Photo courtesy of Emma Lee Photography

When Justine Blanchet first made her way to Nashville, she knew she had found her people.

She found it quite easy to run into and find support from other Canadian transplants, including her producer, Danick Dupelle. The Grammy-nominated lead guitarist of Emerson Drive works with a number of artists in the Nashville area, and is the producer of Blanchet’s latest single, “Heart Less”.

Dupelle encourages artists newer to the songwriter community to release music written by established songwriters while they continue to hone in on their own writing capabilities. This is how Blanchet came across “Heart Less”, written by Canadian country star MacKenzie Porter, Grammy winner Emily Weisband and Grammy nominee Jordan Schmidt. A playlist of around 10 songs was presented to Blanchet, and “Heart Less” really stood out.

“It’s very much how I would write songs,” she said. “The play on words in the song with ‘heart less’ and listening to your heart less but not being heartless… it really hooked me. I had to record this song.”

Blanchet understood the importance of finding a song similar to her own methods of songwriting. If she didn’t feel attached to the lyrics, it would surely be noticeable.

“The problem with picking songs that you don’t feel like are yours is that it very much shows in the performance and in the studio; the emotion isn’t there,” she said.

Blanchet said that Dupelle usually prefers to record in batches of three, but choosing two other songs was a tough decision. She knew she had to bring in a trusted, valued opinion in order to choose, so she sent the playlist to her mom.

Separately, the two women took notes on each song. When it came time to bring their ideas together, Blanchet was surprised that her mom had “Heart Less” at the bottom of her list. Despite the disagreement, Blanchet saw the potential of the song and kept it as her first choice.

Most of the original demo was kept in the final production. One of her favorite details of the original was the aggressiveness in the voice that assisted in getting the message across, and she is satisfied with how her voice was able to duplicate that on the final version.

The accompanying music video was shot in Nashville with the treatment written by Blanchet. She wanted to portray two characters - the head and the heart - with distinctive qualities that looked and felt a certain way. Her navy blue shimmery blazer represents the head: the one that makes rational decisions. Her pastel pink tulle dress represents the heart: the one that is more expressive and vulnerable.

“For me, the lasting mantra of ‘Heart Less’ is to choose confidence and clarity over crying if things aren’t going your way romantically. Don’t be heartless, just use your heart less. Your stubborn heart won’t always realize when someone is wrong for you. The strength that comes from recognizing when it’s time to walk away will leave you feeling good about better things to come.”

Photo courtesy of Will Shellhorn

I always knew I loved music, but I didn’t know I couldn’t live without it until I didn’t have it. When I went to NYU to play basketball and study finance, I had it in my head that I would pursue opportunities in music on the side - as if that’s how it works. I even wrote in my basketball profile bio, “Aspires to either work on Wall Street or become a singer/songwriter.” I was naive and afraid. Naive to the fact that defying all odds takes everything you’ve got, not just what’s left over. And afraid of jumping ship without any sight of land or another ship. But here I am, going on a few years of treading water wondering if my legs or my lungs will give out first.

The moment I knew I was going to make music as a career was not when I jumped; it was when I wound myself up so hard that not jumping would have left me so unbalanced that I would’ve gone overboard anyway. It was the summer of 2019, when I worked a miserable unpaid internship in FiDi while living in Washington Heights. My commute was an hour each way. I was working from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Friday, then going to work out for two to three hours, and finally making it back to my apartment around 9 p.m. or so where I ate my first meal of the day. On top of everything, I had no piano, no guitar, no way of writing or playing music. The real punchline is that I’m sure there would have been a lot of great melodramatic songs that came out of that summer had I been able to write them.

Around the end of that summer, my whole perspective changed. My biggest music influence growing up, Ben Folds, came to town for an event talking with Sara Bareilles about his new memoir. It was at the Cooper Union near Washington Square, so I was back on my “old” NYU stomping grounds. I remember walking around to kill some time before the event started, listening to my favorite Ben Folds music. Then his song “Evaporated” came on my playlist. It was my first-ever concert in 2014 (which led me to write my first song a few weeks later) and I’d seen him perform four times since then, but he had never played that song. I remember it resonating with me more than usual. I remember letting myself feel emotions I’d been pretending I didn’t have. I remember pressing “replay”. Again. And again. I remember thinking, “I need him to play this tonight. I need to hear this tonight.”

