Today we’d like to introduce you to Justine Bracy.
Hi Justine, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?
I’m Justine, an eighth-generation Tennessean from the hollers of Lebanon. I’ve been singing for as long as I can remember. I grew up with an abusive father, and when my parents fought, I’d hide in my closet with my karaoke machine, headphones on, singing at the top of my lungs. It transported me somewhere safe. I learned to censor myself because I was afraid that if I told people about the abuse, they’d take me away from my mom. Singing became the one place I could let the pain out.
My signature growl comes from somewhere deep in my soul. I was in the International Baccalaureate program in high school, and my teachers told me I had a gift for words. I loved creative writing. What no one knew then was that I was writing my autobiography. I’ve lived such a chaotic, wild life that the truth was often better than fiction. Eventually, I found a way to bring those passions together through songwriting.
For most of my career, I played bar gigs and sang covers. After 15 years, I knew it was time to start telling my own stories. Appearing on American Idol with “I Got a Truck,” a song about Lucy, my truck, gave me the push to keep going.
People connect with my music because it’s real. And no one tells stories about imperfect people better than me. Whether I’m writing my Mr. Someday songs, turning my family’s redneck drama into songs like my debut single “Cast Iron,” or writing female empowerment anthems like my upcoming single “Warning,” I put my whole heart into it. I love hard, and I live country.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
Smooth road? Hell no.
My dad spent 20 years in prison, and I grew up surrounded by drug addicts, gang bangers, inmates, and con artists. I was determined not to become another statistic. At 18, I flipped the life I knew the bird, loaded up my mom, and headed to Tulsa. I got married at 18 to an abusive son of a bitch, and that lasted about seven months. When I’d had enough, I left him stranded in a Walmart parking lot.
After everything he put me through during the divorce, I walked away with one thing: my truck. Her name is Lucy, and she became a symbol of my strength. Mom and I rolled back to Tennessee with our hearts on our wrists.
I’ve clawed, bitten, and gnawed my way forward. I’ve been told no a lot more times than I’ve been told yes, but one thing has never changed: I’m cast iron. I’m built for the fire, baby. Every time somebody knocked me down, I got back up.
Then I almost died from COVID pneumonia. I was left with about 80% lung capacity because of the scarring, and I had to teach myself how to sing again. And honey, I can still belt with the best of ’em.
Thanks – so what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?
I’m a country artist, songwriter, and live performer from Lebanon, Tennessee, now based in Nashville. I’m known for hard country with a rock-and-roll edge, a big voice with a signature growl, and a live show that turns a room into a full-throttle country party.
I’ve spent 15 years onstage, from bar gigs and crowd requests to performing on American Idol Season 22 with “I Got a Truck,” my song about Lucy, my lifted truck. After years of singing covers, I’m focused on putting my own stories into the world. My original music blends Southern storytelling, heavy pours, heartbreak, family chaos, and a little bit of trouble. My debut single, “Cast Iron,” is out now, with more music like “Warning” on the way.
I’m most proud of building a career around being fully myself. I don’t write about perfect people or polished lives. I write about the real, messy, funny, hard parts, and I sing them like I’ve lived them, because I have. That honesty is what sets me apart. Whether I’m fronting a full band or stepping onstage with just a microphone, I want people to leave feeling like they were part of the story.
Can you talk to us about how you think about risk?
I’ve never been very good at sitting still and waiting for life to happen to me. At 18, I loaded up my mom and headed to Tulsa. When my marriage turned abusive, I took the risk of walking away and starting over, even though I left with almost nothing but my truck, Lucy.
I’ve taken risks with my music, too. After 15 years of singing covers, I put my own stories out there, auditioned for American Idol, and started building a career around songs that are personal and completely mine. That means letting people see the imperfect, messy parts of my life. It’s scary, but staying quiet felt like the bigger risk.
Then COVID pneumonia nearly killed me and left me with lung scarring. I had to teach myself how to sing again. I could have let that be the end of the road, but that’s never been my style.
I don’t think taking risks means being reckless. It means knowing fear is there and deciding it doesn’t get to drive. So call me a daredevil, baby. When it’s time to bet on myself, I throttle UP!
Contact Info:
- Website: https://linktr.ee/justinebracy
