A Conversation with Laveda On Their New Album Love, Darla

Two years after their sophomore album, A Place You Grew Up In, Laveda emerges from the New York City subway, shaking off dreamy shoegaze and replacing it with a pop punk punch. The record is a release of pent up energy. It’s gritty, loud, sprawling, and melodic. While some let dirt rub into the wound, Laveda falls and picks themselves right up, cursing the ground in the process.

With the release date looming, I spoke over Zoom with Ali Genevich (lead singer) and Jacob Brooks (guitarist). “It’s definitely exciting and feels like a baby being born. It feels that dramatic…It’s just a lot of anticipation,” Genevich said. In numerous ways, Love, Darla represents a new direction for the band. It represents a move from Albany to New York and with it a new attitude, sound, and understanding of themselves.  

Brooks and Genevich met at high school in Saratoga, where they both orbited each other in bands. After high school, Genevich went to the College of St. Rose in Albany, where she met Dan Carr (bass) and Joe Taurone (drums). Laveda formed in 2018, when Brooks eventually moved from Rochester to Albany. “Laveda pretty quickly became our focus,” Brooks said.

Photo by: Julia Tarantino

The College of St. Rose (unfortunately, now closed) had a sizable music program, fostering a supportive and experimental indie scene where Laveda was able to run around, play shows, and produce two albums. Rubbing elbows with bands like Spirit of the Beehive and They Are Gutting A Body of Water, Genevich explained, “There was a lot of really cool music coming out of Albany when we were there.” Jake added with a smile, “When we were young and impressionable.”

Laveda’s last two albums, What Happens After and A Place You Grew Up In, live in a dreamy world. Their sound was fuzzed out, dreamier, softer, and shoegaze heavy. Like a mirror of their environment, these albums were seeped into Albany itself. You can almost see the trees whipping past you in the car while hearing these songs. “You’re always driving in Albany, so I feel we were making music that would sound good in a car,” Brooks said, “But, when we’re listening to demos now, we’re on a train with our AirPods, and it just makes you want to do things differently.” Hopping in that car, Laveda moved to New York City in 2023, keeping the shoegaze in their back pocket and bringing punk, pop, and grit to the driver's seat.

When it came time to produce Love, Darla Laveda wanted to change directions. “We used to be more projecty,” Genevich said, “In live shows we were working really hard to get the sound of the record in a live scenario…it was a lot of backing tracks and ‘movie magic’ in order to achieve the studio sound.”

Love, Darla ditches the “movie magic” and presents to you a raw and organic sound that came mostly from Genevich and Brooks jamming together. Literally putting pen to paper, Genevich and Brooks would get a few songs together and share them with the band, recording rehearsals and playing through each track just to see what would work. “There were some songs that really made sense right away,” Genevich said.

Love, Darla Album Cover

New York City is a thread that spins underneath each track of the record. Genevich explained, “New York City is a huge part of the album, and the shift in our sound too…It’s a lot noisier, grittier, and faster.” Even Genevich’s inspiration was rooted in New York legacy bands like Sonic Youth, Blonde Redhead, and Interpol. You can hear that Kim Gordon-esque voice, guttural and breathy, luring you into Laveda’s NYC lair.

With a frantic, messy energy, each track sounds like eyeliner smudged, knots in your hair, and boots slamming into the pavement. “Whenever I’m writing, I have a subconscious that comes out–it feels like an unspoken communication I have with myself,” Genevich said. Love, Darla is a love letter to the city and to all those parts of yourself you want to keep in a corner, but they can’t help creeping out.

Tracks “Heaven” and “Strawberry” kickstarted the record into what it would inevitably become. After Laveda tested their new sound at South by Southwest, Genevich gained the confidence to go full force. “‘Heaven’ was one of the first ones I felt really good about…But it felt like it could have gone either way. We could’ve drowned it in verb, but once we played ‘Strawberry’ too, the audiences really resonated with a simpler sound..it gave me the confidence to think, ‘this is sort of the blueprint.’”

“Strawberry” swims in a spiral of heavy instrumentals and a mantra like chorus, mimicking a stuck record tape of conflicting thoughts. Genevich sings, “I hate myself/I hate myself/I love myself/Love myself/My soul.” “Heaven” is a little lighter, airier instrumentals take the forefront. Bringing their New York community to the camera, the music video for “Heaven” was Genevich’s birthday party filmed in one shot. Friends are making out, people are jamming, it’s messy and sweet. In “Heaven,” Laveda lets you into the house party that everyone begged to be invited to.

Love, Darla, clutches this feeling of shaking yourself off. “I think the record feels sarcastic and is making fun of your crazy emotional state…realizing it’s actually all in your head, it’s okay and it’s fine and funny,” Genevich said. Patting yourself on the back, kicking yourself later, the record lets the listener feel a little better about the irony of morning affirmations after leaving a tear stained journal entry the night before.

​When I asked if Genevich and Brooks could describe the album in three words, they settled on “fiery, spiderweb, emotional.” I couldn’t agree more. Laveda spins you around, waiting for you to be just in their grasp to leave you with a “xoxo” and Love, Darla as your final goodbye.

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