Interview: Amanda Brown takes her pill & gets a thrill on debut album, ‘Dirty Water’

America was built on the back of oppression. It’s a hard pill of truth to swallow, but it has never been more evident than it is in 2018. White supremacists boldly walk the streets; people of color are slaughtered for just breathing, their bloody baking in the noon-day sun; and a so-called “president” spouts such bullshit as there being “very fine people on both sides.” To call this time in our history as troubling does a great disservice to the innocent lives being lost; it’s a downright, modern-day holocaust. Even in the darkest of times, immersed in daily tragedies, spammed by an unhinged maniac in the highest office and feeling completely defeated, hope can be extracted, applied and employed in our everyday lives.

Amanda Brown, famous for her stint on The Voice back in 2012 and as one of Adele’s trusty backup singers, is a ferocious and fearless woman. Her long-awaited debut record, Dirty Water (out today), is hewn with insight about her life, riddled with emotional strife, worry over raging police brutality and the weight of what life really means. “Out of her body, but she’s settled in her bones / Dancing for strangers when she thinks she’s alone,” she sings on “Take Your Pill,” lifting a mask of unruly insecurity clawing at her heart. In turn, she self-medicates with foreign toxins, which pump through her veins and funnel out even more of her worth. Written “during a dark time ⎯⎯ seems like I’ve had a lot of those,” she considers, the pulverizing rock slider outlines her pursuit for things to “make me feel better about myself,” she speaks rather openly in an interview with B-Sides & Badlands. “I wasn’t very happy or present. I was constantly judging myself.” Even with the song’s striking gravity, it’s a performance where she’s her freest self, tearing into vocal runs with style and bite.

“Glutton for Punishment” digs further into “how I saw myself at the time,” she says, switching gears with a hard-boiled folk song. “How many times have I walked to the river on the East Side wiping tears away as the wind hit my eyes?” she ambles to the water’s edge, her reflection staring back at her, lonesome pools hollowed out by misery and heartache. The New York City landscape, where she rents an apartment with her boyfriend, rising like shiny crystals around her, greenery trickling out below, and her soul somehow recharged through this unfiltered, cathartic routine. “Final Day,” an unflinching observance of death in numerous shapes, from illness to a police officer’s cruel and lethal attacks, is as vital a conversation piece as Childish Gambino’s “This is America,” both scrawled in bloodshed and cravings of freedom. “They tell you ‘hands up!’ / You comply ’cause it could all change in blinks of an eye,” she weeps, distressed and unmistakably unpinning what could be the final moments of one’s life. Brown packs an arsenal of vocal power, and through pulling back to comb each emotional nuance of the story, she offers a masterclass of honesty in storytelling.

“Let’s make memories stay / I hope you can never count the ways or all the times you heard me say ‘I love you to, I love you to my final day,'” she paints in gleaming brush strokes, further highlighting “the fleeting and sensitive nature of life,” she stresses. “[This song] was inspired by the passing of one of my childhood choir directors. She had a great influence on my early musical years, and I didn’t discover she was ill until it was too late. I was away when I discovered that she had passed and was unable to make it to her funeral. It still makes me sad to think I couldn’t honor her in song at her funeral, so this song is for her, Sister Maria.”

Dirty Water is cast in both ripples and roaring tidal waves, owed in large part to Brown’s songwriting credit on all 11 songs. While she allows the heart’s sunken moments to be fused into the album’s backbone, she commits herself in offering “words of empowerment and encouragement in the midst of social discord in our country,” she says, to herself and to whomever should stumble upon the music. With Andrew Sherman as producer, the album drifts between sweltering, front-porch-plucked blues (“No Good,” “So Right”), sleek ’80s power-pop (“Believers”), arena rock (“The Wild”) and spacious, ’70s folk (“Some Things”). Brown is a chameleon really, a Sister Rosetta Tharpe-level talent, and the stylistic ambition serves the themes, the lyrics, the stories quite well, allowing them to stand alone or as an efficient, soul-freeing whole.

Below, Brown discusses when the album began, what she observed about herself and the prominent folk touchstones threading the whole shebang together.

In what ways did taking your time before making your debut album ultimately mold your artistry and what you needed to say?

This project has been a long time in-the-making. I can say, I seriously started considering songwriting and a career as a solo artist during my years touring as a backing singer for Alicia Keys. By the end of 2009, I started writing songs and collaborating with other songwriters and producers. However, at that juncture, I didn’t yet know what I wanted to say or how I wanted to say it. It wasn’t until 2012, after the Voice, that I began to discover my artistic voice. I suppose I needed a bit more life experience in order to find it, and now, I’m grateful for the time it took because I am proud of the results.

