Folk music thrives on storytelling, on raw, unfiltered emotion carried by voices that feel as if they’ve lived the tales they tell. Faith Groves’ latest release, Mugshots, proves why this tradition stands the test of time. It’s a song that doesn’t just sing about sisterhood—it embodies it, capturing the rare kind of bond that shifts and deepens with maturity. Where many folk songs dwell on romantic love or the weight of solitude, Mugshots dives into a relationship that often goes unexplored in songwriting: the evolution of sisterly love from childhood friction to unbreakable loyalty.
From the first lines, Groves sets the tone with a storytelling approach that’s deeply personal yet relatable: “Sisters ain’t born getting along / It takes some years for the sins to kick in,” she sings, her voice steady yet infused with just the right amount of reflection. She pulls from a well of shared childhood memories, the kind anyone with siblings will recognize—the petty fights, the misunderstandings, the growing pains. But then comes the twist, a shift in understanding that defines the song’s emotional core: “Men, we swore our parents were wrong / When they swore that we’d grow up to be best friends/ But now that we’re older/ I’d kill for her and I know she’d kill for me/ Right or wrong, no matter what/ On her side is where I’ll be.”
The instrumental backing is nothing short of excellent. The production is crisp, giving Groves’ voice the space it deserves while maintaining a warmth that feels inherently organic. Her vocals are in perfect sync with the song’s mood, steady in the verses and swelling with emotion as the instrumentation builds during the chorus. There’s an undeniable push and pull, a natural dynamic that adds weight to the lyrics. The production choices feel deliberate yet effortless, a testament to a keen understanding of folk’s ability to be both understated and deeply moving at the same time.
The melodic structure of the song is both its strength and its only minor shortcoming. The verses mirror each other in melody, creating a sense of familiarity that reinforces the song’s message but also dulls the engagement when the second verse rolls around. However, this repetition has an upside: it sticks. It’s the kind of song that you will hum absentmindedly in quiet moments. In folk, where lyrics often take precedence over melody, Groves has struck a delicate balance between both.
Beyond the music itself, what sets Mugshots apart is its message. Sisterhood isn’t often explored in music with this level of depth and complexity. The song doesn’t just celebrate the bond—it acknowledges its rough edges, its growing pains, the inevitable evolution from rivalry to reliance. It paints sisterhood as two universes once floating in parallel, colliding only when they’ve grown enough to truly appreciate each other. It’s rare to hear a song that so thoroughly captures the essence of such a relationship without falling into clichés or surface-level sentimentality.
Groves delivers something timeless with Mugshots. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t try too hard to be profound. It simply is—a song about love, loyalty, and the kind of connection that doesn’t waver. For those who have a sister they’d stand beside through anything, it’s more than just a song. It’s a reflection of something real.
We recommend Mugshots to anyone who has a beloved sister. It’s rare to find a song that profoundly encapsulates this specific relationship, and even rarer to find one sung with such sincerity and public loyalty. Faith Groves has crafted something special: a true folk ode to sisterhood.
Follow Faith: www.instagram.com/faithgroves/
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