Music drifts across the apartment as I walk back to grab a different lens from my bag. Aimee sits on her bed; guitar in her lap and lyric books spread in front of her. She’s working on a new song with a catchy hook and a gentle melody.
I can hear tinges of her influences, including Patty Griffin and Norah Jones along with the subtle blending of Harlem jazz, rockabilly, and folk music, woven across her music. Their commonality being the emphasis on vulnerable, story-telling and a deep connection to their place of origin.
"I think music just ... has a way of cutting into the soul and into feelings that are hard to reach any other way. We make the art that we make because it's a part of ourselves that we want to carry outside so that other people can see it." says Aimee.
Through her new album, Enough, Aimee's voice rises and falls, saturated with nuanced feeling. She soars across an ode to finding a home far away from family in No One Can Tell Us No. Then she maintains her strength while letting us into the grief of her mom's passing a few years ago through, Enough, a song sung with mournful hope to her mother
"I remember, when my mom died, not being able to play or sing for several months afterward. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Then one day it just felt like the time. I ended up sitting down with my guitar on my couch and playing through one of my favorite Patty Griffin songs. I was crying all the way through it, but in a way that felt cathartic and healing... It felt like she was there with me a little bit ... That opened up being able to get back into it again and sort of, move through."
Somewhere in the middle of our session, we have a cup of tea together, bonding over our mutual love for Harry Potter via a mug that turns into the Marauder's Map when it gets hot. This nerdiness is a perfect example of the thing I love about Aimee, she's willing to talk about all her perceived shortcomings, but she's also unequivocally herself.