From Ireland to Alaska with Miya Folick
By Laurel Sanders
It was a peculiarly overscheduled weekend. My family was visiting during my semester abroad in Ireland, and I’d taken the train from Cork to Dublin that morning to meet them. Coincidentally, my friends were also heading to Dublin to celebrate Halloween weekend, which meant several last-minute outfit changes. To top it off, my birthday—just a day before Halloween—added another layer of chaos. Despite all of this, when my friends asked if I wanted to join them for a concert in the area, I couldn’t say no.
Miya Folick wasn’t a name I recognized, but my friend was a devoted fan. She convinced us all that the $25 ticket was well worth it. Most of us were just excited for live music and a night out in Dublin. After wandering through the city, glued to Google Maps, we found ourselves in a small, packed bar. We climbed to the second-floor venue—a space that felt awkwardly sparse. A handful of couples lingered in corners chatting, but the room was mostly empty. Still, with a drink in hand and my friends by my side, I was guaranteed a decent night.
Then Miya stepped on stage, and all my doubts vanished.
Her voice was otherworldly—ethereal, powerful, and utterly unique. For the next hour, everything revolved around that voice. There were no extravagant lights, costumes, or backup dancers, but none of that was needed. Miya commanded the room with sheer talent, her confidence and warmth filling the space in a way that would challenge even seasoned performers. At one point, she laughed and called out to a fan near the front: “Wow, this guy knows all the words! I’m amazed—I love it.”
The set felt like a blur, passing too quickly, but by the end, everyone was drawn close to the stage, entranced. That’s the magic of live touring: traveling to places where your name might not yet be widely known and leaving with a room full of new fans. Miya Folick certainly left with at least one more lifelong admirer that night.
In the weeks that followed, I found myself diving into her Spotify discography, replaying her songs over and over. Miya’s lyricism is as impressive as her voice. One track I became hooked on was “Haircut,” a collaboration with Petey. It’s indie-pop perfection—catchy, relatable, and deceptively complex. Another favorite is “Bad Thing,” a haunting exploration of guilt and vulnerability.
Her 2023 album, Roach, is her strongest work to date, showcasing her ability to balance raw emotion and polished artistry. Tracks like “Nothing to See,” “2007,” and “Cartoon Clouds” delve deeper into themes of nervousness and self-doubt, extending the emotional honesty of songs like “Bad Thing.” Of course, she’s also widely known for her 2019 cover of “I Will Follow You Into the Dark,” which transforms the familiar song into something profoundly her own.
In 2023, Miya contributed music to Apple TV’s The Buccaneers, delivering upbeat, rock-leaning tracks reminiscent of Wet Leg. While it’s impossible to highlight every gem in her catalog, these songs serve as a great starting point for anyone new to her music.
It’s been two years since that night in Dublin. I’ve graduated college, moved back to New York, and watched Miya’s star continue to rise. Her recent single, “Alaska,” is proof she’s only getting better. A breakup song at its core, “Alaska” is elevated by Miya’s emotional depth and unmatched talent. It captures the ache of empty rooms, goodbye notes, and the fear of being alone, while also reflecting on the early stages of love—when friendships teeter on the edge of something more.
The repeated refrain, “Cause I know I could lose you,” carries a poignant double meaning. It’s a reminder of both the fragility of relationships and the resilience that comes with letting go. And, like much of her work, it’s irresistibly catchy.
With more music on the horizon, now is the perfect time to hop on the Miya Folick train. Trust me—she’s heading nowhere but up, and you’ll be glad to say you discovered her before everyone else.
