Sitting alone at my kitchen table, I looked around my apartment – the place I had lived longer than anywhere besides my childhood home. As my eyes scanned the living room, they took in the empty hooks and dust frames where art had been hung, the empty guitar stands, the empty book shelves. I had lived in that apartment with my long-time partner for three years, until everything fell apart. It felt as though the apartment had been sliced in half – only half of the art, instruments, and books were missing, but our place – now my place – which had once been a safe haven, felt like an unbalanced prison. I noticed that all my plants were dying, which seemed a surprisingly accurate symbol for what had just happened, and I started to sing quietly – the words bouncing off the vaulted ceilings and dirty windows back into my mouth. "Don't you think it's funny that I haven't left the house, though this place is soaked in memories, and I cannot get them out?" I wrote the first iteration of know me better alone at the table, with nothing but the gut-wrenching feeling that I had been abandoned. After we broke up, my ex-partner said he needed space – that he wanted to be in my life, but it was too soon – and yet he would reach out every few days to check in on me, which left me simultaneously relieved and angry. Hence the accusatory chorus, "I'll give you what you want, but you should know me better... Don't try to act like this is not a death, I'm losing track of how this will end." As more time passed, though, I began to sink into the realization that relationships, and subsequently break-ups, are a two-way street. The song evolved as I healed, and I came to terms with my contribution to the pain. During production of this song, my friend (and roommate who had lived with us,) helped me re-write the bridge, which is now a much more honest and well-rounded depiction of the end of our story: "I let this go too far - the distance in who we are - you should know me... I put you down, ran my mouth, only to see it now: I don't know you, you don't know me..." I will always regret what happened last year, and I wish nothing but the best for my ex. He's an incredible person, and we supported and loved each other during some of the most formative years of our adulthood. All of this said, know me better is a break-up song for the hurting, for those trying to put the pieces back together, and for those who might need to just dance-cry the pain away.
alder lake, Leah Capelle’s new single, is a highly charged emotional journey within itself. In a statement, Capelle explains, “alder lake was written during a time in which I felt as if I was existing as a shell of a person. I was lost. I leaned heavily on self-destructive tendencies in an effort to find myself again. I needed to circle back, back to where I felt like myself, back to where I was happy. Alder Lake is a real place, a truly magical getaway that my family built in the woods on a river in Wisconsin. It’s home to some of my fondest lifelong memories, like skinny dipping with my best friends when we were 16. So this song, at its core, is about using little moments frozen in time to let go of past mistakes, and find fulfillment in the present.” An energetic, driving alternative rock song, alder lake kicks off an exciting new era for Leah Capelle.
Capelle has proven that she's got it all, a song for everyone and any human experience - whether you're looking for the perfect car karaoke jam or a much needed reminder that you are alive and you are beautiful. (Broadway World.)
“With the new music, I’m trying to create a blend of styles that somewhat differ from each other but all represent different facets of my personality. As such, the new music finally feels like authentic art, not just standalone songs. I think in words, not in images – so the collision of my lyrics and the corresponding artworks/visuals are all designed to embody not only a broader vision of who I am as an artist but as a human being, above all.”
GIANTS EP (2018)
With her imminent EP, Giants, Capelle probes her private encounters with self-identity, depression, anxiety, relationships, and internal and external constraints.
Encompassing five tracks, Giants opens with "Out Of Love," a pop-rock tune with dark textures and potent rhythmic pulses from the bassline and drums. Creamy with opaque colors, the melody undulates with thick flowing dynamism. Capelle's voice, plush and luscious, imbues the tune with elegant yet powerful tones and delectable sonority. "Docs" opens with tight, punk-flavored guitars atop a pop-rock melody shimmering with skintight energy. I love the melodic bridge leading to the gloriously resonant hook, like a wall of coruscating sound energized by brawny percussion."Walking With Giants" reflects buff bluesy flavors riding an alt rock tune. Lustrous vocal harmonies infuse the tune with depth and dimension. "Better Off" starts off with a tender, gentle guitar and Capelle's velvety tones. Delicious vocal harmonies bathe the song in elegant pigments. This is a beautifully poignant song.The last track, "Settle Down," opens with delicate harmonics swelling with gossamer textures. Capelle's voice attains honeyed allure, streaming with scintillating hues. When the tune ramps up, the surge of sonic energy is scrumptious and muscular. Capelle describes "Settle Down," saying, "If anything, 'Settle' is a letter to myself - a reminder that things WILL get better in time."
Giants is a giant EP, full of aesthetic grace and captivating harmonic textures, while Leah Capelle's voice provides the yummy icing on the musical cake.
Leah Capelle EP (2015)
In many ways, “driving in the rain” perfectly describes Leah Capelle: there are thunderclaps of excitement in every track, but the EP is also saturated with a familiar-feeling folksiness that, much like walls to hold back a torrential downpour, wraps up the listener in comforting warmth.
Leah Capelle manages to form its own identity by throwing a few pinches of pop-flavored seasoning into its musical gumbo. But the magic of Leah Capelle is in the little details. In the first track, “Would You Know,” whenever the vocals go, “Would you know what I’m here for,” or “Would you know what I left for,” the vocal melody is parroted by acoustic guitar. It’s a small touch, but it caps off each line like an unusually beefy period at the end of a musical sentence, and maintains melodic movement in the momentary absence of vocals. Every track is rife with similar small touches that, overall, strengthen the impact of the album. Every song feels lovingly constructed.
It’s difficult to level any complaints against Leah Capelle’s self-titled EP. It aims to satisfy listeners who want folksy music with a modern tint, and in that regard, Leah Capelle is a rousing success. It’s welcoming, beautiful, and utterly enjoyable. The harmonies are thicker than molasses, the singing is powerfully lovely, and every track drips with careful construction. Everything in Leah Capelle works the way it’s meant to, and fans of acoustic music owe it to themselves to give it a try.
-Josh Zimmerman, The Jailhouse