Shenandoah SOundcheck

anmara brings Dream folk to hARRISONBURG

“I’m in constant search for that deep knowing of why the arts are valuable.”

By Jake Dodohara, October 9th, 2023

“I climbed over the misty mountain / Fog swallowed my body whole / when I arrived on the other side, I’d left my time far behind,” Shenandoah artist Anmara sings on her eerie song “Misty Mountain.” The song is one of many of her tracks inspired by the Valley’s natural features, with its accompanying video featuring Anmara singing in a barren forest. Anmara’s worked as a musician for the past decade, writing and producing multiple albums that she describes as “a mix of organic synth pop, ethereal electronica and dream folk.” 

Shenandoah Soundcheck got the chance to speak with Anmara about her journey as a musical artist and what it takes to be a creative figure in the Shenandoah Valley. 

Hi Anmara! In your own words, who are you and what’s your background in the creative space? 

I grew up just outside of Harrisonburg. I grew up playing piano when I was eight. I first started songwriting when I was 13. I’d always liked writing poetry, but I watched the movie “Moulin Rouge,” and I was just so moved by it that I came home and wrote a song.  

I went to college at Warren Wilson College in North Carolina. As a freshman, I wasn’t super stoked on the class, so, I got a little bored. I discovered this college that was kind of like a sister college in Arizona, [Prescott College, and they had a one-month wilderness orientation. I was like: “Ooh, I want to go straight out in the wilderness and just explore a totally different landscape” 

As time went on, I self-selected for the more artsy classes. I [took] “Nature in Dance” where we went out to this huge canyon and like, danced naked — that was an expensive frolic. With that [same professor], we had a “Women’s Wisdom and Nature” class where we got together and tuned into the moon and bared our souls to each other. And when I started it, it was like someone turned on the faucet, the storm clouds opened. I just started writing lots of songs. And I guess I wrote an album at that point. 

When did you begin to record and release music? 

[During] my year at Warren Wilson College, I had some songs built up from while I was there. For Christmas, I wanted to make an album and just give it to my people instead of [giving them] Christmas presents. That’s one thing about me. You might not get Christmas presents; you might get albums. There happened to be a woman at [Warren Wilson] who had studied independently how to record, and she needed somebody to record for her senior project. So, she recorded me. It’s kind of fortuitous that it worked out because there wasn’t really a music program there.  

And then once I was in Prescott College, I went on some travels. I met some musicians, and I had this awakening where I realized you didn’t have to be Katy Perry or Enya to make music. [Prescott College] had grant money for students to do independent projects and if they didn’t use it all, it just got recycled. So, I would go to the meeting where they would allocate all the money and there would still be someone’s dog. And I’d be like, I really want to do this project, and you should give me the money. And I’d be like, “Well, because it’s just going to disappear if you don’t.’ 

You’re a go-getter, and I love that. As a creative, what does your process look like? What’s your day-to-day routine when you’re writing or recording a song?

No two songs are quite the same path. [Live] shows are kind of a big part of my process. Because once I have that show in the books, I’m like, “Okay, you’ve got to rehearse.” Rehearsing can get a little redundant to me, so my creative spark will start noodling around. That’s where the bulk of my songs come from, I’ll just start writing kind of on accident, out of sheer boredom. 

If I’m drawn back to [the song], if it’s stuck in my head, there’s this feeling of seeing it in my blood. I feel it in my body, specifically, the water particles in my body. And then I come back to it. And yeah, I just keep coming back to it. I’ll even step away from it for a while, I’ll be like, “I don’t know if this one is good. I’m just going to table it and stop performing it for a while.” 

How do you think performing and writing music in the Shenandoah Valley benefits the local community or any community for that matter? 

I’m in a constant search for that deep knowing of why the arts are valuable. One thing I love about music is bringing the community together. It’s a reason to get together and have a good time. My friend told me, “You know, I used to play music, but now I’m too busy.” I’m not sure that’s an excuse. But you know, we all have only so many hours in the day, so many things we want to do. She’s said “going to shows kind of satisfies that, because I don’t have time or energy to put towards making my own music. If I go out and hear music, it kind of feeds my need for music.” 

I believe it can be cathartic for people who are disconnected from their emotions. It can connect me to my hidden emotions, especially in the past when I had more stuff going on subconsciously. It was like a bridge to understanding myself better and processing things that I don’t know what to do with in my conscious mind.  

Music is innately subliminally spiritual. I would argue that it is because it’s connected to that part of our brain that connects to something bigger and beyond the material plane, because so much of our lives are like we see it, we touch it, taste it, do it. And music is like swirling around us, and you can’t see it, but it’s making us feel things. My friend pointed out that a lot of religions use music to create this cohesive religious experience, so I just try to keep that in mind. 

A lot of your music and videos mention mountains and forests and different parts of nature. What is it about nature that is so inspiring to you and how does it inform your work? 

Growing up, I didn’t feel very connected to my family. We didn’t have good communication tools or self-reflection, but we did have a [land lot] next door that my dad bought and he just kind of let it be semi-wild. It was a big meadow, and then a bunch of big trees encircling it. Maybe I just was antisocial, and nature had something for me 

I feel so sad when I look back on my life and have seen so much of the Valley get developed. And that’s called “progress.” When I was little, there was this little magical glen that we would visit just outside our neighborhood. There were really soft grasses, it was this little oasis. It’s this perfect, peaceful place in my memory in the cornfields. And yeah, that got developed and that was sad.

Lately, nature has been coming more and more into my music because what I care about is shining through my music more. 

Is there any advice you’d offer to artists who have grown up in rural areas? 

I want to believe that if you just make music that is really dope it will get shared, it will be listened to. It might not be true because there is so much music out there. But two of my favorite creators are living in extremely rural areas — they are on YouTube, with videography being their main thing. But they are also musicians, artists and dancers.  

They have this hopeful belief that you can be extremely rural, and still have like a vast global audience, if what you’re doing is compelling, beautiful and refined enough or just resonant. It doesn’t have to be any of those things, as long as people feel like you’re expressing something for them that they need to hear.

Just start with the tribe you already have — your family and friends — and try to grow outwards from there.

Interview has been edited and condensed for clarity and length.