With a bewitching, hypnotic, almost Balearic feel, the new EP by Amsterdam-based musician Lizet Aviva gets off to a disarming start. Very quickly, it morphs into an altogether different feeling entity. Folksy and sultry, jazzy and smokey, arty and angular, “Stutter & Stumbling” is a bold opener.
Chameleonic in its musicality, it shifts between styles, comfortably occupying the space between genres with grace, guile, and aplomb. Think Joan As Police Woman fronting The Internet doing covers of early Amy Winehouse songs, and you’re somewhere in the right ballpark.
The artistic ambition also reminds us of Holly Walker’s frequent collaborations with incredible Hertfordshire indie dance darlings Maribou State. Towards the end there’s a rather surprising – face-melting guitar solo which recalls the work of Mike Dean. By the end of track one, it is very much apparent that this is quite the potent concoction, and we’re left with the stark realisation that we’re rather excited to see where it ventures next.
The second track feels more like a confessional than a song; such is the outpouring of emotion and the detail of her struggle. Channeling the likes of Feist and perhaps even the songwriting prowess of Murray Lightburn of The Dears, “Head, Heart & Hands” feels like a diary entry. Ostensibly a song about masking what we carry underneath our public-facing exteriors, the track sees Lizet attempt to put her best foot forward post-break up. You can’t help but empathise with her as she chronicles her difficulties. Lyrics like these show her introspection becoming decidedly outward facing to the point where it almost feels like we shouldn’t be listening:
“Today I’ll wear my Sunday’s best / to raise no questions, only compliments / rehearsing small talk in the mirror / who will know how I’ve been truly doing?”
They sound like we’re overhearing a conversation she’s having with herself. She also appears to touch on writer’s block with the line “My fountain pen dried up since the day you chose to leave me.” She elaborates on exactly how hard this particular scenario hit her, reminding us that grief and pain can manifest in more ways than one. Lyrically this track is heavier than the one that preceded it; musically, it’s noticeably grittier too. Venturing more into American indie rock territory, it feels like this wouldn’t be out of place on a playlist alongside The National, Cat Power, and Bon Iver.
This is followed by “Une Vie Trop Tranquille”, which – despite its name – is a song mostly sung in English. The French title translates to “A Life Too Quiet”, and the overall vibe of the song seems to take a cue from this. Measured and subtle (for at least the first three quarters of the track), it slinks along surreptitiously. Still nestled comfortably somewhere between indie, folk, and jazz, Lizet frequently conjures suggestions of the sea on this one with lyrical references to ebb and flow, saltiness and foaming, before submerging us fully at the song’s powerful, repetitive conclusion with the coda: “A life that’s too quiet is a dead sea”.
“Kitchen Table” follows and feels like a return to the intimate expression of “Head, Heart & Hands”. Whilst more reserved musically, lyrically it’s on a similar level. The vocal performance on this song is the greatest here. Undeniably powerful but at the same time exceptionally vulnerable, Lizet’s heart bleeds all over this one. If your heart doesn’t both grow in size and also fall to pieces when she sings these lyrics, we don’t know what to tell you:
“Honestly, I never thought that I could love someone else / after hope left me at the kitchen table / your sunrise smile / lightens up my cold dark empty heart / now I shine with you at the kitchen table”
She keeps the force of her lyrics strong with further lyrical pearls like:
“Old memories / are hanging on the wall / they’re staring me down and whisper in my ear / that you might leave soon / for now I won’t believe that it’s true”
Lizet perfectly encapsulates the trepidation that comes with trying again. The almost imposter syndrome-like feeling that you can sometimes get when you’re in a place you thought you’d never be again, embracing the warmth of the fire after being painfully burned before.
The EP concludes with “Spent Match”, which feels – musically at least – like the breeziest track by some distance. Laid-back and smooth it has – whisper it – an almost jolly feel to it. But it becomes evident when reading the lyrics that actually the song is not as jovial as it feels. The lyrics seem to centre on regret, insecurity, and emotional exhaustion, keeping in line with the rest of the EP.
After spending 20 minutes with Ms. Aviva, you can’t help but feel some kind of kinship with her. We’ve all been there. But we would wager very few of us have ever articulated such struggles so eloquently and beautifully. We’d never encourage heartbreak, per se. But if it results in artistic triumphs like this, well, perhaps a little bit doesn’t hurt.
Take a listen to Lizet Aviva’s new EP below:
Written by Kinda Grizzly
