by Ryan Haughey (@Ry_Haughey)
From Shana Cleveland, the frontwoman of modern-day LA surf rockers La Luz, Night of the Worm Moon is a skillful display of the exploration of sub-genre. This album is more consistent with the artist’s background in the surf rock genre than her previous solo release, which was slightly more folk oriented. Maybe it’s because of the title, but this most recent record feels like the flip-side contraposition to the sunny, surf ambience that surf tunes usually convey. Night of the Worm Moon conjures images of an empty beach beneath a bright and starry sky while soft winds gently blow ocean waves to a foamy shore.
The first track, “Don’t Let Me Sleep,” drearily sets the tone for the rest of the record. Finger-picked acoustic guitars roll like a current while subtle electric organs fill in the empty space, gradually joined by swelling electric guitars, organ flutes, and harpsichord leads – all floating in reverberation. Cleveland’s voice lulls a hypnotic melody, switching back and forth from dissonance to consonance, feeling like a vague dream in a distant memory with the lyrics “Don’t let me sleep too late” repeating at key moments throughout the song.
Cleveland’s vocal melody on “Face of the Sun” is unhurried, deliberately reaching the destination of each phrase. This second track introduces steel guitars that moan softly along with the chord changes of the acoustic guitar, which is strummed quickly but softly, akin to the soundtrack of an old western. Though spaghetti-ish, the track is undeviating in its atmospheric tone from the preceding track.
Night of the Worm Moon contains two instrumental tracks: “Castle Milk” and “Solar Creep”. The former resembles a guitar solo in the form of an extended, rolling finger picking pattern with laser precision. Not unlike the rest of the record, deliberate fingers slide audibly against the strings, resulting in an authentic sound that accompanies the exceptional accuracy of the performance.
A bowed double bass provides a low rumble that maintains intensity on songs like “Invisible When the Sun Leaves”. The depth of this bassline allows the aethereal synth-like howl to foam up to the surface over this song’s two chord chorus structure. The next track is “The Fireball,” a haunting track with a low, bubbling synth-bassline of its own. Singing lyrics depicting an anomalous sunset, the hazy tone of Cleveland’s voice reverberates about looking up at the “white light” on a “cool night”.
The final song on the record features a rhodes part with so soft an attack, it’s as if you were hearing it from underwater. “I’ll Never Know” also hears a tremulous ringing of Hawaiian style steel guitars. Night of the Worm Moon dives deeper into the surf rock genre by toning down the usual tropes – like rapid, guitar picked 16th notes and repetitive licks – emerging in the realm of surf-folk with an acoustic guitar foundation and Shana Cleveland’s haunting voice. Though remaining low-energy throughout the album, Cleveland does not require a ‘big-kahuna’ moment for the record to leave a lasting impact.