Sabrina Song‘s latest EP Big Trick is the kind of record that doesn’t announce itself loudly, but settles in the more you listen to it. With six songs, it’s a release that reveals more to the listener on the third listen than the first. It’s the work of someone who has spent years figuring out what she actually wants to say and has finally put it into the world.
Song grew up on Long Island in New York and was the kid who was always performing—whether it was piano lessons, violin recitals, or a little guitar concert in her bedroom. She had pretty close proximity to New York City, where the music scene was booming, so it was natural that she went on to study music at New York University. She describes this time as when she actually figured out who she actually was as an artist. “Before, it was about being the best,” she shares of her pre-college musical life. “And now it was like, ‘Oh, this can be a method of expression, and therapeutic, and all the other aspects of it that it is for me now.’” That shift, she says, changed everything. Suddenly music wasn’t about mastery or performance rankings, but about having something to say. “That’s when I really fell in love with it,” Song admits to JoySauce.
She has stayed in New York since graduation and describes the city’s music scene as a neighborhood. “You are running into people you know all the time,” Song says. “And the hustle of being here, everyone is so focused on their craft here in a way that just pushes you.” She draws a contrast with LA, which in her eyes is a bit more industry driven, and Nashville, which feels like a showcase. New York’s fake-it-til-you-make-it energy is the thing that formed Song, who is 26, as a musician. “It’s so DIY,” she says. “I’ve really gotten to grow up here, throughout college and now, just constantly playing shows and getting to try again.” In New York, everyone is grinding through the same conditions and that shared difficulty creates something real community-wise. “Everyone is like, trauma bonded together,” she laughs. “It forces you to focus and work at it, because why am I gonna be here and deal with these circumstances for no reason?”
If you’ve listened to Big Trick, which is out now, you may have already noticed that she is, at her core, a lyrically driven writer. Her biggest musical inspirations make that obvious: She cites Fiona Apple, Adrienne Lenker, and Mitski, all artists who treat language as the primary instrument and melody as a vehicle for expression. Similarly, when Song writes, the words tend to lead. “I can’t really know what the song should be until I figured out the story,” she explains. “Sometimes I’ll even write the whole song with just three chords and a melody, and then everything comes after.”
Big Trick started forming naturally after her debut album You Could Stay In One Spot and I’d Love You The Same released in 2024. The EP was written in a period of creative freedom with no particular destination in mind. Songs like “Background Actor” and “Broken Machine” came to her at different times, but she realized they all shared a DNA that would work itself into a project. “All these songs actually are connected in a way that I didn’t even force,” she says. It wasn’t until she wrote “Big Trick,” the title track, that the project’s shape clicked. “Once that song kind of existed, I was like, ‘Oh, that’s the title, and this is a project.’” The throughline of the project is a willingness to sit with discomfort, frustration, and the complicated feeling of leaving something behind. “I’ve definitely written sad songs before,” Song says, “but I wanted there to be more of a bite to it.” Working with new collaborators for the first time pushed her further. The result, she says, feels very in line with how she sees herself, more so than anything else she’s ever made.
Nowhere is that more apparent than on “Background Actor,” one of the project’s most vulnerable and pointed tracks and also one of the first times Song has written about navigating creative spaces as an Asian American. “You feel that your opinion is not being valued, or your assumed level of knowledge is less,” she says about when she’s been around people in power. “It’s very subtle and indirect.” It surfaces especially in her role as a producer. “Sometimes it really manifests in subtle ways or the tone in which you’re being spoken to.” Song has gotten better at not letting it stick, but naming it in a song requires time and a growing confidence. “It’s also been a journey for me to not feel impostor syndrome about my abilities,” she admits. “I find that the hardest to write about, because there’s so much nuance.” What she wanted was to describe the feeling precisely and “Background Actor,” she says, is the first time she feels like she really did.
Beyond her own life, Song finds inspiration in all places, especially through art in other mediums. Recently, she saw the film Sorry, Baby and was “completely overcome by it,” then immediately after, watched Aftersun. “I was just gut-punched,” she laughs thinking back. She also enjoys attending small New York shows and is often astonished by what she hears in those rooms. “I’ll find myself watching one of the best bands I’ve ever seen and we’re in a venue that fits less than 50 people,” she shares. Being around great art makes her want to make great art, and that hunger has quietly changed her relationship to performing. Early in her career, the stage felt heavy with stakes. Today, it’s a place she loves. “I’m doing this because I choose to and because I love it,” she says. “I try to let the nervous energy make the performance better. Let the vulnerability be like a tool.” The shift has fed back into Song’s writing where she finds herself in the studio already imagining songs live and already feeling what they’ll be like in a room. Performance is no longer what comes after making the music. For Song, it’s become part of what the work is for.
‘ The preceding article may include information circulated by third parties ’
‘ Some details of this article were extracted from the following source joysauce.com ’
