- Multicultural Baby Friend
- Skeleton Jar
- Europe, Europe
- Wilco (the crowd)
Marny Proudfit is a container. Oftentimes, more. A vessel for the feelings she has — the inconvenient ones, the ones that linger, the ones still finding their way back home. She’s a songwriter, a singer, a believer in examining things buried, forgotten or in need of light.
There’s the Marny who took piano lessons and sang in the church choir, questioning her native Ogden, Utah. The Marny who left the Mormon church in her late teens. The one who dropped out of Berklee College of Music, came out, and ran. The Marny who turned movement into music, rendering her feelings and those early adolescent stirrings into a catalog of honest, open songs.
All the while, she’s been inching forward into her own sonic chamber, echoing meaning into all the places her voice can reach — farther, farther, farther, still. She writes the same way she sings, with an arm outstretched and an eye to all directions, in order to understand the people and places she’s been, and where she’s still going. In the same breath, her voice swings like a pendulum between whispered vulnerability and proud, stouthearted bravado — grace and gall, silk and stone, one in the same.
For The Crowd EP, Marny traveled to Los Angeles, to settle in a backyard garage turned studio for three days of open recording sessions with producer Ellis Tucker. Six trembling giants, each their own story, recorded live in one take, with either a vintage Gretsch hollow-body, a borrowed Telecaster, or a 1974 Martin acoustic belonging to her mother. Six fleeting moments captured in all their grit, magic, noise, dust, and hiss, at once.
The Crowd EP is full of the people she is, the people she’s been, the people she still might be. Filled with poetic lyrics about self-identity, relationships, change and the cities she’s called home. The sound of two childhood friends, sitting side by side in a parked car under a small town streetlight. The sound of remembering a part of yourself you thought you’d forgotten. A sound like yesterday, today and tomorrow, and the next, and the next, and the next.