by Charles Davis
Scattered city lights flutter about the night sky as a nameless sea of faces you'll never see again stroll by you along your evening travel. Ava Luna is playing in your ears, catching the beat of your steps, the harmonies of the gentle breeze against your skin, while you take in the beauty of the mundanity. The uniqueness of your life and every other life you've touched.
You're somewhere between Liquid Liquid and Simon and Garfunkel and Deee-Lite and Regina Spektor and Ladybug Transistor and Portishead and Tom Tom Club; a jazzy, groovy, post-punk, trip-hop, no-wave, lushly vibrant rhythmic fun-step chamber pop. This isn't your everyday band - this is something more; this is thoughtfulness and persistence and true blue artistry as it was meant to be. This is the 'pop' that we hoped we'd one day run into sixty years ago - the imagined motion of artistry reflected back on a world of artists themselves.
However, for the foursome - Carlos Hernandez, Julian Fader, Ethan Bassford, and Felicia Douglass - this seems everyday life. With a cavalcade of instrumentation and musicians, ranging from saxes to synths to violins, violas, cellos and straight samples, alongside the traditional framework of a modern 'band' - drums, bass, guitar - and vocals - amazing vocals, it is utterly unique and alive; boisterous, but mindful; concise, yet exuberant and jovial. A structure of the sort, framing a house of attentive and contemplative songwriting and composition. There are no tropes here, yet we explore a mysteriously familiar territory we think maybe possibly perhaps existed somewhere, sometime...
What notably stands out, though (amidst the rubble of our musical listening systems) is the organicness. Ava Luna, despite its playful, welcoming, and extremely thoughtful nature, is ultimately a raw and unfiltered album. Saxophones and chamber orchestras - even a french horn - coalesce with a light bulb-electronicness atop the rock foundation; a genuine live-band feeling, and, thanks to Hernandez's samples and arrangements, a multitude of forces co-aligning to create a feeling of futuristic nostalgia.
"I won't keep you wondering / I'm the bigger person / So no one else is serving now / So seek help / Obviously I couldn't stop it at all / Honestly I couldn't stop it at all," Felicia Douglas croons and parlandos atop the Talk Talk-meets-Curtis Mayfield-ish groove of "Lasting Impression".
"You've seen the sum of what I'm painted with, light and movement / Only real until you look away / After such a deep incision / Will I still be fancy even in the disarray?" "Fancy" continues, and right from one incredible jagged groove to the next, strings push forth once again and bring us back to a lilting palpableness, while the melody takes us on a Jeff Buckley-esque trip to the early 90s NYC mindset that feels recognizably comforting. This is perhaps the highlight of the album for this listener; however one would be remiss focusing on any one distinct element, as there is SO much to enjoy around every turn.
Put frankly, Ava Luna is a record that takes you places. Your feet are on the ground, your mind is on the matter, and your spirit is contemplative, meditative, celebrative. It is a genuinely joyful celebration of exploration in skill and craft.