INTERVIEW: Eli Conley on Becoming a Trans Elder
Eli Conley is an indie folk singer-songwriter, teaching artist, and activist based in Sacramento, California. He makes music for queer and trans folks, justice seekers, and anyone who doesn’t fit easily in a box. Eli’s voice is tender and heartfelt, with melodies and that can leave you feeling teary-eyed yet hopeful. As a queer transgender man from the South, his songs tell stories that aren’t always reflected in roots music.
Eli founded Queer Country West Coast, a regular series featuring LGBTQ+ blues, folk, and country artists in California. He has opened for Carsie Blanton, Heather Mae, and Grammy-winner Kimya Dawson, and been featured in the Huffington Post and the Advocate.
Eli’s third album Searching for What’s True is coming in 2023. Searching for What’s True is Eli’s first release since being diagnosed with a serious repetitive stress injury that forced him to stop playing music for many months. Conley’s latest song “Hey That’s Me” focuses on his journey from young transmasc folk singer to an elder guiding the way for others.
Explain the title of your song “Hey That’s Me”:
I wrote this song thinking about a young trans musician I know who was first coming out and beginning to take testosterone. I came out as trans about 20 years ago now — first as genderqueer (nonbinary in today’s language), and then as a trans man. I’m not quite 40 yet, but I feel like I’m becoming an elder in certain ways. It can feel like queer generations are about 5 years long, given how much things are constantly changing in our culture!
The meaning of this song’s hook changes over the course of the song. The first time you hear it, it’s in the voice of the young person looking in the mirror and happily saying “hey, that’s me!” — finally seeing themselves the way they’ve been dreaming about.
The second verse deals with the struggle many trans masculine singers have when we take testosterone and our voices deepen. I teach voice lessons and group singing classes for queer and trans folks, and I’ve worked with many trans singers navigating their transitioning voices over the years. So that verse encourages folks to keep singing even when it’s challenging and “your songs feel too heavy.” At that point “hey that’s me” is me saying “this is what I’ve done.”
In the third verse I talk about realizing you’re an elder and “holding out your umbrella for the young.” “Hey that’s me” there is about how I hope I’ll be as I continue to age into true eldership. There were definitely a few out queer teachers and other adults in my life who were role models for me as a young person, just seeing them exist and have good lives. I think we queer folks all have capacity to be that for each other, especially those of us who are performers or teachers.
What’s the best way a fan can support you?
Something that’s been really meaningful lately as I’m releasing music after a long break is when people reach out directly to tell me my songs have impacted them. Someone recently shared “Hey That’s Me” on Instagram and tagged me, saying they felt seen and reflected in their experience as a transitioning singer, and that was wonderful to hear.
Another thing that’s huge is buying tickets to shows in advance. It shows venues that I have an audience that’s invested, and makes them more likely to have me back. And in this age of streaming, joining an artist’s Patreon or other membership-based community, and buying merch directly from an artist can go a long way to help us keep making our art. Buying merch at a show or on Bandcamp Friday means we get 100% of the proceeds, and that is always so appreciated. Side note, I just got “I Love Trans Folks With All My Being” lyric tees in stock and they are super cute! You can check them out on my Bandcamp merch page.
How are you using your platform to support marginalized people?
In addition to lifting up the issues I face in my life as a queer and trans person, it’s very important to me to be in solidarity with all marginalized people. I believe very deeply that nobody’s free until everyone is free, in the words of civil rights organizer Fannie Lou Hamer (she was giving a speech to white feminists in the 70’s.)
One of the songs I’m the most proud of on my upcoming record Searching For What’s True is called “We Keep Each Other Safe.” I wrote it as part of a project with the organization Showing Up for Racial Justice, who organize white folks to take action in solidarity with people of color-lead movements. They put out a call and made a toolkit with reflection prompts for white artists, inviting us to make work that invites white people into working for racial justice broadly, and the Black Lives Matter movement’s call to defund and abolish the police specifically. You can find the toolkit here.
“We Keep Each Other Safe” imagines what community safety could look like in a world where we didn’t rely on police. I acknowledge in the song that this can be hard for us to even begin to picture: “Does this sound totally impossible / like some science fiction dream? / Well that’s what they said about slavery and ending Jim Crow / The institutions our ancestors made can be unmade if we make it so!”
When we were in the studio, I encouraged the musicians to go for a tone of “joyful invitation.” We’re used to hearing sad or angry songs about white supremacy, and with good reason. But this song has a different intent.
We white folks are encouraged everyday to collude with the poison of racism in ways big and small, but we can take active steps to align ourselves with struggles for racial justice instead. When we do, we can reconnect with our humanity and be a part of building a world where everyone thrives, not just the privileged few.
How do you feel your queer identity ties into your performance style or music?
On the one hand, I am a proudly queer trans man, and I make music about my life and people I know. So the stories I have to tell often fall outside the typical stereotypes of roots music. (I’m so glad Rainbow Rodeo and other media outlets are lifting up the many many queer and/or BIPOC folks making roots music!)
At the same time, the Americana singer-songwriter side of roots music is very focused on truth and genuineness. And my friend Dr. Shana Goldin-Perschbacher who wrote the book Queer Country talks about “queer sincerity” and the particular brand of queer Americana that is very heart-on-your-sleeve. I am definitely guilty of that!
I’m much more interested in giving a performance that is emotional and real than I am in putting on a big glitzy show. I love sequins and big hair as much as the next gay, but I think that’s just not my personality when it comes to my own performances. I’m a folksinger at heart, who just happens to be a queer trans guy with poignant gay stories to tell.
What’s the first concert you ever attended? What do you remember about it?
My family went to a lot of concerts when I was growing up, but the first big concert I attended of my own volition was Ani DiFranco at Wolf Trap outside Washington D.C. Honestly the main thing I remember was all the amazing queer hairstyles of the audience! It was probably 2002, so I would have been 16 or 17. I remember my friend’s Southern Baptist dad drove us up from central Virginia. He made us leave before the encore so we could beat the traffic, and we were so sad. But looking back, it’s pretty impressive that he took us at all! I have a feeling he didn’t know what he was getting himself into.
I remember I wrote a song on the piano late that night that was very Ani-inspired about a lover cheating on me. It used puzzle pieces as a metaphor for body parts. Mind you, I hadn’t actually dated anyone at this point! I cut my hair short pretty soon after that inspired by all the queers at the show and I never looked back.
Eli Conley’s upcoming album Searching For What’s True will be out on July 14th.
