We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Brynn Allison a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Brynn, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today It’s always helpful to hear about times when someone’s had to take a risk – how did they think through the decision, why did they take the risk, and what ended up happening. We’d love to hear about a risk you’ve taken.

Taking risks is part of the creative process. If I’m not constantly scaring the shit out of myself, I’m not pushing myself hard enough in either life, writing, performing, or creating. When I graduated from theatre school last May, I felt directionless; it was both thrilling and terrifying simultaneously. I’ve never felt so alive.

This year I moved to LA from Michigan, and I started writing about this incredibly transitional period of my life and redefining what “home” means to a 22-year-old newborn adult. Shortly after the move, I was connected with a studio in Boston whose mission was crowdfunding and music all in one. Although it was a dream come true to be seen as a “studio-worthy” artist by professional musicians, I found myself terrified: I would have to ask my friends, family, fans, and strangers on the internet for money to invest in my creative vision. Now that’s a risk. What if nobody cared or listened? What if I would be shouting into the void? And what if I didn’t get to come back to a place that made me feel seen, valued, and heard as a songwriter? Throughout those six weeks, I kept coming back to the affirmation, “I am not afraid to be seen trying.” If I didn’t raise the exact dollar amount… at least I tried. At least I asked. The worst thing I could hear was “no.” And it worked.

$12,000 almost 150 donors later, I am so excited to start recording my dream record this year with Plaid Dog. It’s absolutely because of the generosity and community support of people who care about storytelling, human connection, and what I try to build into the worlds of my music. But I also want to give credit to myself for taking that risk in the first place, to ask to be heard, during the shakiest time in my personal life. I’m taking it day by day. Scaring yourself wears you out sometimes, but it’s worth it.

Brynn, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

I grew up in the midwest and had a very imaginative childhood with theatre and music at the center. I don’t remember a time I wasn’t making up songs in my head. My parents, siblings, and family are incredible musicians, creatives, and goofballs. When I was 13, my Dad pulled his Epiphone guitar out of his office and I was determined to learn a few chords; the rest is history. My first love was musical theater, and I pursued a degree in Directing. Songwriting and directing are both world-building, so it felt like a natural progression.

I made 2 EPs in high school and college, both I’m incredibly proud of and feel like perfect time capsules for my life at 15 and 19. Looking back on it now, I was frustrated never feeling like I fit into a genre, I fell under the umbrella of folk but was raised in Michigan bluegrass, sonically and structurally my songs are very theatrical, but my dream is to make sparkly pop music. Only when I moved to LA did I start to break away from trying to define my genre-it’s just another box meant to limit us. What I care about most is storytelling and vulnerability, and leaning into who Brynnie is, rather than what I think I should be or write to gain commercial success or build a brand. One of my favorite things about my life now is that I don’t dress up as a character for 8 shows a week like I thought I would as a kid. I just get to be me. Authenticity is key.

In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?

The mentality of one our successes is all our successes is everything to me. Show up to see your friend’s live shows, stream and share their work, buy their merch, and engage with their socials. It’s the absolute least we can do in a capitalist society that shits on artists for merely caring about something deeper. I think songwriters are only making .0033 cents per Spotify stream these days. I’d say a good 98% of us aren’t in this for money. The people I surround myself with are people I want to learn from as creatives, producers, writers, performers, and especially, non-artists. It’s in my community I find my reason to keep making stuff. We owe it to ourselves to create and collaborate with people who want to make the world a better place. If art can’t be a vision for change, what’s the point?

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

There’s no gold medal for being the most stressed, sick, and unhappy version of yourself for your art.

The endless grind will not serve you. Burnout will not serve you. I unfortunately think I will be learning this lesson for the rest of my life in many different ways. I learned it in theatre the hard way, and I will never get that time back. Anyone in a strenuous program where you feel like you have to prove yourself to your peers, professors, and parents, artist or not, can attest to the pressure you put on yourself and how it will wear you down and beat you up if you’re not careful. It took a huge toll on my body.

I’ve been sick my whole life in one way or another, but during my senior year of theatre school, I ended up in the ER more than a few times during my fall semester. They kept sending me home with UTIs but with no proof, and I just knew something bigger was wrong. Turns out, it was a resurgence of my Endometriosis, a chronic illness that affects 1 in 8 AFAB folks, growing unnecessary tissue that usually grows inside the uterus anywhere in the body and causing pain, infertility, and a whole other group of fun side effects. Recent studies have even shown it can grow on the brain. There is no cure. Currently, the only way to treat it is through laparoscopic surgery to remove scar tissue, and I needed it ASAP.

I still have Endometriosis and I will for the rest of my life. The difference between then and now? I’m determined not to take anything in life too seriously, and try to face every performance, open mic, studio session, collaborator, or fan with the most immense amount of gratitude and love first. These are all just moments I get to live because I chose music as a kid for some reason, and because when I was young, a Doctor gave me a name and tools to take this illness head-on instead of living in fear of it. I love my body and art too much to let myself get to the point of drowning in it again.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://linktr.ee/brynnallisonmusic
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brynnallisonmusic/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/brynnallisonmusic/

Image Credits

Jake Douglas
Spencer Moore