I’m happy with the take, I stop procrastinating on the arrangement and send it off to the mixer.


Do you think artists have a responsibility to say something meaningful, or is entertainment enough?


It all depends on how you interpret the word “meaningful,” as there’s a lot of subjectivity involved. Take The Beach Boys: the meaningful part (at least for me) comes from the chords and the harmonies, not so much the lyrics, with a few notable exceptions (“’Til I Die,” or Tony Asher’s lyrics).


On the other hand, you couldn’t pay me to listen to a Bob Dylan song, even at gunpoint: impossible for me (laughs).


So yes, I do believe artists should bring something personal and meaningful to the table, but the definition of what is “meaningful” differs completely from one person to another.


Is there a part of your personality that only really comes out when you’re making music?


The drive to actually finish things and see them through… It’s so much harder for me to do that in my day-to-day life.


Explore further:

Moon Construction Kit website

Moon Construction Kit Spotify

Moon Construction Kit Soundcloud

Moon Construction Kit Instagram


Interview by staff at MBTM

 



Joe Doonan is one of those rare singer-songwriters in modern pop-rock whose music carries a genuinely meaningful message. Rather than remaining on the surface, his lyrics explore the realities of love, loss and heartbreak. His new EP is a perfect example, delving into the emotional aftermath of meaningful relationships coming to an end and tracing the stages of grief, loneliness and self-discovery that follow when someone who was once part of your everyday life is suddenly gone. Rooted in personal experience, the EP documents a deeply human journey through love, struggle and the mental toll of loss, while ultimately finding hope in the possibility of new beginnings, renewed purpose and deeper connections.


But what about the new EP then? Well, the intimate and intricate title title track “Hope” gets things underway, offering a perfect introduction to Doonan’s greatest superpower: the acoustic pop song. The recipe is deceptively simple. Recorded close to the microphone, the track is wonderfully sparse, leaving nowhere to hide behind layers of production or studio trickery. Fortunately, Doonan needs no hiding place. “Hope” is every bit as impressive as a vocal performance as it is a pop song, with a timeless quality that makes it sound like something James Blunt and Paul McCartney might have cooked up together. “’Til We Find Love” leans slightly more towards a fully fledged pop production, but retains all the hallmarks of Doonan’s music: infectious melodies, thought-provoking lyrics and strong, expressive vocals that carry more than a touch of a life well lived. “Before You Leave” closes the release with acoustic exuberance and melodic grandeur, leaving the listener wanting more. Give it a listen; if that chorus doesn’t have you tapping your foot and singing along, there’s a good chance there's something wrong with your hearing.


What can I say? Doonan’s résumé is every bit as impressive as his music. He has worked with multi-platinum and Emmy Award-winning songwriters including Paddy Byrne (Tom Grennan, Paloma Faith) and Rob Wells (Adam Lambert, Ariana Grande), while his live career has taken him to Liverpool’s Official Eurovision Festival, London’s prestigious Bedford, and sell-out audiences across Australia and the UK. Yet his greatest strengths remain his songs, his voice and his guitar. Whatever track you put on, there is an unmistakable sense that you’re listening to Joe Doonan. More importantly, if you let it, his music has the ability to transport you somewhere filled with beauty and light—even when the subject matter confronts life’s harshest realities.


Listen here: "Hope" 


Research Further: 

Joe Doonan webside

Joe Doonan  Facebook

Joe Doonan Spotify

Joe Doonan YouTube

Joe Doonan Instagram


Review by staff at MBTM


 

Taking the Mask Off: Latifa Reeves on Music, Faith, and Finding Herself

There’s a rare kind of artist who doesn’t just sing about life—they’ve lived enough of it to make every word hit differently. Latifa Reeves is one of those artists. A soulful singer, songwriter, storyteller, and former co-frontwoman of Mama Said, Reeves brings together the raw honesty of rock, the grit of blues, the power of gospel, and the deep emotional pull of soul. Her music is fearless, intimate, and deeply human, exploring the messy, beautiful business of being alive.


After years of performing, writing, and connecting with audiences—including co-creating the children’s music and multimedia project Tika Tika Time—Reeves is now stepping fully into her own as a solo artist. Drawing from a lifetime of musical experience and a profound spiritual journey, she creates songs that don’t shy away from vulnerability—or hope.


