about

Shalom makes strikingly direct music, balancing raw vulnerability with undeniable presence. Born in Maryland and raised in South Africa, she first made waves in New York City, where she quickly built a name for herself through electrifying live shows and acclaimed songwriting. Featured in FADER, Stereogum, Pitchfork, and Paste, amongst others, both Shalom and her music are fearless in their honesty: her heartbeat bass lines and intimate vocals allow you to feel like you’re being let in on a secret you won’t want to forget.

A lifelong writer, Shalom started playing bass in 2019 in a DIY band with friends, having moved to the United States to attend Rutgers University, where she booked and hosted basement shows. After an abrupt band breakup in early 2020, she faced unrelenting writer’s block—one of the most painful experiences of her life. In August 2020, she finally managed to write Concrete and released a set of demos later that December called The First Snowstorm of the Year, which caught the ear of Saddle Creek. The label—home to some of Shalom’s musical heroes like Rilo Kiley, Ada Lea, and Indigo de Souza—quickly took note of her distinct songwriting and connected Shalom with producer and would-be collaborative partner Ryan Hemsworth. In ten short months, the casual and entirely virtual collaboration evolved into 15 songs, 13 of which would become her 2023 debut, Sublimation.

Amidst the dream-come-true sparkle of signing to Saddle Creek, the release of Sublimation came with hard lessons—industry disillusionment, financial struggles, and declining health. When Shalom discovered the label had withheld money from her, she refused to stay silent, giving them a choice: make it right, or she was gone. They chose the latter. Suddenly independent, she returned home to South Africa, unsure if she’d ever make it back to the U.S. Feeling isolated and defeated, she prioritized healing, seeking mental health treatment and hospitalization to process complex PTSD from betrayal trauma.

On Sublimation, Shalom’s songwriting blends raw honesty with grace, confronting pain head-on while always moving toward healing. Now based in Baltimore with a fully developed frontal lobe and a renewed sense of self, Shalom is creating on her own terms. She also writes love over fear, a newsletter documenting the messy, beautiful process of learning to trust herself and doing it scared.


sublimation

What started as a casual collaboration with Ryan Hemsworth (Quarter Life Crisis) quickly garnered enough material to make an album. Lead single “Happenstance” finds Shalom world sick. Over a muscular bassline, she sings, “I’m waiting for the day that I can finally walk away from all this bullshit." As the track settles into a mesmerizing groove, she sings over the chorus, “I’m just trying to erase myself whenever I get the chance / my need to evaporate and receive validation at the same time.” It’s in these contradictions where Shalom’s writing thrives and is at the core of Sublimation.

On opener “Narcissist,” which is so anthemic it’s meant to be played almost violently loud, the hook goes, “and maybe I’m a narcissist / I don’t even know if I exist / I wish I’d evaporate.” Shalom explains, “When I do something really embarrassing, the thing that I hear in my brain is literally “evaporate.” Her songwriting gets at two fundamental but at-odds emotions, effortlessly speaking truth to something that’s hard to articulate in real life: simultaneously wanting to be the center of attention and wanting to disappear completely.

As much as the album hones in on processing her trauma like on “Train Station,” which deals with a sudden breakup, and “Nowadays” which deals with profound grief, there’s a resiliency that stays constant throughout Sublimation. On the ebullient and funky “Did It To Myself,” she opens herself up. She sings, “what hurts can be amazing / and now I’m back on my own, oh” over bouncy synths and a sparkling arrangement. Shalom explains, “Anytime you move forward, you have to remember the past: Most of my songs are about moving forward by dealing with a memory.” Few songwriters not only fail to match Shalom’s excavating introspection but also the grace with which she deals with these uncomfortable truths. 

Many of the songs on Sublimation came together almost instantly with Shalom sitting down with her bass and coming out with a fully-written song in a couple of hours. Standout “Lighter,” Shalom recalls, took 45 minutes. Arguably the poppiest song on the record with its breezy indie rock arrangement, she sings over shimmering guitars, “so done with being myself / I’d rather be anyone else / I’m tired of being a fighter.” Despite the unflinching subject matter, Sublimation is not a difficult listen. “The record is an introduction to me as a songwriter,” she says. “I think it shows my versatility, but really, it’s me being really honest, earnest, and naked. You can see my bones on this record. I'm okay with it though, because I’ve got to get it out.”