New York City-based four-piece alternative pop/rock band Kids That Fly have released their newest five-track EP Tracks of the High Line, on December 9. With hopes of recreating their viral 2019 single “Kiss Her You Fool,” the group came up with this nostalgic, genre-blending EP. Along with this, the band has also released a VHS Music video for the song “Talk of the Town,” a catchy pop/alternative hit.
In October, Kids that Fly released the EP’s lead single, “High Line,” along with a vibrant music video to pair. “The synth-y beat and fast drums brought me back…it’s pop with enticing guitar chords and a synth that fits right in…conjures 80’s nostalgia. ‘High Line’ evokes a more technical The 1975, a less sad Backseat Lovers,” said NYS Music contributor Sydney Pollack in October.
Yet their newest “Talk of the Town” showcases the energy of Tracks of the High Line in its entirety, which can be described as a combination of sounds from the early 2000s alt-rock era, 80s synth pop, British alternative, and modern pop/rock.
Nick Smeriglio (vocals/guitar), Blake Henry (guitar/synth), Braden Frandino (bass/vocals) and Ryan Hendry (drums/vocals) make up Kids That Fly. Composed of college comrades, they formed in the fall of 2018 while attending the University of Connecticut. Having all grown up in Connecticut, the crew has had a lot of influence from other Connecticut musicians such as Rivers Cuomo of Weezer and indie/rock duo MGMT.
Tracks of the High Line is the “next logical step in the band’s evolution,” shares Nick. Composed of songs written throughout the heart and tail end of the pandemic. “It’s a reflection of lots of different romantic experiences that the four of us have had,” Nick confides. “On a deeper level though, it deals with the different struggles that came from the pandemic, how the isolation took a toll on people, and the recovery of it all.”
“Throughout the process we’ve been experimenting with different synthesizers and other interesting digital production techniques that give each song a bit of a retro futuristic style,” Braden reflects about the EP’s sounds.
Since the very beginning, the band has always put a focus on their fans, prioritizing the importance of live music. With their electrifying up close and personal performances, Kids That Fly will continue to prove their vast potential. You won’t want to miss out on their newest viral hits on Tracks of the High Line.
Doeke (Jorn Swart), a New York-based neo-classical pianist delivers a great deal on his new album Herinner – he is at times poignant, elegant, delicate, intricate, and vulnerable in this continued exploration of his signature dreamy and gentle piano playing style.
With these sonic reflection of stories from the past, present, and future, the album is all about nostalgia, home, and the strange details remembered from childhood, the music transporting the listener to another time and place.
Doeke was my grandfather’s first name. He played the accordion, which inspired me to pick up that instrument as a kid, and later led me to the piano. All the song titles are in Dutch, and many of the compositions are inspired by memories from the Netherlands.
Doeke (Jorn Swart)
Doeke is shaped by a desire to return to simplicity, with Swart’s piano compositions inviting listeners from all over the world to feel a nostalgia that is both melancholic and comforting. Swart moved to the USA in 2010 as a Fulbright Scholar to pursue a master’s degree in jazz piano in New York City, where he’s been living and performing ever since.
Throughout his career, Swart has been busy not only as a composer and a piano soloist, but also as a bandleader, musical director, and recording artist for other musicians. As he built his name, touring throughout the USA and in Europe and garnering international acclaim, audiences told him that his work sounded like it was telling a story. With Doeke, he leans into this quality, with music that has a narrative and the emotional attributes of a film score.
You know how a certain smell can suddenly evoke something that happened a long time ago, something you thought you’d forgotten, and you become instantly overcome with the same feeling you had back then? Music can also send you on these fleeting time travels and the songs on this album capture such transient visceral experiences. Though these recollections are deeply personal for me, music can transcend this and transform the particular into the universal.
Music allows us to collectively experience the most powerful human states of being — nostalgia, joy, melancholy, reflection, excitement — and take comfort in knowing we all feel this way sometimes. Herinner is about these little moments that can seem insignificant, but still endure. It invites the listeners to join and embrace the nostalgic.
