“I had to write myself back into existence,” says Jessie Baylin. “I’d been feeling lost, empty, unsure if I’d ever make music again, and I think this album came along to remind me of who I really am, of who I could still become.”

Indeed, Jersey Girl is more than just another record for Baylin; it’s a radical act of self-actualization, a moving work of reflection and rebirth from an artist who’s spent the better part of her adult life running from her roots. Written and recorded with GRAMMY-winning producers Daniel Tashian and Ian Fitchuk (Kacey Musgraves, Birdy), the collection marks Baylin’s first release since the passing of her longtime collaborator Richard Swift, whose influence looms large here even in his absence, and it signals the start of a profound new chapter, one marked by love and empathy for the face staring back in the mirror. The songs are lush and dreamy here, drawing on a hazy palette of warm guitars and vintage keyboard tones, and Baylin’s performances are nothing short of mesmerizing, her tender voice front-and-center in the mix as she grapples with guilt and shame, pain and healing, purpose and identity. Baylin’s the first to tell you this wasn’t an easy record to make—in fact, it wasn’t a record she intended to make at all—but sometimes the biggest breakthroughs come from the most unexpected places.

“I had to be tricked into writing these songs,” Baylin confesses, “but it was a good kind of trick. I didn’t realize what was happening until I was already in the midst of it, and that turned out to be exactly what I needed.”

Born and raised in small-town New Jersey, Baylin left the Garden State as soon as she could, attending art school in Manhattan and then moving to LA for a stint before ultimately settling in Nashville, where she would solidify her a reputation as a supremely gifted writer and performer with a knack for finding the beauty in moments of darkness and doubt. NPR hailed her “stunningly thoughtful tenderness” and “magnetically elusive” sound, while Rolling Stone praised her “spacey kind of Dixie soul,” and the New York Times T Magazine declared that her “lush, slightly nostalgic” delivery “recalls big, warm AM radio singles, as well as soulful female vocalists like Dusty Springfield and Nancy Sinatra.” Through the years, Baylin recorded nearly all of her catalog with Swift at the helm—including her most recent release, Strawberry Wind, which saw her drawing on her experiences with pregnancy and motherhood to craft a collection for children and parents alike—and the celebrated producer’s tragic death in 2018 simply shattered her.

“When Richard passed, I was filled with such overwhelming grief,” Baylin says. “The idea of continuing to make music without him just felt impossible. But Daniel and Ian and this small circle of friends kept lifting me up and pushing me forward because they saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself, something that Richard had seen, too. They wouldn’t let me quit.”

Tashian started planting seeds subtly at first, dropping hints here and there and inviting Baylin over for tea and coffee in the early mornings after they’d both dropped their kids off at school. These were purely social calls at first, with no pressure to write or record, but as is often the case when two wildly creative people get together, ideas began to percolate.

“I’m not sure I would have picked up a guitar again without Daniel’s persistence,” Baylin says, “but deep down, I must not have needed that much convincing, because as soon as I did, the music just started pouring out.”

The songs Baylin found herself writing with Tashian were even more vulnerable than she was used to, bubbling up from somewhere deep within her subconscious as she reached out to reconnect with the inner child she’d left behind all those years ago.

“I spent a lot of years resisting the idea that I was ultimately just this scrappy kid from New Jersey,” Bayling explains, “but as I explored myself through these songs—the ugly parts, the shameful parts, the things I didn’t want to look at—I got closer and closer to the true essence of who I am.”

On a whim, she took up playing tennis around the same time, channeling the energy and physicality of the sport into her creative process, as well.

“There’s this Isadora Duncan quote that I carried with me through everything,” Baylin recalls. “She said, ‘You were once wild here. Don’t let them tame you.’ And so I wrote the album from that place, with that intention of embracing my roots and all the pieces—no matter how messy, no matter how wild—that make me who I am.”

That spirit is clear from the outset on Jersey Girl, which opens with the hypnotic “Night Flower.” Like much of the album, it’s a song rooted not just in self-acceptance, but in self-love, in learning to let go of desire and expectation and find joy and fulfillment in the simple act of allowing the world to unfold around you. “Let it grow,” Baylin sings on the track, her layered vocals floating out over a bed of arpeggiated guitars. ”Everything in its own time.” The Lennon-esque “Cloud Nine” imagines life in a place far from worry and trouble, while the reverb-soaked “Velvet Touch” plays like a compassionate note to a younger self, and the driving “Time Is A Healer” makes peace with a universe that rarely operates on our schedule. “Time is a healer / Truth revealer,” she sings, “Let the rivers run / Let the water soothe your heart.”

“I was used to working very fast with Richard and knocking out albums in just a couple of weeks,” Baylin recalls, “but this record came together over the course of a year and a half. Recording it brought up even more grief than I’d expected, but at the same time, it also helped me find myself in ways that I never could have anticipated.”

