Lunar Vacation turn breath-altering anxieties, relationship pains, and existential restlessness into retreats of caffeinated melodies and playful rhythmic bursts. The Atlanta-based four-piece make inviting, pop-forward indie rock that finds a balance between contemplative and downright funky. We’ve been awaiting their debut album Inside Every Fig Is a Dead Wasp for a few months now, and today it’s finally out via Keeled Scales.
The record opens with a dreamy instrumental that ushers us into painstaking realities. Wounds from past relationships are immortalized as cracks on the surface in “Peddler,” and claustrophobia becomes inescapable on “Making Lunch (Not Right Now).” But Grace Repasky, Maggie Geeslin, Matteo DeLurgio, and Connor Dowd turn these personal struggles into cathartic balms. By album’s end, vocalist Repasky transitions from the instinct to quit life and “finalize a job” on “Anemone” to embracing love completely on closer “But Maybe.” Even if things feel grim, Inside Every Fig Is a Dead Wasp is the perfect album to feel a little less alone. “I feel like I am truly ready to face it all on my own,” Repasky beams. Maybe, you feel that way, too—ready to bust out in life, solo and independent. Even if you do, it’s nice to know Lunar Vacation are right there at your side.
On their release day, LV have kindly shared some thoughts on these 11 tracks. “Song meanings change with time, experience, and reflection,” Repasky says of these tracks. “Right now, this is the surface of what these songs mean to me, but I encourage everyone to listen with an open heart and to create your own personal meaning for them.”
Listen to the album and read what Repasky had to say below.
1. “Purple Dreams”
This was the first song I wrote, when I was 15. It feels right to have it start the record. It used to have words, but we thought it would be better as an instrumental.
2. “Peddler”
It encompasses the conflicting feelings of platonic love and romantic love with people you’re close to—it’s often confusing to distinguish the two. This song also feels like suppressing feelings that are slowly coming to the surface.
3. “Shrug”
This song is an inner monologue that used to play in my head 24/7. Every single move or word is carefully thought over and over, dissected, taken apart then put back together before anything actually happens. Sometimes I feel like my brain is a little sadistic, and if it had the option to, it would physically dissect every single thing only to leave it alone. Like in middle school biology or something.
4. “Where Is Everyone”
A story of two people who were too different to make a relationship work. Although both have good intentions and good hearts, some pairs just don’t go well together…but there’s something beautiful about trying out a relationship with someone who is incredibly opposite from you. There’s a lot to learn, and you have to accept if things aren’t meant to be at that time. Timing is everything.
5. “Making Lunch (Not Right Now)”
Feelings of nomad-ness and depression while living away from home and adjusting to a strange, everyday schedule instead of touring. I was in an accounting class and just thought, “What the fuck am I doing, I don’t understand or like any of this.” This song paints a picture of my head (and body) in the fall before the pandemic. I lived with four of my closest friends in an old house with rats and spiders. All of us were unsure of what we were doing with our lives. Overall, it’s like an open letter to all of my friends and my family at that time–or at least what I wish I could’ve said. Kind of like a grocery list of things I saw, felt, and thought about.
6. “Cutting Corners”
This is a reflection on immature friendship turmoil and bad ways of handling misunderstandings and disagreements.
7. “The Waiting Game”
The beginning times of quarantine…confusion, anxiety, and worry took over. I was in a deep depression that the pandemic worsened, and I felt like I was on autopilot. Like my mind was living in a massive fog, but my body was doing everything naturally. I was waiting for things to get better but unsure of where to put my trust into.
8. “Mold”
Navigating the oddities and strange tides of West Coast culture—specifically LA and influencer lifestyle—for the first time. To make it more confusing, it describes having feelings for someone wrapped up in that culture and me feeling the need to fit in.
9. “Gears”
This follows a deteriorating relationship, but still trying to be optimistic about the future without the person. There are parts of melancholy, longing, and reminiscing over the relationship and all of the good stuff, but then parts including all of the bad things. When I look back on any kind of relationship, it’s usually through rose-colored glasses. I guess this song tells me that although this happened, you just gotta keep going because this isn’t the end of the world. But the last lines are a reflection of how inner-me feels… I’ll probably always be a little sad about the loss, but it’s all for the best. I feel like most—if not all—of my songs are future-me giving past-me advice and insight on specific situations that evoked heavy feelings.
10. “Anemone”
Being in the thick of losing a person in your life and being unsure of the future.
11. “But Maybe”
A song about reveling in the past and wondering what could have been. Even if it’s just a passing moment.