At the event, Ben and Sara talked for about an hour. I hung onto every word - listening to two people who dedicated their lives to doing exactly what I wanted to do, talking about what it’s taken to actually do it. At the end, sure enough, he went over to the grand piano onstage and announced that he’d be playing a couple of songs before signing our copies of the book. He launched into a beautiful, more recent song of his, “So There”, as the audience all practically craned their necks in unison to see his hands move across the keys. When he finished, he started describing the writing process of the song he was going to play next. “I sat down at the piano and played these two notes over and over again,” he said (loosely), “And it somehow perfectly described the emotional state I was in.” I already knew what song it was and I could already feel my eyes start to tear up.

“What I’ve kept with me/And what I’ve thrown away/And where the hell I’ve ended up on this glary, random day/Were the things I really cared about/Just left along the way/For being too pent up and proud?” That’s how the song starts. I felt every word as deep as one can feel words, maybe even deeper. For a moment, it was unclear what were my own thoughts in my head and what was being sung on stage. All at once, I realized exactly what had made this summer so miserable and what I needed to do to change and get things back on track, even though I had no idea how to do it yet.

The rest of the evening was a blur besides when I met Ben which seemed to move in slow motion. I shook his hand and told him how I started writing songs because of him and how the first song I ever wrote was basically a rip-off of his song “Fred Jones, Pt. II” and how grateful I was for all his music had done for me. A flurry of words carefully crafted to let him know how he fits into my life story, while simultaneously conveying to him between the lines that I’d love to work with him someday and that I believe it will happen. You know… keeping it cool. But he was so gracious and humble; he looked at me and said something like, “That’s exactly how it’s supposed to start. If this is what you want to do then you gotta just keep going.”

I didn’t know it yet, but I was ready to jump - properly wound up, far past the point of no return. Over the next year, I discovered just how necessary the jump was. I think most of that discovery was realizing that sure, it’s scary to jump ship with no sight of land or another ship, but less so if said ship is on fire. Then you’d better put as much distance between you and the ship as possible. I think the biggest lesson I learned from that summer is that I was on a sinking ship, and I could either go down with it or I could jump into the water and pray it was warm.

Turns out it’s not too bad down here. It’s just pruned fingers, sunburns and every shade of endless blue. Like I said, it’s tiring treading water, but at least I’ve floated far away from the ship’s wreckage by now. I almost can’t even remember being on the ship at all. And I have no choice but to believe that if I tread water long enough, I’ll wash up on some shore eventually.

Growing up in a small town in Maine, I learned very quickly that I didn’t exactly fit in with most of the other kids.

While my friends were playing outside, I was discovering “Make It Big” by Wham! and “Please Please Me” by the Beatles. I spent countless hours exploring my parents’ record collection, finding old instruments in the basement (or even the dump) and writing songs in my room. My father tried to get me interested in sports, but I just couldn’t find the same passion for it. Music was my calling.

To my benefit, my parents recognized very early on that music was my thing. They encouraged me to pursue my dreams, even if it wasn’t a traditional career path. From open mic nights to American Idol auditions, they did everything to get me there and were my biggest cheerleaders. They saw the joy it brought me and knew that I had the potential to do great things with it.

As I grew older, the infatuation intensified. I started taking lessons, performing at local events and collaborating with other musicians in the area. I was always seeking to improve my skills and learn more about music theory, composition and performance.

By age 15, I was recording and releasing my own music and playing shows booked by my best friend, Jason, who just so happens to now be my manager.

Now, 20+ years into my career, I can confidently say that choosing a life of music was the best decision. I’ve had the opportunity to perform on stages across the country, collaborate with some of the most talented musicians in the industry and share my music with countless people. It has given me a sense of purpose and fulfillment that I never could have found in any other career. It all started with the unwavering support of my family and my own passion to step out and be a little weird.

Photo courtesy of Maxine Bowen

She jokes that she can’t release 100 songs a year, but that has yet to stop her from writing them. She has spent the last year experimenting with everything she can in order to discover who exactly NERIAH is.

“This was in my transition period where I was doing one to three sessions every single day for over a year,” she said. “I was writing with a bunch of different writers, a bunch of different producers, a bunch of different collaborators, and I was really figuring out what NERIAH is.”

