A little acoustic version of my 80s synth style  track while you wait for the EP. Turn on your LED’s, put in some headphones, and vibe with me for a while...

Thank you for being so patient with me while I put out music. I love each and every single one of you💜💜💜💜

Xoxo Grae Violett

Not Gonna Try (Acoustic Version) by Grae Violett accompanied by Embre

Taken from my paper:

For my final project, I decided to touch on the BLM movement and my personal experiences around it. I was around 10 or 11 when Trayvon Martin died. He wasn’t quite a person to me yet. Mike Brown, Tamir Rice...after a while I got desensitized. I was too young to realize just how awful these deaths were. I was young and for as long as I could remember my parents consoled me by telling me that these events would never happen to me. I was respectful, I always kept myself busy, and I was kind. I’m sure they had the best intentions but this comfort also brought competition and an intense desire to stay on the right side of society, because if I did I could avoid racist attacks. I didn’t see these deaths for what they were. I saw them as unfortunate accidents, potentially avoidable. This self-righteousness camouflaged an intense fear I had.

Fast forward to last year. I’m an adult now. A young adult who, on paper, is nearly flawless. I code-switch beautifully, never raising my voice in anger or disapproval. I have interned at Arts organizations and my name is common among people in those spaces. Because of the intense cruelty, I dealt with in Arts spaces I’ve used my voice to help make spaces safe for everyone. I do my best to make everyone around me feel safe. I’m enrolled at a great school, my dream school no less. I live in a fancy dorm building in Seattle.

From the start, my freshman year was riddled with racial unrest, micro-aggressions, bullying and trauma. Suddenly these deaths don’t seem so far away. Suddenly I’m walking the streets of Seattle and having police officers stare at me menacingly as I walk past them. Suddenly I’m in my dorm across from the police station and I can hear them talking (rather graphically) about what they’d do to peaceful protesters, some of whom I know. I’m seeing election decisions and so many people want to hear my voice yet no one seems to hear my cries for help. As I do in these situations, I turn to art.

The spoken word that you hear was pre-written by me very late last year. I wanted to capture the feeling of realizing that no matter what you do, who you work to impress, those who don’t want to will never see your humanity. I knew I wanted to use this poem for my project, and as I was continuously reading it the word “bittersweet” popped into my head.

All of the singing is improvised in some way. The chorus-like breaks in the poems were thought of on the spot, as well as the placement.  I really wanted to capture that sense of loss and uncertainty that I’ve been feeling since last summer. I decided to use repetition to describe that feeling of going around in circles until you slowly realize new things about yourself. I also knew that the subject matter spoken about was very rough, and I wanted to give myself and the listener space to process and take a break from the spoken content. Towards the middle, I used just the word “bittersweet” to highlight the points in the poem that I wanted to intensify. I chose that word because of its multi-faceted meaning. The “bitter” is the death and pain and the constant state of fear I’m forced to live in. The “sweet” is the sense of pride I found in my strength and resilience and self-discovery.

The last several sung lines are from the spoken word piece. I thought that they would switch up the back and forth and audibly capture the “aha” moment I had when I realized that if I was going to be treated unfairly regardless I might as well be myself, and embrace the parts of my culture that felt right to me. This was a heavily emotional piece, so the last three lines were a way of comforting myself, and I wanted to capture that vulnerability. I wanted to show that although I’m an artist creating an artistic social commentary, I’m also a person. When black artists speak about trauma we can’t just applaud and leave. We have to hold space for them and realize the extreme energetic burden it is to turn trauma into art.

