Florry’s ‘Sounds Like…’ finds beauty in imperfection

Still warm from the afterglow of Boat Songs and that moonlit Neil reverie, we drift into Florry’s world — looser, louder, and lit like a backyard hang that turned into a recording session. They’re a Philadelphia crew that comes across less like a band and more like a chosen family, bonded by late nights, shared cigarettes, and a mutual disregard for clean takes. There’s a kind of unspoken language between them, the way glances turn into grooves and laughter bleeds into the count-off.  Time to get Florry-ized.  

“One of these days you’re gonna be amazed.”

Florry’s third studio album, Sounds Like… doesn’t chase precision — it celebrates presence, very much in the style of Neil Young and MJ Lenderman’s albums previously reviewed on this 2025 release (produced by Colin Miller, drummer in MJ’s band The Wind).  Led by songwriter Francie Medosch, Florry delivers a record that sounds like it was made in the moment, for the moment. There’s tape hiss. There are background voices. Some of the instruments drift slightly out of tune. But none of that seems accidental — it’s part of what makes the record come alive. To us, it embodies the sound of a bunch of friends just chilling out, having a good time, similar to the vibes of The Band in their early days.  And they are a bunch of friends — seven in fact, which makes the chemistry all the more surprising, like stumbling into a party band that somehow already knows your favorite song.

What Florry captures here is the sound of a band trusting each other. The album embraces what happens when you record without over-polishing, when you value emotional resonance more than precision. The result is music that recalls the emotive laxity of Hurray for the Riff Raff, the communal joy of Big Thief, and even some of the raw sincerity of Philly native Kurt Vile (a mentor to Medosch) or Sheryl Crow’s early Americana-era work. But Florry’s voice is their own — quirky, openhearted, and unafraid to get messy.

The opener, “First it was a movie, then it was a book,” radiates accidental anthem energy. It starts off wild and fast, with a scrappy liveliness that channels both classic country and garage rock. Lyrically, it’s about the way our lives get reframed and retold — by others, by ourselves — and how meaning gets both clarified and distorted in the process. A fiddle winds its way through fuzzy guitar chords, offering a kind of counterpoint to the chaos.

“Sexy” is one of the record’s most playful tracks. At first, it presents as tongue-in-cheek, with its mix of Southern twang and self-aware swagger. But as the lyrics unfold, it becomes more personal. Medosch sings about owning contradictions — being powerful, confused, and imperfect all at once. The delivery has a kind of dry charm — half Lucinda Williams, half Courtney Barnett — but the vulnerability is unmistakable. It’s a love song, but mostly to the self.

Then there’s “Truck Flipped Over ’19,” which might be the soulful anchor of the album. It’s slower and more spacious, built around a gently wavering slide guitar and a steady rhythm that never rushes. The lyrics describe an actual accident, but the aftershocks are quieter, more internal. It’s about surviving things that don’t leave visible scars — and the quiet, almost private kind of resilience that comes after.

The album cover of Sounds Like… looks almost like a placeholder at first glance — a clean white background, soft red border, and the words “Sounds Like… Florry” scribbled in what looks like lipstick-red cursive. But that simplicity is a deliberate move, echoing the deadpan confidence of The White Album — a kind of anti-design that says the music speaks for itself. The handwritten Florry suggests intimacy – like a mixtape title or a note scrawled in a journal, casual on the surface but full of feeling just underneath. It’s minimal, but emotionally charged — the kind of cover that quietly dares you to listen closely.

What’s striking throughout Sounds Like… is that it never tries to impress you. It doesn’t overreach. Instead, it draws you in by being completely, unapologetically itself. You hear people laughing in the background. You hear room tone. You hear friendship. The project resonates more like a candid snapshot than a polished studio product — something true and unfiltered. It sounds like it was helmed by someone who works part-time in both a record store and a dispensary while not on the road or in the studio, which exactly describes Medosch’s current status.

At times, the warmth of the record recalls Brandi Carlile’s gift for raw honesty, or the familial, off-the-cuff cohesion of Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk. But unlike those albums, Sounds Like… feels more like The Band’s 1969 self-titled album (informally known as “The Brown Album”). It doesn’t strive for grandeur; it strives for truth.

Sounds Like… is a record that makes a case for imperfection — not as a flaw, but as a foundation. It reminds us that sometimes, the most moving music isn’t the most polished. It’s the most present.

Put it on when you want something real. Not just well-crafted, but well-lived. There’s a good chance you could hear these songs coming out of someone’s car window when pulling up to day-drink in an East Atlanta Village bar, which is your cue to go purchase that person a Miller High Life tall boy or maybe a shot of Jameson (or both).

Megan’s favorite song on the album is “Hey Baby”. It’s exactly what you’d hear as you exit a theater after watching an A24 coming-of-age film. It has that old, familiar Bob Dylan meets Lou Reed-esque whine intertwined with the modern grunge indie music style that seems to seep out of every garage nowadays. This is the kind of track you could throw on any playlist because of the casualness, and you wouldn’t get any old folks telling you to skip the song. Right around the one-minute mark, Florry goes full jam – which I can only imagine would feel even more electric in a live music venue. The lyrics following this moment continue to teeter on the sad/happy journey carried throughout the song as lead vocalist, Medosch, ponders, “If I could turn back time…”.

Wendell’s favorite song on the album — and maybe his favorite song of the year so far — is “First it Was a Movie, Then it Was a Book.” It’s loud and tangled and a little unhinged in the best way, like someone hit record during a breakdown and accidentally made a masterpiece. This song checks every box Wendell has ever had: searing guitars, pedal steel and fiddles wailing, melodies that feel familiar but not lazy, and lyrics that hit like a late-night text you wish you hadn’t sent. And that line — “Well last night I watched a movie / Movie made me sad ’cause I saw myself in everyone / how’d they make a movie like that” — describes the intersection of self-delusion and self-pity as well as you’ll ever find. It is nearly seven minutes in length, and somehow it still ends too soon.

Florry is available on Bandcamp, all streaming platforms, and most places where records are sold.  You are likely to find their songs played on SiriusXM stations SiriusXMU, Outlaw Country, and The Spectrum.  They played AthFest in Athens back in June, and the closest they’ll come to Atlanta later this year is a Raleigh show in early September.