Ellie Barber, who performs under the moniker Ollella, has been a finalist for NPR’s Tiny Desk Contest not once, but twice. The Seattle-based indie folk cellist and vocalist was first recognized for her 2022 entry, “Lava.” This year, she’s a finalist for her song, “Tea Kettle Tea,” an homage to her aunt.
“She was a second mother figure to me,” Ollella says. “She was my first music teacher.”
Ollella told NPR her aunt helped raise her and her sister after their parents’ divorce. “My aunt was a very creative person,” she remembers. “She had this wall in her house that she designated for my sister and I to paint on.” They would sing opera at full volume and sit together at the piano bench, working through the keys.
Her aunt died of cancer when Ollella was 11 years old. “Tea Kettle Tea” tells of her memories from that time — "I remember when we would draw /
Orca whales all over your walls" — vignettes of life being creative and joyful, and then the two-year period where her aunt was sick.
Her aunt was a hand surgeon — she restored musicians’ ability to play. ”She was incredibly smart,” says Ollella. But as the cancer progressed, her mind started to wander. “You talked nonsense, mind in the weeds,” Ollella writes in the song.
The title, "Tea Kettle Tea," comes from one ritual they had together. In quiet moments, Ollella’s aunt would make them chamomile tea with milk and honey from a special tea kettle that she'd serve in special tea cups. “At the time it was the fanciest thing I had ever touched,” she laughs.
Ollella sings and plays cello on the track. She started playing cello when she was 9 and played classical music through college. She tells NPR that “Tea Kettle Tea” poured out of her in what she describes as a “three-day songwriting trance, alternating between sobbing and feverish lyric writing.”
“I had just moved into an apartment for the first time on my own and had just finished unpacking all my belongings and had pulled out my cello,” she remembers, “and this melody had come out of nowhere. It just kind of fell into my lap. And it ended up bringing me down this whole experience of writing this song and kind of grieving my aunt in a way that I hadn't ever before.”
It took about six months of practice before Ollella says she could make it through the whole song without crying. But now when she plays it, she feels catharsis, and she hopes that's what the song can be for others, too. “I hope that this song helps people grieve in their own ways,” she says. And often, someone will come up to her after a performance with tears in their eyes. "That's what's cool about this is that I have learned how relatable this experience is. It's made me realize that people are grieving all the time."
It feels like a gift, she says, to be able to share such an intimate moment with a stranger, all because of a piece of music.
For more Tiny Desk Contest 2024 content, you can head here.
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