A misty day in Portland; I’m sitting at a picnic table across from the front woman of Portland’s own bedroom punk band, JULIE. I’ve known Michelle Graham, the lead singer, since high school. The first time we hung out she nonchalantly picked up the guitar and sang Fleet Foxes’ “Helplessness Blues” into a microphone and I’ve been in love ever since. There’s a cathartic quality to her lyricism and a rawness to her voice. Having been friends for a long time, one could assume I’m biased to her talent, though I think not. The vulnerability of JULIE’s music provides a sense of relief, and I wanted to pick her brain about it; specifically, her childhood in music and how JULIE came to be.
Music as Therapy
Graham was surrounded in music from as early as she can remember. Her grandpa played trumpet and flute and much to my surprise, was friends with Louis Armstrong. Everyone on her mom’s side of the family played music, including her mom, who sang telegrams in her 20’s, played in bands and was offered to go to Hollywood to be a musician. She turned down the offer, though, to focus on raising her three year-old daughter, Graham’s sister. Graham’s mom had many business endeavors, one of which was buying and selling guitars, which were always lying around the house. Her love and connection to the guitar became a pertinent aspect of her life and emotional well-being, just as it had been for her mother. “Weirdly, I feel like I’m her reincarnated, because she sang songs on an acoustic guitar that she wrote, and we look so similar so I feel like I am just her living her life over again in a different generation.”
She started writing songs as early as 11 or 12, which began as poems and then became lyrics. Between the wrath of middle school and a chaotic home life, music was a solitary refuge to express what otherwise could not be expressed.
“It was my therapy. I was so fucking depressed because middle school sucks…it was the only thing I could do in my room alone to get my feelings out.”
Graham and I connected over a love for music and the written word. We met in a high school English class and began attending a poetry club after school. We laugh over what now seems like such innocence; we’d sit on each other’s bed’s, sharing poetry and songs. She was always playing guitar and singing. I’d often record her on my ipod nano.
After high school she moved to Seattle and admits she stopped playing music. She worked long hours managing a coffee shop and struggled with depression. After leaving a troublesome relationship, she wrote her first song in years, “All I Wanna Do.” The track is a great representation of an inner transition; an acknowledgement of depression and an opportunity to blossom out of a dark place. After a blurry four years in Seattle, she moved back to Portland in September 2018 with “All I Wanna Do” and the intention to pursue music.
The Creation of JULIE
A longtime friend, London Bauman, hit her up to jam. Like many bands at the beginning of inception, they congregated in a garage with an interesting combination of haphazard equipment and rusty musical talent. Shaking her head in between fits of laughter, she describes the band’s first garage sessions:
“We got yelled at by the neighbors. It sounded like shit. Our amps were all buzzing. We had to hang a microphone from the beam on the ceiling because we didn’t have a mic stand.”
Regardless of the lack of a studio, let alone a mic stand, she shared the lyrics to “All I Wanna Do” and the song was written in one session. The ease of writing the song signaled an immediate connection between bandmates and Graham’s eager intention to move beyond stagnancy and into full creative expression.
With time, two members were added to the band, Bryan Corona and Dilan Barajas. Corona, who plays lead guitar, was a old time music buddy in high school. She met Barajas, the drummer, through Corona. Bauman is the bassist and also provides vocals, and Graham plays rhythm guitar and is the lead singer. Graham gushes over her bandmates talents and their unique contributions to the band, describing them like brothers. Bauman has many talents; he sings, writes music, plays several different instruments, has written screenplays, and acts in musicals. Corona joined later, when Graham felt the band needed an additional element. “He [Corona] is so talented and I felt like our band was lacking something,” she said. “Him and Dilan both, their input is very good. At certain parts in the song, usually it’s Dilan, he’ll stop and be like ‘What if we changed this or that’ and I love that because every single time it sounds so much better. But I get stubborn and sassy, and then I’m like ‘You were right,” she laughs.
“So the name of your band,” I hesitate, “It’s because you Juul?” We both burst into laughter over the ridiculousness of the question.
