Shallow Alcove

Built on shared harmonies, late-night writing sessions, and a deep love for each other’s artistry, Shallow Alcove has grown from its upstate New York roots into a compelling pop/folk collective. Fronted by Grace Krichbaum and Dan Harris—and backed by longtime friends Peter Groppe, Jack Harrington, and Noah Dardaris—the quintet is building something truly belongs to all of them.

We caught up with Grace and Dan to talk about learning curves, love songs, and how making an album feels like raising a child with your best friends.

Analogue: You could’ve gone a number of directions with your musical talents. So what made this the right collective and chemistry to give it a real go?

Grace: Honestly, it never felt like a choice. This project just presented itself to us—it was the natural outcome of our friend group. We were friends before we were a band, and we started making music for fun. From there, it’s always been: how far can we take this? Can we really make hanging out our job?

It’s like we’d get a little crumb of validation—something would work—and we’d keep pushing. And suddenly we realized: I think we’re doing it. I think we’ve monetized our friendship.

Analogue: That’s a great way to say it.

Dan: Totally. And that validation came years later. For the first few years, it was all internal—like, wow, singing together feels awesome. Let’s keep doing it. It was a passion project. We all just loved singing together.

Grace and I literally became friends through that—singing together and liking the same music. That’s the foundation: we love hanging out. Let’s see how far we can take it.

Grace: We made this a job.

Analogue: How did it come together musically at first?

Dan: We met through the DIY scene at Syracuse, where we went to school. We’d each been playing in a few bands. This was 2017, 2018—big summer for SZA, Daniel Caesar—that kind of sound was everywhere on campus. Which we loved! But when I met Grace, I assumed she was this jazzy, R&B-type vocalist. She said, “Actually, my first love is folk music.” So we started playing together from there.

Grace: Yeah, I studied jazz voice and was doing a lot of R&B-ish stuff, especially background vocals. But that was just what people were making around campus. I loved it, but it wasn’t fully me. Then Dan pulled me aside and was like, “Girl, why are you always in the ensemble?”

So we started making folk music. We were the “sad girl music” kids on campus while everyone else was playing house shows—fun music for parties. We love to have fun, but we don’t like to make fun music. So we started forming around that.

Analogue: Grace, you mentioned those little bits of validation that helped you keep going. Can you recall the first moment when things shifted from fun to, “Oh wait, this could actually be a thing”?

Grace: Probably when our first song, “Your Star,” hit 100,000 streams. I made a little poster to announce it. It felt huge. We’d said we’d get a tattoo if it ever hit 10,000, which sounded crazy at the time.

Then it hit 100,000 and I was like, 'What the fuck?' I’ve never believed this was possible, not even when things started happening. Dan always believed, though. He’s said things that sounded crazy to me, and then they happened.

Back in college, he’d say, “Someday we’re going to have to talk about a record deal,” and I’d be like, “No way.” And then it happened. He’s just always had that belief.

Dan: It’s a fine line between blind faith and real belief. You need a little illusion to keep going.

Analogue: Dan, is that your nature, to be generally optimistic?

Dan: Eh, kind of. I’ve got two beasts in me: one is optimistic, the other’s a straight-up nihilist. Like, 'Fuck it, we might as well try—we’re all going to die anyway.'

But mostly, it’s not even about optimism. I just really believe in what my friends can do. From the beginning, the goal has been to make music I want to listen to with people I love. We came up in a scene full of insanely talented and kind people. Talent can take you far, but being a real, genuine person takes you farther, especially in terms of fulfillment. And our band is real. We celebrate holidays together. We love each other.

Analogue: Take me to those early songs—when you were just having fun—and compare them to what you're writing now in 2025. Where’s the biggest growth?

Dan: Those early releases were about proving we could do it. Now it’s about pushing how far we can go.

Grace: Totally. Back then, one of us—me or Dan—would write the song, and then it would kind of become a band song. But now, we’ve grown into this collaborative space where we’re all in the room together from the beginning. It’s a totally different process, and I’m really happy about it.

Analogue: That really reflects what Dan said—how much you value each other. Would you say the music is a reflection of that?

Grace: Absolutely. The songs now feel like a more accurate representation of our relationships—how interwoven they are. I always use this weird metaphor, but it fits: if you’re a solo artist, it’s like you’ve cloned yourself. There’s this weird little version of you running around, and you’re supposed to love it, but it’s kind of... odd.

But when we write something as a band, it feels like a love child between all of us. You see Jack’s eyes and Dan’s hair in it. It’s easy to love because it’s a reflection of all of us.

