Grace C. Elliot Turns Survival Into Sound on the Haunting New Single “Erase It”

The Alaska-born pianist and singer-songwriter turned producer has built a sound that feels intimate yet expansive, blending delicate vocals, minimalist keys, and immersive electronic textures into something you can genuinely sink into. With recognition from Spotify’s Finds, NPR’s Tiny Desk competition, and a 2025 Output CoLAB Production Challenge win that led to studio time with Grammy-winning duo NovaWave, Grace C. Elliot's resume is growing. But “Erase It” shows that her artistry runs far deeper than accolades.

The single reflects on a love story that unfolded while Elliot was battling liver failure and cancer at just 23. It marks the first time she has allowed herself to write about that chapter. Originally written in one afternoon, the track was later shaped alongside producer James Glaves, known for his work with Medium Build and Julien Baker. Together, they made a defining decision: keep the original bedroom vocal. Recorded on her SM7B while lying in bed, with her dog beside her and faint family sounds in the background, the untouched take became the emotional core of the song.

“Erase It” floats gently, but its subject matter is heavy. The production creates space rather than spectacle, allowing Elliot’s voice to carry the tension between survival, love, and letting go. At its heart, the song poses a haunting question: Would you really undo the pain if given the chance? With more music on the way, this release feels like the beginning of a deeply personal new chapter.

You chose to keep the original bedroom vocal, complete with background noise and emotional rawness. What did that version capture that a polished studio take couldn’t?

When I first wrote “Erase It” in my bedroom, it kind of just fell out of me in one afternoon. I tapped into this almost character-voice type of sound, and I remember thinking, this is just the demo. At one point my alarm clock even went off in the background, but the take was so juicy that I kept it.

I had moved back into my mom’s basement to heal, and there’s something special about keeping the vocal from that exact space, flaws and all. My little pup curled up next to me on the bed, work calls getting silenced, the sound of my family moving around upstairs. All very human moments.

When I tried to recreate those soft vocals later with Glaves, I pretty much knew immediately I wouldn’t be able to capture the same vulnerability as that first moment writing it alone in my room. Once you’re aware you’re recreating something, it’s just not the same.

How did surviving liver failure and cancer at 23 change the way you experience love, and how did that shift shape the writing of “Erase It”?

I’ve always been a bit of a lover girl, and I’ve never had trouble expressing that. But going through something like cancer reminds you how precious love actually is, and to express it as if your life depends on it.

It also teaches you how to prioritize what really matters. When you face something that big so early in life, you stop settling for things that feel just “good enough.” You start wanting your life to feel like a full yes.

That experience made me a more concise songwriter and more fearless about being honest in the stories I tell.

Dream-pop can sometimes lean into escapism, but this song feels grounded in very real pain. How do you balance cinematic atmosphere with emotional truth?

I focus a lot on delivery. Music has always been a bit like the court jester. It can sneak hard truths into a room in a way people can actually receive.

For me, dream-pop is the perfect vessel for that. It lets me hold heavy ideas with a softer hand.

When you ask listeners whether they would undo their pain if given the chance, what’s your own answer right now?

No. Honestly, no way. I’m very in love with my story and all the strange little pieces that make it up. That being said, there have definitely been moments where I’ve said things in emotionally raw situations while dancing around the truth, and that probably hurt someone more than just saying it plainly.

If I could undo anything, it would probably be sparing someone from the pain of my drawn-out honesty. But being in your twenties is a bit of a social experiment. You’re learning in real time.

Working with James Glaves, who’s collaborated with artists like Medium Build and Julien Baker, what did you learn about vulnerability in production, not just songwriting?

Glaves and I really see eye to eye on starting with a good song. He told me something early on that stuck with me: “If you can sing it around a campfire, it’s a hit.” That philosophy really informs the production. The production should lift the song, not become the main event. When you approach it that way, it naturally leaves more space for vulnerability.