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MUNA’s documented tattoos are tied closely to the band’s shared history. The best-known pieces are three matching 7.7 tattoos, a permanent reference to the Pitchfork score for the group’s 2019 album Saves the World. Naomi McPherson placed the number on her thigh, Josette Maskin chose her forearm, and Katie Gavin put hers on her bicep.
The number is small, plain and immediately legible. Its meaning comes from the band’s own history rather than from an elaborate symbol. The score had become a running joke and a recognizable queer-pop reference, so the tattoos preserve one specific period of MUNA’s career in a compact form.
The trio already shared two earlier designs, an M and a swallow. The older marks and the newer number show how the band’s ink developed over time. One set is a simple emblem, one is a classic bird image, and one records an album-era joke. Together they create a visual record of the group without making all three members look identical.
The matching 7.7 tattoos preserve an album-era joke

Pitchfork’s profile follows MUNA while the members choose the size and placement of their 7.7 tattoos at Jelly, a queer and femme-owned tattoo shop in Los Angeles. Several versions are laid out on paper, ordered from smallest to largest. McPherson settles on a middle size for her leg, Maskin chooses a smaller version for her forearm, and Gavin remains more cautious about putting the number somewhere too obvious before joining the appointment.
The final tattoos are visually restrained. There is no ornamental border, date, illustration or block of explanatory text. The two numbers and the decimal point carry the design. That simplicity keeps the reference sharp: people familiar with the album and the Pitchfork score can read the joke immediately, while the mark still looks like an ordinary small number to everyone else.
The identical subject does not create identical results. The same 7.7 has a different relationship to the body in each photograph. McPherson’s thigh makes the design quieter, Maskin’s forearm gives it a more public position, and Gavin’s bicep places it on a moving part of the arm. The shared idea survives because the placements remain individual.
The tattoo story also captures MUNA’s tone. The appointment is described as a bonding exercise, but the members are not presented as solemnly establishing a formal emblem. They joke, compare sizes and negotiate how visible the number should be. That casual atmosphere is part of the documented meaning. The tattoos preserve a friendship and a career moment at the same time.
Close-up photographs show the small number on three bodies

The close-up photographs make the three 7.7 tattoos easy to compare. The number appears in the same basic form, but the surrounding body, angle and scale change from member to member. The images show the marks as fresh, simple linework rather than as a polished graphic removed from the people who chose it.
That visual difference matters because the tattoos are matching without being a uniform set. McPherson’s placement on the thigh gives the number a more private visual setting. Maskin’s forearm places the mark in a narrower vertical field. Gavin’s bicep gives the design a different curve and a different relationship to movement. The score stays constant while the tattoo’s context changes.
The close views also show why the band did not need additional symbols around the number. The emotional information is already present in the reference to Saves the World, in the band’s friendship and in the running cultural meaning of a 7.7 Pitchfork score. Extra imagery would have changed the tone from an inside joke into a more formal badge.
In the photographs, the tattoos function as small pieces of typography. The decimal point breaks the two numerals and makes the score unmistakable. The clean spacing leaves the marks readable, while the lack of flourishes keeps them connected to the deliberately plain score they represent. The design is memorable because it refuses to over-explain itself.
MUNA’s older matching M and swallow tattoos came first

Before the 7.7 tattoos, the members already had two matching designs: an M and a swallow. Pitchfork identifies both pieces as part of the group’s earlier shared tattoo history. The M can be read as a reference to MUNA, while the swallow belongs to a longer visual tradition of bird tattoos and carries a more illustrative shape than the later number.
The older pair has a different visual language from the 7.7. A letter and a swallow resemble familiar tattoo imagery, while the score is more specific to one album and one piece of music criticism. The three designs therefore mark different kinds of connection. The M identifies the band, the swallow adds a recognizable image, and the 7.7 records a particular joke shared by the members.
These tattoos also show that matching ink does not require the group to repeat one visual style forever. The earlier pieces remain part of the band’s history even after the number is added. MUNA’s shared designs grow in chapters, with each new mark linked to a different period and a different aspect of the relationship between the members.
The photographs from the tattoo-shop profile place the older ink beside the fresh numbers. That contrast makes the timeline visible. Older tattoos appear as established marks, while the 7.7 pieces document a new decision happening in front of the camera. The result is a small portrait of a band whose shared symbols changed as its public identity developed.
The body placement makes each 7.7 tattoo distinct

