ALBUM REVIEW: Aurora LaFond - Dog Water
**This article originally appeared in our July 2026 print issue**
“...it feels like a little slice of California heaven, transplanted here to Upstate New York.”
A folky acoustic guitar and a dry vocal begins Aurora LaFond’s latest record, Dog Water, setting the tone for the delightful selection of Americana that follows. Six years ago, LaFond moved across the country to California with nothing but her blue Jeep, pink guitar and a duffle bag. There, she would meet her now-wife, but they wouldn’t stay on the West Coast for long. Recently, she’s backtracked here to Albany where she released this EP on June 22. It’s a collection of songs that celebrates love in all its forms, and it even sounds like a trip out west.
“Everything resolves itself, eventually” begins the chorus of “Pillow Talk,” a vague declaration that could be interpreted a number of different ways. Given the series of events that led to this record, it might be safe to assign a specific meaning to these lyrics: after leaving home on a whim, LaFond’s “resolution” was ultimately meeting somebody and returning to the home she left behind in the first place. Who’s to say? More importantly, it’s a lyric that leaves you with a tinge of hope — a “this too shall pass” in singer-songwriter form. It’s a memorable opener, with melodies that feel familiar, in a gentle, hold-you-through-the-night kind of way.
The highlight of the album comes smack dab in the middle via the title track. It features some impressive, gorgeous fingerpicking on a downtuned guitar, before an angelic choir of reverberated vocals comes in. The mix is an especially nice contrast to the two songs that precede it, dipping a toe into indie rock territory and calling to mind the underrated songwriter Natalie Hemby. “Dog Water” is a true gem — a piece of flawless sea glass in a beach full of hidden, enduring treasures.
What follows is an unexpected departure. “Chose Me” features a brief appearance by a drum machine, a jazzy chord progression and a blown-out distorted guitar behind LaFond’s buttery smooth vocals. This song could easily have been built up with layers of drums and wall-of-sound production, like something The Black Keys or Jack White might do, but ultimately, the choice to keep it reserved does it justice.
Finally, there’s “Lou To Me.” If you close your eyes, you can almost picture LaFond singing this around a campfire as if no one is listening except for the one it’s meant for. “I’d certainly be lyin’ if I said my face didn’t hurt from smliin’...” she sings, and you don’t even have to take her at her word; you can literally hear her smiling as she delivers the phrase. (There’s also “I like my sunshine and my alone time…” which is a relatable lyric if I’ve ever heard one.) It should also be noted that, during this song, my cat forced himself on my lap to listen closer, purring along. He’s quite the music snob, too, so if he’s into it, it must be good. Either that, or he was protesting the album’s title… I can never tell with him. Whatever the case may be, it wraps up the EP tidily, leaving a smile on your face even if you’re not quite sure why.
Overall, Dog Water is an EP that leaves you wanting more — the five-song length is almost a cliffhanger, providing a yearning for an additional song or two to spend some extra time with. It’s a testament to the earnestness behind each track. The added production elements are always tasteful, never distracting from the core of the songs put forth by LaFond’s acoustic guitar and sunny melodies. It’s well-crafted. It’s natural. And it feels like a little slice of California heaven, transplanted here to Upstate New York.
Listen to Dog Water now on sisteroutlaw.bandcamp.com
