Album Review: "Grow" by Rose Alaimo

“I think this is a song of hope.”

You may recognize that quote as being from Robert Plant, just before Led Zeppelin begins “Stairway to Heaven” in the 1975 concert film, The Song Remains the Same.

Today, I’m going to talk about an album on which nearly every song might be called a song of hope.

On my last post here, I reviewed a single song, “Orchid,” by Rose Alaimo, an artist whose music I discovered in 2020. While “Orchid” was my favorite single song of 2021, I think Rose’s album, “Grow,” was probably my favorite complete record of last year.

“Grow” is sort of a concept album, although, unlike many concept albums, it doesn’t so much tell a single story with a sequential narrative, but, rather, focuses on different aspects of the theme of mental, emotional, and spiritual growth. It is, perhaps, more about phases of the mind than about particular events. But I say it’s a concept album because all the songs on the album, ten of them, concern the same topic, although each addresses a different aspect of it.

As for what inspired each of the songs, or what each song is about, it’s not my place to explain that, because, in this case, and wonderfully so for those who like to know the secrets behind the magician’s tricks, Rose Alaimo has done a ten-part YouTube series called “The Grow Show,” in which she talks in detail about each track on the album. That can be found here.

Throughout the album, as I’ve come to expect from Rose Alaimo, every component of every song is excellent. Strong, expressive vocals, masterful guitar playing (and the guitar tone, which I went on about at length in my review of “Orchid” is perfect), and drums and bass that provide a great rhythm section for each song. I also want to mention producer Jamie Hill, who mentored Rose through the production of the album, remotely from his studio, Department of Energy Management, in Tacoma, Washington.

Now, let’s examine “Grow,” song by song.

The album starts with “Elevate,” and it’s a perfect opener. It hits hard, but in a positive way. It’s a song of waking up, encountering the world and its explosion of possibilities. It’s confusion, but it’s also potential. The drums come in, then a cascade of chords, a riff that grabs the listener’s attention and holds it. The primary question of the song is this: How can I live my best life and seek enlightenment, and be present and kind to others in a world so full of craziness and distractions?

And the answer chosen by the voice of the song is that one must make the most of it, grab it by the horns and run with it. There’s a great reassurance that come with the song’s final line, “It’s gonna be a pretty day.” You hear that line, after the song has built up to that positive conclusion, and you believe it.

The second song, “Frozen,” starts with an absolutely delightful, almost playful bit of guitar that brings to mind images of one going through one’s day. It’s whimsical. But there’s a trap! It’s a warning about getting caught up in repetition, stuck in a bit of OCD. But, although the lyrics describe a specific trap, it comes across as universal. It’s not just about checking the light switch. It goes deeper than that and becomes something anyone can identify with, no matter their own specific circumstances. On a personal level, “Frozen” might be my favorite song on the album. When I decided to listen again, several months after buying the album, it was the busiest time of the year at my day job, a point in the year when it’s very easy to fall into the trap of feeling like there’s nothing beyond work, nothing to life outside of the job. And I know that’s not true. The job is only an aspect of me, a way to make money, a thing separate from the things that really define me. And I got into the habit, for a few of the worst days of that period, of listening to this song on my break every day at work, because the line, “I am more than this,” was exactly what I needed to be reminded of to get through the frustration of those days. That’s the brilliance of this album. While the songs obviously grew out of one songwriter’s experiences, they never come across as too specific to one individual’s problems or obstacles. Instead, they say, “This happens to all of us. And we CAN surpass it. Whatever the problem, whatever the trap, I am more than this. You are more than this.” For me, it was the song I needed to hear at that particular time.

The third song, “Lines,” absolutely rocks! The main riff pounds steadily as the lyrics ponder philosophical questions of God and ego and the search for meaning and compassion and beauty in the world. Then, in contrast to the song’s early riffery, it goes to a quieter, more contemplative place after the second verse, where it strikes a sort of Beatlesesque tone, then launches into a solo that brings the intensity back up before the final chorus. It’s a powerful song.

