GREYISHERE

THE RISK FACTOR
'Redefining Vulnerability in Music and Mental Health'
Exclusive Interview with GREYISHERE
Featured in 'Innerviews'
Hosted by Allié McGuire

​From the shadows of his bedroom studio in Milwaukee to the vibrant music scene of Chicago, GREYISHERE has been building more than just a sound—he’s been building a movement. With original production, fearless vulnerability, and a genre-blurring approach, GREYISHERE is pushing the boundaries as a music artist. At the heart of it all is his unshakable message: music is a lifeline for mental health and a rallying cry for those navigating the storm.

ALLIÉ: For those who are just meeting you for the very first time, if you had to introduce yourself not as an artist but as the person behind the music—who are you, besides GREYISHERE?

GREYISHERE: Man, I don’t know—I’m just me. It’s kind of hard to explain. I feel like I’m very all over the place sometimes. Sometimes I still feel like I’m 10 years old—into one thing one week and another the next. That’s why I try to show people who I am instead of just telling them. Whether it’s through music, graphic design, video editing, or how I present myself in general—I want my work to do the talking. If I just walk up to someone and say, “Hey, this is me, A, B, and C,” it feels less genuine. So yeah, that’s my answer—even if it’s not really an answer.
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ALLIÉ: I like that your work speaks for you, and that to understand you is to experience you through your art.

GREYISHERE: And it’s not an ego thing—I’m not trying to be 'Mr. Different'. It’s just hard to know where to start when someone asks who I am. That’s why I love conversation—it leads into a collage of ideas and perspectives. You learn about someone before they even tell you who they are.

ALLIÉ: That’s a great answer, my friend. Let’s move to the next one. You started making music in your bedroom closet back in Milwaukee, long before anybody knew your name. When you think back to those early days, what was driving you to create then—and how is that different from what fuels your fire now?

GREYISHERE: As a 14 or 15-year-old kid, I was rebelling against everything—angry, mischievous, just being a kid. I was going through a lot mentally, which is why bands like Twenty One Pilots meant so much to me. Their music made me feel less alone, and I wanted to do that for others.

When I first started, it was an outlet. I’d literally put pen to paper, and a lot of what I wrote was like poetry—just spilling thoughts. Looking back, I realize how vulnerable it was. Music became my way of working through things I didn’t feel I could talk about.

As I grew older, it became more of a community thing. I made an Instagram, started sharing, and friends from high school began listening. Suddenly it wasn’t just me being sad—it was me being sad with other people. I started making music that reflected what we were all going through, but in a way that was fun or cool to listen to.

Now, it’s a mix of both—still deeply personal but also fun. I push myself more, experiment more, and look at it with some business sense. I love marketing—figuring out how to get my music out there—but without losing the authenticity. The message always comes first.

ALLIÉ: Listening to your music, it doesn’t just sound raw—it feels raw. You’ve also been clear about using your voice to push mental health awareness. When you sit down to create, how much of it is therapy for you, and how much is advocacy for others?

GREYISHERE: It’s both. My last full-length albums, Dragon Scale Tea and Brother Tide, are very personal to me. A lot of times when I was making those, I’d talk about things that no one else would get except me—or maybe the person it was about.

For me, making music has always been about having indirect conversations when I couldn’t say things directly. That’s how it started—as my way to process and communicate. Even though the songs are about me, the message has always been that nobody is truly alone in what they’re going through. There are similarities, overlaps, and connections—even if someone can’t fully understand your exact situation, they can relate and support you.

I’ve struggled with imposter syndrome, and I even have a song on my upcoming album about that—about struggling to accept the good parts of myself and slowing down enough to recognize that I’m okay. I also have friends who don’t want to talk openly about their struggles, and music becomes that indirect way of starting the conversation. They can hear a song and think, I get this. I feel this. And that’s powerful.

No paycheck, no Grammy, no external recognition could replace the moments I’ve had with people who’ve reached out—whether through a message, or after a show—telling me how much something I wrote meant to them. Those moments make everything worth it.
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ALLIÉ: That’s beautiful. Giving authentically of yourself is such a gift—not only to yourself but to others as well.

I want to talk about a specific song—one of my favorites: Risk. That track really opened doors for you and connected you with the Shadow Crew community, which has grown into its own movement. How do you process the weight of that—not just people listening, but leaning on your music?

GREYISHERE: Honestly, I’m still processing it. And I hope I always do, because I never want to get too comfortable. Imposter syndrome plays in my head all the time. While I feel incredibly grateful and spoiled by the support, I also keep thinking there’s more to do—more people to reach, more music to make, more boundaries to push. So, yes, I’m forever thankful, but I’m also always looking forward to what’s next.

​ALLIÉ: Let’s go deeper: you were going through some heavy stuff when you wrote Risk. That song means so much to so many—but what does it mean to you, personally?

GREYISHERE: I haven’t really talked about this much in interviews. When I wrote Risk, I was having a really rough couple of weeks. Things were changing inside me, and at the same time, nothing was changing around me. I was fed up. The song is raw and uncut—just my thoughts and feelings about myself and what was going on in my head. When I finished recording it, I cried in my closet studio. That’s when I knew I had to release it.

Funny enough, I was supposed to release a completely different track that day. But instead, I thought, You know what? I’m going to take a risk. That’s literally how it got its name. I uploaded it to SoundCloud and YouTube—no crazy mixing or mastering—and it blew up. Later, with encouragement from friends, I put it on Spotify. Now it’s been streamed tens of millions of times, which still feels unreal. If you told middle-school me that this would happen, he’d laugh in your face. Honestly, it still blows my mind.

ALLIÉ: For those discovering your music now, Risk is a great place to start. Your music really is like a journal—raw and real. But I want to ask about the “E” for explicit. Some people might be surprised by the language. What do you say to that?

GREYISHERE: To me, explicit lyrics aren’t about shock value. They’re about emotion. Sometimes cursing is just the most honest way to express what I’m feeling.

I’ll share a story—my aunt on my dad’s side, who doesn’t listen to rap at all, once asked to hear my music. I showed her my second album, If I Died That Night, Part 1. She read the title out loud in front of everyone and said, “That doesn’t sound like something that should be coming out of your mouth.” It freaked her out.​ Moments like that remind me how differently people perceive my work. Around friends and fans, it feels normal. Around family, it can feel intense. I actually like that duality—it keeps me grounded and aware of outside perspectives.

ALLIÉ: And that duality is part of what makes your work layered. People can approach it from different entry points—lyrics, production, emotion—and take from it what they need. I also love that you give yourself permission to create outside of the rules.
One more question. When people strip away the artistic production, the genre-bending, the shadowy pirate energy in your music—what is the one truth you hope they carry away with them after listening?

GREYISHERE: That they’re not alone. That sense of community, of someone else “getting it,” is powerful.

Feeling understood—even if it’s just through a lyric or a vibe—can be euphoric. It’s addictive in a good way. That’s why I’m such a consumer of art myself. Every day I find a song or project that makes me think, Yes, that’s exactly how I feel. That connection is beautiful.

I want people to look at me less like a “rapper” or a “genre” and more like a friend. I’m just someone making things I think are cool, and I’m lucky enough that others connect with it.

At the end of the day, life starts and life ends. In between, I want to make something that lives in people’s hearts—so it doesn’t end too soon, so it carries forward. We all have that potential. ∎

Listen to GREYISHERE on Spotify:
​https://awarenow.us/music/greyishere