Grace Gardner wears many hats.
A black belt in Tae Kwon Do, proficient in 10 musical instruments, introspective while also being a bit of a TikTok star –
Maybe that’s why I’ve been struggling to find the words to describe her sound. I immediately though SZA – there’s melancholy dripping from every line. Then Aurora, for the ethereal quality, but Grace’s music never quite lifts to that high more than it drops into a delicious bridge and digs in. Madison Beer’s “Stained Glass” is a similar evocative, power ballad with interesting melodic forays, but Grace’s music is decidedly more indie – but though indie act Weyes Blood shares the cinematic, atmospheric quality, even that sound is too foggy to capture Grace’s grounded vocals.
This isn’t a bad thing (well, maybe for me, as someone who’s meant to be good at comparing these kinds of things), but it simply illustrates the unique quality of Grace Gardner’s music. Having learned music growing up in the Church and self producing, her persona carries similarities to Ethel Cain – her bridges so strong, and Southern charm drilling into harshly honest break up anthems decidedly Swiftian.
But again – not quite right.
Grace’s single “Scorpions Don’t Live Forever” is just as difficult to pinpoint, frequently switching point-of-views. At times she’s the scorpion; in other moments the scorpion represents her fears and anxiety. She hates the subject of her longing almost as much as she seems to yearn for her, mired in that muddy mix of conflicting feelings.
It’s in fact this contradiction, this impossible-to-define quality that fills the song with such an otherworldly sound.
You’ve been on my mind, you’ve been on hers
I wonder if you took the time to get better or let yourself feel worse
I feel unhuman in the way I hate you
There’s blue blood coursing through me in dark veins, I keep it cool
The beat is surprisingly light, upbeat at the intro – the guitar moves us forward with a repeating lick. Grace’s lyricism quickly shows itself to be poetic, evocative, rhythmic. At times she experiments with the production style, particularly in the second verse as she distorts the line “drown out the noise” in a way that ornaments and elevates the experience.
The chorus is a masterclass in songwriting; the melodic arrangement is almost shapeless, like those one-line drawings that seem to suggest an idea through many loops.
Like a hawk in the sky, planning when to make the nosedive
Rattlesnakes in the grass blades, you’ll only see me under black light
I got an impulsive habit to break and a secret that I can’t shake
The stinger hanging over my head pointed at you for my sake
You know, scorpions don’t live forever, and that keeps me awake
As the sound swells, the bridge sweeps in into full space, the building imagery of the song splashing into full-desert with threats of sandstorms and heated haze. But then the dust settles, the poison never left the stinger; the hawk never landed; the desert, again, is cold and eerily quiet.
A quick perusal of Grace’s discography will show you she’s a master of encapsulating that quick, heated moment of rage, confusion, or jealousy. It’s deeply cathartic to find someone whose music is about build-up and release, no matter how negative or messy the feelings being stirred up are.
Having teased herself on her own social media for the image of the scorpion turning into a metaphor for her abandonment issues, I can’t help but applaud Grace for her vulnerability – as well as notice that, for what it’s worth, she’s created a piece of art so tangible, so powerful that it will always carry her forward and be by her side. That’s the beauty of art. What you make is yours, and often times it’s connected to something we can barely understand outside of us.
So Grace Gardner wears many hats. And the take away?