From these experimentations came her upcoming six-track EP, No One Cries Forever. The EP explores themes of heartbreak, sadness and self-discovery, which she said focused on one relationship that felt like she would never get over.

“We all have that ex that we swear we’re never going to get over and we’re going to miss for the rest of our lives,” she said. “But no one cries forever; everyone moves on eventually. Sometimes the journey it takes to get there is really important and there’s a lot of growth, but I promise one day it will all be ok.”

She really enjoyed the process of figuring out who she is as a songwriter and allowing herself to be honest in her lyrics. There was no pressure to sound a certain way or have a completed track at a certain time, so she found her time in the studio to be enjoyable.

“Each song is so different from each other,” she said. “There’s a little bit of a hyper pop song, there’s a ballad of course; there’s a lot more experimental tracks which I think are really special. Every single one is written by someone different and produced by a different producer, and it was just this world that I thought was really cool and this evolutionary moment where I could show all of the different versions of my songwriting and the variety in it.”

By having the freedom to finish this project at her leisure, it was important for her to sit down with each song and decide if she still feels the same. If she wrote five songs about the exact same topic, is there one that stands out the most? One that explains the feeling the best?

She also takes into account what her audience is looking for. By sharing every stage of the creation process on social media and in her live performances, she gets real-time feedback that can help determine how she is feeling about the song.

Something she has learned in the last year is to not hang onto songs too much. A major part of her writing process is that it helps her get through the emotions she’s feeling. She recognized that there are so many ways a song can turn out, and there’s nothing wrong with working on a song all day only to realize that it doesn’t work.

Since completing No One Cries Forever, NERIAH feels like she has discovered exactly who she wants to be. These six tracks might not be 100 songs a year, but this also isn’t the only release she has up her sleeve.

I never thought that my journey with cancer would lead me to where I am today. As a musician, I always believed that my passion for music was all I needed to succeed. But when I was diagnosed with cancer, everything changed.

My love for music started when I was just six years old. I began taking classical violin and piano lessons and never looked back. Music was my escape, my solace and my passion. I played in orchestras, bands, ensembles and theaters. But it wasn’t until I heard the album Neon Bible by Arcade Fire that my entire perspective on music changed. Suddenly, I wanted to write songs that were emotional, powerful and relatable. I fell in love with Norah Jones’ style and started writing music in that vein. Over time, my music evolved into a blend of Southern Rock and alt rock/pop.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, my world was turned upside down. I lost my job, my music focus and my sense of purpose. But I refused to let cancer define me. Instead, I channeled my energy into writing music. My new single, “Chill the fck out”, was born out of my need to calm my anxiety and panic. It became my mantra, and I hope it can help others who are going through the same thing.

The most important thing I’ve learned about songwriting is to let it come from the heart. I used to force songs, but now I sit down with my instrument and let the words and melodies flow naturally. I’ve written some of my best music since my diagnosis because I’m allowing myself to be who I truly want to be.

Cancer has taught me to prioritize what’s truly important in life: loved ones and passions. If I only have a limited amount of time on this earth, I want to spend it doing what brings me joy. That’s why I’m no longer worried about other people’s opinions of my music. I want to leave behind a legacy of songs that I’m proud of, regardless of how they’re received.

My advice to anyone going through a difficult time is to focus on yourself. Take care of yourself and don’t worry about what other people think. It’s all about you now. Surround yourself with people who love and support you, and do whatever it takes to feel good.

Learning to produce my own music has been a lifesaver during this time. It’s like learning to paint, but with music. The possibilities are endless, and I’m excited to continue exploring new sounds and styles.

My motto is “Don’t be afraid to feel everything.” Cancer has taught me that life is too short to hold back. I want to experience everything life has to offer, both the good and the bad. And through it all, I’ll keep writing music that speaks to the heart and soul.

If a frog is dropped into a pot of boiling water, it will naturally attempt to find its way out. If the water is tepid and slowly brought to a boil, a frog will not recognize the danger. It is a metaphor used to describe anything from climate change to abusive relationships, and for the band Featurette, it is the metaphor they are using on how to shake up the music industry.

For so long, songwriter Lexie Jay was caught up in the idea of songs she should be writing instead of songs she wanted to write. She found herself looking back on Featurette’s last album, Dream Riot, and feeling that her soul was not in it. She recognized that not only had she fallen into a deeper depression, but that she was wasting precious time by being caught up in it.

