Blair Borax’s relationship with music began unexpectedly in 2016, when a friend gifted her a cheap guitar. Since then, the Portland, Oregon-based artist has become a prolific songwriter, recording artist, and performer, known for her distinctive voice, captivating melodies, and thoughtful songwriting that taps into the heart of being human.
In August, Borax released her third full-length record The Color Green. The record finds her embracing a sound that feels ethereal and authentic in the best way possible. The songs feel lived-in and real, with the right amount of grit to contrast with the shimmering beauty. Borax’s songwriting is thoughtful and concise, while the production is layered and sonically rich. The end result is a collection of songs from a promising artist who hails from a scene that is vibrant and ever-changing. In other words, this is enticing folk-rock done right with plenty of beauty.
Borax recently shared a candid track-by-track breakdown of The Color Green with Glide, where listeners can hear the stories behind the songs.
“Time Tender”
Time Tender is an honest, existential love song. Equal parts falling in love and being terrified to lose it. I wrote it after coming home from my partner’s house one night, when the depth of my love for him was really starting to take hold. Alongside that love came a deep panic about all of the things that could go wrong or the ways that I could lose him. This song is me trying to hold on tight.
“Gasoline Daydream”
Gasoline Daydream began on the road. I was on tour, driving through California from town to town, jotting down scenes and street signs along the way. Library, post office, corner store. I was thinking about what makes for a good life, and how simple it can be. Taste one peach and you’ll be back. I was missing home, daydreaming about my love, and still trying to stay present and grateful for the strange beauty of touring.
You give up a lot of your life to be on the road. You drive for hours to play a few songs to a room full (hopefully) of strangers. You sleep in weird beds and wake up in places you’ve never seen in the daylight. It’s not easy. And it takes a wild amount of hope and foolishness to keep pursuing such an outlandish dream. But there’s something undeniably life-giving about sharing music with people and I can’t help but keep doing it.
“Human Kind”
Human Kind was born out of a moment of modern heartbreak. Someone blocked me on Facebook, because he disagreed with my political opinion. It struck me as deeply sad that we’ve reached a point where we can’t coexist across differences, even on the internet. I think we all need to give each other a little more grace to disagree and still get along. That feels harder and harder to do when hate and fear is spreading like another pandemic. But I still believe empathy is the antidote. This song is a reminder to be kind to one another. We have more in common than we think we do.
“Manic Poet”
Manic Poet is a snapshot from my window in Portland, Oregon, on a sunny fall day: a man riding his bicycle in circles, shouting poetic profanities. People drinking coffee, pretending not to hear him. A delivery driver yelling back, “shut up!” — all of it true.
It’s easy to look down upon people who find themselves down on their luck, but the truth is, it could easily be any one of us.
“Little Bird”
I was walking the dog one morning when we came upon a little bird on the sidewalk, twitching with its last breath. I was taken aback, helpless about what to do. It made me think about the fragility of life and how heartbreaking the world can be. It made me think about my dog, and how he will likely die before I do—and yet he lives each day, seemingly unconcerned with his own mortality, full of joy. It made me think about being born and dying, and trying to stay soft in between. Little Bird is another existential spiral song.
“Childhood Home”
I wrote Childhood Home after a trip to visit my parents. My dad was preparing for open-heart surgery. It was scary to see him that way—saying goodbye, just in case, getting his will in order. It made me want to hold on tight to the people I love while they’re still here. It made me want to savor the small moments, to remember how lucky we are to have them. It made me wish I could stop time, and keep my parents from aging.
“Lovers’ Greed”
Lovers’ Greed is a meditation on love. The simple moments. You have something in your teeth. Are you still hungry? The profound ones too. Feeling your lovers’ pain and joy like it is your own. Hurting each other. Saying sorry. Doing it again. Choosing to love each other every day, even when it’s hard to do.
“Better Dancer”
Better Dancer is about growing up, learning hard lessons, getting jaded, and learning how to love through it. It’s about staying curious and resisting the urge to try to be perfect. It is a reminder to keep asking questions, because you will never have all the answers. And of course, it is a reminder to keep dancing!
“The Color Green”
I wrote The Color Green while thinking about my dear friend and her mother, who was suffering from cancer, and about all the people needlessly suffering around the world—especially in Gaza. At the same time, I was walking through my neighborhood on a beautiful spring day, smelling flowers, trying to find a way to hold all the pain and beauty at once.
This song quickly became the thesis statement of the record. We are all trying our best to do good in a world with so much bad in it. It’s a reminder to find whatever hope you can—even if it’s just the color green—and hold on tight. No matter how dark it gets, at least we have the color green.
“Make It Go Slower”
Make It Go Slower is one last meditation on life and death, and on how quickly time passes. It’s so easy to forget to focus on the good, to let it slip by, and later look back and ask, “Wait, what happened? Where did all that time go? Did I enjoy myself? Did I do good?”
I love how this song turned out—stripped down to the essentials, and offered up at the end of the record to remind the listener to stop killing time, slow down, and be present. Enjoy life while you’ve got it.
