Track by Track: Ava Luna on Electric Balloon

With their second record, Electric Balloon, Ava Luna have proven they’re not total weirdos. Garnering praise from all corners, its compelling cauldron carries everything from punk squall, funky no-wave and high art-rock.

It’s a pretty unique blend, and the record reflect their most condensed, measured work to date. Read on for the low-down on its creation, written by front-man Carlos Hernandez.

“Daydream”

Carlos demoed this in his brother’s bedroom during Hurricane Sandy. Originally a brooding, melancholy number — it was recorded live on a sunny day, us quite literally dancing around the living room at the Kagan House in upstate New York while playing. For the vocals, Felicia and Carlos each sprinted around the house, and then laid them down, breathless. Months later, Sam Owens (of Celestial Shore) duct taped a PVC pipe to the horn of his tenor sax and let loose. Definitely inspired by Gang of Four.

“Sears Roebuck M&Ms”

A spontaneous groove in a South Williamsburg basement. I call this a “peripheral vision jam” — Ethan and I were just waiting for people to get back from the bathroom or somewhere and started playing this absentmindedly. I remember Becca walking into the room and saying “that’s hot”. From there, she took a rough iPhone recording home and drafted up some vocals. We recorded this one in the wood shed at the Kagan House. Felicia’s deranged keyboard part at the end is the cherry on top. Becca calls it “a song about becoming a joiner.” To my eternal happiness, she managed to incorporate the “whoop whoop” sound that we had all been annoying each other with for weeks.

“Crown”

A Carlos composition. He says: “I’m walking on the Brighton Beach boardwalk with an unrequited love — she waves at a friend up in a waterfront highrise. A yellow balloon drifts by, and she laughs. “Why is it funny, to see a deflated balloon retreat in the wind?” We sit perched on a wooden framework, a dock or a porch that has blown onto the beach, a remnant of the hurricane. I realize that it will never work.” We tracked this live a few times to get the feel right. Did we?

“Aquarium”

Carlos says: “A phone call from an old love, pacing around in the snow in Kingston, New York. We’ve just played a show with Zs, Greg Fox’s drumming a major influence. Nathan composes the middle-section, a necessarily flighty repose from the melancholy of hearing her voice. This is really the gem of the album.”

“Plain Speech”

A Carlos composition. He says: “I hitchhike down to New Orleans, and have an encounter in a bike shop. She and I bike across town, I wobbling on the fixie and she coasting with her arms to the sides. Yet… it’s only temporary, a Potemkin village of my imagination’s design, tomorrow I’m off again, on the early bus.” This is the only song on the album recorded in New York. We tracked and mixed it at our studio Gravesend Recordings in Brooklyn. This track was whipped up after we got some advice from a friend that the album needed one more song. A live favourite!

“Electric Balloon”

Carlos demoed this in the South Williamsburg practice space. Hanging out at the Kagan House, Felicia started playing the hook. The song took on two new lives: one when Ethan and Julian played it for 40 straight minutes, and again when Becca stepped up to the mic and spontaneously and suddenly changed our idea of what role the vocals might play in Ava Luna. A step forward for us musically, opened the doors to new kinds of spontaneous generation, and trust among us. Hence the name of the album.

“PRPL”

Carlos says: “I’m asleep upstairs, but downstairs the rest of the band settles into a long, dreamy, hypnotic groove. Felicia vanishes, and reemerges with a beautiful vocal melody. Months later, in Miami, at Mr. Douglass’s suggestion, we add a bridge. Then later still, our friend Sandy Gordon adds field recordings, soundscapes, vibraphone. A true collaboration across state lines, but it’s Felicia’s spirit through and through.” In Felicia’s words: “It’s a song about anxiety.”

“Hold U”

Another Carlos composition, demoed in South Williamsburg the same time as Daydream. We tried really hard with this one and I’m not totally certain that we ever got it right but that’s not to say it doesn’t have its merits. We also can’t play this song live because it’s incredibly difficult to play! We get it right maybe 1 out of every 4 times but when we do, it’s immensely satisfying. Carlos says: “This one’s an imperfect dirge, a semi-conscious reverie. I think I might be the child in this one, I’m realizing in retrospect that ‘hold me for a moment’ doesn’t refer to sex, but rather to the safe moments of comfort just before sleep.”

“Judy”

The oldest song of the bunch. In Crown Heights, I started plays a crazy 5/4 drum beat and the rest fell into place pretty quickly. Nathan (our old Keyboardist) is all over this one. This was the first song we recorded with guitars as the base of the song — previously, Carlos had barely been playing guitar due to a wrist injury. If you listen to Ice Level and the stuff before that, it’s almost all keyboards but this is guitar rock, I guess.

“Genesee”

Carlos says: “A celebration, I think — we are in the woods, so let’s sing about the woods. A regression. Perhaps a Justin Timberlake rip-off. I think a bit of Milton Cardona’s enchantments, a group of revelers elevated through vocalisations. A few months later, we assemble a trio of horn players — Lea Bertucci, Sam Kulik, Matt Harper — to complete the pastiche.”

“Ab Ovo”

Instrument-swap! Julian on guitar and Carlos on the drums. The perfect album closer, psychedelic foray, I think, a real all-the-way improvisation. Complete with showcases of each of our ideas of fun — Felicia’s vocal riffing, Julian’s studio collages, Carlos’ inane mumbling about cleaning up after himself. Heavily edited after the fact, somewhat inspired by Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew and This Heat.

Electric Balloon is out now on Western Vinyl.