Felina
Band Story
Felina's Arrow: A Road-Worn Hymn of Heart and Grit
I’ve seen a lot of bands come and go. Some light up for a moment and vanish. Others hang around, play it safe, stay in their lane. But Felina’s Arrow—Poeina Suddarth and Felicia Figueroa—are cut from a different cloth. They don’t just make music. They live it, breathe it, and drag it across the country with them like a sacred offering.
I met them not long after they first collided—two creative souls on a Seattle sidewalk back in 2002. No auditions. No marketing plans. Just a connection so immediate it didn’t need explaining. Within weeks, they were already dreaming up songs. Within months, they were packing a beat-up VW van and heading out across America, coast to coast.
Four years on the road. No sponsors. No label. Just raw, fearless talent and a willingness to play anywhere—to whoever would listen. Sidewalks, living rooms, grimy bars, black box theaters—it didn’t matter. They gave everything they had, every night. Sometimes to a room of ten. Sometimes to a hall of hundreds. Always with fire.
What sets them apart? It’s not just the music, though that's plenty powerful. It's what they channel through it. Their songs carry the weight of triumphs, breakdowns, grief, identity, recovery, resistance. It’s the stuff most people don’t talk about—but somehow, they sing it out loud. You feel seen when you hear them. You remember something you forgot you buried.
Their 2006 album Let Me Tell You a Story is still one of the most honest things I’ve ever heard. Operatic ballads one moment, gritty folk-rock breakdowns the next. There’s this mariachi rhythm in one track that somehow makes heartbreak sound like a street parade. It doesn’t make sense on paper, but with them—it works. Everything they do comes from instinct and guts.
These days, they’re rooted in Portland. Still writing. Still building. They've been curating the Luna Music Series, making space for other artists who—like them—don’t quite fit in the usual boxes. They've worked with performance art collectives like The Gender Fluids and Spit Fury, bringing movement, visuals, and storytelling into the live set. For them, it’s never been just about songs—it’s about creating a moment, a world, a portal.
They grow their own food now. They build their life with the same hands that play their instruments. And they still believe that art is sacred. That it can change people. That it can change them.
I’ve watched them perform a hundred times. I’ve seen the tears, the laughter, the stunned silence at the end of a set. No two shows are alike. And no one walks away untouched.
They’re Felina’s Arrow. They aim for the heart. And they rarely miss.
I’ve seen a lot of bands come and go. Some light up for a moment and vanish. Others hang around, play it safe, stay in their lane. But Felina’s Arrow—Poeina Suddarth and Felicia Figueroa—are cut from a different cloth. They don’t just make music. They live it, breathe it, and drag it across the country with them like a sacred offering.
I met them not long after they first collided—two creative souls on a Seattle sidewalk back in 2002. No auditions. No marketing plans. Just a connection so immediate it didn’t need explaining. Within weeks, they were already dreaming up songs. Within months, they were packing a beat-up VW van and heading out across America, coast to coast.
Four years on the road. No sponsors. No label. Just raw, fearless talent and a willingness to play anywhere—to whoever would listen. Sidewalks, living rooms, grimy bars, black box theaters—it didn’t matter. They gave everything they had, every night. Sometimes to a room of ten. Sometimes to a hall of hundreds. Always with fire.
What sets them apart? It’s not just the music, though that's plenty powerful. It's what they channel through it. Their songs carry the weight of triumphs, breakdowns, grief, identity, recovery, resistance. It’s the stuff most people don’t talk about—but somehow, they sing it out loud. You feel seen when you hear them. You remember something you forgot you buried.
Their 2006 album Let Me Tell You a Story is still one of the most honest things I’ve ever heard. Operatic ballads one moment, gritty folk-rock breakdowns the next. There’s this mariachi rhythm in one track that somehow makes heartbreak sound like a street parade. It doesn’t make sense on paper, but with them—it works. Everything they do comes from instinct and guts.
These days, they’re rooted in Portland. Still writing. Still building. They've been curating the Luna Music Series, making space for other artists who—like them—don’t quite fit in the usual boxes. They've worked with performance art collectives like The Gender Fluids and Spit Fury, bringing movement, visuals, and storytelling into the live set. For them, it’s never been just about songs—it’s about creating a moment, a world, a portal.
They grow their own food now. They build their life with the same hands that play their instruments. And they still believe that art is sacred. That it can change people. That it can change them.
I’ve watched them perform a hundred times. I’ve seen the tears, the laughter, the stunned silence at the end of a set. No two shows are alike. And no one walks away untouched.
They’re Felina’s Arrow. They aim for the heart. And they rarely miss.
Band Members
POEINA SUDDARTH - FELICIA FIGUEROA
POEINA SUDDARTH - FELICIA FIGUEROA
Location: AMERICA NORTH: USA: Oregon (OR)
Genre: Alternative Rock