In a music world often flooded with overproduction and superficial gloss, Floryence—the Milwaukee-based one-man project helmed by the inimitable Jared Gibson—offers a rare breath of raw, unfiltered creativity. With the release of his debut studio EP, Mallard Cafe, Gibson has carved out a unique sonic habitat where jangly surf guitars, dusty garage rock textures, and emotionally incisive lyrics coexist in vibrant, lo-fi harmony. It’s a project that proves that minimalism, when executed with sincerity and instinct, can feel more expansive than a full orchestra.
Mallard Cafe may be just four tracks long, but don’t let that modest count deceive you—this EP is a sprawling emotional and stylistic journey. Each song is a vignette, a distinct room in a warmly lit home, where time seems suspended and every crack in the wall tells a story. Across just a handful of songs, Floryence manages to explore not only multiple musical styles, but also a wide emotional spectrum—delivering a collection of tracks that are honest, immersive, and distinctively memorable.
The opening track, “Coffee Grinder”, immediately sets the tone with an irresistible mid-tempo shuffle, shimmering with jangly guitars and Gibson’s signature melodic phrasing. It’s a grungy earworm that sits somewhere between the murky intimacy of early Modest Mouse and the sunny grit of surf-punk—equal parts nostalgic and fresh. There’s an old-soul wisdom to the sound, yet it’s infused with the scrappy urgency of someone who still believes rock and roll can save your life. As a kickoff, it’s flawless—a caffeinated jolt for the indie rock heart.
What’s more, “Coffee Grinder” captures that magical intersection between simplicity and complexity. On the surface, it feels like a fun, no-frills garage rock jam. But beneath the surface, there’s meticulous attention to detail in the arrangement, guitar layering, and vocal delivery. Every element has purpose, every beat feels handpicked. It’s the kind of song that gets stuck in your head and plays in the back of your mind like a familiar scene from a favorite indie film.
With “Ducks”, Gibson dives headfirst into a more playful, yet no less impactful, territory. It’s a track with a pulse—quick, infectious, impossible to ignore. There’s a New Wave immediacy to it, fused with garage rock attitude and a sly wink of punk irreverence. The refrain—“You won’t miss me tonight”—hits with the kind of effortless cool that made early Elvis Costello and The Strokes such game-changers. It’s a testament to Gibson’s sharp sense of melody and lyricism, wrapped in the delightful chaos of crashing drums and hook-heavy guitar riffs.
At its core, “Ducks” is an indie-rock anthem disguised as a quirky singalong. The blend of nostalgic instrumentation with modern indie sensibilities gives it a timeless quality. It taps into a universal emotion—the desire to be remembered, to make an impression, to shake off the fear of being forgettable. But instead of turning that emotion into something heavy, Gibson channels it into a burst of joy and rebellion, a reminder that sometimes the best way to deal with angst is to dance through it.
Midway through the EP, “Tailing Happiness” shifts the emotional temperature. Here, Gibson trades tempo for texture, unearthing layers of introspection that add immense depth to the project. Sonically, it creates a soundscape that’s at once contemplative and cosmic. It’s a song about searching: for meaning, for joy, for the elusive euphoria that seems to stay just out of reach. The vulnerability in his voice, the poetic economy of his lyrics, and the slow-burn arrangement elevate it into something quietly profound.
“Tailing Happiness” is arguably the soul of Mallard Cafe. Its melancholic tone and searching lyrics open a portal into the deeper recesses of Gibson’s psyche. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t offer easy answers but instead gives you space to reflect, to process, to feel. With its subdued guitar lines and airy production, it unfolds like a letter never sent—a message in a bottle drifting across the listener’s inner ocean.
Every great story needs a strong ending, and “In Another Life, Mary Jane” delivers that and more. A melancholic, slow-burning ballad, the track floats on acoustic strums and dreamlike ambiance. It’s a meditation on memory, regret, and parallel lives that might’ve been, told with a sensitivity that suggests Gibson isn’t just a songwriter—he’s a storyteller. There’s a hint of psychedelic Americana here, tripping through a shoegaze prism. It’s haunting, tender, and quietly powerful—the kind of track that lingers long after the music stops.
The arrangement here is sparse but intentional. Every note seems to breathe. The vocals are delicate but sure, hanging in the air like smoke from a dying candle. Lyrically, it’s some of Gibson’s most evocative work to date, a tapestry of longing that suggests endless worlds just outside of reach. It’s not just a conclusion to the EP—it’s a gentle farewell, a parting thought whispered in the dark.
There’s something magical about the way Mallard Cafe holds itself together. Despite the broad range of genres and emotions it traverses, it never feels disjointed. Instead, it flows like a well-curated mixtape from someone who not only loves music but understands it deeply. And perhaps that’s Gibson’s greatest gift as Floryence—his ability to pull from decades of rock evolution and distill those influences into something that feels totally, thrillingly his own.
This isn’t just an indie EP. This is an auteur’s introduction, a pocket-sized opus crafted with more heart, style, and sincerity than many full-length albums. You can feel the hours in the bedroom studio, the reworked lyrics, the trial-and-error guitar tones. You can hear the soul behind every chord, the honesty behind every vocal take. That kind of devotion translates—and it resonates.
In many ways, Mallard Cafe is a love letter to the independent spirit, to the bedroom musicians and the late-night lyric scribblers. It’s an invitation to celebrate imperfection, to value emotional truth over polish. That kind of music is rare—and when it arrives, it should be cherished.
If you’re a fan of Ty Segall, Mac DeMarco, or King Tuff, or if you’ve ever found solace in the off-kilter charm of Built to Spill, Floryence is your next obsession. But even if those names don’t ring a bell, Mallard Cafe is an EP that stands tall on its own merits. It’s a fiercely independent project, but it doesn’t alienate—it invites. It calls you in like a familiar diner booth or a favorite worn-out record. It makes you want to stay awhile.
Floryence might be new to the scene, but make no mistake—Jared Gibson has arrived as a fully formed voice. One that is unafraid to be rough around the edges, emotionally vulnerable, and sonically adventurous. Mallard Cafe is the kind of debut that demands attention—and deserves praise. Not just for what it is, but for the future it hints at. So pour a cup, press play, and settle into the world of Mallard Cafe. It’s not just music—it’s a feeling. And once you step into the sound, you might not want to leave.
OFFICIAL LINKS:
STREAMING: https://open.spotify.com/album/5l8oogZLk5WLhwcg3zZBnZ?si=508Z8nLaRH6Bvn1yaQKULw
SOCIAL: https://www.instagram.com/floryenceband
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