There are two sides to Brooke Austen. When I first met her at an open mic night in a less-than-sanitary Missouri dive bar. Slight of frame, pale, with black eyes and hair and a shimmering gold jacket, I initially took her the lost ghost of a late glam rocker. Brooke leads the “doom-blues” band Grandma Strange as singer and co-songwriter, crafting songs that are simultaneously eerie and alluring, brassy and uncanny.
“I’m sorry, let me turn down my Skyrim,” she laughs when I call her, videogame sounds clearly audible behind her. Offstage and in private, she laughs easily, her speaking voice, so gentle and light, quite unlike her singing voice. If you tried to pin Austen down, you might find it a little difficult. On one hand, she and her band cultivate a serious occult persona, but on the other hand she enjoys Harry Potter enough to even write a musical tribute.
“I figured Harry Potter deserved something doom-y,” she says, “I mean, the books are so metal, why not?”
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Photo curtesy of Brooke Austen. |
Songwriting affords Austen an opportunity to explore the aspects of her self that might, for various reasons, be a little difficult expose to public scrutiny.
“Darker aspects of my personality come out in my art,” Austen says, “I wouldn’t say I become a different person when I write. It shows more when I use it to create. But it’s always a part of myself.”
It’s more than just an interest in the occult or a preference for a “doom-y” sound that informs Austen’s songwriting. For Austen, writing plumbs the depths of identity. Growing up in the homogenously white and predominately Scotch-Irish Ozarks, Austen’s black hair and conspicuously black eyes set her apart from her peers. Yet, as a child, she had no clues to her ethnic heritage.
“It was like going through a strange limbo all the time,” Austen says, “I would always get the ‘What are you?’ kinda thing and I never knew how to respond.”
“Is that where your Trekkie comeback comes from?” I ask.
“That is where my response “I’m a betazoid” came from,” Austen laughs, “Now, it’s nice to have something to tell people.”
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Photo by Whitney Houseman
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After some recent digging through family memories and genealogical records, Brooke Austen finally found an ethnic tale to tell others.
“My mother’s side of the family comes, vaguely, from North Africa,” Austen says, “But much of my family history is very new to me. The town I grew up in is very white bread and people tend not to talk about that. But I think I'd feel comfortable claiming Native American, broadly European, and broadly African since I'm not entirely sure if my African – the Northern Arabized portion included – family ever actually lived in the states. A lot is still a mystery to me. Those are things I know for sure, but some is still guesswork.”
“Did that help strengthen your sense of identity?” I ask, “Does your heritage inform your art?”
“It makes me feel conflicted,” Austen replies, “But it’s definitely a balancing act between honoring all those parts, and art is definitely a way to do that.”
Perhaps most importantly, Brooke Austen’s discovery of a mixed heritage has made her feel closer to her favorite artist and inspiration, Frida Kahlo.
I relate to that in terms of ethnic and racial identity because she had German and Mexican heritage and often tried to honor the Mexican heritage,” Austen says, “It inspires me to use art to honor part of my heritage.”
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The Two Fridas |
In spite of her explorations of heritage, Austen still recognizes the problem of being someone with white privilege and, specifically, passing privilege. Austen lives in the state where Michael Brown was murdered, and in a region with a long history of persecution for black and mixed-race men and women, and as a result her position is one where her racial identity is prone to both erasure and the “privilege to be invisible”.
“Obviously I don’t feel like my life is in danger because I’m read this way. I can’t even claim to understand on that level, but I’m definitely very upset,” she sighs, “Yet, if I didn’t pass as easily, what would it be like?”
“The last thing I would want is to pull a Rachel Dolezal "I am everything on this planet!" claim, or something,” she laughs.
Grandma Strange’s most recent album, Nightingale, came out in 2015 (their first album, Highway Choir, was released in 2013), in the wake of Brooke’s new discoveries. The album’s, dark, smoky sound moves through the sexy “Got it Goin’ On” (“We call that one our ‘porn song’,” Austen laughs) and the “punk-cabaret of doom” sound of “The Builder” until the album climaxes with a two-part song called “Diaspora.”
Largely instrumental, “Diaspora” grew out of Austen’s feelings for the discovery of her heritage and it’s place in this racially divided world.
“It’s one of the most personal songs I’ve ever written. I always want people to be able to put their own spin on it, but this song is definitely more emotional for me,” Austen says, “It came from a place of homesickness for a place I’ve never been. My own family is really dispersed, and belonging to a diaspora is a major party of our own heritage. It’s about being connected, but also about being disconnected, and also trying to be sad about it I guess.”
“Have you ever thought about finding that place you’ve never been?” I asked, “Run away?”
“When I was 16 I had a large desire to do that,” she replies. She mentions the idea she once had of running away to South America, but now, writing is her Brazil.
“Writing is something I have to do in order to remain sane,” she says, “If I had to give advice, all I would say to people is ‘run with it’, and something good will come out of it as long as you’re true to yourself. Something bad might come out too, but the important part is not to judge yourself for your thoughts.”
Grandma Strange’s newest album, Nightingale, in all its doom-y glory, can be downloaded from their Bandcamp.
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From left to right, Brandon Tracy, Clinton Houseman, Brooke Austen, and Ryan Wallace. Photo by Whitney Houseman. |
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