sweetly selected | june 2022

Pouco Sozinho

© 2022 Stray Fossa under exclusive license to Born Losers Records
Written and performed by Stray Fossa 
Produced by William Evans 
Album art by Chris Minielly (Jaguar Sun)

Closer Than We'll Ever Know

Buy vinyl on Bandcamp

So Still

Imperfect Constellations

Trespasser

From Capelton Hill

Palmistry

Big Time

Go Home

The Family

Bullfrog

long fall

We Aren't Getting Out But Tonight We Might

Thought It Was Real

Clouds above, lightest fog, and empty streets
Boarded up every place we used to meet
Plans have changed, strangest days
How long will it take?
Wandering dazed

Beautiful world
Beautiful world

Concrete lines, watch the shadows on the wall
Sidewalks stained
Then again, aren’t we all?
Scent of spring, summer flowers, into fall
Still breathing

Beautiful world
Beautiful world

The city sings a hymn
The glittering of glass
The brightly colored trim
The freshly showered grass

Beautiful world
Beautiful world
Beautiful world

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Leanne Kelly - Vocals, Keyboard, Synths, Percussion
Max Savage - Drums, Piano, Synths, Strings, Guitars
Dakota Salazar - Guitar, Guitar Lead

Music & Lyrics by Leanne Kelly
Produced & Mixed by Max Savage
Recorded by Leanne Kelly, Max Savage
Mastered by Nacho de la Riega
Artwork by Jacob Fratuschi and Leanne Kelly

Future For Now

Beautiful World

Lessons In Love

Humble

Dreams

buy / stream

the whistle song

Where Is Your Out?

Behind The Waterfall

Like A Ghost

Covered Me

Karma

Heat

The song “Beverly Hills” both embraces the opulence of the Rodeo Drive lifestyle while simultaneously pointing out the ultimate absurdity of it all. Growing up in Altadena, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, I always loved hearing stories of the lavish lifestyle occurring just over the hill. These stories were always embellished, which, on top of the extravagance of reality, made them almost absurd.

Diamond studded supermodels ordering champagne service to the pool, oiled up to their ears in search of that nonexistent tan line. Spoiled tweens buying thousand-dollar cupcakes on limitless credit cards. Newborn babies wearing 24K gold Rolexes, riding around in limited edition Louis Vuitton strollers. All of it seemingly impossible, yet a quick internet search would reveal every story completely plausible.

It’s a life of augmented reality in the truest sense of the word, where airbrushed and photoshopped images have leapt from the page and onto the faces and bodies of otherwise natural beauties. Beauties who have been sucked into the allure of envy: glitter, glam, altered faces, frames, and bank accounts, many immersed in a lifestyle beyond their means, hoping to one day rub shoulders with the right person and hit the lottery of high society.

In the end it’s hard to fault anyone. We’re in a time where success means pleasing a cold, unfeeling algorithm that rewards likes and comments over genuine artistry. Where posting a photo drinking cold brew in negligee would outperform the cure for cancer. And like an Olympics of steroid-crazed athletes, it’s difficult to compete without cheating.

In the song, I indulge in the Wonka-esque pageantry and it is me waltzing the sunny streets with my iced wrist and honey bronze tan. I am the supermodel, the spoiled tween, the newborn baby. And it ends with my orchestral dream escape from suburban normality, as I dance the night away with Bill Murray, drunk on careless irresponsibility, lost in the slow motion of future reminiscence.

Frith

Beverly Hills

sweetly selected | june 2022

Lual