Chapter 13 If You Flash Your Heart, I Won’t Deny It #2
I go into hyperfocus mode as I scan them.
Griffin James Hurley was salutatorian of his graduating class in high school.
He ran cross country. His photo shows up with the twelve-years-younger version of him, beardless and with a few blemishes on his face.
His senior year, he performed in a local talent show singing “Bloom” by The Paper Kites while playing a well-worn Yamaha acoustic guitar.
I watch the talent-show video over and over, lost in his unaffected voice. It’s raw and real, no drawl, no pretenses. He plucks the strings with his bare fingers like it’s second nature.
As I listen to the passion he exudes, I wonder what the hell he’s doing in country music, why he’s gone and put himself in a box when he was clearly meant for something else.
I see how some of the softer more grass-roots country might compare, where the lines might blur, but I don’t see how he made the leap from that to what he does now with the big trucks and booze.
The video comes from Facebook (posted years ago by someone who must be his brother, based on the name and how alike they look) which leads me to a few other videos from open mic nights in different venues.
I watch him change throughout the years: right out of high school and a little shaggier in an old t-shirt and denim jacket singing “Beautiful Day” by Joshua Radin, then he’s twenty or so wearing flannel and a beanie and he’s got the beginnings of a beard while he performs “Longer” by Dan Fogelberg (which he says before he starts is to honor his parents’ anniversary), then he looks not too far off from how he looks these days but with no cowboy flair as he croons “I’m With You” by Vance Joy.
Honestly, he’s kind of a hipster and I … kind of like it.
Facebook commenters and their posts lead me to photos that show more of this (a style that seemed to develop around the time he was a sophomore, prior to which he was almost goofy and even wore braces).
There are a few articles too, one of which (from more than two years ago) talks about someone anonymously settling the debt of a small Ventura citrus farm (mostly orange varieties) while readers suspect that Riff may have been the benefactor.
A bit more research tells me it was right around the time he was starting to make a name for himself and come into some money.
When I consider all this—the indie-folk music, Riff’s former appearance, the possibility that he saves neighboring farms from financial ruin—songs like “Grind My Gears” start to look like absolute parody.
Like, how could he write and perform that kind of music and be serious about it? I don’t understand.
Unless …
My eyes widen.
Unless it is parody.
He can be cheeky when he’s annoyed. Does he actually hate his own music?
“If anything, it’s onstage where I misrepresent myself.”
Charles said Riff wanted a rebrand, creative control and all that.
I open Spotify and listen to a few of his country songs again—the more atrocious ones—and they all have the same pomp, they all feature the same caricature of a country bro, neither of which aligns with everything I’ve learned today, or how Riff acts when no one else is watching.
Is it possible he’s actually mocking the very genre he’s meant to be the face of?
I’m about to revisit his oldest songs (and try to track where he really shifted) when I spot a Play By Hear podcast episode that has also come up with his name attached.
He never mentioned he’d been approached for that (not that he tells me everything, but with our managers working closely together now I usually find out about that stuff). Curious what they’ve asked him, I click on it.
The first part of the interview is about his upcoming album, but the subject quickly turns to his involvement with me.
“Elephant in the room: What’s going on with you and Harmony Sonora?” the host asks. “Can you tell me anything? Is there anything to tell?”
Riff, in an accent (although more subtle than I’ve heard in other interviews) plays it off coolly as something “currently undefined” and “in its early stages” but hints that things are going well and that there will likely be “more to come soon.”
The host seems pleased with this, but doesn’t drop the subject completely. “Now, a lot of people have been following Harmony’s career since her Lucky Stars days. Were you aware of her back then?”
To this, Riff says yes and explains that he used to watch Lucky Stars with his college friends.
I’m surprised to hear that he thought I should have won, less surprised about the focus on his own music that he mentions after that.
I’m curious if it was more Paper Kites type music, and what it was that set his career trajectory in motion, but he says nothing of it.
“She’s been taking a lot of heat lately though,” the host adds about me.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed. People are talking about how much she’s changed physically, there are lots of photos going around comparing her to what she used to look like, how she’s put on some weight and all that.
What do you think though? I’d venture to guess you feel like she’s still got it, otherwise you wouldn’t be dating her. ” He chuckles.
I grip the sides of my laptop, my stomach churning. Is the media really still on about this? Sometimes I go weeks without hearing or reading anything about my body online, but it always seems to come back up.
Riff says nothing for a moment. He’s quiet so long the host has to prod him. I hold my breath for some reason.
“You know,” Riff says, “I think it’s really stupid to compare Harmony, or any woman for that matter, to her younger self.
” His accent drops completely now. “Harmony was barely out of high school when she did Lucky Stars, and now she’s a full-grown woman.
Bodies change. So what? She was beautiful then, she’s beautiful now. Yes, I’m fucking attracted to her.”
My heart races.
Is he serious? Does he really mean that?
“You wanna make comparisons?” he adds. “Compare her music from the early days to now; talk about how her melodies have become more layered and complex, how her lyrics have become more nuanced. Compare her first single hitting number four on Billboard to the fact that she had four number one singles all in the same year in 2023.”
He thinks my work is complex, nuanced? He knows my Billboard stats?
The host tries to de-escalate the situation by saying, “I personally like a woman with some curves” to which Riff replies sarcastically, “I’ll let her know you approve.”
Then Riff calls out the double standard and says he’s done with the interview.
After an awkward pause, the host laughs nervously and says, “Well, you know how celebrities can be sometimes. But at least we got to hear a little bit about how things are going. I think everyone’s excited that Riff and Harmony will both be releasing new music soon, along with everything they’ve been putting out up to this point.
Sorry to have to cut this episode short, but thanks for listening, and stay tuned for more music industry interviews. ”
I gape at the now-silent Spotify window for I-don’t-know-how-many minutes, unable to move.
This is like that moment when, in some versions of the story, Lois Lane realizes that Clark Kent has not been masquerading as Superman, but rather Superman has been masquerading as Clark Kent.
Not Superman as in the tights and the cape, but Superman as in a singularly fantastic individual from out of this world.
Maybe Riff is a liar—an actor like Luke, a panderer like Josh, an emotional con artist like Andy. Or maybe he has to put on a disguise because he doesn’t think the world can accept him as he really is.
And I’ve only made it worse.