Jessie Morrell

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Rupert; One thing that attracted me to the few YouTube videos I watched / listened to when you first got in touch, was how emotionally direct they were.  I guess the 'simple' piano & voice arrangement allows you to get to/bring out the song without anything unnecessary.  I love piano as well so that helped.  What's been your approach to, or attitude when writing & singing your own songs, v singing (e.g. Beatles) songs [i just watched your performing of Something] - and how has that changed over the last ...5 years?

I've always felt that with my videos and performances that are just piano based with singing, I can most effectively create an intimate, emotional space.  Successfully portraying the emotions and motivations behind the songs I play, whether they're my own or my interpretation of someone else's, has always been my top priority, as that's why I play in the first place!

I have grown a lot more comfortable in singing and performance over the past five years - I used to want to get through a performance as quickly as possible with my head down, but I now feel as though I'm able to put all the cards on the table and fully express my various life experiences through my songs and covers.  That performance of The Beatles' 'Something' that you refer to was a particularly meaningful one for me, as I had asked my partner at the time to stand in the opposite wing, so that I was essentially singing it to him.  When playing covers I try to 'make them my own'  in this way, attaching my own life experiences to them, meaning that the end result is pretty similar to how I approach playing my originals.

I'll tell you about 'I Could Be In A City'.  This song is possibly my favourite one that I've ever written, and I tend to play it at the end of my piano-based sets.

I wrote ICBIAC when I was 18, during the summer holiday between sixth-form and the start of university. I felt as though my whole life was about to change, and was wonderfully excited, but pretty scared at the same time.  I had grown so used to my very pleasant small town life with a great group of friends and my partner, but knew that better things were coming and that I was about to, hopefully, grow up, as we all moved away to cities across the country. 

The song describes how despite the excitement and potential of my new city life, a huge part of me felt as though it wouldn't do anything for me unless my partner was with me.  It is a typical old-fashioned love song, with the second verse going into how I could travel the world, climb up a mountain, and 'witness the finest view', but it still wouldn't mean anything to me unless he was there too - throughout the song I'm promising that throughout my future he will be there with me.  The final verse concludes this, imagining that I'm all grown-up and doing what I've always wanted to do - singing my songs to a crowd of people - and that they're all crying, over this song that I wrote for him.

The irony of the song is that all the promised future prospects with a specific person did not end up happening, and the fear of moving to a city and growing up individually did happen.  This makes it especially meaningful for me and those listening, because it reflects something realistic which I'm sure we've all shared at one point - the certainty of spending the future with someone, and it not coming true in the end. 

However, the part that did come true, and arguably the most important part, is the final verse - I am lucky enough to do what I have always wanted to do, which is singing the song for audiences, who do in fact cry when I sing it!

I feel I've grown considerably in the last five years! Five years ago I was 15, I had just finished being a chorister the year before, and I was starting at a new school. This also lined up with when I made some big decisions about my identity, as I had realised I felt more comfortable identifying as a transgender boy than as a girl – this is someone who was born female, but identifies as male. 

I worked hard on my songs over lockdown when my GCSE exams were cancelled, then started at sixth form college.  I fell in love in my second year of sixth form, and by the time I had finished my A Levels, I had started taking hormone replacement therapy (testosterone), in preparation for starting at university and seemingly starting of the rest of my life. 

I found my first year of university pretty difficult in terms of heartache, intense nostalgia, feeling as though I didn't fit in, not being used to the teaching style – all the usual first year experiences but to what felt like a bigger extreme than other people – and at the end of the year I completed all the stages of my gender transition as I had a double mastectomy. 

In between my first and second years of university I experienced a sort of grieving heartache, which I expressed through writing a play, which was then performed during my second year.  I was involved in a number of shows and musicals, I played with a few bands, I wrote more songs and uploaded my covers, I started to build my 'musical image' further.   I connected with musicians across the country and started to regularly travel to play gigs in London.  I found work as a gig reviewer.  Everything was coming together – when I realised that I needed to de-transition back to female!

I am now intent on furthering the beginnings of my musical career alongside talking openly about my experiences with identity and gender, in the hopes of helping others who may not feel they have a voice, as it can be a very touchy subject.  My 15-year-old self would never have imagined I would be openly talking about any of this sort of thing, let alone that I would be a woman, at 20-years old, but I hope he would be very proud of the things that I have experienced and achieved throughout the past half-decade.

My voice developed naturally as a chorister, as I had a strong tone, a large range especially in the higher area, and the illusion of good breath control! When I was fourteen and starting to question my identity, I grew very uncomfortable with the feminine nature of my voice, so my speaking voice naturally lowered and I worked to expand my lower singing range.  I split my voice into two – my 'chorister' voice, which I used as little as possible, and my chest voice, which I used for my more pop singing and was a lot more comfortable singing in.

I mentioned above that I took the hormone testosterone – I was on testosterone for two years, and one of the changes I most looked forward to on it was my voice breaking.  This happened pretty quickly, in the first four months of being on it, and I was very pleased with the results.  I kept singing throughout the treatment, meaning that I retained my singing abilities and was able to expand my lower ranges while keeping most of the higher ranges. 

The state it has eventually settled in is the following – the higher ranges have changed into more of a falsetto tone, there is a much clearer distinction between this and the chest voice, and this chest voice can now go a lot lower than previously.  My voice is now obviously much lower than a normal female voice, but I use it to my advantage – I can sing every choir part (soprano is at a push, of course) so I can sing songs in both male and female vocal ranges, and I can exercise this in my multi-tracked vocal harmonies for songs and covers.  Overall I am pleased to have my own unique vocal sound, which doesn't necessarily fit into the traditional categories of a female or male artist.

There is a show called Heartstopper on Netflix which I am an avid fan of.  This show is centred around the growing relationship of two teenagers, who go through their own personal hardship but come out stronger together, falling deeply in love and knowing each other like the back of their hands.  This leads to the assumption that they will stay together for the rest of their lives after all this wonderful development that they've had as a pair. 

But as someone who has been there and done that myself, the realistic question to ask is, how old are they? Is it likely that it will last when they are so young?  What if no matter how certain they are, it doesn't work out in the end?  If one were to experience that love and that loss themselves, it would leave them in the predicament of 'I'm living in the future that was never supposed to happen.'  It leaves one feeling like a disappointment to their past self, like their whole future is lost and thwarted, and that everything they know isn't quite true anymore.

That has been my experience and understanding of heartbreak, whether it be a relationship, a part of your own identity, a decision for your future - something you were so intensely sure about, not working out in the end.  The aftermath of the 'happy ever after', if you will.

I want anyone who resonates with that to be able to listen to something I've written and have the comfort that they are not the only person who has been through, or is going through, that experience.  I want people to listen to an infatuated 18-year-old singing I Could Be In A City and know that even though such a beautiful, definite feeling went wrong, one can still get through it and be alright.  I want people to watch the excited young lad singing I Saw Her Standing There in 2021 and know that his worst fear came true, and he – rather, she – was absolutely alright, and others can be as well.

So, there's that – but I also want people to be able to just enjoy my music for the sake of it too!  A lot of the time I'm just writing for fun, and I hope that a sense of enjoyment can be felt by anyone listening.