On the Rise
Gracie Gray

“It’s so quiet, you can hear the birds outside in the recordings. Every other place that I’ve lived is like the freeway,” she laughs. Despite residing there for just over a month, Gray has already written and recorded a prolific amount of music and is set to release her third full length album later this month via boutique tastemaker label Hand in Hive.

Following on from her 2019 debut record Oregon in a Day and its follow up anna, released three years later, Magnet is another considered combination of Gray’s unassuming vocals, acoustic guitars, lo-fi grunge riffs and electronic accompaniments. It’s an affecting reflection on human nature and the bittersweet emotional fluctuations that come from connecting with yourself and with others.

It would be easy to compare Gray’s sound to LA contemporaries such as Phoebe Bridgers, or NY-based artists Skullcrusher and Squirrel Flower, but her intimate production style and recording methods are what give the songs on Magnet their subtle poignancy. Whether it’s via grungier cuts “Sea Of Glass” and “Valley”, atmospheric indie musings “Wishes” and “Burden”, or tender ruminations like “Feeling God”; Gray humanises the sometimes polarising forces that are associated with the album’s title. But what was it that initially attracted Gray to write in this magnetic vein?

The songwriter’s earliest memories of music stem from her religious upbringing. Her parents, although no longer practising in strict way, were deeply Christian, and the advice from their peers was to steer away from secular music. Gray’s childhood was peppered with some contemporary sounds, though. “I had the Lilo & Stitch soundtrack, so that had some Elvis on it,” she recalls fondly. “Then I had Enya’s album, A Day Without Rain, on CD. I think my Mum played it to get us to be quiet. Then of course, we had Coldplay, so we were feeling extra edgy.” It wasn’t until her early teens, however, that Gray discovered music that would truly shape her own tastes and sensibilities.

Her older sister, who she shared a bedroom with, had an admirer at the church the siblings attended. This harmless infatuation manifested itself in the admirer burning Gray’s sister lots of CDs and writing little notes to accompany them. The CDs sat on the siblings’ shared dresser, unlistened to for a long time, until Gray decided to take an interest. “That was my introduction to Elliott Smith’s Either Or, and Nick Drake’s Pink Moon,” she remembers. “He also made her a mixtape that had Cat Power, Sunny Day Real Estate, and My Bloody Valentine on, and The Garden State soundtrack. It was all about these CDs for me. They were constantly on repeat.”

Gray would absorb these sounds through her headphones, spending hours in her bedroom enjoying the company of these eclectic songwriters. This intimate setting, her intentional listening and her ability to feel at ease in solitude, have shaped the way that Gray writes today. This pure, unfiltered release of emotion is something which she has tried to both protect and capture as a “bedroom producer”, especially in her recordings for Magnet.

“A lot of the reason for coming out here [to New York] was to have an environment like a childhood bedroom,” she comments. “Even though I shared my room, I definitely felt incredibly safe there, to be fully in my feelings and be myself. I feel like I have that here, and it’s been hard to find.”

Gray has spent the past three years travelling between Los Angeles and New York, studying, working, and writing and recording her third record between bedrooms. She decided to produce and mix the majority of Magnet alone, a venture that was equally as challenging as it was illuminating. “I felt really ready to do it, but it was a growing process,” she reveals.

Reflecting on her debut Oregon in a Day, and its follow up anna, Gray says she felt the need to “do more” by “adding more instruments, doing things differently” or by trying things she had never done before. Whilst one song would simply be voice and guitar, another would have “a bunch of different huge layers with walls of sound” on it. What Gray has ultimately realised, is that less is more. This learning curve revealed to her that she can rely on her intuition, and that she is more capable than she thinks; especially when she is in her own company, and her own space.

“I have recorded in studios before, and there’s a lot of excitement to it, but there’s a huge challenge for me personally to click in, and feel that sense of genuine peace and relaxation that I need to kind of allow the moment to happen,” she admits. “I need a less controlled environment, something that feels more human, in order to let that part of myself come forward. I also need to be completely alone, or else I can hear myself performing for whoever is with me, which is not the sound I want. Especially now, with technology, it’s really hard to even realise that sometimes - as I’m living my life, I’ll be seeing it through the idea of it being seen.”

Songwriting is not just a passion for Gray; as an introvert, it’s a necessity. Whilst she is naturally pleased that others enjoy the music she creates, for her own well-being, Gray feels compelled to write; using music as a tool for “expressing and reaching” parts of herself that she can’t access in any other way. The professional nature of producing and mixing often interferes with this intuitive process, as do the promotional demands of sharing new music on social media. As an artist building an audience, Gray acknowledges how important it is to have these platforms, but part of her move away from LA was a conscious decision to reclaim her distinctly personal relationship with music.

“I think moving out to the middle of nowhere has given me the opportunity to try and detach my value from my identity as a musician, and as music being something that I ‘gain’ from,” she explains. “By ‘gain’, I mean I’ve gotten so much of my life from music - from my best friends, to feeling a sense of belonging and worth - but as much as that is incredible to experience, it has its downsides. I’ve put all of my value into this thing that I have no control over. So moving and getting distance from so much of the industry and musician culture, part of that was me trying to find a way to save my perception of myself and my worth, and also, just really wanting to protect the part of myself that writes and desperately needs it.

"I needed to find a way to reconnect with that. I felt that was being threatened because of the pressure of wanting to prove my worth. I don’t really know where all that comes from, aside from probably societal things. But I do feel like getting music out of that arena is going to help me do it for the rest of my life.”

Self-preservation is key for Gray. She’s keen to acknowledge the benefits of sharing music online, but she wants to focus on “remaining sensitive” to the way her internet interactions are affecting her energy levels, her mood, or if they make her feel like a content creator” If they are, she will take an extended break from them. Her self-awareness is admirable

Despite favouring solitary conditions to write and record her, Gray openly celebrates the communal power of music too. Her experiences as a teenager in a community college choir left a lasting impression on her. “It was my introduction to classical music and the idea of voice as an instrument,” she explains. “Our choir director Gail chose music that utilised certain sections of the choir to sound like sound effects. I realised how a bunch of people doing something all at once could sound like a synthesiser, or a theremin, or like rain outside, or if they stomp it sounds like thunder. She was super interested in the theatrics of that. I think that’s what I try to do a lot of the time. I try to layer things a million times, tweak them, and see how many instruments I can make with just my voice.”

Collaborating is also something that Gray values immensely, whether that’s regarding her own music, or playing live with others She describes her friend Lexi Vega, who performs under the moniker Mini Trees, as “the biggest fan and supporter for this project” along with Vega’s drummer, Ryan Mcdiarmid. He played on eight of the nine tracks that form Magnet, and was key in pushing Gray to initially start the recording process.

Gray also credits Mike Deluccia and David Colón for being seminal to her live performances, as they bring such vital and calming energy as part of her live band. “These are people who I don’t necessarily include when I’m recording, but I definitely feel like I wouldn’t even want to write parts without thinking that they would play them. They’re so important to me.”

With their help, Gray now feels ready to take Magnet into a live setting, as well as the new music she has already written. “I’m looking forward to sharing that sometime in the future,” she says warmly. “I wish I could even just drop it right afterwards, because it just feels so present right now.”