Joyce Wrice on The Lyrics That Changed Her Life

Joyce Wrice is an perpetual city girl born of two cultures. The Cali-born singer’s middle name, Machiko, literally translates to “city child” in Japanese: “machi” meaning “city” or “street,” and “ko” meaning “child.” Wrice’s mother, who was born in the Hyogo prefecture, picked the middle name because of how much she herself enjoyed traveling to Tokyo. “She loved music and disco and fashion, so getting out of the countryside in her 20s and 30s was important to her,” Wrice remembers. “When I was born, she was like, I want this for my daughter.” Her parents met while her father, a Black man from Michigan, was stationed with the Navy in Japan. Growing up in Chula Vista, just outside of San Diego, Wrice fell in love with the R&B and soul music favored by her father, and eventually felt the same call to the big city as her mother.         

Those travels led Wrice to Los Angeles, to recording covers of songs by Brandy, Miguel, and Jhene Aiko, and to collaborations with producers like Polyester The Saint and MNDSGN. Then, in 2021, her debut full-length  Overgrown, introduced Wrice as a child of 2000s R&B and hip-hop hell-bent on keeping those traditions—sultry ballads and stories of heartbreak interspersed with the occasional guest rapper—alive in her own way. Overgrown connected, but its reach was stymied by Covid, which affected her ability to properly tour the album. But she never lost inspiration, crafting the Motive EP a year later while building out ideas for her full-length follow-up. 

The process required the 34-year-old to address certain relationship patterns and take accountability for her part in causing pain. “I know I have this kind of avoidant attachment style,” Wrice says. ”As much as I want to get married and have kids, there’s a hesitancy too. I have things I need to let go of and unpack in order to fully let someone else in.” She stopped dating for a while, healed herself, and looked inward. One hundred songs emerged from her soul-searching, and were whittled down to the 13 tracks of rich, self-reflecting R&B goodness that make up Machiko.

The curtain rises on Machiko with a life-affirming note spoken in Japanese, which roughly translates as: “I had been wandering for so long/Searching for the answer/But the answer was right there/When I finally realized it/The person I was meant to love was here all along.” For an artist so fascinated by love in all its forms, there is power in giving the most care to herself. Throughout the record, Wrice relishes her freedom even as she fights against her tendency to drift away when her lovers get too close. But an R&B lovergirl is prone to lovergirl hard sometimes.  She melts on sight for Mr. Right (“Crack The Code”), then turns around and demands more of her man (“Break Me In”). Wrice’s love of rap also waits around every corner, in the form of duets with JID and Eem Triplin, and an entire interlude for Flint punchline king Rio Da Yung OG. 

Machiko shows the work Wrice has put towards her growth, and also offers a schematic of the music that raised her. Throughout our conversation, she touches on legends of the genre—their voices, their pens, and their abilities to make timeless music. 

Amel Larrieux: “Bravebird”

Joyce Wrice: Between Groove Theory and her writing and her character, Amel Larrieux feels like home. “Bravebird” is so nurturing, and the lyrics and story behind that song and her whistle-tone have inspired me so much. I couldn’t help but listen to her. She’s someone I think I subconsciously got a lot of my own tone, style, and voice from. Whenever I need a hug or need to be in my feelings, this song is it. It reminds me of my childhood, the little girl that’s within me, and reminds me that everything is gonna be okay. 

Sometimes as artists, it’s good to have a blueprint that embodies the career or creativity of the kind of artist you want to be. She was one of those for me. She’s my number one, my boss.

Erykah Badu: “Green Eyes”

I’ve known Erykah and that album [Mama’s Gun] for however long it’s been out, but this song really hit when I experienced my first breakup in college. I was feeling envious and jealous and super insecure, and “Green Eyes” was the soundtrack to my life. It was so comforting. The wit behind the writing and how much of a turn the song takes, going in so many different directions. It’s just one of those songs I’ll always have this strong relationship with. 

Erykah is the full package, from the theatrics of it all to the don’t give a fuck energy and laying her heart on her sleeve. I wanna be that honest and raw a lot of times too and it’s really hard for me, so I go to her when I know I gotta challenge myself to go deeper. The metaphors and the way her songs are just so her. It’s really hard to cover or recreate what she does. She’s one of those people who figured out what she does so well. I’m always trying to get there, too. 

This song goes through an entire relationship in a way I haven’t heard since, and lands on that specific moment where you’ve broken up with someone and then you see them with someone else. 

And that was me! That song lets you know you’re not alone. It might happen again, but feel how you feel about it and it’ll all be okay. 

She’s been soundtracking love and heartbreak in her own witty and concise ways for nearly 30 years now! We should all aspire to that. 

Yes, that’s such a goal. 

Brandy: “Like This”

Brandy is one of the first singers I was introduced to by my dad when I was younger, so I had to include one of her songs here. For that one in particular, it’s the way in which she talks about what she wants done to her. It’s so classy and tasteful and the creativity behind that is just so great. It’s so sexy without doing too much, and it’s very empowering as a woman to talk about what you want and how this person makes you feel without thinking, Am I doing too much? 

