Grace Ives is back with her first new songs since 2022’s Janky Star. The pop artist produced “Avalanche,” “Dance With Me,” and “My Mans” with Ariel Rechtshaid and John DeBold. She also wrote “Dance With Me” with the two of them, while penning “Avalanche” and “My Mans” with just DeBold. Listen to the three tracks below.
To go with the songs, Ives released a lengthy statement on the journey that brought her to the new music. Find that below.
Grace Ives:
This music is a step outside of the house. It’s ambitious in its attempt to capture my will to change. I’ve always waited around for things to get better in my life rather than taking action and responsibility. I’ve stayed at jobs that I hated for far too long, stayed inside or in bed for days ignoring outside advice, hurting my body and asking God to make my pain go away instead of breaking my own destructive cycles. In 2023, after touring Janky Star, I hit a true rock bottom and have been finding my way out of the dark hole I dug for myself since then. I was drinking, lying and hiding. I fell down stairs; I called out sick; I stole; I was a shitty girlfriend, a bad daughter; I abandoned the few friends I had; I cried and vomited beyond bile. Gross. When I finally stopped drinking, I stopped lying. I gave up trying to control everything and let life take over. I saw my life clearly. Yes, I was miserable—my boyfriend haaaated me (valid), my friends and family were disappointed and hurt (fair), and my tailbone was FUCKED—but I actually saw my life for what it was: a disaster! I had abandoned myself, abandoned my path, abandoned music and love. I snapped out of it and made a slow-motion return to my place in the world.
What I write about in this music follows this story of my “crash out,” if you will—a life of drinking and hiding and hurting that ended in betrayal and hospital bills galore, and the will to change that followed. It’s the confidence of the storm and the clarity in the calm of the aftermath (douchey). I’ve lived in one place my whole life. I’ve loved one person my whole life—and I believe this is beautiful, but I’ve had an honest desire to experience more that hadn’t been actualized until I came to California to write.
In and out of the studio, I felt myself existing in a world bigger than my house in Brooklyn. I wrote in different libraries all over LA, trying to figure out what to say in these songs. Somehow, this time around, I felt safer out in the world than I did holed up in my nest. Like trying to be a good person while surrounded by new places and people was a more secure plan than trying to change all alone at home. I felt safe getting lost, driving with friends, driving alone. Stopping in random motels and going down wrong roads felt way less dangerous than the life of falling, flailing and sneaking around I had gotten so used to in New York. Out in the open, in the wild, on the road, there was nowhere for me to hide. Nothing to steal. Nothing to chase. It’s a proper antidote to self-inflicted isolation and sedation.
This music feels more real to me than anything I’ve made before. I’ve played more instruments in the past year making this record than I’ve played in the majority of my life. I’ve let my heart and my hands work freely. I wanted to live in LA alone. I lived in LA alone. I wanted people to trust me. I tried to be open and treat people with more sincerity. I learned how to drive. I drove. The sky expanded around me and reminded me that I was not, in fact, the center of the universe. Just a small part of it. Thank god.
This era of my life feels like freedom. There’s still some shrapnel on the ground from my chaotic years, but it doesn’t drag me down so much. I think I can hear this in the music. The songs I’ve made feel spacious, clear and confident. I feel their darkness, but also their buzzing energy to keep moving. The music is serious, but also bursting with joy. I talk more these days, I say yes to plans, fall in love with strangers and try to fix the things I break. I’ve been on a road, and I’m a confident driver (maybe to a fault). I’m not lonely, I’m alive and I’m laughing, and I feel my heart beat really fast, and it doesn’t scare me like it used to. I’m really here, and I’m trying not to hide or bail.