Finding Strength in Vulnerability: Bea Porges on Connection, Creativity, and the Music Industry

All Photos by Garrett Cardoso

In an industry often described as a "boys' club," artist Bea Porges is carving out her own space. With a sound that blends the poignant storytelling of indie-folk with the infectious energy of pop, she's not just making music; she's building a community. From her formative years in Atlanta to the vibrant music scene of Athens, Georgia, Porges has embraced her identity as a woman in music, transforming what many see as a weakness into her greatest strength.

The music business has a long-standing reputation for being male-dominated. In a town like Athens, where the demand for "frat rock" is a consistent presence, Porges has had to navigate a landscape filled with subtle and not-so-subtle challenges. She speaks of the isolation that comes from seeing all-male bands booking shows with other all-male bands. She also recounts the frustrating, backhanded compliments she's received after performances—phrases like, "I was actually pretty impressed," or "Those were some pretty hard chords you were playing." These seemingly innocuous comments reveal a deeper bias, a presumption that a woman can’t be a skilled musician.

This objectification and the feeling of being merely "something on a stage to be looked at" rather than an artist to be heard and respected is a common struggle for women in music. Yet, Porges has re-framed this experience. Instead of viewing her identity as a hindrance, she sees it as a powerful advantage. This perspective is rooted in her deep understanding of her audience, particularly other women.

"The majority of mega fanbases are made up of women looking for something/someone to relate to," she explains. This insight is the cornerstone of her songwriting. Porges has experienced the same heartaches, disappointments, confusion, and joy as her female listeners. She is one of them. This shared experience makes her music deeply relatable and meaningful.

A perfect example is her unreleased song, "Johnny." The track, which explores a quick, intense, and fleeting relationship, was initially "almost embarrassing to write." With lyrics like, "To know him is to love him, and to love him is to bleed," it was a raw and vulnerable piece of her life. But when she started performing it live, something magical happened. Women would approach her after shows, sharing their own similar stories. They would say things like, "I have a Johnny" or "I dated a Johnny when I was in my 20s." The song transcended its personal origins, becoming a tool for connection. This transformation from personal vulnerability to universal anthem is a testament to the power of her music and her identity as a woman.

This heightened awareness and sensitivity to the world around her, born from her experiences, make her a better songwriter. The community she has found with other female musicians—like Jess and Jade from Hotel Fiction, Julia Barfield, and her own bandmate, Sam Smith—has made her a better friend and a more resilient artist. For Bea Porges, being a woman in the music industry isn't a weakness; it's the very source of her greatest strength.

In an era of carefully curated online personas and manufactured viral moments, Bea Porges stands as an artist who refuses to create an alter-ego. Her public presence and private self are inextricably linked, a connection she attributes to the "diaristic" nature of her songwriting. Her songs are a direct reflection of her "inner world and feelings," blurring the lines between the creator and her creation.

Porges's life is her inspiration; her emotions are the raw material for her art.

This deep personal attachment to her music means that some songs are so vulnerable she can't even play them live. But for the ones that do make it to the stage, they undergo a subtle but significant transformation. A song born from sadness or anxiety might be performed with energy and cheerfulness in a live setting. This isn't a mask; it's simply a different facet of her authentic self. When she's on stage performing a song like "Comfort of a Crowded Room," her focus shifts from the original emotional turmoil to the technical aspects of the performance—playing the right chords, connecting with her band, and putting on a great show.

This lack of an alter-ego is a conscious choice and a core part of her identity as an artist. Porges admits she's not good at hiding what she's feeling. "If I look nervous on stage it's because I am, if I look excited on stage it's because I am," she says. This transparency is a key part of her artistic vision and her appeal. She's not a character; she's an open book, and her audience appreciates the honesty.

The modern music industry is a battlefield of algorithms and "going viral." This pressure to constantly create content for social media is a "double-edged sword" for artists like Porges. On one hand, it can feel like selling out, a game of luck and consistency where you're forced to perform for an algorithm. On the other, it offers an unprecedented, direct way to connect with fans and build a platform that is "authentic and fully representative of their art."

Porges acknowledges the frustration that comes with this digital landscape. The word "algorithm" can trigger a "fight or flight response," she admits. Yet, she also recognizes the freedom it provides. Independent artists today have instantaneous global distribution without the need to pitch to record labels or call radio stations. The artist has full control over their content, a level of autonomy that was unimaginable a generation ago.

Navigating this pressure while staying true to her artistic vision is a "non-negotiable" for her. She finds it "practically impossible to stray from myself in my writing." The truth, she believes, is that "nobody knows what is going to go viral or catch a wave, so you might as well be yourself while trying." For Porges, the online game is a mix of luck and consistency, and the best strategy is to simply be authentic.

Bea Porges's unique sound, a compelling blend of indie-pop and folk, is a direct result of her diverse musical tastes. She's a student of songwriting, studying the lyrics of indie-folk artists like Madison Cunningham, Bella White, and Billie Marten "like it's a job." But she also has a genuine and "unabashed" love for pop artists like Taylor Swift and Sabrina Carpenter, from whom she takes cues on stage presence and creating "addictive melodies." She even draws inspiration from the rock sensibilities of Annie DiRusso and Wednesday, as well as the emerging "indie twang" renaissance led by artists like MJ Lenderman and Waxahatchee.