Periwinkle Teardrops: A Poetic Reflection/Complaint/Call to Action

So I’ve been crying for a while now
Internally 
Externally 
To the point where I sneeze teardrops and my coughs stain the atmosphere a haunting shade of blue
Periwinkle is my favorite color
I say it’s because it’s ethereal 
That’s my favorite word
Maybe because it starts on its own but ends with real
Like how I tried to start my adulthood on my own
But now I gotta be real
Gotta acknowledge that I’m broke and anxious and scarred in so many places that these tears only reach half of them
And the parts that they don’t reach
Can’t clean
Can’t wash away
Can’t make new
Just fester into hard edges and more issues
To the point where I love yous are attached to an “until”
Until I find someone better
Until I find someone new
And I know I’ve just met you but I already think everything you tell me is bullshit
Yet these obvious lies are euphoric 
That’s another favorite word of mine 
It makes me feel like I’m being caressed by clouds and tickled by stars 
And maybe cuddled by eclipses
Insisting on good intentions only makes the truth hurt more because through these euphoric lens I’ve gained common sense and that says every love is temporary 
And in this manic pixie dream even the best lovers are never as flawless as they seem so
I’ve learned to keep good memories tucked away because one day I’ll need to dip into those  savings
I’m saving myself
I think
But if an alluring smile and trauma based tattoos meets my eye I’ll find myself waking up tangled in sheets that aren’t mine and I’ll look at myself in the mirror and feel shame because once again I gave in
But last night we were ethereal
Our pleasures were cast into the ether when they joined
Until the sun rose and we became real
I became real
I became a body 
That had housed so many bodies
And I told myself I’d remember each and every single one but it’s become impossible
Each name a distant memory that I don’t quite regret but I wish I could do differently
Maybe that’s why I’ve been crying for a while now
Because I just stopped being a child how did 
I think I knew everything
Last summer 
Why did I do everything I was told not to do So now...now...now I'm an adult and time is constantly slipping away and bliss is something that I’m scared I’ll forever lose 
And normally I’d say I’m okay 
But it’s 3am and we’ve been talking for hours and usually I don’t share this much but I feel like I can with you
After all I’m queer
And we’re known to overshare
So yeah I’ve been crying for a while now
So much that I can see the ghost of tears on your face
And I’ll offer my arms I’ll offer my ears I’ll offer my care in case you’re in the same space as I am
But I’ll never trust you to not make me blue 
Periwinkle 
Ethereal
Real 
Euphorically 
Whole 
Again

To the Next Beautiful Queer I Meet (or match)With on Tinder

I wrote this song because I was sick of stories about changing yourself and breaking boundaries because of someone new. In the age of self-care, I felt like it was important to reflect that in a song, even one about love. I wanted to create a story about setting healthy boundaries, taking me-time, and what that discussion would look like with a potential partner. 

The idea for the title came when I visited my favorite uncle in NYC. I told him about wanting to go to the Village because of their amazing thrift stores and tea shops. I told him that I literally just wanted to vibe and drink some good tea and buy some cheap denim. He told me I should turn that into a song, so I did.

Anyways, the title is dedicated to him, but the words are written for you, and they serve as a reminder to me. Put on your comfiest pair of mom jeans, pour yourself some of your best tea, and enjoy.

Good Tea & Cheap Denim

This goes out to all my black gay women and non-men who are doing their best to find and show love despite being in a world that teaches us we’re unlovable. Even when we fail, it’s an act of radical vulnerability to try at love. This goes to all my black queer couples who had to tell each other “let’s try this again a different time”. To everyone who made it through thanksgiving but not to Christmas. This is to all my people trying their best to heal, even they’re imperfect. I hear you, I see you, I love you.

OUTROOOO

A moody dance song for all my beautiful outcasts out there ☺️🖤

Real

Aleyanna Grae is a singer, songwriter, and poet residing in Seattle, WA. As a black queer non-binary artist, they aim to tell the stories that oftentimes go untold, and give people a sense of belonging. With deep lyricism, wailing guitars, and melancholy melodies, they’re carving a special lane for themselves in “alt pop that got invited to the cookout”. They invite you to grab some tea, turn on your fairy lights, and listen to the ethereal musical experience that is…Aleyanna Grae.

You can find them on IG @grae.dreamer, , tiktok @graedreamer, and all other streaming platforms as Aleyanna Grae

Aleyanna Grae

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