She took one of the songs from Dream Riot, “The Blame”, and gave it a stripped back makeover. She calls it “the exposed version” as the song as well as the music video paint a more detailed, darker picture on a previous relationship. The music video was self-directed and won two Canadian Independent Music Video awards.

By creating this new content, she knew that she needed to say goodbye to that version of her. She can even hear in the delivery of older songs just how mentally and physically tired she was. Releasing this version of “The Blame” helped put that girl to rest.

“I don’t need to be the victim anymore,” she said. “I don’t want to be this second fiddle thing; I just want to have fun and know what I am and really get into what makes me work. I was just playing the game as perfectly as I could and then I realized that the game was playing me, and it was my turn to take charge.”

The band’s first single of 2023, “Cocaine”, is what Jay calls “the party favor” of music to come. The song is an energy-fueled look at love obsession and the addictive qualities it possesses. It touches on her newfound enthusiasm for pushing boundaries and not being worried about the eventual downfall.

“I think in the new stuff I’ve got energy from the darkness now,” she said. “I carry myself differently now, having chosen to not be scared of the darkness. We all have our demons and I think a lot of people just suppress that stuff, but I just looked it in the eyes and said, ‘you want to sing about it?’”

Their next single, “Shibari”, refers to the contemporary art usage of Japanese bonding. It was written during a songwriting camp where another songwriter told Jay the story of how someone in passing casually suggested wanting to try shibari. Jay found the comment so uninhibited that she wrote the song within 10 minutes.

“What shibari is about for a lot of people is giving over control,” she said. “I’m a person who very much likes to be in control, that’s my entire personality; I’m incredibly uptight and I like things a certain way, and in this release of all these things that I’ve been exploring, this new persona that I am letting myself finally fucking be, I discovered that every time I challenge what my natural disposition is I end up in a comfortable and wonderful place that I very much enjoy. Giving over the idea of control would be a huge thing for me because it’s not at all natural to me, so shibari is the mental shibari; it’s something I would very much like to try. It’d be really cool to have your fate in somebody else’s hands for a moment and be ok with that. You are tied up mentally, emotionally; you can’t do anything about it.”

The frog that is the music industry has not noticed that Featurette has brought the water to a boil. “Cocaine” and “Shibari” are just the beginning of Jay’s freedom era - where she refuses to be anything more than herself, and all the potentially dark concepts that make their way into her music.

Photo courtesy of Emma Lee Photography

I was home-schooled until my university years, so my family and I had the chance to travel to the United States quite a bit. Given that there are a lot more country radio stations in the United States than back home near Montreal, I was initially introduced to the country music genre that way. My mom also introduced me to singers like Shania Twain, Reba McEntire, Lady A and Carrie Underwood, and through these experiences, I fell in love with the genre for its down-to-earth lyrics and catchy melodies.

When I was 11, I was hospitalized for sepsis and a burst appendix. I spent three weeks in the hospital recovering from an invasive surgery. I was just a few weeks from turning 12 years old and I felt as though I had gotten a second chance at life. As odd as that might sound coming from a 12-year-old, experiences like the one I had just gone through really did change my view about life.

At the time, I also heard about this 13-year-old opera singer who was rapidly rising to fame for being so talented. I figured if she could do it, I probably could as well.

I began taking singing classes and tried to sing opera. I entered a variety of competitions and won first place when I was 13 years old. Winning first place meant that I got the chance to tour Quebec and parts of Ontario with a brass band and have my own set. That experience really made me enjoy performing on stage. I continued to sing opera music until I was 15 years old. Even so, I had no attachment to the genre, so I decided to switch to country music after a conversation with my singing teacher. I’m sure that my first trip to Nashville a year earlier might have had something to do with that. Once I started singing country music, I began to write it as well.

When I was 16 years old, I got the chance to return to Nashville for the second time and to perform at the Bluebird Cafe during an open mic night. It’s a moment I will forever remember because it was a step forward towards being the performer I wanted to be in the city where I wanted to do it. It was the moment I wanted to make music and share stories that I believed that listeners would relate to and that maybe someday, I would be able to share their stories as well.