“We were trying to come up with a band name and we couldn’t figure it out for a long time. And I would always be Juuling. They would try to start the song and I would be hitting my Juul and they’re like ‘C’mon Julie!”
JULIE’s First EP
They’re new EP was released on Bandcamp and Soundcloud in May. It’s evident that the album was written from a place of personal honesty, felt through the vulnerability of Graham and Bauman’s singing, both interweaving between softness and borderline screams over the top of jangling guitar chords.
The first song, ‘Proximity’, is about missed connections. The beginning guitar riff is a perfect start to the album; cacophonous guitar chords open up the song, reminiscent of Vampire Weekend or Best Coast. Personally, it provokes the feeling of knowing there are problems in your life; either you are in love with someone but it’s not working out, or you’re going through a break-up, or you’re dealing with personally conflicting emotions, but the sun is out and you’re hopeful. It’s like you’re longing for something and you have this blind faith in the uncertainty of the outcome. “It’s about liking someone — you both like each other and you see each other around all the time but you somehow keep missing your connection,” she said.
The yearning for love in Proximity falls to the more melancholic “All I Wanna Do” which, as detailed before, was the first song Graham wrote after returning from Seattle. It touches on her experiences with depression, describing a lack of desire to do anything but “watch TV/and smoke some weed/and watch TV/till my eyes bleed.” The song depicts Graham coming to terms with how certain behaviors fucked up relationships with herself and others around her, and realizing how she could release those patterns and move on. “I know you’re giving up and it’s cause I fucked up/I can’t really blame you at all/I act like I’m four years old,” she sings. The song doesn’t carry an air of self-hatred, but rather a recognition of the feelings that many of us experience on a daily basis; knowing you messed up, sadness, grief, a desire to grow. “I know, sooner or later I’m gonna have to grow/I’m sick of kicking back and taking it slow.”
Bauman wrote track number three, “Fears in 3.” This song deals with holding your feelings in and being fearful to express them. He sings, “I was the kind of person who/never let things out of my mouth…roll me up in a carpet baby/ and throw me off the nearest dock.”
The last song, “Sorry,” is a feminist anthem through and through. Graham wrote the lyrics about an ex from Seattle. Like many relationships, it began with giddiness and passion, only to end in many different expressions of pain and heartbreak. Though Graham says she needed to get out of the relationship and was happy it finally ended, she also described feeling bad about the way things came to a close. “I picked up and left. I broke his heart and he was calling me all the time crying. I felt genuinely bad about it, which is why I wrote the lyric “I had to leave and get a grip on my life/I hope you do the same and I hope you forgive me one day.”
The album is an epic manifesto; a representation and manifestation of acknowledging your pitfalls and growing into a thing of beauty. It’s also a powerful symbol for other aspiring female musicians. Being a woman in the music industry, especially in the punk/emo/hard scene, can be a tough gig, much like any job that lacks female representation. She describes some of her biggest musical inspirations as Best Coast, Snail Mail, Hinds and Phoebe Bridgers, all female led musical projects.
“Almost every band I listen to is a female lead because, first of all, women are awesome, but I’m also just inspired by that,” she said. “There are so many women coming up in the industry who are the face of the band. Usually, though, women are just the subject in songs by dudes.”
Covid-19 has been very difficult for those in the music industry, whose livelihood is often dependent on live shows and ticket sales. JULIE, like many bands, have been struggling to figure out what do under the limited circumstances of quarantine and the closure of bars and venues nationwide. She said they had shows lined up at local bars and venues that they had to cancel, as well. I asked her what fans can do to support musicians during these trying times.
“Keep listening to musicians you really like, get their streams up, buy merch. I know it’s hard because no one has a fucking job, but if you can spare 20 bucks, buy a shirt! Regardless, though, just spread the word.”
You can listen to JULIE’s new self-titled EP on Spotify, Bandcamp and Soundcloud.
Photo Credit: Clara Navaille
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