For Ebony Harris, it isn’t just about the music.
“I view myself as my own brand, my own company,” she explains to me one morning on a Zoom call over tea. Commonly spotted in funky pants, eccentric coats, and cow print, Ebony Harris is an experience to see live. “If I can be as authentic as possible, that helps me create, and it makes my creation more digestible.”
For me, it only took about ten seconds of watching her perform with her brother, Miles Harris, as “The Harris Twins,” to recognize the sheer magic that was in the room. Raw talent aside, she is a born performer — and it’s always been that way.
“I was singing before I was talking,” she laughs. “My first CD was this Beyoncé World Tour disc, that had at least twenty-two songs on it.” Chosen simply because of the sheer length of the tracklist, it ended up becoming an integral part of her formation as an artist.
“I would just watch it over and over, and I would study it. Every single day. Everything that Beyoncé did. The way that she commanded her band, the way that she used the stage, the way that she changed her outfits — it was an entire performance.”
It strikes me during our conversation that this concept is a major part of what sets Ebony Harris apart: she doesn’t view performance as merely the communication of art — she views it as an art in and of itself.
Surprisingly enough, the stage wasn’t always so comfortable for her: there was a time when it was an anxiety-inducing experience. “And then one day it just clicked,” she explains. “People still like the performance even when I don’t. They’re more forgiving than we give them credit for.”
The “click moment” — as she refers to it — is imperative to performance: it is only after the “click” that an artist can truly deliver what the audience is after.
“That’s why performers exist,” she says simply. “People want to see expressions of life that are uncaged.”
Currently, Ebony is a part of three groups: The Harris Twins, Miles Harris and the Deep Cuts, and her solo work, under her own name. These groups all offer something completely different from the rest. “The things I do with other people are more melodic,” she explains. “My solo stuff is mainly rap, and spoken word.”
Sonically similar to artists like Noname, Ebony’s songwriting has been its own unique — and fairly recent — journey. “For a while, I kind of convinced myself I couldn’t write songs,” she says. After all, her main instrument, the cornet, wasn’t entirely conducive to vocal accompaniment.
These days, it’s a completely different story.
Not only is she planning a single release in April, and an album after that — she’s recently started performing her solo work. A few weeks ago was her debut solo set as Ebony Harris, at the Wild Buffalo. “It was the most important show I’ve ever done,” she says.
Accompanied by just a microphone and a backtrack created with friend and bandmate Jeremiah Austin, Ebony Harris’ debut solo performance began. “It was the first time I’d been nervous in like, ten years,” she remembers. “I cried right before.”
The journey that the Wild Buffalo set followed runs parallel to Ebony’s own performance journey, in a way. “No one got anywhere new because they were comfortable,” she points out. “The only way to change is to be slightly uncomfortable.” Beginning with songs that follow themes of frustration, anxiety, and losing one’s self, she rounded out the show with songs telling moments of self-discovery, and acceptance.
Hearing her recount the night’s events, I find myself impressed by the amount of vulnerability she exudes on the stage. Her lyricism comes from long spells of introspection and spinning over phrases that, to the average person, may not carry much weight; but for Ebony, turn into rabbit holes that can spur thought-provoking lyrics.
“I got stuck on the idea of — ‘a penny for your thoughts,'” she starts. “If someone thinks about me, does that mean I’m a penny? What is a penny? A penny is valuable, a penny is not valuable; it depends on how you look at it.”
She collects fragments of ideas like these in her phone’s notes app, considering them to be puzzle pieces intended to flesh out concepts. Perhaps the lines themselves will find their way into the final song, and perhaps they won’t; but for Ebony, it isn’t so much about that — it’s about slowly finding the way to articulate the message behind these thoughts; a message that will eventually fit into the Ebony Harris brand.
“I think the line I ended up with was like, ‘look at the luck, you’re a penny in somebody’s pocket. Genuine copper just ‘cause they bought you therapy shopping,'” she says.
And if someday a song she writes no longer fits in with her mindset? It’s a feeling every songwriter knows well: you write a song in one headspace, and people end up liking it. Years later, you’re still performing it, even if it doesn’t feel true to where you’re at anymore. For Ebony, her commitment to authenticity disagrees with that sentiment.
“I’ll just rewrite it,” she shrugs. “I’m sure one day there’ll be a song everyone won’t let die and I just can’t fuckin’ stand anymore. I’m gonna rewrite it. And everyone’s gonna be a little miffed. Eventually, they’ll like that version better.” She pauses, then raises her mug of tea to the screen. “And then I’ll rewrite it again.”
Such is the Ebony Harris way: authenticity, to the core. And, in some ways, we have Beyonce herself to thank for it. “I was really fortunate to have stumbled across that Beyonce CD,” she says. “It was a really cool example of being able to do everything within the spectrum of music on the stage.”
That particular tour, as she points out, was an all-women’s tour: the entire band was comprised of women, as well as the backup dancers and her crew. Perhaps this is part of what planted the seeds of an idea Ebony mentions to me, right before we are poised to end the interview: Pickleback Collective, a women’s collective named after a pickleback shot.
Ebony describes the idea as a resource comprised of producers, stagehands, lighting/sound technicians, musicians, and more that are women, femme, and nonbinary. She wants there to be a resource for people to choose from while planning events.
“Currently, if I play a show here, it’s run by men, for men,” she explains. “It feels like I’m being fit into this small space because it works for everybody else.” Her vision includes women not only in the creative role, but as the intended audience; a future where the scene is a space for women to feel like other people care about what they have to say, and that they are talented in their own right — not just for men’s enjoyment.
“Aw man, what women can do? This town isn’t ready.”
Catch Ebony Harris performing on April 18th at the Wild Buffalo, opening for Dizzy Wright, and at Summer Meltdown with Miles Harris and the Deep Cuts.