Today, I live most of the year in Nashville. I’ve written and performed with amazing musicians around town and I’m wrapping up my debut EP of tracks I’ve recorded right here in town. Never would 13-year-old me singing opera have ever believed that I would be living out my country music dream in Nashville. But here I am, and this dream came true.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

Destin Cavazos, vocalist/bassist: Hey there! This is Destin, Alec and Henry and we are exPorter out of Santa Barbara, California. Usually we’re out here promoting our shows but this time we’re going to tell you all about shows that have made us cry… or almost cry. I don’t know how many shows we’ve seen between the three of us but it’s a lot and there have been some pretty special ones for sure.

Henry Kish, drummer: Well, I can't say I've ever cried at a show but whenever I see a band I love live for the first time, I always have this weird feeling of realization that these people actually exist. It’s almost a guilty thing, as if, “how have I never heard of this band before” but no crying.

Alec Cavazos, vocalist/guitarist: Yeah, I’ve cried at a couple of shows and they’re mostly Blink-182/Tom DeLonge related. He’s the reason I play guitar today and one time Blink came to the Santa Barbara Bowl so we were all stoked to go see that show. 

For Tasche de la Rocha, New Orleans was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was just 14 years old when she first visited, helping provide relief to the Hurricane Katrina disaster. She knew becoming a resident was her end game, and knowing that became her motivation to graduate high school.

As she settled into her new city, she also settled into her career as a musician.

“New Orleans made me a musician,” she said. “I was lost in the past, singing songs to get me through life like some kind of meditation, escape. It’s New Orleans that taught me rhythm and celebration through pain. I love that and will carry that forever.”

Performing as Tasche and the Psychedelic Roses has been everything she ever dreamed of. Since releasing her self-titled album, she has taken those experiences and discovered how exactly she wants to make music moving forward.

First and foremost, she learned strategy and teamwork. She worked alongside over a dozen people who were a part of making the album, and made sure that everyone understood and could help bring her ideas to life.

She learned everything about herself. She is comfortable and confident in her creation process, and now feels the same about “taking the reins and spearheading a project into completion when my heart is in it.”

“The album I just put out was ambitious for me and I gave it everything I could,” she said. “I wanted to do one big production with all the moving parts present. I plan to make it easier for myself in the future. Every time I record, It makes the next thing seem more possible. I think a lot of people have an easier time recording albums once they have done it a few times. It’s inspiring and exciting to think about what is next.”

Some of the songs on her album date back to her teenage years, however the album itself had been a six-year-long process. She describes it as long and challenging, especially the process of leading an eight-piece band, but she found that working alongside such talent gave her the exact experience she needed.

“I was in a deep depression when we recorded our album, possibly one of the darkest times I have had in my life,” she said. “Pushing myself through it and following through while trying to stay positive was rough. The whole thing was absolutely worth it. It was cathartic to make as it releases massive darkness coated in fun. It was rewarding working with my team and giving everyone a shining moment. I feel incredibly blessed with so much gratitude. Having finished this big project is the most relieving and satisfying of all. I got to spend time with my band who are all incredibly busy people who are hard to pin down which was one of my favorite parts. I encourage people to record despite how daunting it can be. Capturing a moment in time is irreplaceable.”

The songs on the album share a central theme of unapologetic transformation. de la Rocha believes that most people connect with “Hook”, which is about not existing for anyone’s pleasure or validation. It is also about escape, which she feels like listeners really find relief in. Her favorite track these days is “Pretty Things”, which is one of her favorites to play live.

“The tempo change in the center of the song takes me to another place completely, some kind of sexy rock island with glitter caves,” she said. “It [captures] a mindscape of trying to stay strong when feeling weak and turning to a higher source to find inner power. It’s romantic, holds tension and longing but strives for independence. These are all things I enjoy and feel often. I don’t know if people relate to it as much as other songs on the album but I like the idea of it touching the few that need to hear those feelings.”

To think that one visit to New Orleans sparked an entire life journey is almost unimaginable. Tasche and the Psychedelic Roses is much more than the current project for Tasche de la Rocha. It is a never-ending love letter to the place that made her who she is today.

“New Orleans changed my life, possibly saved my life,” she said. “There are many facets of the ever-evolving music community in New Orleans. Musicians here are my family. We take care of each other and encourage each other to grow. It’s rad to see people I've known for years develop their sounds and progress. Trying to refine what I have learned in the music community here into a few sentences is complicated because there is so much. There is so much amazing music in New Orleans! Massive talent. I’m honored to be amongst it.”