Doeke (Jorn Swart)
Herinner is available for streaming on various platforms here.
Westward expansion. An 80+ year stretch marked by hope, oppression, sorrow, and death. For Ian McCuen, it serves as a provocative metaphor for a life of disappointment and a world of heartbreak on their fifth album, November’s Westward to Nowhere.
It’s not the first record inspired by grief and the idea of travel. Modest Mouse did the same thing twice in the 90s to massive acclaim. What sets the Buffalo indie folk musician’s concept album apart though is its consistent and clear narrative, which progresses towards its natural finish by the end of the project’s behemoth 18-track, 80 minute run.
Cover art for ‘Westward to Nowhere.’
The early going of Westward to Nowhere depicts McCuen’s character as a damaged and traumatized young adult who anticipates and hopes for better things with a change of scene. The lo-fi acoustic opener “Westward” introduces the album’s historical symbolism with the noises of a train and the repeated closing line “westward home, westward home, and I know that I must go,” a phrase which is made a motif via the three interludes found across the record.
Follow-up track “Independence, MO” is a fuzzy but light indie rock song about the “thrill of anticipation” for starting new, coming before lead single “Lonesome Homesteader” (or “Lonesome Dreamer” according to the album listing), a gloomy acoustic ballad spaced out by stretches of organ and banjo. “I walk for miles at a time, daydreaming of a place that’s always mine,” McCuen sings on “Lonesome Dreamer.
This continues onto the waltzy “California Bound,” where McCuen analogizes seasonal change with grief and recovery, hoping that change of scenery will “wash away past trauma.” The same goes for the synth and violin-laden “Beatrice, NE,” where McCuen dreams of traversing the Great Plains and scaling the Rockies. “Goodbye Beatrice, so much world left to see,” they sing on one of several tracks that personally address the pinpointed location on McCuen’s journey.
Musically, Westward to Nowhere is highly consistent and consistently melodic. McCuen’s near whispered falsetto heavily reminisces of Elliott Smith, with their low-key acoustic approach and sentimental subject matter also ringing true of the legendary singer-songwriter. This tonal steadiness doesn’t mean a lack of variety in texture or instrumentation though, with McCuen’s parts on guitar, piano, organ and more being complemented by guest musicians such as Lissa Reed on cello and Sally Schaefer on violin. Reverb-heavy moments of guitar noise add contrast to long stretches of acoustic subtlety on songs such as “American Retreat.” There’s “The Plea,” which closes its six minute runtime with a biting and bluesy guitar solo and hints of trombone. All makes for an experience which sonically conveys McCuen’s sorrow in an affecting and musically accessible fashion.
While primarily personal, Westward to Nowhere has its political moments too, “The Plea” being explicitly so. “Can’t you hear the chanting, ‘no justice no peace,’ how much fucking longer we gonna let Kansas bleed,” McCuen asks on the final verse’s closing line.
There’s also the on-the-nose “Running Still (Worker’s Hymn),” a mostly acapella anthem where they sing in the first person about working class strife with exploitation, and the heartful late-placement ballad “American Retreat” which addresses Native American genocide, abandonment of military veterans, and general lies from “the lofty speak of what an infinite frontier provides.”
Such cynicism defines the rather hopeless back half of Westward to Nowhere. There’s “Letter,” on which Ian McCuen pens letters to a sister, an old friend, and a former lover, detailing fun reminiscence, regret, but most of all, agonizing over the distance created from these loved ones. “I can hardly recognize where I’m heading or from where I came,” they observe over the light drumming of the song’s chorus. “On my shoulders lays the blame.”
McCuen’s journey away from misery has made life even more hopeless, something fully emphasized in the album’s final three tracks. There’s the upbeat organ/violin-driven “Lonesome Drunkard” with its alcoholism play-by-play, followed by the overpowering gloom of nine-minute “Deadwood, SD,” which takes their sadness to suicidal levels.
