THIS ROOM HAS NO DOORS

'I Once Heard From Lavinia' ... well, we're speaking about singer and songwriter Lavinia Giancaspero from Milan here. It's the chosen moniker for her solo project, okay, she doesn't manage everything on her own, important to know. And so the music actually is deriving from a long distance collaboration of several musicians during the COVID quarantine periods. For example there is Charlie Cawood aboard too, a rather popular and demanded studio musician from the United Kingdom. He already has contributed on uncounted albums, but also continuously releases solo efforts. Expressive and sensitive. Lavinia's debut album comes relatively short but definitely meaningful. The empty room, with no way out ... conceptually dealing with a central theme, the emotional state when you're on the border between love and obsession ... nearly impossible to escape?

Music-wise 'This Room Has No Doors' is consisting of entertaining songs, a well crafted blend of balladesque and rocking portions quasi in a row, sometimes reminding me of the early Bent Knee attitude. Yep, this one appeals, although I'm not really keen on a singer/songwriter approach in general. It has very much to do with the second track Funny I'd say. Initially announced by the melancholic psychedelic Prelude this marks the album's masterpiece. The jazzy imprints due to the electric piano, Mellotron, Lavinia's great singing range, shifting between rough and mellow, fantastic guitar solos, ahhhh, I'm overwhelmed, this is simply perfect. For the sake of variation you'll also detect something rather synth pop infected like Oblivion in the aftermath. Over the course the fine Sinwave evolves to an expressive and dramatic behaviour. A superb debut, very much recommended.

Hugely Promising Debut

I Heard From Lavinia is the unusual moniker of a young singer-songwriter from Milan by name of Lavinia Giancaspero. Milan certainly seems a vibrant scene these days! The debut album is described by the artist as follows: "This Room Has No Doors is a concept album that sees love addiction as its central theme, that emotional state on the border between love and obsession that can lead one person to love the other in a totally unconditional and toxic way, regardless of any kind of abuse suffered on the part of the partner, establishing a real addiction to them. In the course of the songs we find moments in which the protagonist recognizes the harmfulness of the relationship and others in which she expresses her feelings towards her beloved. On the one hand there is a great craving for closeness, and on the other there's fear and desire of detachment from a clearly destructive situation. The empty room, with no way out, therefore becomes a metaphor for the mind and obsessive thoughts that cannot be controlled and from which it's impossible to escape." Heavy stuff.

When I first heard Lavinia, I was initially most reminded of Fiona Apple. Vocally, somewhat, but also in terms of her eclectic songwriting, the attitude, the mix of playing styles, and the darker shade of emotional atmospheres. Like Apple, she has a truly unique style and range with songs that leave you feeling slightly off-kilter or ungrounded, uneasy. "Prelude" is a haunting opener to the album with a cinematic sparseness that cues you to be ready for something big coming. It drops into "Funny" and, again, I'm reminded of the early tracks from Apple with similar lyrical notions ("It's so funny, but I'm not laughing at all") to high-end technical grooves as we heard from the likes of Jon Brion and Matt Chamberlain on Tidal. Here I believe it is Santi Banks who is Lavinia's primary sound collaborator. "Funny" is slow and sultry and just a bit of jazziness, and everyone in the band just smokes in a most tasteful manner. The arrangements and sound quality are similarly top notch.

"If we're going to drown in the abyss, shall we dance anyway?"

"Persistence" is a straight-up perfect piece of poetry delivered beautifully against competing sinewy, vibrant guitar leads and then swelling strings, an emotional powerhouse of a song. "Oblivion" is no less lyrically dramatic, but the music shifts to a catchy, almost Garbage/Shirley Manson type hard electronica vibe. The final three tracks shift down a gear. "Skeletons" and "Old Pictures" both feature slow-burn piano storytelling, gorgeous and always a tug on my heart. She stacks her vocal atop each other on "Old Pictures," self-harmonies that are truly ear candy. "Sinewave" also features slow piano but with a big wave of Insurgentes sounding swell rushing up the middle. (I believe she is a Wilson fan.) Sometimes debut albums have a hard-to-define flavor that comes from that indescribable springtime of youth, with its limitless artistic enthusiasms, and/or from just old-fashioned beginner's luck. Tidal was one. The Kick Inside. Song to a Seagull. This album may or may not be as good as such classics---I would say not quite, frankly, but that's for your taste to decide---and yet it is very much a great debut that enchants in a way that will make you sit up and notice. As of this writing, a CD version is still available on her Bandcamp page, and it features lovely artwork to boot.