I am sitting in my apartment, on the same couch in the same living room where I decided I needed to write this album. It looks a little different now; things are packed away in boxes, decorations are mostly taken down. My plants are a little taller, my heart’s beating with a few more experiences, but I can still recall the way I felt sitting on this couch eight months ago.

For a while, I thought I’d move away. Give up on this fabricated idea that Indiana would save me; flee back to the east coast into the arms of my family. Live by the sea, travel to New York often. I had felt like a failure. I expected forever friendships in three months. Indiana kept kicking me in the kneecaps, watching me fall and bruise and ache. Its October bled me dry, leaving me vulnerable to terrible men and their skewed motives. October was when I started the first song for this album, which would eventually become Hieroglyphics in the Pyramids at College Park. November saw me trust again, stupidly. November saw me watch my door slam, saw me scream of self-hatred in the mirror. November saw me sit on this exact couch, making the decision to write these songs. Because they needed to be written. Because I don’t want anyone feeling how I felt because of the actions of some asshole.

Roundabouts shows the journey from heartbreak, loneliness, and hatred of a place, to self-realization and growth and a comfort in being alone in a new state. The roundabout signifies cyclical habits. It can be dizzying, confusing, repetitive, and frustrating. But some habits are good habits. The roundabout is safe. It’s aesthetically pleasing. It keeps traffic moving, reduces stops and awkward “no, you go ‘head” waves. Carmel, Indiana, where I reside and where this album was written, is the Roundabout Capital of America. It has more roundabouts than any city of its size. It was fitting to name the album after this fact, and after considering the symbolism.
One thing I love about the album is this feeling of a shift. The first six tracks see this anger toward a person or a place or a situation. They call names, they curse, they regret, they want. Hieroglyphics takes all of this into a sadness. Then it has the craziest realization—this is time to grow. It is time to move on, to wish the parasite well, and become the best version of the self. Learning to Love the Girl in My Rearview Mirror, As Well as the View Out Her Windshield is the instrumental transition that represents this shift; this growth. It feels everything while saying nothing. Then it fades perfectly into Roundabouts, and things are beginning to be okay. Life is moving on. I smile every time I listen to the song Roundabouts. I feel this euphoria; this intense joy of knowing that I wrote this song, this album. I got through what I went through. I can’t help but dance.

This album is about growth. It’s about feeling all of the negative emotions and realizing that it’s not you. That you deserve greatness because you give yourself greatness. Because you are great. Because the sun shines and the trees always grow back to green. Because no person, place, or situation can make you feel any less than who you are.


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special thanks:

to God.
“[God] is the best writer, too” Gabriel said to me.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Because he gives every good writer something to struggle with an world out by writing it down. That’s genius.”
—John Corey Whaley, Where Things Come Back

to my sister, danielle: my life best friend. my mom, who guides me. dave, my father figure with sick guitar skills. my other lovely family members: grandmom, grandpop, dad, uncle rich, aunt trish, samantha, joey, uncle chris, aunt tonia, sierra, skylar, aunt beth, uncle john, erhin, natalie, matt, and the rest. my dog, nina. nate for being a music wizard. lydia, bri, april, luke, mataiya, ethan, ray lee, ant, steven, kiriana, autumn, sophie, porsche, henry, bryce, joe, sofia, sam, megan, rikki, kat, kaia, robin, lashaun, ashley, isabel, alyssa, caroline, emily, james, natasha, theresa, cloette, israel, isaias, mitch, sam, patty, scott, rex, chrissy, zac, stephanie, melissa, etc. for impacting my life is some way during the creation of this album. the city of carmel, the state of indiana. whole foods. relient k, vampire weekend, bad bad hats, lorde, ezra furman. 146th street.

to the person by whom this album was inspired; to anyone who finds that the shoe fits. without you, i could not have written this album and grown in the process of it. i sincerely hope that someday you find the love or light you need in order to stop making people want to undo their imaginary LASIK.

always,
louvena