When did this album start to take shape? Was there a moment that you knew it was time?

I’d say the album began to take shape around the middle of my time on Adele’s 25 World Tour. By that point, my producer and I had rough studio recordings of the band playing through number of tunes. When it came to me knowing when “it was time,” I suppose I didn’t. I’m a perfectionist, and if given the keys to the studio and unlimited funds, I’d stay in there all day and night tweaking songs. In that regard, it was helpful to have a producer and co-writers tell me, “This is great! Leave it alone!”

Through drawing upon real life, what did you observe about yourself and what did you learn?

[laughs] How long is this article going to be? I learned that it’s okay to be sad sometimes. Everyone gets sad. Many might think that’s an obvious one, but I always thought, if I wasn’t happy all the time, then I’d become someone that was sad all the time so I often ignored the sadness. Turns out that’s not so healthy. In embracing truths about myself and my reality through this record, I learned to love myself and to be kinder to myself.

Folk plays an important role on this album, as found with “Final Day,” for example. Did this song, in particular, always present itself that way or was that a conscious decision?

Many of my songs tend to present themselves as folksy numbers initially because of the way I write on guitar. I think I was a folk singer in another life. I sent my co-writer Colin Smith a muddy iPhone recording of “Final Day,” and between him and working with my producer, we naturally found our way to what the song is now.

“Dirty Water” is another exquisite performance, and it’s rather ominous. You are depicting deeply troubling anguish that most don’t talk about. What is your anguish you’re drawing upon here?

I was battling a number of things at the time: insecurities, relationship troubles and loneliness. One day, it was almost as if I couldn’t hold everything in and keep my composure. I became a puddle on the floor, and this song was the result.

You utilize the imagery of rain and water as you lament that rain is supposed to be cleansing or nurturing. How did this idea develop?

I was in my hotel room, lying in bed, trying to fall asleep and suddenly I started crying. I didn’t know why but I was crying and couldn’t stop. At the time, I thought I was being ridiculous! I was on an incredible tour, traveling the world and in the middle of making my first album. I felt I had no right to be sad about anything. In a effort to self-soothe, I started singing and these lyrics came to me: “Pitter patter on the linen / Pitter-patter on the floor / Everywhere I turn it’s raining / Tell me what’s it raining for…” That night, I emailed my songwriting partner Greg Tannen the idea, and the next day we finished the song via video chat.

How did it sum up your whole journey and become the title track?

In the past seven years, I’ve experienced more failure, heartbreak, love and success than I did in all the years before. This album is me acknowledging all of the sad and shitty experiences in my life that I chose to ignore and denied for a long time.

“Some Things” has stripped down, folk-driven arrangement, as well. You are honoring “the ones that we left behind long ago.” Who are they?

It’s a a tribute to our loved ones…our heroes…our ancestors…our youth.

“Broken Mirror” plays on the folk style, too. The sweet arrangement is juxtaposed against the heavy lyrics detailing the push and pull of a relationship. How did that playfulness evolve?

My boyfriend and I rented a cabin for a month to get away from the city and write music. We were just talking and experimenting with melodies and various ideas, and this song was birthed.

Why did you work mostly with Greg Tannen and [your boyfriend] Colin Smith for this album?

I wrote with a few other songwriters but Greg and I simply clicked. It’s very easy writing with him. Most of the time, the songs write themselves. Colin is my boyfriend, and there’s an intimacy there that I don’t have with anyone else. I tried not to think too much about why, I simply went with what felt like natural unions.

What kind of lessons did you learn from each other?

Both guys are far more experienced songwriters. They are each artists in their own right and better guitar players than I. They taught me to keep trying until an idea feels right and to trust myself. What they learned from me, you’d have to ask them.

Having watched you compete on The Voice, your voice has sharpened even more. The nuances are on full display here. Was that something you really worked on, being able to use your voice in different ways, from bombast to hushed whispers?

During this experience, I learned that singing live is a completely different skill from singing in the studio. It’s almost as if I had to learn how to sing again.

You bend genres so effortlessly on this album. Was that something you set about doing or was it organic?

I set out to be honest to myself, and to the songs, so I’d say it happened organically. My producer and I did what we felt would best serve each song, and I feel like each song on the album interacts well with the others.

Photo Credit: Shervin Lainez

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