Sonya Cotton plays folk music with a delicacy and poise that perfectly complements her indelible singing voice. The songs on her second album Red River float along, as if bobbing along the titular waterway. But they are also weighed down with a sorrowful spirit, one exemplified most strongly by the album’s striking cover art. Cotton sounds at once joyous to be alive but horrified at what is happening the world around her. Much of this comes directly from the singer-songwriter’s life, as many songs on the album were inspired by watching her relationship and those of some close friends end. She speaks to it directly but also uses metaphor to also speak to the disintegrating relationship that humans have with nature. It’s an album you don’t walk away from easily, but the best records tend to have that effect on listeners. Cotton spoke with The Voice of Energy about her creative spirit, the inspirations behind the album, and her efforts to help positively impact the environment.
You started off studying visual arts, when did you become interested in writing and performing music? Or has this always be an interest of yours?
Growing up, my family often took trips to New York City to see Broadway musicals and dance performances and concerts. From a young age I was taken with the whole concept of stage performance. I loved the energy and the immediacy of it. I loved the exchange between the performers and the audience. Watching people express themselves creatively in that way really resonated in me. I remember sitting on the edge of my seat during Les Miserables, wishing so intensely that I was on stage too. So my intrigue with performance started young, and I pursued musical theater and dance through grade school and high school, and a little bit in college. But getting on stage and performing my own personal compositions, sharing my own words and melodies, I didn’t start exploring that until college. That sort of performance, for me, was (and still is) much more terrifying in a way, because I am putting my truest self out there, as opposed to a character or an interpreter of someone else’s work. But it also has the potential to be deeply rewarding.
What is the songwriting process like for you and your band? Does it start with you bringing a song or an idea to the rest of the group or do you all work together on each and every thing?
Every song on Red River is extremely personal, the inspiration drawn directly from my life or my dreams. So far my songwriting process has been very consistent: something moves me, and I write down some words about it. Then I pick up my guitar or ukulele and start to sing along with these words I’ve written. Once a song is effectively finished, I bring it to my band. Sometimes I’ll have harmonies or specific parts written when I approach the band with a new song, but more often everyone in the band brings their own ideas for their parts and I either say “Yes!” or “Let’s work on that together.”
What inspires you to start writing a song? Do you hear a melody in your head that you grasp on to or do you start with a lyrical or visual idea?
Often times it has been a feeling of sadness or despair that initially causes me to reach for a pen to start writing. In the process of writing I find solace, which is a really meaningful process for me. I find solace, I think, because there is something inherently hopeful about the act of creating, especially if that creation is in some way beautiful (a subjective term, of course). I aim to write songs that are beautiful, I think, because that is most comforting to my soul. I rarely, if ever, begin writing a song with a melodic idea. That always comes second to the emotion or idea expressed in words.
The cover of your new album is very striking. Was this taken when you actually came across a dead deer in the woods?
On the inside cover of my album, I’ve included a statement, because I think it’s vital that people understand why I chose to put this photo on the cover. I’d like to share it here:
The deer in the cover photograph was found dead by the roadside. I grew up in the suburbs of NJ and through the course of my life I have become accustomed to the sight of dead animals along the road. At times I have tuned it out or looked away. At times — when I’ve felt in touch with my truest, most connected self – it has affected me profoundly. When I began writing this collection of songs, several of the most important and defining relationships around me, as well as my own romantic relationship, were dissolving. I witnessed and felt a great deal of conflict, betrayal, and destruction, some of it perpetrated by me, and some by the people around me that I love. I dreamt frequently of the wreckage. It was embodied in the form of a dead deer, its body maimed and bloodied. Thus, the dead deer became a personal symbol of the painful aftermath of destructive behaviors. But for me the dead deer by the roadside has meaning that far transcends the symbolic. It is a wild creature for whom I feel deep respect and reverence, whose life was ended unjustly, and in violence. Throughout these songs, I aim to create a space of reflection and appreciation for what is wild and free, to confront and to question our propensity to destroy the things we care for, to mourn these losses, and to celebrate the hope that remains.
What brought about your interest in environmental issues?
A combination of nature and nurture, I think. Finding profound meaning and value in the natural world feels like an inherent part of me, a part of my heart, in the same way that my love for my family feels like a part of my heart. I don’t think anyone taught me to feel soulfully connected to animals and forests and rivers, I think that’s just in me somewhere. On the other hand, I have also seen a great deal of concern and care regarding environmental and animal welfare issues modeled for me by the most important person in my life: my mother. She was an environmentalist and an animal welfare advocate (some of the groups she worked for included: The International Fund for Animal Welfare, The Audubon Society, and most recently The American Bird Conservancy). Her work has always been very inspiring to me.
What can you tell me about your involvement with Shake Your Peace?
I sing harmonies in SYP!, an activist band led by my band-mate Gabe Dominguez. I’m on my way to being the rhythm guitar player as well. We’d like to restructure the band so that Gabe plays fiddle and I play guitar, but we both need some more practice before we’re ready for that. I’ve gone on three tours with Shake Your Peace! One bicycle tour in Utah, and two walking tours down the California coast.
The Shake Your Peace site lists one of your additions to the music as “tap dancing” – when did you start tapping?
I started tapping when I was in second grade. I’ve always loved to dance. Someday I’ll write an album of songs people can dance to.
Your site says that you plan on touring the northeast by train and foot – will you continue to tour like this?
That is my plan, and my hope. Train travel is pretty expensive these days, so I’m not sure how we’re going to afford it all, but I’m going to apply for some grant money soon, and we’ll do everything we can to make it happen. It feels like a meaningful statement, as well as a much more pleasant way of moving through the world. Hopefully more people will be turning to public transportation in the coming years, so prices (as well as emissions) will decrease. We had a train tour scheduled for this month, from Seattle to San Francisco, but unfortunately we’ve had to cancel it. (We are currently re-scheduling it.) It was heartbreaking, we worked so hard to book it, and it would have been our first train tour as a band. I think the only thing that could have possibly caused that tour to be canceled was a life-threatening medical emergency, and that’s exactly what happened to me two weeks ago. Crazy. But I am almost all recovered now, and soon it will happen. Next on the list will be the northeast.
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