I keep a mental list of moments that proved I was in too deep. Like when I told my roommate I had food poisoning so I could skip her birthday dinner because he said he ‘might be around later’ and I needed to stay available. Spoiler: he wasn’t around later and I ate leftover pasta alone in my room while everyone was at the restaurant posting stories. Or the month I pretended to suddenly love hiking because he mentioned trails once, bought $200 worth of REI gear, went on exactly one hike where I twisted my ankle, and now that shit just sits in my closet judging me. That weekend I learned his childhood dog’s name, his mom’s maiden name, and his first address from casual conversation because I was filing away every detail like I was building a fucking dossier. I knew I was spiraling and I didn’t care. When you’re falling that hard, you don’t want warnings, you want more. When Ava Valianti sings “deep fuchsia / untamed love / devotion and all that goes along with it” on ‘Deep Fuchsia,’ I felt that entire experience come flooding back. Love that bright and saturated doesn’t come with dimmer switches.
This electrified pop-rock production sounds exactly like what all-consuming love feels like. The guitars have this restless energy, the drums keep pushing forward, and Ava’s vocals ride that line between tender and desperate. Right from the start, she’s laying down demands disguised as devotion. “Wear my ring / promising / don’t erase my name / from your brain / and write it with a flourish.” That’s the energy of someone who knows they’re in deep and needs reassurance that the other person is matching their intensity. The “write it with a flourish” detail slays me because she wants permanence with style. Make me unforgettable. Make me matter.
Then she gives us the specific moments that are living rent-free in her head. “Oh well, you came over / and then you had to leave / left tulips on the table / had the color of strawberries.” The casualness of “oh well” before describing something she’s clearly replaying constantly? That’s so real. And the way she zeros in on the tulips’ color, comparing it to strawberries instead of just saying red or pink? When you’re that into someone, you remember these hyperspecific details that wouldn’t mean shit to anyone else. Those tulips probably sat on that table for two weeks past their prime because throwing them out felt like losing proof that he cared. Tell me that’s not insane.
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“All the vivid descriptions / always down to a tee / your words / your smile / the beauty.” This is what happens when you’re so into someone that everything they do becomes material for your internal highlight reel. The way she stacks “your words / your smile / the beauty” with those hard stops between each one feels like she’s cataloging evidence. Building a case for why this person is worth the emotional investment.
Ava Valianti is sixteen years old and writing from Newbury, Massachusetts. Sixteen. The way she can already break down young, feral, all-consuming love with this level of detail is kind of wild in a “who hurt you and why are you this self-aware already” way. She blends pop, indie, and pop-rock influences into something that feels raw and polished at once. Her voice has this aching vulnerability that never tips into performance, it stays grounded even when the emotions are huge. ‘Deep Fuchsia’ dropped January 16th as the first glimpse of her next project, and honestly? If this is where she’s starting, I need to hear where she’s going.
The bridge is where Ava stops intellectualizing and lets her body take the mic. “You held me closely / while I was fast asleep / in the soft silky covers / blue as the sea that I dreamed.” Being held while sleeping is one of those little things that fucks you up later when you’re alone in bed. And the detail about the blue covers, connecting them to the sea in her dream? She’s layering memory on top of dream imagery, making everything feel surreal and cinematic. Then she hits us with “your public displays of affection are as romantic as actually sweeping me / off of my feet / play you on repeat.” That “play you on repeat” line is everything. She’s admitting how deep she’s in. I’m replaying every moment with you like a song I can’t get out of my head.
The chorus is pure desperation dressed up as confidence. “I need you now / I got no doubts / hoping you won’t bow out / don’t care when why or how.” That progression from “I need you” to “I got no doubts” to “hoping you won’t bow out” is the whole emotional arc. She’s trying to sound certain while admitting she’s terrified he’ll leave. The “don’t care when why or how” is that fuck-it energy of being so into someone that logistics and timing don’t matter, you just need them to stay.
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“Words spoken / bonds unbroken / know love’s a fickle thing / but I want you clinically.” Okay so the way she acknowledges that love is unstable while insisting on her need for this person anyway? That’s the contradiction of young intense love. You know it’s fragile, you know people leave, you know nothing lasts forever, and you still throw yourself into it completely. “I want you clinically” is such a specific way to describe need. Like it’s a medical condition. An addiction. Something your body requires to function.
The song lives in that suffocating space where you want someone so badly that everything about them becomes vivid and consuming. Colors are brighter, small details matter more, and the instability doesn’t scare you off because the rush is worth it. That “instability almost feels inviting” part? That’s the thesis. When you’re young and everything feels heightened, the chaos of intense love becomes part of the appeal. She’s writing from that place where you know love is fragile but you’re choosing it anyway. The passion feels thrilling precisely because it could fall apart.
The final moment gets me every time. “Your memory’s lingering / it’s so exquisite, really / promising / anything.” She calls his memory “exquisite,” which is such a romantic word for something that’s probably torturing her a little bit. And then that final “promising / anything” feels like both a memory of what he said and what she’s willing to do. I’ll promise you anything if you just don’t leave. The ambiguity of who’s promising what makes it hit harder.
That mental list of moments? I don’t regret them anymore. The food poisoning lie, the unused hiking gear still judging me from my closet, all those details I filed away like evidence. They felt massive at the time. Now they just feel like proof I was willing to show up completely for someone I wanted. The relationship didn’t last but the intensity did, and I’m kind of grateful for that. Ava gets it. Sometimes you need to fall into something vivid and consuming just to know what you’re capable of feeling. Ava leans into that intensity completely. This winter she’s hitting the road for a mini-Northeast tour supporting her sound, and if this track is any indication, those shows are going to feel like group therapy for anyone who’s ever been beautifully, catastrophically into someone who made everything brighter just by existing.
