Ava Vegas’ music sounds like a convertible ride through a movie set. Back seat, night, neon lights. Perhaps the open-air drive leads through the imagined replica of Las Vegas, the city that already looks like the replica of all those longings that in life can only bounce off reality. Unreal, deceptive, dangerous. But between dream and reality there exists a place, ambiguous and far, a phantasm, and this place has become music here. Illusion, vision, glitter, tingling. Thus, in the pieces of Ava Vegas something glorious flies through the night, something luminous, visible in a glittering light reflecting in sequins, at the same time enveloped in an inescapable darkness.

Photo © Saga Sigurdado