Page 68 of Falls From Grace
Cover story: Savannah Grace is Taking No Prisoners
Words by Sam Chaoudry
Pictures by Huma Jordan
In person, Savannah Grace is smaller than you’d imagine. To see the country crossover megastar perform live is to get run through by a tornado, from her storms of passionately devoted fans to her golden voice that varies from intimate to brutal to sexy, often within the same song. But here in her hotel room in Chicago in the maelstrom of a press junket, Grace appears startlingly like a mere mortal, no more than 5’2” in her bare feet, tiredness marking her undoubtedly lovely features. She remains, however, every inch the star. She deftly fields questions from the gathered journalists that range from borderline worship to invasive and misogynist and she doesn’t suffer any fools.
Later that evening, as we share a quiet dinner at Oriole before her performance at Soldier Field, she reflects on the last three years of her life. At the height of Twice Struck’s fame, there came the birth of her beloved first child, Tucker (now aged three) the drawn out and public breakup of her marriage to collaborator Cole Corbin and the ensuing period of depression she entered where she couldn’t even listen to music, let alone pick up her guitar
Contrast that to the second half of the year when her first, critically acclaimed, genre-defying solo album exploded, going triple platinum in just six weeks and beating streaming records internationally. Then last week - just four weeks into a grueling eight-month sold out stadium tour across the US - she received news of her nine Grammy nominations, including Best Album, Best Record, Best Song (Longing), Best Songwriting, and Best Female Artist.
So, what was the turning point?
“The turning point for me is always music,” she says. “Noah Lyman’s Dead Star Ballads was the first music I could listen to when I had spiraled out. It reminded me why I started writing songs in the first place.”
At first glance, the LA-based, underground, alternative music darling Lyman and the queen of country music might seem like strange bedfellows, but it was a collaboration that thrust Grace out of her comfort zone and helped produce her best work yet.
“This album is what I’m most proud of in my life,” Grace tells me, her eyes suddenly misting with tears. “It came about from a period of both incredible healing and unexpected turbulence and what I can only conceptualize now as a kind of magical alchemy. I think that all shows through in the music.”
A secondary collaboration arose with astonishing newcomer Brynn Marshall, whose own debut album is now causing waves.
“Brynn is a super talent,” Grace says of the singer-songwriter. “She’s going to set the world alight. I’m in awe of her work.”
The lead single - Marshall and Grace’s duet Longing - features two astounding vocalists whose seamless connection (not harmed by the sensual gazes the two share in the Hans East directed music video) sent sales into the stratosphere, but when I ask Savannah to describe the inspiration for the passionate song, she’s unwilling to be pressed.
“If I’ve learned anything in the last ten years, it’s that my life needs to remain my own and that the music can stand on its own,” she responds shortly, making clear the subject is over.
Continued on Page 18.
Pitchfork Review
Artist: Brynn Marshall
Album: Jane
As the legend has it, Brynn Marshall was discovered by chance by Savannah Grace, on a visit to the country singer’s vacation home in Vermont. Ears pricked up around the world when Grace’s single Longing hit the airwaves, featuring the duet with the as yet unknown artist. Who exactly was Brynn Marshall? Now signed as a label mate to Grace with a three album deal with Sony, the answer has finally arrived in the form of Marshall’s debut album, Jane. It’s not a straightforward answer, however; instead, Jane lures you in with Marshall’s otherworldly voice only to trip you up with lyrics that both hide and reveal the artist behind it. Marshall has been tight-lipped with the press thus far, leaving the songs up to the interpretation of the listener.
The titular track is a reimagining of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, though in Marshall’s interpretation it is Jane who is responsible for any and all demons in the attic. The result - like the novel - is an unsettling breakdown of desire versus morality, detailing love laid to wreck by a lie.
The theme of lost love is the thread that runs through the album, laid perhaps most bare by the lead single Without where Marshall breaks down everything she’s lost, her voice hushing into benediction as she turns everything from a cup of coffee to her lover’s cold feet into sacrament. Snow Day is a poignant exploration of the fleeting nature of happiness, while Buddy reveals a sweeter side as Marshall sings a small boy through to adulthood. Mid-album comes the stonking Dropout, a slammer of a song that will have crowds on their feet when Marshall tours this summer.
Where the album really becomes sublime is the penultimate track Rock Bottom. A vividly painful self-evisceration that turns at the three-quarter mark into crackling tormented hope, her devastation giving way to a promise of a steadfast and lifelong devotion. It’s a staggeringly ambitious and sprawling seven minute track that - assisted by friend and collaborator Noah Lyman’s blistering guitar - grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let you go. In contrast, the album finale Frozen Rain is a tender paean to watching a lover sleep. What could otherwise be a mundane love song is, in Marshall’s hands - and raw, cracked voice - staggeringly heartbreaking.
Jane is an astonishing debut, a masterclass in songwriting and performance from a newly discovered virtuoso.
Rating: 8.4/10
When her own album dropped, Brynn had curled up inside her apartment for a week, overcome with anxiety and avoiding everyone’s texts and calls. Finally, Noah had all but hammered down her door and forced her to sit and listen as he’d read the critic’s reviews, practically bleeding with pride as he did. A slow, permanent shift took place within her as he read. Her dreams became plans.
“Fuck, Noah,” she jumped up off her sofa. “What were you thinking? We need to rehearse!”
They’d played a handful of small-time gigs well before the album release, mostly just to give Brynn the confidence to see if she could, in fact, perform live. It had given her the jitters, made her knees shake and made her wonder if she was a fraud, however the reception they received in small bars and tiny side stages had given her enough of a boost to keep going. But this Friday night, they would play an official album release show, which had originally been booked in a small theater in front of a crowd of seven hundred people. Two weeks out, Bella had passed on the news that due to the demand - Brynn’s profile since the release of Longing had jumped dramatically - they were moving to another venue.
“Where?” she’d asked. Bella had paused.
“The Wiltern,” she’d told her. Brynn had attended gigs there before. It was an ornate art déco theater, and it seemed monstrously big.
“How… many people?”
