With OVER the MOONs, Su pushes her instrument and compositional voice further into uncharted territory.
Endectomorph Music
Yuhan Su – vibraphone; Alex LoRe – alto saxophone, flute; Anna Webber – tenor saxophone, flute; Matt Mitchell – piano; Yingda Chen – guitar; Marty Kenney – acoustic and electric bass; James Paul Nadien – drums; Shinya Lin – electronics
Taiwanese vibraphonist Yuhan Su has never been shy about big ideas, but OVER the MOONs feels like her boldest leap yet. Written during a residency in Wyoming and recorded in New York with an expanded eight-piece ensemble, it’s an album about living between cultures and languages. “I feel there are always two moons inside of my head and each of them draws its tide,” Su reflects. “I want to embrace this beautiful, chaotic feeling and explore the use of layers in music.” Su doesn’t resolve those contrasts; she leans into them, using layers of acoustic improvisation and electronics to create a constant push and pull.
Su’s career has been steadily ascending. Critics have praised her for music that’s unpredictable yet always grounded. She recently won Taiwan’s Golden Melody Award for Best Instrumental Composer, has received multiple Golden Indie Music Awards, and has been named a Rising Star on vibraphone in the 2024 and 2025 DownBeat Critics ’Poll. U Discover Music also placed her among the “Top 25 Best Vibraphonists in History.” Along the way she has worked with Vijay Iyer, Amir ElSaffar’s Rivers of Sound, and Greg Osby.
Even when Su starts in near silence, the stillness never lasts. “Pieces Peace” opens with tinkling sounds like something from a child’s toy factory, but soon her vibes spill across the full range, high to low, louder and more insistent. Jagged bass lines and a cyclical rhythm pull everyone in, while piano runs and a squealing saxophone act less like soloists and more like parts of an agitated rhythm machine.
“Tomorrow” starts off in the distance, like a flock of robotic geese approaching, then swirls of sound blow from every direction. Fluttering, mechanical phrases repeat as sax flurries, jittery drums, and plinking piano build. Su’s vibes step out on top, with guitar and electronics adding to a dense, cacophonous mix—so thick with layers you can almost pull them apart with your fingers.
“Two Moons” begins in near silence, a few echoing, reverb-heavy notes from Su’s vibes sounding pretty, with just a touch of eeriness in the solo setting. Gradually, quiet drum rolls and sparse piano chords enter, joined by guitar strums and percussive vibe phrases, all building like a distant storm. Over rattling drums and bass, sax, piano, and vibes trade freeform riffs, intertwining and swelling until the full ensemble erupts in somber unison, forming a dark, immersive chorale.
On “Genius and Dumb,” Su’s Mandarin narration is processed into a percussive instrument of its own, spinning and fragmenting like a DJ manipulating a record. Snapping drums and an insistent bass line push against rapid, aggressive vibraphone phrases, while a restless, squalling sax weaves anxious, repeated figures on top. Guitar and electronics thread through the mix, adding texture to the tense, fragmented soundscape.
What makes the record so gripping isn’t just the palette of sounds—it’s how Su orchestrates them into something unruly yet coherent. Her ensemble brings the music into sharp focus, whether through surging collective improvisation or hushed, fragile moments.
With OVER the MOONs, Su pushes her instrument and compositional voice further into uncharted territory. It’s restless, layered, and at times chaotic, but always alive with the dualities and contradictions she set out to capture.
