Avonlea’s inspirations come from legends who oozed strength as they bared their souls. “Billy Joel,” she starts, naming icons who rocked decades before she was born, “Carole King, [Queen’s] Freddie Mercury. I’d be listening to Billie Holiday and Aretha Franklin.”
As Avonlea preps for the release of 10 2 17, a self-penned conceptual project that chronicles her time between entering the realm of double digits to being old enough to watch R-rated films, she says that the aforementioned legends taught her that “you should just say what you need to say honestly and the rest will follow. It’s just about figuring out where to put the pieces. They were masters of figuring out that beautiful puzzle.”
Listeners can expect an intimate, revealing set from her. “I’m just going to take people through my puberty against their will. I’m most excited about the rawest tracks—the ones where I’m kind of vomiting words and you can hear the emotion.”
10 2 17 is an unapologetically candid body of work that embodies a collection of stormy days listeners will no-doubt feel, along with some rays of California sun to assure them that there’s light at the end of the tunnel.
Avonlea is steadfast in accomplishing just one goal. She recalls a recent session where she was writing “and crying my eyes out, getting tears all over the organ that I was playing, thinking, ‘Man, this fuckin’ hurts. But I know that I will feel better once it’s out.' I really hope that someone will find solace in my words.”