Matt Grandbois’s debut album Somewhere, Probably arrives not with a roar but with a quiet urgency—a collection of confessional songs that echo long after the last note fades. It’s a record that doesn’t ask for your attention with flashy production or gimmicky hooks. Instead, it earns your trust through emotional honesty, musical depth, and a rare sense of artistic self-awareness that feels both lived-in and luminous.
At its core, Somewhere, Probably is about the hard, sometimes painful journey toward authenticity. It charts the emotional fallout of what happens when we finally stop hiding—from others, but most importantly, from ourselves. Grandbois, who moved to Washington, D.C. in 2024 after years of living with family and roommates, uses solitude as a launchpad for introspection. The album reflects that internal shift: the songs are reflective but never indulgent, intimate but never claustrophobic.
The record opens with “Moving On,” a poignant meditation on heartbreak and letting go. It sets the tone for an album that’s less about resolution and more about reckoning. Songs like “Someone Else” and “Lonely” don’t offer closure so much as they sit with discomfort—an unrequited crush, a love too complicated to name—and ask what it means to carry feelings you’re not ready (or allowed) to express. Grandbois doesn’t shy away from these emotional corners; he invites us into them.
What sets Somewhere, Probably apart is its emotional and musical range. Grandbois’s influences—John Mayer’s storytelling, Jason Mraz’s vocal warmth, the harmonic sophistication of jazz and classical music—are subtly woven throughout. The arrangements are thoughtful and understated, allowing space for the lyrics to breathe. “Falling,” which took seven years to write, shimmers with restrained beauty, while “Tension” captures the ache of almost-love with haunting minimalism. On “Live Like Paige,” a tribute to a lost friend, Grandbois channels grief into a stirring reminder to live fully, even amid sorrow.
Despite its introspective tone, the album never feels static. Each track reveals a new facet of Grandbois’s emotional landscape. “Better Days” offers a moment of respite, celebrating the healing power of friendship and unconditional love. The album closes with “Ordinary Face,” a recent addition that feels like a mission statement—an ode to seeing and being seen in a world that often encourages the opposite. It’s a fitting end to a journey that began with hiding and ends with wholehearted presence.
Somewhere, Probably isn’t just a strong debut—it’s a brave one. Grandbois writes with a clarity that suggests he’s done the hard work offstage before ever hitting record. These songs weren’t written for applause; they were written because they needed to be. And that’s what makes the album so compelling. In a time when so much music is curated for virality or consumption, Somewhere, Probably offers something far more lasting: a mirror for anyone still learning how to speak their truth—and the soundtrack for doing so.
