La Maga

La Maga is the musical moniker under which a one Frances Allen writes, records, and performs. Consisting of herself, a mac, and drummer Tony Sandoval, she tumbles back and forth between a digitally perverse shoegaze sound and genuine bare bones songsmithery. She hails from Nashville, Tennessee, but has made her musical roots in Los Angeles. She encompasses both worlds, and is unsure of which she owes the more. She seeks to demonstrate her sisterhood in a post-punk congregation, while catering to southern gothic visions of sonic malaise and drear. Neither wins in the end. They happily shake hands and agree to disagree.
Vocal stylings are non distinct. One gets the impression a 13 year old smoked a half pack of cigarettes and decided to lay down a couple of Cure covers, but even that only accents the poetry of smartly crafted pop melodies which are in turn vanquished by gritty punk chord structures, airy dissonant phrasing, and acid lash lyrical purging that at times, seem more destructive than healing. This is the constant paradox that only serves to reaffirm that La Maga is certainly solid in it's ambivalence as well as it's craft. Surviving the hail storm, great songs thrive,and conflict becomes the wellspring of great art, if not a very miserable artist. La Maga is the spanish word for magician. It's badly conjugated, as there is no female form. The idea that these things just come from the air. Flow through the alembic of the heart into one's fingers and out through a six string. There is no precise calculation. There is no map from which to track a creative inclination. It runs it's very own course, and simply makes a tool of the artist. This is the idea and musical expression of La Maga.