McCuen forecasts themselves as “face first in the dirt with a bullet in the brain” and “just another number in the morgue,” and reminds of the album’s historical symbolism by alluding to “repeated failed attempts at finally striking gold. In the last few minutes, over a subtly building assembly of piano, guitar, , McCuen echoes frustration with a disgustingly wrong promise, singing “I’m so fucking sick and tired of hearing ‘Westward Home,’ after all this time I still don’t know where the hell I belong.”
No point is more bleak though than the closing track “Nowhere.” The train from the end of “Westward” returns, not to take McCuen on a life changing journey, but to take them out. “My brain and my body have given out on me, so I’m giving in to let these tracks take me,” they sing after two minutes of desolated acoustic guitar playing. McCuen’s echoey vocals and the track’s eerily sparse musical framing make this a haunting self-eulogy, as they talk about an eradicated sense of youthful optimism, reflect on a life of unfulfilled self, and envision a memorial not consisting of any heartfelt tributes, but “just regret for my days.”
Westward to Nowhere begins with a clear point and ends on a resounding personal message: the grass isn’t always greener elsewhere. Change of scene and change of personal direction don’t always lead away from misery. It may lead nowhere, and it might make life more isolating than ever imaginable. Originally aiming for California, McCuen never got farther west than Montana, a testament to the fleeting nature of personally prophesied destinations.
The album bears similarities to 1984 hardcore classic Zen Arcade by Husker Dü, a concept record about a boy who leaves a troubled home to find a world of nothing but. Ian McCuen never comes close to being as loud as Husker Dü, but the emotional ideas and big picture thinking are all there.
This is a long record that doesn’t do anything musically shocking, but within the album’s historical approach, it’s all fitting. Continental travel is long, consistent, and miserable, often like life. On Westward to Nowhere though, Ian McCuen conveys this in a way that ends up being pretty enjoyable to listen to.
From Paris to New York City, Lizzy Young emerged to the scene in 2020 with her debut CooCoo Banana, a visual album of 10 tracks confronting mortality. In celebration of the upcoming release of her song Not that Bad, Lizzy has just unveiled a new video for the track “Everything is Beautiful.”
Lizzy explains, “Everything is Beautiful reflects the intangible in life, the little things we overlook and the big things we take for granted.”
Lizzy’s second album is centered around the experiences of women; “This album is my love letter to everyone who identifies as a woman. I find it complicated to be a woman, even in 2022, and I need to talk about what I know best.”
Not That Bad is not only an empowering tribute to women, it is also an album that at times captures the heady pulse of a night out; “something that people would want to play in a sweaty club,” she says. “A little different from what I’ve been hearing the last couple of years. Something that fits the times: dark, groovy, slightly funny, and a little apocalyptic.”
Work on this album began back in 2020, but then Young ended up at a friend’s farm for 6 months. “I barely took anything with me and wasn’t able to record until getting back to Brooklyn,” she says. “I wanted this album to be a Brooklyn baby and after finishing the demos I looked for someone local to work with to make it spicier.”
The opener “Cigarettes are good for Pain,” Young marries wonky pop with a charging techno beat, while the following “Shit Never Stops” takes a turn with snapping trap beats and merges them with subtle melodies. Young’s inimitable vocals are slow, considered, breathy.
To Listen to “Everything Is Beautiful,” click the link here.
When Hudson’s Chris Pellnat released his fifth solo album Go in September, it was yet another mark of a folk musician who simply can’t stick to just folk. While his songwriting stays pretty standard, his playful lyrics and eclectic instrumentation give him a signature mark.
With a well-filled out personal catalog, Pellnat’s collaborative resume has its marks as well. He’s one half of Brooklyn folk pop duo Teeniest. He’s the lead guitarist of Poughkeepsie group The Warp/The Weft, with whom he shows off his straightforward but technical approach through infectious lead riffs on albums such as 2019’s Dead Reckoning.