The next track, “Smoke” is the album’s saddest piece. It’s about death. It’s slow, it’s powerful. It’s honest. The pain of losing someone is obvious in the vocal delivery, which makes it a courageous performance. And it’s also a song of strength, of proving that you can get past a devastating event of great loss. There’s a section in the song’s second half that shows a rising up from the grief, and the solo and final chorus reinforce that strength. This is a song that symbolizes resilience, and the way we, as human beings, must respond to death in two ways. We must remember those we have lost, but we must also go on, not letting loss destroy us.

“Election Song” is just happy! It’s not specifically political, despite the title. It’s about relief, it’s about something happening that gives us hope. It’s upbeat, it has my favorite drums on the album, and its placement in the track list, coming right after the sadness of “Smoke,” is a wonderful demonstration of how the emotions we feel can shift so quickly depending on what we experience and what we observe around us.

There’s something very psychedelic about the next song, “Yellow Balloons.” The reverb-heavy opening drone and the distant call of the vocals puts me in the same frame of mind as early Pink Floyd. It has the gentlest guitar work of the album, which brings the bass forward in the mix, which is appropriate for the ethereal, dreamlike quality of the piece. It’s a strange song, and it’s delightful.

After that wonderfully weird little trip of a song, things get loud again with “Mermaids,” the opening of which returns to the Neil Young vibe of “Orchid,” which I reviewed here last time. The powerful opening drops into a quieter state as the lyrics begin, but the power picks up again as the song continues, alternating between soft vocals and soaring vocals switching back and forth, showcasing two very different singing styles that mesh very well together. The guitar tone (Rose always, always knows how to find the right tone for a song) fits the title. There’s water in this song! That might sound like a strange thing to say, but you’ll know what I mean when you listen.

“No Resolution” takes bits of various decades of rock music and blends them quite brilliantly. There’s something Beatles in there, and some Nineties/Seattle grunge, and a hint of the Eighties, all mixed together in the album’s shortest song. There’s anger in the lyrics, but it’s not an angry song musically. Not angry in a raging way, but strong and potent in a way that reminds us, again, that the person telling this story will not stay down for long, no matter what happens.

The title track, “Grow,” starts out slowly. This is a story of the sadness that comes from being ready for change and growth while someone you love may not be ready to grow and change with you. The words and the vocal approach both express this idea. Lyrically, vocally, this is the album’s most raw song. I don’t mean the singing or production are raw; I mean the emotion and vulnerability and uncertainty of the situation come through very clearly. There’s pain here, but, as with every song on the record, the main theme is one of hope that things will indeed change and, as the title says, grow. There is not a single song of surrender on this album, and that’s what makes it so good. It’s never afraid to acknowledge problems, and always brave enough to confront and surpass them.

“The Angry Sea” closes the album. A soft guitar pattern is accented by the sound of booming, rushing water in the background until a steady drum beat kicks in with faint singing behind it, a combination of sounds that grows bigger and bigger, then calms down for just an instant before the lyrics arrive to invite the listener into something as dreamlike as “Yellow Balloons,” but different, more solid (the two songs, I think, demonstrate how different one dreamlike state can be from another). The vocals, sometimes multiple tracks harmonizing with each other, add to the almost supernatural tone of the song. The whole piece is a carefully composed collage of sound, and a fine conclusion to an outstanding album.

So I’ve said something about every song on “Grow.” Every track is different, but they all belong together, like puzzle pieces coming together to make up on whole picture. In this case, it’s an image of one particular mind expressing the lessons of one particular life. But there’s more to it than that.

Yes, this album is from the mind of one songwriter, Rose Alaimo, so it’s personal, but it’s also not personal. She’s taken what she knows, what she’s learned, and presented it in a way that comes across as universal.

This is an album that says, from start to finish, “These are just details, this is how my story goes, but these phenomena are universal. These are my details, but we are all human.”

“Grow” is a mirror, in a way. The experiences of one artist create something that any person can listen to and find something of themself in. That is, when we get to the core of it, what art is supposed to do, and this album succeeds in that quest in every possible way.

You can find "Grow" and all of Rose Alaimo's music on