At the time I’d just moved to L.A., I posted a little cover of my doing that song on Instagram, and it kinda blew up. The lower register she’s singing in made me want to tap into that lower register because I can go there. I’m also a huge LaShawn Daniels fan, too, so I’ve just been listening to so much of his music and taking it apart. This man has written so many of our favorite songs—hit after hit!—and I’m just tryna do my homework and see if I can get there. 

That era was chock full of these kinds of songs. A good connection between that and you is a song like “Break Me In.” 

It gets a little explicit on “Break Me In,” which is fine! But yeah, that song was definitely inspired by those records and those artists for sure. 

OutKast: “Prototype”

I’m more single than in a relationship or dating, but I’m such a hopeless romantic. I love love and I love talking about it, and when I see it, it warms me up. “Prototype” is so romantic, and hearing Andre being in his feels. It’s so nice, especially coming from a man. I love hearing Andre sing and him getting into production the way he was at that time. The words, the lyrics, the storytelling of that song feels so simple, but that’s the hardest shit to write. 

“Prototype” distills love down to this simple form that’s so intoxicating. The idea of “You are the prototype” is crazy. I’ve never heard love expressed in such a concise way—you’re the original, the mold that everything else was used to make. That’s such a potent display of love and affection. 

Right! And with Machiko, there’s two guys I’m talking about on the album, so when I think about “Prototype,” that idea is so relatable. If this isn’t it, you’re what I hope the next person can embody in their own way. How the fuck do you write a song that feels as poetic as this one? My friend Keifer taught me the chords for that one, and it’s one of my favorites to sing on the piano.   

Amy Winehouse: “Tears Dry on Their Own”

We have to talk about Amy! It was so hard to narrow this down and list it out, but I think it’s just her voice; the rawness of it all, how she paints a picture and tells stories and uses her life experience. She’s expressing and going through all the emotions with these songs. There’s so much bravery and courage in that. So with “Tears Dry on Their Own,” I’ve been there, and it sucks. This one is another soundtrack to a time in my life that’s so potent. Some of these lines she talks about on here hit like Fuck, that’s real. Even if you don’t wanna say it out loud, this is what it is. This is it. I don’t express Amy enough in any interviews I’ve done and I haven’t  posted about her much, so as I was digging through my playlists, just the title alone? I had to include her. 

It takes a certain kind of artist to sing what’s basically an interpolation of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and just completely make it your own. 

That’s what she represents and that’s what artistry is all about, which is why she’ll forever be one of the best and most influential artists. Nothing but bars.  

Nai Palm: “Homebody”

That one’s similar to the Amel song. It’s like a lullaby, a big warm hug. “Home is in your body,” like don’t forget; you have everything that you need! Her voice is everything. I was lucky enough to to meet Nai Palm and she just doesn’t sound like anybody else. Her melodies and how she floats over these unique productions that are so minimal. “Homebody” just did so much to me. Every time I listen to it, a weight comes off my shoulders. It’s a real sonic release for me. There’s so many other songs of hers I love, like that song “Crossfire” with the Tamia “So Into You” outro. Tone is a really big thing for me, and she has one of my favorites. She has that range like Brandy, too. 

Mariah Carey: “The Roof (Back In Time)”

The reason I love blending genres is because of Mariah and Missy [Elliott] and from me just being a genuine fan of hip-hop, but that song in particular is crazy. Mariah is a songwriter and a storyteller. A lot of people learn what certain words are and up their vocabulary because of what Mariah says in her songs, and it’s true! She knows how to make certain things sound so good, even though she’s using words we might think are weird to put into a song. There’s no rules or boundaries, it’s all about how you feel. 

With “The Roof,” her storytelling and the lyrics stick out. It’s romantic and a bit eerie and I like the little darkness behind it. You can feel the yearning and what she was going through with Derek Jeter. I read her autobiography, so that song is literally about that. When I read that, I said “Damn, you can really feel it in the music. I wanna have that impact with my music to the point where they hear my songs and say “Whoa!” and they feel they’re in that moment. And of course, the vocal layering and adlibs! Mariah is one of those artists where she doesn't even need a beat; she could make the production with her voice. That’s a skill I want to develop as well.   

D’Angelo: “The Root”

The wizard! Stretching your voice and using it as an instrument the way he does is crazy. I grew up Buddhist, but I’m so heavily influenced by gospel music. D’Angelo started off in the church, as lots of these amazing artists, and the soul and spiritualness behind him is so much. To me, being a vessel for the higher powers and the shit being spiritual is a reminder for me listening to D’Angelo. With “The Root,” in particular, it’s something to how he’s singing and the emotion behind it. Every time I hear that song, it puts me in my feels—”She done worked the root!” 

That’s also a soundtrack for me, remembering the kind of people who can have that kind of impact on you. To be able to be blessed with a song that can comfort you when you’re in that space, I needed that. There’s times where people will have you feeling like you have no control, like they got you. Thank you, D, for reminding me that I’m not alone and for being my therapy. I’m also so sad that he’s not with us anymore, but he’s always with us through the music and all the clips and documentaries and things. People ask what album you’d bring with you on a desert island, I would say Voodoo for sure.