While the grunge and prog-rock tones of The Warp/The Weft and the upbeat folksy approach of Teeniest are relatively consistent, Pellnat likes his solo work a little all over the place. His 2021 record Crossing bounces from odd displays of vibraphone and clarinet to bright jangle pop to garage rock on a track-by-track basis, something which remains the same on Go, a 10-track, 30 minute exploration.
The opening titular track sets this tone from the get-go, with its wistful verses driven by vibraphone and gurgling synths setting the scene for Pellnat’s personal lyrics. “In my own way, trying to be better, braver wiser, and someday, I leave my burden down at the horizon,” he sings in an untrained tenor.
Pellnat created music videos for each of the record’s first three songs, each of which are brought together in a manner both amateurish yet endearing. “Go” is accompanied by a crude assembly of footage, including time-lapses of his rural Hudson Valley home, shots of him performing outdoors, and a frog.
Next is the adventurous and political “What Are We?” with its muted guitar riff and pulsating synth line that set the scene for Pellnat’s barrage of philosophical questions. “What if we are sick of the crazy, endless lies that will not die,” Pellnat sings on the final verse. “What if we are still trying to fight the evil power still inside?” It has an upbeat tension that reminisces of a storm chase or a search for a UFO.
The video’s combination of odd, color-imbalanced shots of his face juxtaposed with shots of an MRI scan through iMovie-adjacent transitions uphold the song’s mysterious energy, even in this DIY presentation.
Track three, “Existential Dread,” returns to the personal. It’s an upbeat and melodic dulcimer tune that follows the trope of cheery songwriting contrasted by dejected lyrics, as Pellnat talks about the failure of alleviating pain through vices and the permanence of existential dread. “Drinking won’t do it, weed won’t cut through it, I always knew it,” he sings on the chorus.
Its music video is easily the most absurd of the three, where Pellnat fights both caffeine and alcohol addiction alongside a vigorous quest to prove he’s not a robot through an endless series of CAPTCHA quizzes and corporate security questions.
Pellnat describes Go as “a rather positive statement overall” but also “colored by darkness,” with “Existential Dread” serving as an early example on the record. There’s also the sad accordion bluegrass of the following song “What I Want You To Want,” which mires itself in depressed romanticism. “No starry-eyed romantic, I’m talking about overcoming the darkness all around us,” Pellnat sings on the opening verse.
Later on is “Are We Going To Fly?” which despite being more vague in its brooding, is sonically the darkest point of the album with its uncanny guitar melody and echoing clarinet. “Are we going to find our way?” sings Pellnat. “Thought you said we had all day.” Backed by a skittering drum machine, this song shows Pellnat at his most off-kilter.
He still gives plenty of attention to the bright, earthy conventions common to Teeniest though, with exhibits such as the self-described jangle-fest “Earth Shaker.” It’s an endearing love song with summery guitars, making for a songwriting highlight. “Tumbling down the walls we made up, everything we will do it’ll last forever,” Pellnat sings on the chorus.
Then there’s penultimate track “Water Wings,” an acoustic/woodblock tune about climate change. “Typhoons in winter, tornado splinter, now you begin to taste the ocean breeze, it’s how its gonna be,” he sings on the second verse.
Closer “Suburbs of Paradise” continues with this commentary-oriented angle, as Pellnat sarcastically criticizes the uniformity of suburbia over a dusty slide guitar backdrop. He talks about how “the roads they’re all the same, they all just beat around the bush,” and talks about being trapped “in an endless cul de sac” in a short but sweet 1:52.
The other prime point of satire on Go is “This Is Not Rock and Roll,” where the salt and peppered musician calls himself “a walking cliché” with his guitar, says he’s “getting too old” to be a rock star over bluesy guitar licks and a warm plucky bassline.
