The Greys: Navigating Shadows and Light
by Jody Jenkins
Sometimes in music the darkness gets distilled down to a rich, coffee-hued nectar where only a hint of light shines through. Mary Gauthier is a good example. Her “Falling Out Of Love” is a song so excruciatingly opaque, from almost the first note you’re not quite sure you really want to go there. And yet it’s so nuanced, so self-evidently honest, it’s hard to resist the elevator to the basement. There’s a sort of salvation to going so dark because if you know nothing else, you know the only way out is up.
That’s what the “The Greys” do.
“I am generally a pretty emotionally closed off person,” says Chris Merritt, founder, bassist and co-songwriter for The Greys. “But when I write and perform, I leave it all out there.”
That kind of raw unburdening is something of an emotional trainwreck that’s hard not to look at if you’re prone to broken bones and tealeaves. There’s this sense that there are lessons to be learned here from kindred souls imparting wisdom from the universe.
“The references we make … are all rooted in this idea of navigating unknown spaces and the necessity of experiencing all gradients (of dark and light), … particularly the darkness,” says Cait, the singer, founder and the other half of the writing team.
On their website, they tout their album “The Landing” as an unapologetic look at mental health, haunting mistakes, coming to understand their own experiences with abuse and trying to find grounding in a world that conspires to spin out of control around them.
With their song “The Circus,” it’s quickly evident that the darkness isn’t always monotone.
“Everything I write comes out of intention and an expression of unfiltered emotions,” she says. She refers to the band as performance art rooted in poetry, which is evident in their show for Live At The Grid where there’s hints of “Beat” as she recites verse and the bass, keyboards and drums noodle about as though searching for a thread in something of the sonic doldrums. Then the music and words slowly trickle into a contemplative pool before coalescing into “The Circus.”
Chris’ bass suddenly starts clear talking, laying down a rhythmic certainty as Cait sassy struts backwards away from the microphone and you feel that little buzz of something unfolding, sudden direction amid the morass of feelings highlighted by Mara Penatzer’s Ray Manzarekesque keyboards that lend a constant haunting undertone reminiscent of The Doors to everything The Greys do. Josh Daniel’s crisp drums stake out a sudden sense of purpose and it’s quickly evident that the darkness isn’t always monotone.
How does one explain this loss of life
An unannounced hurricane, a kick and a bite
One moment all is new each day is amaze
Now you discuss what’s on the past page
They say time’s runnin out but that’s always been the case.
Cait writes the lyrics and poetry and most of the melodies while Chris composes the music and the main themes. They write simultaneously in a room together so each knows where the other is going. She said that at times, the process is akin to call and response, where each directly riffs off what the other is doing either musically or lyrically. While the subject matter tends towards weighty, she says the focus on the darker aspects of life isn’t an effort to romanticize emotional struggle but rather to come to terms with it.
“The Greys came at a time where I needed to dive in and explore that area of myself in a way that was genuine and unapologetic,” she said, referring to her emotional breakdown and the personal awakening that followed it. “Doing so saved my relationship to music, but it also saved my life in a lot of ways.
“I think most people can identify with this balance and daunting navigation of darkness and the haunting moments of our own lives and how we sometimes give that the power to turn us into something we didn’t see coming,” she said. “I think the only misconception there has been is that the intention is a glorification of said darkness, when in fact it’s more the necessity of acknowledgment to make room for growth or light.”
Cait and Chris originally performed as a duo of voice and standup bass and the sound and content were stripped down and raw. It held “a built in sense of tension and confrontation” as Cait put it, and they allowed themselves to go wherever that edge took them. They later met drummer Josh Daniel at Holyoke Community College and keyboardist Mara Penatzer while studying jazz at UMass. From the start everyone was on the same page musically and temperamentally and Josh and Mara helped expand the vision for the music.
“I think Chris and I were able to learn to access a certain vulnerability when it was just us two, that we were then able to learn from and build on when those guys came in ready to completely dive in with us,” Cait said. “Them along with our past guitar player Jerrod Campion were the exact people we wanted to join us if anyone did. From the very beginning they got it without any explanation and they have climbed into the depths with us and allowed for a whole new exploration into how we can express this music as a whole.”
Listening to songs like “Slip,” labels such as blues or beat or indie don’t seem to quite capture what it is The Greys do … Independent mornings turn to co dependent nights … The sparsity of the bass riffs and the distant rattle of tambourine seem like elements of incantation, mingled with lyrical exploration of wound and wonder. There’s a mesmerizing quality to it all that’s something akin to the genie slipping out of the musical bottle.
For now they’re working on consolidating the band as a foursome and plan a tour later this year with Mad Habits, who are coming soon to Live At The Grid. They’re also working on their first full-length, full-band album while building a presence in the Valley, all the while carving out that particular space they alone seem to inhabit, that multi-hued area somewhere between the darkness and the light.
Jody Jenkins is a writer and filmmaker living in Northampton. He is the editor of The Collective.
