When nineteen-year-old Rosa Walton takes my call, it’s from Jenny Hollingworth’s house in Norwich, England, where she’s busy packing boxes and helping her bandmate move out of her parents’ house. “It’s not a task,” Walton jokingly tells me.“We’re actually best friends.”
Moving away from home is a big moment in any young person’s life, but for the members of Let’s Eat Grandma (named for a grammar joke — add a comma between eat and Grandma and see how the meaning changes), it’s been one of many highlights since the release of their 2016 album, I, Gemini, including graduating from high school, their first romantic relationships, and, now, releasing their sophomore album, I’m All Ears. “Writing an album is one of the best ways of processing it,” says Walton.
Hollingworth and Walton’s relationship began at four, when the friends bonded over a sketch of a hot-pink elephant at their nursery school’s drawing table — a mutual admiration for each other’s work that they both say is still present today. Music came shortly after; by the time Hollingworth and Walton were 13, early versions of Let’s Eat Grandma were gigging around Norwich, and they eventually signed their first record deal with Transgressive. If their lockstep, haunted freak folk seemed to be a product of two people who could read each other’s minds, that's because it basically was: Walton and Hollingworth say it's almost the case, both onstage and off.
“Friendship when you’ve grown up with someone, it’s a whole different thing,” says Walton. “You know why they’re doing the things they do.”
“You understand someone’s past,” Hollingworth says, effortlessly finishing her friend’s comment. “You understand more where personality traits come from, and you’re not quite as judgmental.”
Hollingworth and Walton punctuate that statement with a laugh, as if there had been a time in their friendship, like in any relationship, when they hadn’t been quite so forgiving. But one would be forgiven for thinking Let’s Eat Grandma has experienced nothing but perfect synchronicity. During the marketing for their first album, Walton and Hollingworth presented themselves as unblinking clones — serious-faced young women with long blonde hair, equally capable of creating trippy freak folk and playing patty-cake onstage. When a video of them in Stevie Nicks–esque long dresses and cloaks emerged, they played into the image, jokingly telling journalists they were witches who could cast spells—a rumor that, they discovered with no small joy, quickly spread. Even now that they’ve dropped the marketing ruse, they still find themselves gently correcting those who believe they’re twins. Having been introduced to so many people on tour, Hollingworth understands the confusion.
“I think when you don’t know somebody or you just meet them, you often go by hair color and skin color,” she says. “Basic features that have to do with your hair or your eyes or your skin. Therefore, Rosa and I are similar in that respect, even though we have different eye colors; people think we look the same.”