Go is very personal album from Pellnat. Not in the sense that it’s constantly serious or sappy, but because it’s who he is. It’s vulnerable. It’s goofy. It’s political. It changes when it wants, and stays consistent when it’s comfortable. Chris Pellnat opened this album singing “in my own way” and never stopped, creating a record entirely built on his own endeavor.
On November 18, Rochester recording artist Ryan Sutherland released his third album, Sutherland II. In the album art, by illustrator Sabrina Cintron, neon green smoke curls around a pumpkin-headed scarecrow. Set against “crimson skies” emanating out of a huge, looming full moon with black cats hanging around its crescent, you gain the perfect visual of Upstate New York, taken as the days get cold, the season of the witch, after the harvest.
Halloween’s spirits and spooks still hang in the air like old smoke as winter dramatically conquers fall; decreeing daylight cut-backs and strict sunlight curfews. While winter reigns, cold seeps through cracks in the once-grand, now dilapidated houses that line neighborhoods, the kind college students crowd into. Meanwhile, everyone dons kingly robes: trailing coats, vintage furs, cashmere socks, grandmother’s knits. Everyone’s digging things up, remembering, forgetting. Everyone’s just trying to get through another Upstate winter.
Through love affairs, drinks with the boys and a trip to the psych ward, Sutherland II documents how Sutherland himself gets through these days — with graceful vulnerability and powerful guitar chops. It nails down acutely the beautiful sadness of winter, its forced periods of intense introspection, its loneliness and its frustration. Sutherland validates all those emotions through shared experience and earnest vocals.
The sharp wind of winters can pull tears out the eye unwittingly, can flush cheeks artificially; the early sunsets can warp time — 6 p.m. starts to feel like midnight. Everything is not as it seems, but in the frigid sunlight you can see your own air when you breathe, it reminds you you’re alive, it reminds you where you are. “Take a deep breath / it’s the only thing that’s real,” Sutherland sings on “Breathe.”
Sutherland II is comprised of 11 tracks of psychedelic rock n’ roll. Sutherland is on guitar, vocals and bass, Alex Cote is on drums, and local legend Ben Morey played organ on “Breathe,” in addition to engineering and recording the album at his Submarine Sound Studios in Rochester. Ryan Sutherland notes his references as the likes of Kurt Vile, Bob Dylan and Sturgil Simpson, but there’s also a bit of Billy Bragg in his tone and chord progressions.
The album is perfect to listen to when walking through snowy streets at night, when they haven’t been plowed just yet, when the snow just fell, blanketing everything in eerie silence, stillness. You can listen through earbuds tucked into puffer jackets and hats and scarves, cold beer in a cold hand, frozen finger flicking a lighter, cracked knuckles, chapped lips. When it’s so quiet, too quiet, and you think you might go crazy, listen to track six, “Psych Ward Blues.” Sutherland shouts out the local Rochester staple: Strong Memorial Hospital, and bluntly recounts checking himself in, with smart timing and easy humor.
Driving Upstate in this season is surreal as well — all black trees, white lakes and red barnes. It’s depressing, but the depression of Upstate winters twists itself in the minds of those of us who have been here for the long haul, and it turns into a sense of pride, a game of “how much of this can I take?” “Everybody wants to leave Upstate NY,” Sutherland sings on “Everyone’s Leaving (Upstate NY)” Even Sutherland wants to leave sometimes, when the cold is bitter, when his boss calls him into his office, when the economies bad and he can’t save a dime. Still, Ryan Sutherland doesn’t leave, a mysterious force exists, holding him here, the beauty in the sadness: “I got a feeling this city needs me / or I need it / desperately.”
New York-based producer and lo-fi sensation Chris Mazuera shares his latest album Let’s Take A Trip. The multi-instrumentalist released six singles leading up to the project, which received adds to Spotify’s chill lofi study beatsplaylist and Apple Music editorials such as “SLEEP” and “LoFi Jazz – Global.”
