Minneapolis’s Moise is an artist of far-reaching creative fervor. Stylistically fluid, much of his music edges towards Neo-Soul, brimming with silky-smooth vocals and reminiscent touches on love and strength; while much more is spellbound by the indefinability of indie, acoustic, and alt-rock. There is nowhere he’s afraid to take his voice, his production, or his guitar, and in suit, his releases are entirely unpredictable. Towards the drop of his debut album, Postcards I Forgot to Send – a project delayed in solidarity with the strife and push of his home city’s fight for civil liberties – he has proven not only the range of his own music, but that of the greater, unparalleled, and oft-overlooked black creative community which isn’t only responsible for the expected hip-hop and soul delineations, but all of modern music.

 

Moise is instead, an image of transcendent modern artistry, unbound by the borders by genre. More than anything, his music is defined by experiences. You see, Moise is a storyteller – a great one at that – whose merging of musical styles is only a reflection of a young man, as broad in his musicianship as he is in his person. The two should be, after all, one in the same.

 

With his third release en route to Postcards I Forgot to Send, Moise brings us Gold Rush, and its aesthetic lives up to the sheen in its name. Crooning his signature soft register over a beachy guitar riff, an analogue drum set, and layers upon layers of his own vocal labyrinth, the single is a sunshiny, warm cut fit for the positive moments of the final weeks in a hot and painful Summer.