This wide range of influences is the secret to her genre-blending sound. It's not a calculated choice; it's an organic one that reflects her personal listening habits. When it comes to instrumentation, she allows her current obsessions to guide her. The recent rise of lap steel in the indie genre has captured her attention. She loves how it can sound both "somber and so uplifting," adding a texture that a traditional guitar can't quite match. The "plucky, almost sticky quality" of the banjo also appeals to her, providing another expressive layer to her songs.

The journey from a budding artist to a polished performer is a story of growth, and for Bea Porges, it's intrinsically tied to the cities of Atlanta and Athens, Georgia. She spent her youth in Atlanta, writing songs in her bedroom and occasionally performing for friends. But it was her move to Athens in 2021 that truly catapulted her as an artist.

"I think it was a combination of being in a small music scene with incredibly talented songwriters and musicians, as well as the personal growth that naturally happens between the ages of 20-24," she says. Playing a steady stream of shows, writing constantly, and immersing herself in a supportive community made her a better artist. The Athens scene, in her view, is more "community-oriented," a stark contrast to the competitive vibe she experienced during her brief time in Nashville. While Nashville might offer more opportunities, Athens provided a more welcoming and supportive environment where her artistry could truly "blossom."

Her songwriting is often described as having a "penchant for detail and wit," and a song like "Carolina" is a perfect example of this. Inspired by a brief love affair, the song is a tapestry of vivid details: a Carolina highway, a gap-toothed smile, and the thrilling terror of falling for someone who could "tear my life apart." Lyrics like, "I'd lose my appetite, I'd lose my lust for life, wish on some satellite that you'd come home," capture the contradictory emotions of fear and "cautionless, doe-eyed optimism."

While Bea Porges is the solo songwriter behind her music, the live show is a full-band experience. The collaboration with her bandmates—Sam Smith (bass), Christian Pullen (lead guitar), Gideon Johnston (drums), and Aidan Hill (synth)—adds everything to her songs. She describes them as "technically proficient" and says they push her to be better at her own craft.

When she brings a quiet acoustic song to them, they "instinctively understand what the song needs in order to bring it to life on stage." They are pros, she says, who make the live shows exciting and allow her to have more fun on stage. The transition from a solo acoustic track to a "powerful and danceable live show" is a collaborative process of trial and error, bouncing ideas around a room until something clicks. She trusts her band "wholeheartedly" with her music, a trust that is a testament to their skill and shared creative vision.

Bea Porges's upcoming EP, "The Cure, The Cause, The Killer," is a deep dive into the emotional landscape of a relationship from beginning to end. She describes it as an "emotional journey through the hope of it all to the bittersweet, extended ending." The title, she says, comes from a lyric in the last track, "Slow": "You're the cure and cause and killer all in one."

This lyric captures the complex feeling of being unable to live with or without someone, the idea that the same person can be what hurts you and saves you. Unlike her previous EP, "space & time," which was recorded over two days, this new project was recorded as the songs were being written. This organic process made it feel "so raw and personal." The cover art for the EP, shot on film in her own home and in a favorite Athens park, reflects this vulnerability. She didn't want to wear a costume or go to an extravagant location; she wanted the visuals to be as authentic as the music.

One of the most exciting developments in Bea Porges's career has been her selection for Spencer Strider's vinyl collection. This collaboration, which highlights local Atlanta musicians, was a complete surprise. She received a mysterious call from a partner at Athens' EchoBase, instructing her to show up at a venue without asking questions. When she arrived, she was met by other confused musicians and then, Spencer Strider himself, who broke the news.

Porges, a lifelong Braves fan, was "shocked that my music was on his radar at all." The opportunity to be part of a major league baseball event was a "huge honor." The highlight was performing at Truist Park after a Braves game. She felt the pressure to impress an audience of "sports fans that may not be 'music people,'" but once the band started playing, she was "locked in" and the pressure faded away.

The collaboration has had a tangible impact, leading to a "steady increase in listeners, followers, and overall engagement." It has introduced her music to a new audience, a demographic that might not have otherwise discovered her. She believes that being endorsed by a figure like Spencer Strider gives her music a "little more validity" in the eyes of male sports fans, a powerful bridge between two seemingly different worlds. Porges sums it up perfectly: "If the younger version of myself that was sitting on my Dad’s lap and eating Dippin’ Dots at Turner Field could see me now, I think she would be really proud. That’s pretty much all that matters."

For Bea Porges, the creative process is a mysterious, almost inexplicable force. Songs come to her in different ways: sometimes all at once, sometimes in pieces. A single phrase in her notes app can become a complete song, or a verse can be saved for a future composition. The only consistent element is the sudden, undeniable urge to create. "It hits me like a ton of bricks," she says, a "download from the universe" that she can't ignore.

Whether it’s the quiet, vulnerable songs she writes alone or the powerful, danceable versions she performs with her band, every iteration is a part of her authentic self. She's a true artist, constantly evolving, unafraid to be herself, and always ready to share her inner world with an audience that is eager to listen.

Written by Mckenzie Blasi