Big Easy Embrace:
Hurray for Riff Raff's leading lady gives props to the city that changed her life
written by: Hobart Rowland
Alynda Lee Segarra didn’t run away from home—not exactly. There was no sneaking out in the night or any pre-exit blowout with her parents. The Bronx native was raised (quite capably, she notes) by her aunt and uncle. When asked about the arrangement, Hurray for the Riff Raff’s 26-year-old leader confides that her mom was a busy career woman and her dad had his hands full raising her brother. “It was one of those things,” she says matter-of-factly.
High school wasn’t going well for the budding riot grrrl. So, she followed the example of the itinerant hipsters she’d befriended on the Lower East Side and hitchhiked to the West Coast, then North Carolina and New Orleans. “I was turning 17, and I knew that if I stayed in New York, I wasn’t going to cut it,” she says. “My aunt and uncle are still forgiving me. It’s one of those things that you can really only do at that age, when you’re fearless.”
For someone whose life path had every opportunity to head in any number of unsavory directions, Segarra has been remarkably lucky. “I had a really great group of friends just like me, who were kind of wandering around,” she says. “We all really took care of each other.”
But it has to be more than luck, or simply a matter of hanging out with the right people. With her compact frame, quirky-exotic beauty (think two parts Parks and Recreation’s Aubrey Plaza, one part Rosie Perez), and that timeless, heartbreakingly vulnerable voice that settles into the ears like a smoky whisper, Segarra is the undoubted fulcrum of Hurray for the Riff Raff. That much is evident from the press bio, which focuses almost solely on her.
To be fair, the bio does mention fiddle player Yosi Perlstein, keyboardist Casey McAllister, guitarist Sam Doores and bassist Dan Cutler. And there’s Alabama Shakes producer Andrija Tokic, who engineered Small Town Heroes, Hurray for the Riff Raff’s new album for Dave Matthews-founded indie imprint ATO. A modest victory of substance over style, its hauntingly intimate 12 tracks are the antithesis of the latest blustery spin on American roots music being perpetrated by Mumford & Sons, the Head and the Heart and others. Tracks like “St. Roch Blues” and “End of the Line” are entwined in the tragicomic allure of Segarra’s adopted hometown of New Orleans, which she alternately mourns and celebrates. “There is no music industry in New Orleans—it’s really nurturing there,” she says.
It wasn’t long ago that Segarra was singing and strumming a banjo on Crescent City street corners. These days, she’s playing theaters with the likes of Amos Lee and Alabama Shakes. Does the busking vibe translate? “It really depends on the mindset of the audience and whether they want to connect on that level,” says Segarra. “A lot of times, we’ll just start the show with me out there. Most people really want to have that intensely personal connection with the artist. They want you to be vulnerable, because they feel vulnerable.”
High school wasn’t going well for the budding riot grrrl. So, she followed the example of the itinerant hipsters she’d befriended on the Lower East Side and hitchhiked to the West Coast, then North Carolina and New Orleans. “I was turning 17, and I knew that if I stayed in New York, I wasn’t going to cut it,” she says. “My aunt and uncle are still forgiving me. It’s one of those things that you can really only do at that age, when you’re fearless.”
For someone whose life path had every opportunity to head in any number of unsavory directions, Segarra has been remarkably lucky. “I had a really great group of friends just like me, who were kind of wandering around,” she says. “We all really took care of each other.”
But it has to be more than luck, or simply a matter of hanging out with the right people. With her compact frame, quirky-exotic beauty (think two parts Parks and Recreation’s Aubrey Plaza, one part Rosie Perez), and that timeless, heartbreakingly vulnerable voice that settles into the ears like a smoky whisper, Segarra is the undoubted fulcrum of Hurray for the Riff Raff. That much is evident from the press bio, which focuses almost solely on her.
To be fair, the bio does mention fiddle player Yosi Perlstein, keyboardist Casey McAllister, guitarist Sam Doores and bassist Dan Cutler. And there’s Alabama Shakes producer Andrija Tokic, who engineered Small Town Heroes, Hurray for the Riff Raff’s new album for Dave Matthews-founded indie imprint ATO. A modest victory of substance over style, its hauntingly intimate 12 tracks are the antithesis of the latest blustery spin on American roots music being perpetrated by Mumford & Sons, the Head and the Heart and others. Tracks like “St. Roch Blues” and “End of the Line” are entwined in the tragicomic allure of Segarra’s adopted hometown of New Orleans, which she alternately mourns and celebrates. “There is no music industry in New Orleans—it’s really nurturing there,” she says.
It wasn’t long ago that Segarra was singing and strumming a banjo on Crescent City street corners. These days, she’s playing theaters with the likes of Amos Lee and Alabama Shakes. Does the busking vibe translate? “It really depends on the mindset of the audience and whether they want to connect on that level,” says Segarra. “A lot of times, we’ll just start the show with me out there. Most people really want to have that intensely personal connection with the artist. They want you to be vulnerable, because they feel vulnerable.”