The quiet storm of Merce Lemon

The singer/songwriter - currently on a brief vacation before continuing her US tour before some UK dates supporting Waxahatchee - exudes a grounded presence that feels deeply connected to her roots and the organic evolution of her artistry. Her third album, Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild – released last August – was the sounds of an artist settling into their own unique sonic skin while remaining fiercely open to new influences and collaborations.

Lemon’s musical journey began not with a grand declaration but with a deeply ingrained immersion in Pittsburgh’s vibrant grassroots scenes. "I've been going to DIY shows since I was a baby," she recounts, “When people ask what was your first show, I have no recollection of it, you know, I was the kid with the huge noise-cancelling headphones on.”

It’s a testament to a childhood steeped in music and its familial legacy - both her parents played in bands, and were huge music lovers – which fostered an environment where creativity was the default setting. Lemon formed an acapella band in her pre-teens with her sister and a bunch of friends, and then put together a punk band at the tender age of 12. “I was kind of the leader, writing all the songs,” she tells me, “but the instrumentation kind of came after.” She taught herself guitar at 17, googling "how to play the C shape on YouTube." It’s an approach that underscores the core philosophy of her songwriting: the melody and words come first, the vehicle for expression follows.

Lemon’s sound is imbued with country and folk undertones, and woven from an eclectic mix of influences, thanks in part to her parents’ music taste. “I feel like I was very lucky in the way that I was just immersed in music that I still love," she reflects. "A lot of the music that is still my favourite music is stuff that my parents showed me." Icons like Gillian Welch, whose Revelator album "never gets old," and George Jones, a childhood favourite, laid foundational stones for Lemon – but a rebellious streak also emerged. Lemon vividly recalls discovering Black Sabbath in sixth grade, prompting paternal intervention. "My dad was like what the fuck are you listening to? You can't start there!" she tells me. This anecdote perfectly encapsulates Lemon’s sound: deeply resonant, melodically driven folk-country, with an underlying appreciation for raw, unexpected power. "I have still often been drawn to more folk country leading music. That's very melody and harmony driven. That's my favourite stuff," she asserts.

The period between Lemon’s second and third albums, punctuated by the pandemic, proved to be a transformative space. "There was not this immediate pressure to be putting things out," she explains. The unexpected pause allowed her a natural break from writing and a period of "exploring in my life outside of music." The time, far from a hinderance, heavily inspired the songs that emerged. Watch Me Drive Them Dogs Wild – a collection spanning half a decade of "collaging ideas and found moments” – demonstrates a growth in Lemon's craft. “The songs I ended up making came very naturally; I never really set out to write this last record. The oldest song on the record is five years old,” she explains, “but there's a little more intention behind the songs that I'm making now. I definitely spend more time on them and craft them more intentionally."

That shift extends to her approach to collaboration. While primarily a solo artist, Lemon’s band has become an integral part of both her live sound and recorded output. “It’s not a solo album," she clarifies. "It's such a band album… I love hearing people's ideas and trying different things. It doesn't just exist in a vacuum."

The influence of her community is profound: Fust’s Aaron Dowdy and Colin Miller, both "huge Inspirations" as well as good friends, have impacted Lemon’s work, with Miller even texting lyrics that found their way into songs. This symbiotic relationship is crucial: "I really lean on other people for perspective,” she tells me.

When discussing instrumentation, Lemon's eyes light up at the mention of the violin. "I just like that it can be such an emotional instrument," she muses, noting a growing desire for more musicians on stage: "The more I play, the more people I want on stage with me, it just makes it so fun."

Beyond music, her creative energy found an unusual outlet during the pandemic: spoon carving. Inspired by a YouTube video of Richard Proenneke, a man who built a cabin with hand tools in Alaska, Lemon embarked on a fervent journey into the craft. “He was sitting in his cabin for the first time and was like ‘well now I need something to eat out of,’ and he carved a spoon and a bowl by hand," she recounts. This intensely tactile hobby offered unexpected connections. The search for "green wood" led Lemon to a deeper understanding of nature: "I could smell some trees and know what kind of tree it was. Some have very distinct smells!”