Placement is one of the clearest differences among the three matching tattoos. McPherson’s thigh keeps the number away from the central visual field of her arms and face. Maskin’s forearm makes the mark easy to see in the tattoo-shop photographs and gives the two characters a long, narrow setting. Gavin’s bicep places the score on an area that becomes visible with the movement of her arm.
The different locations also change the mood of the same design. The thigh piece reads as quieter and more concealed. The forearm piece feels more immediately connected to the band’s visible style. The bicep tattoo sits between those two registers, appearing in some clothing and disappearing in others. The members share the number without sharing the same level of exposure.
The photographs record more than the finished marks. They show the number during the appointment, when the band members are still comparing placement and reacting to the experience. That context is useful for understanding the tattoos as an event in MUNA’s history rather than as isolated images collected after the fact.
The tattoos remain small enough that the body location does not overwhelm the number. Their scale keeps the reference personal. The marks are visible in the profile because the band chose to tell the story, but the designs themselves do not turn into large advertising symbols for MUNA. Their first meaning belongs to the members and to the album moment they chose to preserve.
The photographs preserve a shared moment
The Pitchfork photographs place MUNA’s tattoo story inside the band’s ordinary rhythm of conversation, travel and music-making. The members are together, comparing sizes and reacting to the fresh marks, so the tattoos appear as part of a relationship rather than as isolated celebrity objects.
That setting gives the number a useful historical frame. The 7.7 refers to a record, but the images also preserve the people who made the record and the way they treated the reference as a shared joke. The older M and swallow marks remain visible in the same broader history, creating continuity between earlier band ink and the newer score.
A small record of the band’s history
MUNA’s tattoo chronology is unusually easy to follow because the Pitchfork profile documents the new 7.7 marks while also naming the earlier M and swallow. The report connects the score to Saves the World, identifies the three members, records their different placements and describes the tattoo-shop appointment. That combination gives the numbers a clear place in the band’s story.
The tattoos also show how a shared mark can hold several meanings at once. The 7.7 is an album reference, a joke about music criticism and a reminder of the period when MUNA’s members were building a larger audience. The M and swallow are older shared signs, linked to the group before the number became the most visible example of their matching ink.
None of the designs needs a grand explanation to remain significant. Their scale and plainness are part of the record. A small score can carry the memory of a record, a shop, a conversation and the relationship between three musicians. A letter and a swallow can carry the earlier chapter. The tattoos work because the visual language stays compact while the history behind it expands.
The group’s public story gives the tattoos a playful edge, but the photographs also show care in the way the members discuss placement and size. The result is not a manufactured matching set. It is a group of related marks shaped by three different bodies, three individual choices and one shared history.
Why the matching marks stayed personal
MUNA’s shared tattoos remain personal because they do not depend on a giant logo or a single identical composition. The letter, swallow and 7.7 connect the members, but the designs leave room for the band’s history to change. The marks can be recognized together while still belonging to Katie Gavin, Naomi McPherson and Josette Maskin as individuals.
The 7.7 is the clearest example. Its meaning is precise enough to identify the album-era reference, yet its plain form does not explain every layer to a stranger. The tattoo keeps a private joke inside a public image. The older M and swallow add another layer, showing that the band’s visual identity was already being carried on skin before the score was added.
Seen in sequence, the photographs turn the tattoos into a timeline of MUNA’s working relationship. The older shared marks establish continuity. The new number records a particular creative period. Different placements prevent the result from looking mechanically repeated, and the small scale keeps the designs close to the people who wear them.
MUNA’s documented ink is therefore less about a single style than about shared references. The tattoos preserve music, friendship, humor and the group’s evolving identity in forms that remain readable and distinct. The score, the letter and the swallow are small marks, but the band’s history gives each one more weight than its size suggests.








































