With ”Off the Lanterns,” Turkish indie duo Avenues deliver a fragile and poetic EP that weaves past and present into a gently glowing thread of nostalgia, loss, and introspection. Made up of four stark, emotionally raw tracks, this mini-album feels less like a release and more like a time capsule cracked open under soft studio lights. The title track, a reworked version of a song written in the isolating depths of October 2020, sets the tone with haunting grace. Rearranged with delicate piano flourishes and a live-studio energy, it sways like a slow tide that carries memories, miscommunications, and the strange clarity of solitude.
Lyrically, the title track reads like a poem pulled from a foggy dreamscape. Lanterns, drifting seas, upside-down realities, full of abstract imagery that captures the unease and emotional dislocation so many felt during the pandemic. There’s a longing buried beneath the surrealism, as if the song is reaching for connection through the haze. Alkan Arslan’s vocals, soft and unhurried, float through the mix like wind through curtains. It’s a stunning opener, establishing the EP’s overarching theme: confronting uncertainty with poetic resilience.
“Empty Houses,” perhaps the emotional centrepiece, brings a melancholic twang straight from the American South, framed by gentle pedal steel and restrained acoustic strumming. It’s a heartbreak song that goes beyond lost love, but it’s about places once filled with meaning that now echo with silence. The metaphors of broken walls and vanished cats are quietly devastating. There’s no melodrama here, only the stillness that follows emotional collapse. And yet, within that stillness is an odd kind of peace, a fullness within emptiness, as Avenues put it. It’s a track that aches beautifully.
The EP takes a sharper turn with “I Do Worry,” written by Emir Korkmaz. It’s a gritty country-rock ballad that sounds like a late-night conversation turned confessional. Korkmaz’s voice carries a blend of concern and disappointment as he questions someone’s disregard for the future. “I’m not your daddy, but still, I do worry,” he sings — a line that could be scolding or tender, or both. There’s something powerfully universal in that emotional duality: care disguised as critique, love tangled with fear for someone’s path. Musically, it’s the most assertive track, but still in keeping with the EP’s introspective soul.
Closer “Last Share” returns to Arslan’s lyricism and plunges into the metaphorical. “Seems this is our last share on your old wall,” he muses, blending heartbreak with imagery of distance and decay. The track unfolds slowly, like a memory revisited too many times. The pedal steel sighs, the vocals stay low, and we’re left with an echo of something that once was — not bitter, but not at peace. It’s about the aftermath of shared moments, about how even broken things still hum with the life they once held.
As a whole, ”Off the Lanterns” is a quiet triumph. It doesn’t beg for attention or chase trends — it simply offers space: to feel, to reflect, to remember. It’s a record built on small details and emotional nuance, elevated by poetic lyrics and understated yet evocative arrangements. By revisiting their earliest work and juxtaposing it with a piece born from pandemic solitude, Avenues have crafted more than just an EP — they’ve built a reflective bridge, lit softly by memory and looking ahead to what’s next.
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