A Discordant Search for Harmony in a Golden-Black Yin-Yang

Ava Vegas is an artist of calmness. Her latest album, Desert Songs, is a display of that fact. On each track, she deliberately delivers all her lyrics shyly, a serene tone becoming her best friend. The magnitude she conjures throughout all of the twelve songs which comprise this vision of hers is similar to that found when artists like Lady Gaga perform onstage. Again, Vegas is quiet, but that does not mean she doesn’t speak a plethora of profound multitudes. 

The track “Falling” should stick out to listeners. It’s filled with grand lyrics laden with rich imagery so imaginative they almost take all the attention away from the instrumentation. Vegas, lyrically creates murals of gods in strife singing to each other through the clouds in the sky, their anger holding them back from love. 

Due to the fairytale-like qualities of the album, Vegas herself is like a fairy: recounting all these magical experiences, applying them to the real world in real time as she tries to make sense of whether they’re truly fictional or not. Love is at the heart of her grief, and here that’s incredibly poetic; therefore, this album characterizes itself as one rightfully belonging to any and all writers and romanticists. 

Vegas uses an acoustic guitar on various tracks, one of which utilizes it profoundly, “Dying on the Vine.” (It’s from a live performance she did in Mexico City.) Still, the lyricism reigns with regal grace, trumping much of the song’s other powerful attributes, like, for example, the light overall sound of its drums. Ethereal in its nature, she keeps returning to the warmth of the sun, celebrating the radiance of its beams, and reminding all that she’s somehow “living like a Hollywood.” 

Whoever finds themselves a part of Vegas’s audience might notice how she seems to be tantalized by something in every individual track. Unsurprisingly, in that way, she tantalizes all who listen to her, her angelic voice a facade for the pain she appears to be going through. 

“Club 23” begins with kicks and pumps. There’s a distorted chanting going on, too, enhancing its eerie intensity. A bit of repetitive anaphora in the form of what sounds like birds repeatedly cawing “uh-ah” in the jungle gets to be a tad tedious here, though. The fading sound of trumpets rides out with the outro, which, though an uncommon inclusion it may be, is a nice touch to the effect this track is shooting for. 

“Vacationland” sparkles, and its content is in strong contrast to the ballad of a brokenhearted one that “Highway” wholly is. Addressing the deal-with-the-devil trope, it paints the devil as being a friend, one whom Vegas needs a favor from. Morbid romantics plague the themes of its lyricism, but not in a negative way, and a sweet piano accompanies the sound of a guitar playfully being tickled with swagger. 

Vegas’s dedication to using a ruckus to her advantage in order to forge a journey through her pain shouldn’t diminish the value of Desert Songs. On the contrary, she stays consistent in exploiting a playful combination of instruments. The final product? A worthwhile collection of magnetic reflections that offer a glimpse into her complicated psyche.