“Even when my guard is gone, I hold onto the ghost of anyone,” Alas de Liona sings, catching herself in the act of romanticising what’s no longer there. Her voice floats above thin guitar lines and percussion that pulses softly, almost like a heartbeat you feel more than hear. It’s intimate but steady, never tipping into melodrama.
Born in Los Angeles and raised in the Mojave Desert, she later moved to Scotland to study and quickly rooted herself in Edinburgh’s music scene. The shift from wide, empty landscapes to a tight-knit creative community clearly shaped her. Within a short time, she was opening for Travis, working with Rod Jones of Idlewild on a full-length record, and building real momentum.
That record, “Gravity of Gold,” marks a clear step away from straight folk and into something more layered. The songs lean into alt-pop textures, with hazy synths, fractured rhythms, and melodies that linger. The mood feels influenced by her surroundings. Scotland’s beauty seeps into the atmosphere, but so does a certain darkness. She reflects on prescription medication in “Materia Medica” and the pressure to treat yourself like a brand in “Promises,” themes that feel current without sounding preachy.
There’s a gothic thread running through the album, even when the tempo picks up. Tracks like “Vine Song” sit alongside earlier singles “Analogy” and “Violet,” the latter nodding to that blurry space between waking and sleeping. Even at their most somber, the songs move with intention.
“Gravity of Gold” feels cohesive but not restrictive. Each track stands on its own, yet together they sketch the portrait of an artist willing to examine her illusions instead of denying them.
