Luna Shadows announces her debut full-length album Digital Pacific (due February 12th, 2021) and shares a new album single, “battery life.” The 18-track album is mapped out like a California road trip; starting near Shadows’ home at Echo Park Lake in L.A. before sweeping across the city westward toward the ocean, along the coast and out to the desert for a vacation getaway then circling back to her apartment. Although the expansive album peers through a digital lens, deeply human themes like self-affirmation, anxiety, and disillusionment prevail. It’s a project years in the making that has culminated in a singular vision Shadows has executed as songwriter, producer, and creative director.
“battery life” closes the album. It is, in its essence, a love song. “When I’m on my last percent, will you be the last person?” she asks a lover, a relative, a friend, anyone with whom she feels a genuine connection. It explores the interaction of the digital world with our analog lives, illustrated most obviously in the lyrics and more subtly in the vocal production. In moments defined by vulnerability, Shadows harmonizes with her “digital self,” an iPhone recording of her own voice.
She says about writing “battery life,”
“Where some of the other tracks on ‘Digital Pacific’ focus on digital miscommunication, this one celebrates tiny moments of connection – exchanging memes with the one you love, getting so caught up in conversation that your phone dies, setting your face as someone’s lock screen, and so forth. Intended to be a modern lullaby and millennial offering, I consider it the most intimate track on my album. In its quietest moments, it aims to exchange the digital world for the analog, to capture that moment before bed where you turn your phone on silent and your brightness down — until the glowing and ringing begin again in the morning.”
She adds about the production,
“While producing the instrumental, I spent a lot of time incorporating sound design elements – I created iPhone samples in my home (the end of the song is the hiss from my computer keyboard juxtaposed with my shower), as well as sourced other sonic people’s memories (morning birds, crowds, keys, doors opening) – I wanted it to sound like the sonic equivalent of scrolling through someone’s camera roll – glimpses of moments, many of them seemingly insignificant unless they belong to you, but holistically arranged in a way where they all feel poignantly interconnected.”