For all her emphasis on locating the silver linings, Baylin doesn’t shy away from seeing the darkness for what it is on Jersey Girl, too. The intoxicating “That’s The Way That I Believe In Him,” for instance, grapples with a love so all-consuming it turns destructive; the bittersweet “Slowest Bullet” watches helplessly as a loved one’s crash and burn takes out everything in its path; and the noir-ish “Strange Diamonds” insists on perseverance and survival in even the most overwhelming moments of sadness. Rather than fight the darkness, though, Baylin makes room for it on the record, acknowledging that our imperfections are fundamental to our humanity, a humanity made all the more beautiful by its flaws and scars. “Jersey girls from Jersey towns with Jersey dreams / You want to claim them,” she sings on the title track. “Please don’t cry when they break your heart / Oh how can you blame them?”

“Here I am now twenty years after I left, reclaiming this title of being a Jersey Girl and feeling so grateful for it,” Baylin laughs.

How could you blame her?

Dark River is the upcoming album from Nashville based singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Lydia Luce, which transcends personal turmoil to create an evocative collection of songs. Spellbinding strings and dream like piano soundscapes soundtrack Luce’s hypnotic vocals, which give voice to personal stories about learning to accept sadness and loneliness in order to find clarity of mind. 

For Luce, work on Dark River began after a tumultuous breakup in the summer of 2019. Describing herself as a “extrovert who finds it difficult to sit still in the face of anxiety,” Luce gave in to her restlessness, and decided to take a solo trip to the Pacific Northwest later that summer. She wanted to spend time in nature, hoping that the space would inspire the creative process for her next album. Between attempting a risky summit hike on Mount Saint Helen and even falling ill in the Colorado mountains while camping, Luce did not do much writing, but she was able to face her feelings. Luce shared, “By isolating myself in the mountains, I was able to sit quietly in sadness and let myself feel the deep loneliness I was trying to avoid.” 

Luce believes this isolation helped create the space for her personal stories of growth, heartache, and hope to appear clear in her mind. Luce believes ruminating on these heavy moments, provided “a gateway into being able to write these songs.” “Dark River,” the album’s title track and lead single, is about not letting others take your light and recognizing codependent relationships. “I was in a relationship with someone struggling with addiction and depression. I was trying to carry the weight of their struggle and my own,” Luce says. “Now, I'm learning to set healthy boundaries for myself and in my relationships."

The album was in its final stages of creation when the March 2020 tornado hit her Nashville home. It proved to be a nearly fatal encounter for Luce, who happened to vacate her second-floor bedroom on the timely advice of a local weatherman just before a piling came through the wall, landing on the spot where she was laying moments before. For weeks after, Luce suffered panic attacks while doing everything she could in Nashville to help others who were affected. The track “Occasionally” took on a new meaning for her after, helping her to settle an overwhelming tide of emotion and reflect on this life-changing event. Luce says, “I helped organize a tornado relief benefit show the week of the storm, and I chose to play this song during the concert. I was experiencing severe panic attacks that week. This song transformed into a song about anxiety and how it can come on unexpectedly and linger in your thoughts and body no matter how desperately you attempt to shake it off.” 

Luce grew up in a strict musical household where her mother was a professional conductor for the Ars Flores Symphony Orchestra, so learning the violin was not presented as a choice. A virtuoso from six years old, she excelled in numerous philharmonics. She obtained her master’s at UCLA in the viola, but knew her path was not that of a professional classical musician. Explaining, Luce says, “I am grateful for my classical upbringing and that I’ve gotten to absorb a diverse education in music. Ultimately it all brought me to this space of getting to create from experiences that are only mine.” She studied ethnomusicology, performance and songwriting at Berklee, traveled and studied Ghanian music, then worked at world music label Smithsonian Folkways Records. 

Pulling from musical references that span her orchestral background to contemporary classical, roots, indie rock, and jazz, Luce did not restrict herself to any singular genre as she crafted Dark River. Instead, Luce allowed each song to go in the direction of her varied influences. She evokes the spirit of Judy Garland on “Just the Same” and “Stones” while “Empty” and “Never Been Good,” which find her taking a more upbeat tone in songs about difficult emotions. “Tangled Love” plays with percussive polyrhythms. It considers the complications of a destructive relationship using a sophisticated vintage sound that draws comparisons to the use of pop retroism among her contemporaries, like Weyes Blood. “All the Time,” one of Luce’s most personal songs on the album, is about hope and trusting oneself. “This song is a conversation with myself,” Luce says. “It’s about accepting the Invitation to start trusting myself and intuition.” 

Dark River was produced by Jordan Lehining (Andrew Combs, Caitlin Rose) and recorded at the historic Southern Ground Nashville, which has been a home to  Kacey Musgraves, the Foo Fighters, and Kris Kristofferson. It showcases Luce’s multi-instrumental vision with her performing viola prominently throughout. Dark River follows her debut solo album Azalea, released in 2018, an accomplished release that drew praise from publications from Popmatters to American Songwriter, establishing her as a notable emerging talent in Nashville and beyond. You can expect to hear the full record February 2021.

Luce also leads Lockeland Strings, a community arts organization that puts on monthly showcases of local artists accompanied by string quartet arrangements, alongside performances of new contemporary classical pieces from local composers. With performances from Erin Rae to Dylan LeBlanc, Lockeland Strings has grown from a house show to the Parthenon and Wilburn Street Studios. It partners with a new nonprofit each month to give a platform to organizations, including the ACLU of Tennessee, Girls Write Nashville and the Second Harvest Food Bank of Middle Tennessee.