Following the release of her highly-anticipated self-titled album “Orion” in late September, Los Angeles-based indie artist Orion Sun has spent her 2024 touring the United States on “The Rising Sun Tour.” On Nov. 21, she made her San Diego stop at the Music Box with opener Cruza, an atmospheric indie band originally from Florida.
As soon as Cruza took the stage, it was evident that the night’s set, sound engineering, and venue selection were all carefully curated to maximize the collective experience of cathartic euphoria for both the artists and the audience. Each beat reverberated through the space and each melodic note lingered, resonant and tonal.
At least a paragraph of praise is deserved for opening act Cruza, who made me a forever fan in one night. With husky vocals layered over uninhibited bass and drum lines, this band is a force to watch for in R&B experimentalism. Cruza blends the visions of two childhood friends with the sounds of San Diego-based guitarist Charity Joy Brown and drummer and sound programmer Sago. Their discography strikes the perfect balance between psychedelia, soul, and slow house.
Orion Sun and her collaborators are — first and foremost — artists, who have chosen music as their primary mode of expression. The words and sounds are meant to compel you to move, and there is truly no way to stay still during an Orion show. Behind her on stage stood a grand framed print of her most recent album cover, a colorful oil portrait painted by Malene Reynolds Laugesen of her head, half submerged in water, looking down at the moon’s reflection. Part of her hair is stylized as a jutting cityscape which Orion calls her thoughts, lit by dusty sunlight peeking through the clouds and fog. Toward both the end of her set and during the encore, Orion leapt off the stage to serpentine through the floor, dancing and twirling with the audience as she passed through.
There is a certain type of emotional contradiction that is allowed to exist in the liminal space of an Orion show, from her arrangements to her stage presence to her aesthetic branding. Even her stage name, Orion Sun, calls to mind the juxtaposition between night and day — Orion as in the constellation, almost always visible in the dark sky, and Sun as the source of her heartwarming radiance. The name of this tour, “The Rising Sun Tour,” speaks to this same euphoric co-existence between traditionally dichotomized themes; imagine the sun rising with the hope of a new day, the stars fading out of sight with a promise to return in a couple hours.
During these cold winter days especially, there is a special sort of nihilistic comfort and contentment that comes with honoring these juxtapositions as they are. Orion’s music, for me, has always demonstrated an inherent pride in its fluidity; to challenge a contradiction with deconstruction is the closest to hope we can get in today’s world. Watching her perform a perfect robot with her upper body as she glided with an effortless smoothness across the stage, her soothing lyrics cut up by punk rock-approved drum and guitar solos — and then cut again with her melodic rapping vocals — it occurred to me that this is what euphoria looks and feels like.
Before I attended the show, a friend noted how one-of-a-kind Orion Sun is as an artist, choosing to combine the naturally sweet tone of her voice with an alto hazy and throaty delivery. On stage, she performs with the corniest smile on her face and never lets it up. Some moments, I could swear the music sparkled around me and her grin twinkled with an animated glint. She’s got that Justin-Bieber-as-a-child swagger, if young JB was a master Afro-fairytale storyteller — and I mean that as the highest compliment.
I’ve been following Orion Sun since her independently-released first album, “A Collection of Fleeting Moments and Daydreams.” Drawn to her simple vulnerability and authentic heart-to-hand lyricism, I have watched as Orion has grown more and more fully into her truest self. In the middle of the show, Orion and her guitarist paused for an acoustic interlude, performing “Orion,” the first track from her debut project. As she sang, “We all don’t know what we’re put here for / But you love music and you should pursue it,” and “Orion sun / It’s only just begun,” I found myself nearly brought to tears at this honesty, which remains the beating heart of every one of her projects to this day.
Orion shows us all this space that is left for joy and celebration after we make the choice to set aside and begin to live with — not despite — these feelings and contradictions. Before saying goodnight, Orion left us with a message of appreciation. “It is a blessing to leave something behind,” she said, “and we are here, in fact,” to do just that.
