At home with Sophie Coran

The soft hiss of water coming to a boil echoes across a tiny Washington Square West flat as Sophie Coran flicks off her stove, grabs a strainer, and proceeds to make a cup of matcha. It’s a cool afternoon in early April, and the Philly singer-songwriter is on a brief respite from juggling teaching gigs by day and lounge shows by night, gearing up for the release of her sophomore album I Don’t Go To New York Anymore and still settling into the living quarters she’s occupied for the past six months.

It’s the first time Coran has lived wholly on her own (with the exception of two cats: a mischievous orange tabby named Henry and a shy grey cat named Simon). It’s been an adjustment, she says, but the Philly native has family close by in the neighborhood, as well as several of her piano students residing within blocks. “This is my new era, my new space,” she says from the kitchen. “And this is a unicorn of an apartment.”

In a relatively brief time, and as busy as she is, Coran has been able to make the place her own. One room is dedicated entirely to her music, featuring no fewer than six pianos — one upright, two Nords, one mini Yamaha, and two toy pianos — as well as a writing desk, and a wall adorned with Post-Its scribbled with lyrics and notes. The living room is stacked with chic storage bins that are tidily organized, in a teeming-with-merch-and-memories kind of way. A pile of novels checked out from the library sits on a stand in the hall, leading back to Coran’s favorite spot — a cozy bathroom fully covered in salmon-colored tiling.

It’s comforting and calming, and Coran talks about how the bathroom was, in a way, the deciding factor for her moving in. She’s fascinated by water-related visuals — like the music video for her 2022 song “Space,” where she was submerged in a kaleidoscopic pool — and she finds the room to be perfect for relaxation, reflection, and solace. That mood (and this room) are captured stunningly in the visualizer for Coran’s “I’m Here But I’m Not Here” from the new album.

Coran’s I Don’t Go To New York Anymore, newly out in the world this week, is a pensive yet poppy collection of songs reflecting on love, loss, growth, and change. With chops and an aesthetic reminiscent of Clairo and Lana Del Rey, it’s at once nostalgic, yet focused on the future and prepared to embrace the unknown. You can stream the album here, and celebrate its release at MilkBoy on Friday, May 9th. Below, follow along as Sophie Coran shows us around her home.

The sociable Henry crashes the photo shoot at Coran’s piano — he doesn’t mind the volume of the music when Coran gets into practice mode — while a steam inhaler sits perched in the background. For a vocalist always on the go, Coran says “this has been a game changer for me.”

In the mix with her pianos that are more readily used, Coran keeps two wooden toy pianos. “I became obsessed with toy pianos because, when I was 10 to 16, I went to the Walden School in New Hampshire, which is for young musicians. It teaches composition, and I learned you can compose for toy pianos too.” The smaller one on top was picked up for cheap at an estate sale, she says, while the Jaymar at the bottom was a gift from Coran’s grandmother.

Mementos of her family fill the space; this vintage radio, sitting on top of some of her storage shelving, belonged to Coran’s great grandmother, who lived to be over 100 years old.

Despite the small layout, there’s a lot of room for storage — Coran says she likes drawers, likes having her stuff organized, and the bins and closet space are great for storing merch. “I’m a minimalist at heart,” she says. “But I’m also sentimental. I love saving things. I have boxes of handwritten letters, I love writing letters.”

A vintage Marimekko suitcase is used to set up Coran’s merch display at gigs; it’s also a space her cats are fond of bedding down on, along with one of her Nord zipper cases. “It’s broken,” she says of the Nord case, “but the cats think it’s cool.”