She has a brilliant new single out, titled “Space,” and we’re fortunate to have had the opportunity to ask her a few questions about her career, music, and creative journey.


Latifa, you are a singer, songwriter, and storyteller. Which of those three feels most central to who you are?


Definitely singer. Words come second. Music has always felt like a transmission to me—something that comes from the deepest part of my heart, and I find a way to express it through melody and words. Singing is where I feel most completely myself.


What do you understand about songwriting now that you didn’t when you started?


That less is often more. I naturally want to unleash myself vocally, so I’ve learned the power of holding back. And the hook—the hook, the hook, the hook! I’ve also learned that singing right in the pocket can be just as powerful as sitting behind the beat and letting a big, soulful vocal fly.


Who first inspired you musically?


Aretha Franklin was one of my earliest inspirations. There was something effortless about the way she sang, but she carried all the beauty and power of gospel in her voice. As a teenager, I was always trying to emulate her.


What was your childhood like?


My childhood had both love and trauma in it, and there were things I internalized that were difficult for me to understand as a child.


Then I found singing. It became this place where I felt completely at home. Singing gave me somewhere to lose myself, but strangely, it also helped me find myself.


Were your parents musical?


My dad played harmonica, and my uncle played blues guitar, but no one studied formally, and there really weren’t singers in my immediate family. Music was around me, though, especially blues and Southern music, and I think more of it got into me than I realized.


Tell us about Mama Said. What kind of band was it, and why did it break up?


I started Mama Said with Jen and Derek. Jen and I had a kind of magic in our harmonies, and Derek is an incredible blues and rock guitarist. His playing always brought out a soulful place in me.


Around 2018, I remember saying, “Let’s write an album and start an original band.” Mama Said became so much more than I ever imagined. We made music I’m incredibly proud of, and leaving my best friends and creative partners was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made.


But there was a calling inside me that I couldn’t ignore. I needed to follow my own spiritual and creative path and return more deeply to my gospel, blues, soul, and Southern roots.


Sometimes you can deeply love something and still know it’s time to grow in another direction.


What do you miss most about being part of a band?


When you play with people for a long time, you develop an almost spiritual language together. You know where they’re going before they go there—when they’ll sing, play, or pull back. Eventually, it becomes like breathing together. I miss that.


What does this new solo chapter allow you to explore?


This chapter is about self-love and accepting myself without constructing an image around it. I’m taking the mask off and becoming less interested in who an artist is “supposed” to be.


Spirituality is a huge part of my life. I spend a lot of time in prayer and meditation, and I have a deep love for the Divine—for God. I don’t want to separate that woman from the woman people see onstage anymore. I want my music to transmit all of me.


What is “Space” about?


This past year has been about breaking attachments and creating enough space to hear myself without all the noise. I’m a mother of five, so I’ve spent much of my life in service to others. It feels like now is my time to create space for self-love and creativity.


Musically, I wanted the song to have space, too. I wanted intimacy and restraint, with room for the vocal and emotion to expand.


Has a song ever found you at exactly the right moment?


Yebba’s “My Mind.” That song kills me. Her voice is incredible, but it’s her vulnerability that gets me. She goes somewhere emotionally and lets you witness it. That’s the kind of truth I aspire to bring to my own songs.


How have your different musical chapters shaped you?


Mama Said showed me what I was capable of—big rock songs, big vocals, and the incredible chemistry that happens when musicians really lock together.


Tika Tika Time taught me simplicity, joy, and pocket. And my solo music is taking me back to my roots—sitting on the porch in Georgia, listening to blues, gospel, and Southern rock.


I don’t see them as separate versions of me anymore. They’re all pieces of the same artist, and now I’m letting them live in the same room.


What’s your philosophy on life?


Love is the highest vibration. Connecting with the Divine is how the road lights up for me. Whatever path you choose, let it lead you toward greater integrity, truth, and love.


What’s next?


Getting this music onto the stage. I’m putting my live show together now and getting ready to take it on the road.


After all the writing, recording, and discovering who I am in this chapter, I’m ready to get onstage, sing these songs, and connect with people.


Listen here: "Space"


Explore further:

Latifa Reeves Facebook

Latifa Reeves Spotify

Latifa Reeves YouTube

Latifa Reeves Instagram

Latifa Reeves TikTok


Interview by staff at MBTM