L.A. Shit

Gracie Horse weaves stories into her songs. On L.A. Shit, her debut record with Wharf Cat, she takes us into the past half a decade of her life. We see her as a traveling nurse, living in big blue expanse of Wyoming, dancing with a man in a crisp white Stetson, eating chicken wings in a hazmat suit, commenting on how strange a place like Los Angeles can be, how loaded it is with wannabe cowboys and fast food restaurants. It’s a record of immaculate country music, the kind of stuff you’d put on blast in your truck as you drive down empty stretches of highway. It’s also a vulnerable record, full of lyrics about the intensity of being alive, all told with a sense of humor and self-awareness. While some of the songs on L.A. Shit are over a decade old, Gracie started writing the record in earnest during the pandemic. She’s a nurse, injured her neck in the line of duty, and suddenly found herself out of work. She had a creative explosion, putting memories into words and melodies in her home studio that she shared with her husband. Particles of songs from years past became beautifully realized. Everything was clicking in the way that it should. She found herself able to express the sometimes inexpressible. She did what all good country music should do: she created a patchwork of experiences in a way that is both deeply earnest and absolutely charming.