From a young age, Amy Martin knew she wanted to be a musician and that country music, in particular, was calling her name.
“My mom was a karaoke DJ at night, so I spent a lot of my childhood going to karaoke bars and sang karaoke my first time on stage, I’d say I was about 6 years old,” she explains. “I sang ‘Life #9,’ which was a Martina McBride song, and I was so afraid to sing it by myself. My mom remembers me saying in the bathroom, before I went on, I was like, ‘I want to sing, but my tummy doesn’t want me to sing.’ But she had, unbeknownst to me, told the sound guy to cut her mic. And so she was singing but wasn’t amplified. And so I was singing, belting, at 6 years old, and the crowd went wild. And from that moment on, she couldn’t get me down.”
Martin threw herself full-force into music, from learning more songs and choreography to perform on stage to eventually joining a bluegrass band, Many Nights. Growing up in Virginia, it was easy to find access to the best country music and get involved with the scene, but it more challenging to reconcile with an emerging queer identity.
“There was something about being within the genre and being in the area of Virginia, toeing that line as an LGBTQ person, that it just felt like, for whatever reason—I’m not blaming it on the genre itself, but the combination of it all—I just felt like I wasn’t really able to fully express myself as a musician and as a singer-songwriter,” she explains. “I was writing songs and changing the pronouns, toeing the line, making it a little more acceptable to play in these spaces where we kind of bridge the gap between the old folks that love it because it sounds like what they used to flatfoot to on the porch with their grandad and the college kids who love it because I was singing and rapping T.I.”
Like many, Martin did some soul searching during the pandemic and decided to take a step back from her band and put out a personal, solo EP—one that expanded out beyond the scope of bluegrass and touched on her identity. This decision ultimately culminated with her leaving Virginia for Colorado and deciding to focus on her solo career instead of fronting the band.
“It was my ‘jump into the deep end’ moment of, like, alright, I’m a solo artist now, so who is Amy Martin if she isn’t the vocalist of a bluegrass band, if she isn’t in Harrisonburg, Virginia, toeing the line as a queer person, being the quote unquote ‘exception?’ You hear a bit of that story in my latest single, ‘Antebellum Town,’ because growing up in the capital of the Confederacy, in conservative Virginia, it wasn’t safe to be out. Socially, it wasn’t safe. There was an expectation for a long time when I was on stage that I was available and single and straight, and my sexuality was kind of neither here nor there.”
This was especially frustrating for Martin because, in her personal life, she certainly was not in the closet. She explored her sexuality early on and had her first girlfriend in high school. But in Virginia, it always seemed that she could never be truly all the way out and accepted, and that especially held true in the country music and bluegrass space.
“I was wearing a lot of different hats,” she says. “I had a group of people where it was cool to be gay, and then a different group of people where I had to keep that under wraps in order for them to be comfortable, and I think that’s often the story of queer people in general. Part of our growing up is understanding that, in many cases, we have to build a bubble of safety and authenticity for our own safety. And once that bubble is popped, or if you remove yourself from that environment, you’re able to take a full look at yourself.”
Now, her music is more of an extension of her identity, and thus, her take on all areas of life. Acknowledging the privilege she had in Virginia as a white person, she is also interested in tackling race issues and standing up against institutionalized racism in her songs.
“We had the Unite the Right rally that happened in 2017 out in Charlottesville, where white supremacists came to town and out of the woodwork, all over the fact that we were wanting to remove some of the Confederate statues that are harmful because they’re glorifying the Confederacy all throughout the town. There’s tons of battlegrounds or statues erected everywhere; our schools are named after them; our roads are named after them. I mean, just absolute glorification to the nines, and that resulted in the death of a counter protester when a car was driven through a side street.”
“Antebellum Town” was written on January 6, as she watched alongside millions of Americans in horror as the Capitol was stormed. It came from a place of living in fear because the Confederate flag hangs next to the American flag across town, and because her partner wasn’t acknowledged as any more than her roommate when she lived in Charlottesville. So, like the song says, she got the hell out of there and came to Denver.
“It’s wonderful to be in a town where I can hold my girlfriend’s hand walking down the street, where I’m not the only lesbian who is out,” she says. “I chose Denver because I felt like it had a little bit of everything: job opportunities, mountains, community, and a nice-sized music scene.”
Since being in Denver, Martin has immersed herself in that scene, playing recurring shows with women-run brewery Lady Justice Brewery and queer-positive events like the recent LoHi Lifestyle music and Pride festival in Sunnyside. And she’s going to keep making music. Look out for her next single, “Traveling on (42),” about Virginia highway driving, out this month. Most of all, she is going to keep telling her story.
“LGBTQ people are afraid right now, and our rights are potentially on the chopping block next, and I think it’s important to share our queer stories,” Martin concludes. “I understand the privilege in leaving and coming to Denver; I understand the privilege even in writing ‘Antebellum Town’ and putting that out there. But I think it’s important to leverage that conversation, and I hope every queer person knows, even if they just skim over this article, that they are loved, and they are a gift to this world exactly how they are.”
To keep up to date with Amy Martin, follow her at amymartinmusic.com.
Photos Courtesy of Ayla RM Photographer