Analogue: I love that. And I’ve gotta ask—did you ever get the tattoos?

Grace: We did! Much later, but yeah. I have a little star.

Dan: I got a little car for the line “driving down a neighborhood street.”

Analogue: Love it. So the follow-through is real.

Grace: Oh yeah. We’ll take any excuse to get a tattoo.

Analogue: The way you described that earlier hinted at how your relationship with the marketplace and expectations has evolved. Back then, there were no real stakes. But now you know—there are people listening. You just wrapped a headline tour with Lighthearted. Is it strange to adjust to that reality—knowing there’s an audience waiting, paying attention, responding?

Dan: Yeah, I think our relationship with the marketplace is always evolving. That’s the only way it stays healthy. Sure, there’s pressure—people are watching—but most of it feels positive. For four or five years, we were making music just for ourselves. So having anyone listen, whether it’s 10 people or 100,000, is really rewarding.

Still, we all understand that none of this is promised. You kind of have to operate with a scarcity mindset—this could disappear.

Grace: I don’t really get nervous about the number of people listening. Making these records doesn’t feel any different now than it did in college. It’s not about pressure or expectations. A lot of our most diehard fans feel like friends at this point. At every show, there’s someone we recognize. People are just so kind.

What I do worry about is people stopping listening. It’s not about the pressure of too many eyes; it’s the fear of fading away. Like, are there enough people to sustain this?

I’ve had a taste of this life—making music with my friends, with my partner—and it’s perfect. The idea of losing it keeps me up at night. What if people stop caring? That’s the marketplace stress that gets to me.

Analogue: Right—because this isn’t just professional for you. There’s a lot of personal weight here, too.

Grace: Exactly. I don’t want it to end. But lately, I’ve tried to make peace with the idea. I spent so much time fearing the “what if,” but then I forced myself to play it out. Even if it ends, I’ll still make music with these people. I’ll still celebrate holidays with them. We’ll still be in each other’s lives. This is all just the cherry on top.

Analogue: How was the recent tour run?

Grace: So fun. The Lighthearted girls are amazing human beings. It was an easy tour—not crazy long, not bad drives. Just really beautiful.

Dan: Yeah, it was such a gift. Headlining a tour is already a massive privilege, but the best part was choosing an opener and clicking with them instantly. We didn’t know Lighthearted super well—just a quick meet and some internet overlap—but they blew our expectations out of the water.

And the structure helped, too. We were based out of Grace’s house in Philly for a lot of it. So we’d play Philly, Asbury Park, D.C.—all drivable. Having a home base made it way less chaotic.

Grace: Touring can be overwhelming. But this time, I feel like we finally started applying what we’ve learned. We were like, “Okay, I know what makes me feel good before a show. I know what doesn’t work after a show.” We’d done it enough times to collect the data.

On past tours, we were just getting pummeled by learning curves. This one felt like we were finally putting the puzzle together.

Analogue: So where are things now creatively? You just dropped an EP—what’s next?

Grace: We’re about to start writing our first album, which is huge for us. We’ve been a band for six years and have mostly put out singles—write a song, record it, release it. No long-term plan.

Now we’re ready to make a full body of work. That means pulling back a bit—maybe taking breaks from social media or not releasing anything for a while, which is scary in today’s output-obsessed world. We keep describing this choice as a risk, but… is it really?

Dan: Yeah, I want to echo that. The internet rewards constant output, and we’ve built a bit of a following through consistency. But at some point, the artists who really cut through are the ones making well-crafted albums.

Look at this year—Sabrina Carpenter and Turnstile are both headlining festivals. That’s amazing. And it’s because albums are still king. Even in a singles economy, even in a TikTok world, a great LP always stands out.

We saw that firsthand touring with bands like The Staves or Tiny Habits. Their albums resonate deeply. Social media matters, but excuse the crude saying—you can’t polish a turd. The art still has to be real.

Analogue: Do you relish that kind of creative challenge?

Dan: Definitely. It’s not supposed to be easy. Collaborating with five people is hard—and it should be. That challenge sharpens us.

Grace: It just takes longer. Coordinating five people who live in different states and work on other projects? That’s tough. Everyone has to be on the same creative wavelength at the same time. That makes writing an album a real undertaking.

The upside is that we have the strength of five people. But in terms of output, yeah—it slows things down. And it has to be a reflection of all of us. We weren’t ready for that until now. And I think we’ve had to accept that from the outside, it might look like, “What are they doing?” No posts, no new songs. But we’ve realized it’s okay.

We’re trying to build something for the long game—a body of work we’re proud of. That takes time. And it’s worth it.

VISIT: Shallow Alcove