Mazuera is most known for his collaborative work, but Let’s Take a Trip is a solo album which is perfect for a chill relaxing study session. This project not only highlights his guitar skills, but also his beat making abilities, ranging from old-school boom-bap to more melodic, and guitar-driven jazz-hop.
“The album represents to me the musical growth that I’ve had,” says Mazuera, “more specifically in the last two years. I’ve learned better how to mold together all my different influences into a sound that’s more uniquely mine.”
From rock bands to lofi inspired hip-hop, Chris Mazuera has dabbled in a bit of everything and it brings out his unique style. A lover of music from a young age, Chris started his musical journey early by playing guitar for local bands in Miami.
When Chris moved to New York City, he began working with local producers in hip-hop and lo-fi. Energized by both the musical process and the ability to make entire tracks on his own in the genre, Chris released his first album Monstera in 2018.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGn4_-ylcaI
The project’s emphasis on guitar solos is personal to Mazuera, calling back to his musical introduction to New York City. “I would busk in Grand Central soloing over the blues for hours,” he recalls. From start to finish, Let’s Take A Trip truly is a trip to be experienced.
Currently, Chris’ career has focused on collaboration and innovation across all musical genres. He has even produced for several artists such as FELIVAND, Nafets, Jessica Domingo, and Habe.
To check out Lets Take A Trip, click the link here.
In May 2021, SunDub recorded their sophomore album, Spirits Eat Music, at Lydgate Sound in Kauai, HI. On the remote cacao farm where Lydgate’s studio is located the band found inspiration in the nature and culture of Hawaii.
At the same I was also in Hawaii, running from the pandemic, house-sitting my uncle’s bungalow on Maui. My uncle’s wood paneled Grand Wagoneer didn’t have an aux cord — or windows, or a roof for that matter — so I found myself listening to the Maui reggae station on every drive into town. The Pidgin-tongued commentators played underground reggae from smaller islands, like Kauai, old Bob Marley classics and the studio-produced contemporary songs you would hear at the Makena beach parties. All those influences are honored in Spirits Eat Music, though SunDub is made up of a diverse set of New Yorkers, working out of Brooklyn.
“The island and farm envelopes its visitors with lush nature and sweet sunshine, offering a beautiful kind of inspiration that can only come from being disconnected to our everyday lives and distractions,” said Joanna Teters, lead singer, about recording in Kauai. Teters sings lead vocals with her brother Ben, and Finn Singer on guitar, Josh T. Carter on bass and Eric “the General” Toussaint covers keys and vocals, to complete a perfectly consonant rhythm section to pair with Teters’ smoky-sweet voice.
Magic isn’t taboo in reggae; spiritualism is the status quo. The album’s title track sees music as food for the dead: “They want it juicy, you know they want it ripe / they want to feast on it, all through the night / They don’t want it all at once, they want to savor every bite.”
“Spirits Eat Music” evokes the ripe mangoes Hawaiians sell on the side of the road in spring; I remember peeling the skin off with my teeth, eating it one handed on my bike, ocean to my right, wind in my hair. If music is food, “Spirits Eat Music” sets the table for a feast as the first song on the album.
Lutan Fyah’s feature on the album’s most streamed song, “Jump and Dance,” makes for a true dance anthem. Fyah brings his intrinsic rhythm, message of love through sound and the deep reggae roots of his Jamaican upbringing to the song, a powerful co-sign for SunDub.
For SunDub, reggae isn’t just a rhythm or lyrical style, it permeates all aspects of live. In “Call on Me,” Teters sings: “If you’re ever feeling alone / If you ever find yourself lost, you’re wandering down a strange road / Come walk my way and show your face you know I’m always / Ready to give and show you love and share my space.”
It’s not an empty promise. SunDub’s members respect reggae tradition by doing work to give back to the community. They teach music lessons to NYC youth, collaborate with non-profits and have used their platform to raise over $1,000 for the NAACP Education and Legal Defense Fund.
