It must relate back to where I come from as a print maker and artist. I love the process it makes me feel good to have a routine, some control, a craft. Why did you choose to self-release Paradise Valley, alongside a reprint of Ruins ? Is there a freedom in the self-release that’s appealing to you?
Wind passing through a valley, shaking heads of wild flowers.
Not a celebration of loss, more pagan / feral an acknowledgement of its power. “I’m Clean Now” finds an appreciation of failed love by re-describing it as landscape, without judgment. “Headache” is about grief, but also survival and resilience. As I held one in my hand I instead noticed, felt glad for, the bright color image of the sun, noticed instead points of light in each song. Initially I thought of these as simple, sad songs. These records arrived the day after the election. I think of it more as a dialectical relationship to negativity. What context would you ground Paradise Valley in? How do these songs feel different for you? You’ve also spoken about other albums as storms of certain emotions – pain, nihilism, sleeplessness. That also seems reflected in the cover art - the brightness, the color. With Paradise Valley, the songs sound a bit like the light streaming in. Your work always seems to leverage a negative space. It gives me a way of sharing something I couldn’t say with straight words, and potentially a way to make someone else experiencing the same thing feel better. Instead of focusing on some emotion I can’t describe with words, can’t do anything with, I focus on crafting a piece of music. I often don’t know why, can’t explain it in the moment, just feel horrible especially if I’m around other people and am worried about them then feeling horrible. The music helps me figure out why I feel bad. I am usually feeling my worst already when I hear songs. LIZ HARRIS: It feels good to write when I feel that stormy. Do you define it that way? Does it hurt to write something so beautiful? SARAH ROSE ETTER: The thing that is jumping out to me about Paradise Valley is the ache - sometimes, it feels so overwhelming when I hear your music, that bittersweet ache. I spoke with Harris via email about the new songs, self-releasing the records, and ache. Paradise Valley is released as a limited edition 7” today, alongside a re-release of the critical Ruins. Lyrics are fogged, but once decoded, bittersweet and poetic. Harris feels more like an artist than a songwriter in the sense that her songs leverage space - quietness is amplified, there is often an absence or subduing of big sounds, a quiet entering of the room. I always find myself describing the songs as something recorded within a cloud. A combination of heart-wrenching and stunning, the chords and melodies emerge as if up out of a strange new water.įor the next week, the two songs become my bedfellows, humming in my head, under the white of my skull, the lyrics streaming and over and over: The two new songs, “Headache” and “I’m Clean Now,” stream out sad and simple, shimmering, iridescent. I’m standing in my kitchen listening to Paradise Valley, the latest self-release from Grouper’s Liz Harris.