Sarah Brosch

I wrote my first song when I was seven. It was a sweet little Easter ballad called “He is Risen.”

I had my first heartbreak when I was seventeen. The songs that followed were not so sweet.

Many years and countless songs later, I’m still that seventeen-year-old. I still allow my feelings to devour me. I’m still consumed with a sense of intense longing for the things I desire. I’m still a mess in painful progress. We all are.

I write from the place inside that both doesn’t want to be seen and is dying to be released; the place logic has abandoned and where raw emotion reigns. Being able to walk the depths of that void and purge those feelings into song has saved my life.

Music has saved my life.

I grew up on a healthy diet of Alanis Morissette, Fiona Apple, The Cranberries, No Doubt, Jewel and the like. As a result, my sound is often described as a nod to the nineties and the female artists of that decade. If Lilith Fair was still a thing, my set would fit comfortably wedged between Tori Amos and Lisa Loeb.

My day job is gigging around the Midwest. I enjoy interacting with the fascinating people I meet at my gigs. I’d also be happy never interacting with anyone but cats for the remainder of my life.

I often sincerely wish it was either 1984 or 1992. I am a pop culture and useless music facts junkie.

I have a great affection for hair metal and it makes me happier than almost anything. Except maybe cats.