SunDub released three songs over the summer, then released the full album on November 11. The album retains that sun-soaked, salty feel of the summer, a much needed reprieve for a cold New York winter. Listen to the full album here.
Brooklyn Americana artist Ryan Luce has just released his newest illuminating record titled “Country House.” Ryan Luce explores the subtle nuance of everyday life and studies the inner dramas of fathers, sons, and daughters.
This Americana record was written throughout the pandemic where Ryan found love, lost his backing back, and honed his songwriting abilities. “I had to get back to writing, to what I know is the only thing I’m good at. Those songs became Country House,” stated Luce.
“Offers a blend of country-western Americana and Pacific Rock à la Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers to paint energetic narratives with lasting visual effect.”
-Rhythm & Boots NYC
Country House is a ten-song collection filled with heartbreaking lyrics and timeless melodies; Luce certainly pulled from classic country to modern day Americana throughout these releases.
“Before the pandemic I was pigeonholing myself in the themes I wrote about. I think I used songwriting as a projection on my own feelings of longing and escape and that limited my abilities,” says Luce. “Writing these songs allowed me to throw away the old ghosts and achieve a caliber of songwriting and production I’d been searching for.”
Unlike Luce’s 2019 debut EP California Gold, a loose collection of songs from hustling the New York scene, Country House is rather an artifact from his life frozen in time. “I always dreamed of making a record where the songs are from a distinct period, as a time capsule, I could dig up in 20 years and look back on someday.”
The world had taken a toll throughout the time of the pandemic, but lots of musicians found a muse throughout being stuck inside. “I think a collective forcefield was blocking artists from creating during the early days of the pandemic including myself.” His band had scattered to the wind as the pandemic began and now, stuck in his apartment, recording plans scrapped, he fought off Covid.
The album came together out of the motivation that Luce hadn’t written anything in months. “Something switched on, I had to get back on the horse and start writing songs again. I started playing in different keys and the first song I wrote was the title track.”
Listen to more of Country House and to check out more of Ryan Luce, click here.
NY-based Columbian-American pop artist Valley Latini has announced the release of Attention Lover, a sexy dose of introspection for lovers of electro pop. Musically inspired by the industrial sounds of Bushwick, Brooklyn, the album is sensual and direct. This 11-track project drops on December 1 and shares stories of past relationships and love affairs as well as a deeper look at self-love and female empowerment.
As a singer, songwriter and music producer, Valley’s creative style reflects on a lot of social issues, self-realization, and personal philosophies on romance, delusion, and joy. “Attention Lover” branches further into Latini’s personal life and the relatable chaos that ensues when attempting to fall in love.
A huge part that goes into her sound and lyrics are fun and chaotic love life. Along with this, she is highly influenced by her religious background. In a transgressive way, she chooses to combine said elements with contrasting themes like sensuality and divinity as a unified entity.
A lot of her live performances are centered around the expression of individual freedom and finding power in her female essence. Having recently performed on her national tour with comedian and author Jacq Frances, Valley has performed in venues and bars all across NYC. Valley’s music has been featured in a few local blogs like Bushwick Daily, The Hudson Valley News, Indie Wire, La Mezcla, and so much more.
The combination of her Colombian upbringing with the sounds of NYC offer a diverse musical background. In her lyrics she embodies true strength through fearless vulnerability, proving herself to be a modern day renaissance woman.
As stated in a previous article from NYS Music, Valley talks about herself as the triumphant protagonist, dangles a literal carrot in front of the priest and wreaks havoc on his deserving soul in her song “Tu Y Yo.” Ultimately, as it turns out, the “haux house” leads to a beach utopia where the women can enjoy the finer things in paradise anyway.
Valley expands on the concept, “the video is a metaphor for a modern day ‘witch hunt’ caused by men in power that fear female sexuality and censor the female body and sex workers.”
Listen to “Attention Lover” by Valley Latini below.
