Ladaniva - Ladaniva (LP) - Yellow Vinyl

Some records feel like a street parade rolling straight into your living room. Ladaniva’s self‑titled debut does that in the first minute and then keeps the colors flying. The Franco‑Armenian group centers on singer Jaklin and multi‑instrumentalist Louis Thomas, who built their reputation on joyous, wildly musical videos filmed around Lille. The name comes from the cult Lada Niva 4x4, and that scrappy, go‑anywhere spirit is the album’s compass. Released in late 2023, it plays like a passport jammed with stamps, yet it always circles back to Armenian roots and a voice that can leap from lullaby to dance floor call in a single verse.

What hits first is the blend. Brass that sounds like a corner brass band after two espressos, guitar that skanks and stutters, hand percussion that keeps you guessing, and bass lines that know how to sneak up under your feet. You can hear the group’s busker DNA in the arrangements. Nothing feels fussy. Songs open with a hook, a violin lick, a trumpet riff, a drum figure that nods to the Balkans, and then Jaklin barrels in with phrasing that bends tradition into pop shapes. The language shifts from Armenian to the occasional French or other regional flavors, but the intent is universal: move your body, move your heart.

“Shakar” is the calling card. The title means sugar, and the groove earns it. Bright trumpet, lithe guitar, nimble percussion, a chorus that sticks after one spin. It’s the song you hand a friend when they ask what Ladaniva sounds like. “Vay Aman” shows the other side. It starts tender, almost a lament, then the rhythm section kicks a hole in the cloud cover and the whole band lifts it. The dynamic control is sharp. They know exactly when to let the horns breathe and when to crowd the mic like a tiny club at last call.

What keeps the album from being just a party record is how carefully it’s built. The sequencing has flow. A village tune slips into a skank, a swing‑flavored shuffle turns on a drum break that pulls from North African patterns, a lullaby arrives right after a sprint. The details count. Listen for the trumpet muting in the second chorus of “Shakar,” or the way a hand drum trades phrases with the vocal in a mid‑tempo cut. Louis plays like an arranger who understands that folk music gets bigger when you leave space. The horns aren’t there to show off. They’re there to make the melody feel lived in.

Jaklin is the star, though. She can sing light as smoke and then flip to a chesty, open‑throated call that feels built for a courtyard at dusk. There’s personality in every vowel, a wink in the way she lands a syllable, a little grit when the lyric demands it. When she leans into a traditional turn of phrase, you hear a thousand kitchens and weddings; when she rides a modern backbeat, it never sounds pasted on. That balance is hard to fake. It comes from years of soaking up songs at home and on the road.

Fans who met the band through those early videos will smile at how the record keeps that spontaneity. You can almost see the take numbers scribbled on the studio whiteboard. It still feels like friends clustering around a single mic, passing the lead, trusting the groove. That’s why this album begs for a turntable. The tactile punch of the drums, the air in the horns, the warmth in Jaklin’s midrange, all of it blooms when you spin Ladaniva vinyl. If you’re crate‑digging and spot Ladaniva albums on vinyl, do not overthink it. Slide it under your arm. If you’re outside their touring orbit, buy Ladaniva records online and let the parcel be your backstage pass. I’ve even seen folks in vinyl records Australia circles posting excited haul pics when a copy lands. The cover pops on a shelf, but it’s the sound that keeps you flipping back to side A.

A self‑titled debut can feel like a thesis. This one feels like a front‑porch invitation. Ladaniva folds Armenian folk into a modern, pan‑regional language that respects the past while throwing a party in the present. Put it on in the kitchen, pour something cold, and let the brass tell the neighbors what time it is.