Meet the Artist: Tara Beier

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A soulful mysticism lingers around Tara Beier's new album, 'Mourning Doves In Joshua Tree'. An album of empathy and resilience, Tara's message is a guiding light. 

'Mourning Doves In Joshua Tree', the third album from the indie folk artist showcases Tara Beier's lyrical honesty. Touching on her personal experiences with loss, motherhood and acceptance, her honesty is incredibly raw. Yet, behind her lyrics is a well-timed reminder to have gentle empathy for yourself and to fully embrace your path, no matter the roadblocks. 

The soundscape of Tara’s music brings inspiration from Joshua Tree, where each elongated note from an instrument taps into those long summer days when time feels at a standstill. It’s an apropos soundtrack to Beier’s theme of slowing down and rejecting the societal pressures of ‘the rat race’. Yet, this isn’t another self-help album. It’s an album of resilience, of balance. When you listen to each song, you can hear that balance layered into the music. Darker tones and chord structures blend throughout Tara’s ethereal vocals, bringing out these gorgeous rich tones in the music. 

Tara Beier’s is a genuine artist, speaking from her heart and wanting to connect with others, she answered some questions about her new album below. You can listen to ‘Mourning Doves of Joshua Tree’ on all streaming platforms now!

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GRRRL Music: "Mourning Doves of Joshua Tree" feels like a spiritual diary—equal parts grounded and otherworldly. What drew you to the desert as the setting for this album, and how did its landscape shape your healing process?

Tara Beier: Thank you—I love this question. “Spiritual diary” really captures the essence of this album. When I first moved to Los Angeles about ten years ago, I would escape to Joshua Tree just to breathe. The desert felt like freedom. I was drawn to the trees—how each one looked unique, sometimes a little dysfunctional, like they were surviving despite everything. That really mirrored where I was at the time—branching out as an artist, figuring out my voice.

The desert gave me space to be alone and process. Coming from the city’s pressure and noise, the vast openness of the desert landscape felt like music—it gave me the room to feel, to listen inward. The strength of the plants and the terrain, surviving in extreme conditions, became a metaphor for the soul’s resilience. That raw toughness paired with beauty became part of the album’s DNA. I truly believe nature is God, and being in the desert helped me connect with that spiritual truth. The deep blue skies, the stars at night—they gave me hope. I ended up living there for almost a year while writing this album, and you can hear the seasons in the songs. Each track marked a chapter of healing.

GM: There’s a confident, sultry energy throughout the record—almost like a conversation between strength and softness. Was that contrast intentional, and how do you navigate the space between vulnerability and empowerment in your songwriting?

TB: ​Absolutely. That contrast was intentional. I think grace is the leading force in this record—and in my life. I’m a mother of twins, I’ve done a lot of recovery work, and I’ve had to set boundaries with family while still holding space for love. That balancing act shows up in my music.

Feminine energy, to me, is deeply powerful. There’s real strength in softness, and I wanted to reflect that. Vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s actually the gateway to real strength. So I leaned into that juxtaposition: grounded yet ethereal, strong yet tender. Musically, I also wanted the instrumentation to carry just as much weight as the vocals. I listen to a lot of instrumental music, so it was important to me that my voice blended with the arrangement as just one part of the whole—like another instrument. I’m not trying to make a statement, but I do want people to feel something real. To me, the truest art holds both darkness and light. That’s what makes it human.

GM: As someone moving through grief myself, the lyric “listen to your heart, listen to your soul” landed like a quiet mantra. How did that line come to you, and what role did self-trust play in your journey through loss and transformation?

TB: I’m so touched that line resonated with you. It comes from “Desert Soul,” which is probably the most mystical track on the album. I wrote it toward the end of my time in the desert, when I was really immersed in that landscape and headspace. I was reading The Alchemist at the time, and every morning I’d drive my boys to preschool along these long, open desert roads. That space gave me time to reflect.

That line—“listen to your heart, listen to your soul”—became a quiet truth I needed to hear myself. We’re taught our whole lives to listen to authority: parents, teachers, society. But that can cause real anxiety when it disconnects us from who we truly are. I’ve felt that. I’ve lived it. And it wasn’t until I chose the artist’s path that I began to feel relief and clarity.

That lyric is about coming back to yourself—about trusting your own inner compass. It’s not always easy. The world often wants you to conform. But your heart and soul already know your path. It’s lonely sometimes, especially if you’re taking a road less traveled. But I want to say this to every artist or seeker out there: your voice matters. Your path is sacred. And that lyric is my reminder of that.

GM: This album touches on deeply personal experiences—IVF, near-death, motherhood, and the loss of your grandmother. Did any song on the album surprise you in the way it came out—like it taught you something about what you were feeling before you even fully realized it?

TB: Yes. Honestly, I think the album as a whole was a response to everything I had been carrying. When I started writing, my sons were already two, but I was still processing so much—the trauma of birth, the transformation of my body, and the grief of losing my grandmother. These songs became a way to move through it all. Writing was both a healing practice and a grounding one—it helped me return to myself.

“Desert Soul” surprised me the most. I didn’t expect it to come out with that kind of emotional power. When I listen back to the chorus—“listen to your heart, listen to your soul”—I hear a version of myself that was deeply connected, maybe even beyond what I realized at the time. Music is my meditation. It helps me access parts of my unconscious that words alone can’t reach. That song reminded me of my purpose—and why I fight so hard to stay aligned with my truth. Even when the world tells you to be something else, your soul knows. And that’s what the song taught me in return.

GM: This album feels like a turning point in your already incredible year. How do you think "Mourning Doves of Joshua Tree" reflects your growth—not just as a musician, but as a human?

TB: This album feels like the most grounded I’ve ever been—in my craft and in my life. It’s not just the songs. It’s everything behind them. I’ve grown through motherhood. I’ve deepened spiritually. I’ve done the recovery work and come to know myself on a whole new level. And musically, I feel like I finally found my sound.

My earlier work—especially my debut Hero & the Sage—will always mean a lot to me, and I’m proud of what I created then. But this album just feels… settled. Like I know who I am now. That comes with experience. You don’t become a great artist overnight. You grow through each record, each life experience. And I’m grateful for every step of that.

I also owe a lot to my producer Steve Stout. I’d write the songs on guitar and piano, record scratch demos, and bring him the vision—and he just got it. He brought it all to life in such a beautiful, intuitive way. This album wouldn’t be what it is without that collaboration.

At the end of the day, I think what I’ve learned most is this: you have to be relentless in your truth. People won’t always understand it. Even family might not get it. But you’re not here to live someone else’s life. You’re here to live yours. And that’s what this record represents to me: growth, freedom, and staying true to the voice inside—no matter what.