The artist opens up about the difficult road behind Purgatory Road, losing her beloved Blu, discovering songwriting as a purpose, and learning that healing doesn’t always mean leaving the past behind.
There is a particular kind of vulnerability that comes with turning your private life into music. Writing about heartbreak, grief, fear, or personal transformation means taking experiences that once belonged entirely to you and allowing strangers to find pieces of themselves inside them. For Nina Blu, that vulnerability wasn’t something that came naturally.
In fact, she spent much of her life actively trying not to become an artist. Her journey toward music wasn’t born from a lifelong certainty that she was destined for a career as a songwriter. Instead, it emerged from a period of profound difficulty, recovery, self-discovery, and eventually the realization that creating music made even the hardest days feel worthwhile.
The result is Purgatory Road, a project that Nina describes as the culmination of a four-and-a-half-year healing process. Across the album, grief exists alongside humor, acceptance, anger, longing, self-discovery, and the complicated reality of growing into yourself. But beneath the songs is something even more personal: a woman learning how to stop hiding from the parts of herself that hurt.
We sat down with Nina Blu to talk about the journey behind Purgatory Road, the fear that initially kept her from becoming an artist, the loss of her beloved Blu, the stories hiding inside her songs, and what she hopes to discover on the road ahead.
Learning to Be Seen
You spent much of your life actually trying not to make music. What was it about that part of your life that made you resist becoming an artist?
There was always something complicated about the idea of being seen for Nina. Creating music meant more than simply making something people could listen to—it meant exposing pieces of herself that she had spent years keeping private. As she puts it, she was caught between wanting recognition and being terrified of genuine vulnerability.
“Like Noah Kahan wrote, I’m ‘in love with being noticed and afraid of being seen,’” Nina explains.
That contradiction became especially apparent while recording Purgatory Road. Even approaching the microphone could trigger anxiety, and there were moments when the vulnerability of the project felt physically overwhelming.
“I had to push back against that fear in a big way as I made this incredibly vulnerable album,” she says. “My anxiety slowed me down a lot while recording. I remember several times having a pit in my stomach as I approached the microphone.”
But fear wasn’t enough to stop her.
“My desire to create was bigger than my fear, and I’ll always be proud of that.”
There were also people around her who reinforced the idea that pursuing an artistic career was too risky. Rather than allowing those doubts to determine her future, Nina sought out people who had successfully built creative lives and used their experiences as motivation. For her, becoming an artist ultimately meant challenging not only other people’s expectations, but her own.
When Survival Became a Purpose
After your accident and the long process of relearning how to walk, music became something you turned toward. Was there a specific moment when you realized music wasn’t just helping you heal; it was becoming your purpose?
There wasn’t one dramatic moment when everything suddenly became clear. Instead, Nina describes it as something that happened slowly and then all at once. During the period when she was bedridden, songwriting became a way to cope with what had happened and escape the realities of recovery. She wrote constantly, pouring her thoughts and experiences onto the page.
Looking back, however, she knew those early songs weren’t necessarily where she wanted them to be creatively.
“I went through a phase where I was bedridden and writing constantly, to cope and escape what had happened to me and the difficulty of recovery,” she says. “I poured so much of my life into writing.”
Eventually, Nina realized she needed to develop her skills. She returned to school and began approaching songwriting not simply as an emotional outlet, but as a craft. The process wasn’t always easy.
“I loved the challenge even on days when it had me crying into my carpet.”
But something changed during that process. Nina discovered that even the difficult sessions left her feeling like she had accomplished something.
“When I realized that even the bad days felt successful, that’s when I knew it was my purpose.”
That realization became one of the defining moments of her journey.
“I can walk away from a bad session and still feel lighter just for trying,” she explains. “I always feel like I can take something away, even if it’s a hard lesson. I can’t say that for all the other jobs I’ve had.”
Turning Chaos Into Songs
Your journey to becoming Nina Blu came out of an incredibly difficult chapter. How did creating music allow you to process emotions that you perhaps couldn’t put into words in everyday life?
For Nina, songwriting became a way of giving shape to thoughts that otherwise felt impossible to organize.
“It organized my chaotic thoughts,” she says.
There is something naturally structured about songwriting. A writer has to search for a story, identify a concept, and find a way to communicate something complicated through a limited amount of space. For someone experiencing overwhelming emotions, that structure can become incredibly powerful.
“In order to find [a song’s structure], you have to find the story and the broader concept,” Nina explains. “Looking for concepts simplifies things and makes them more relatable.”
That last part became particularly important. If she could take something deeply personal, translate it into a song, and make it relatable to another person, perhaps she wasn’t as alone as she had originally believed.
“I thought that if I could piece together my thoughts and write something relatable, then I wasn’t really as alone as I felt.”
And that idea ultimately sits at the heart of Purgatory Road.
Hearing Two Versions of Herself
You describe Purgatory Road as the culmination of a four-and-a-half-year healing process. When you listen back to the album now, do you hear the person you were when you started writing it, or do you mostly hear the person you’ve become?
The answer depends on the song. Some tracks immediately transport Nina back to the person she was when she was struggling.
“When I listen to ‘I don’t feel good,’ I just want to go give her a hug,” she says.
There is an enormous amount of compassion in that statement. Instead of looking back at her former self with frustration, Nina can now recognize the pain that person was carrying. Other songs reveal something different. “Magnetic” and “Options,” for example, sound more like the person Nina has become.
“The songwriting in those songs feels cohesive and confident,” she explains. “They sound like I knew what I was doing and set the stage for where I want to go.”
In many ways, Purgatory Road captures both versions of Nina; the person who was hurting and the person who eventually learned how to move forward.
What Grief Taught Her
The album deals heavily with grief, but also self-discovery, boundaries, acceptance, and navigating your 20s and 30s. What did writing this album teach you about grief that you didn’t understand before?
The biggest lesson was that grief doesn’t move in a straight line. Nina didn’t write the album as though she were systematically checking off each stage of grief. Instead, the process repeatedly forced her to revisit emotions she thought she had already moved beyond.
“I learned that grief isn’t linear,” she says.
That realization became particularly important while writing “…asking for a friend,” which required her to reconnect with an older version of herself.
“It was uncomfortable revisiting old emotions, but just because you’re revisiting doesn’t mean you’re stuck.”
That distinction is crucial. Returning to an old feeling doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve failed to heal. Sometimes you have to look backward to understand something from a new perspective.
“Sometimes the rearview mirror is the clearest,” Nina reflects.
Remembering Blu
Blu was your beloved pup and the inspiration behind your artist name. How did losing Blu influence the emotional direction of Purgatory Road?
There are some questions that don’t simply get answered; they get felt. This is clearly one of them.
“Oof. I still can’t talk about Blu without tearing up a little bit,” Nina admits.
Blu had been there through some of the darkest periods of her life. She was the first to hear Nina’s songs, including the ones Nina herself knew weren’t very good yet.
“She was by my side through the darkest parts of my life, always there with a wagging tail or a cuddle.”
Blu died while the album was coming together. Nina thought she understood her grief. She had spent years writing about it. She had already experienced difficult losses. But losing Blu showed her that grief isn’t something you simply master.
“I really thought I had a handle on my grief. But her loss hit me like a ton of bricks.”
Suddenly, the constant presence she had grown accustomed to was gone.
“She was always with me, and suddenly I was without my sweet little shadow.”
That loss became part of the album’s emotional landscape. And it ultimately became the inspiration for “van gogh.”
The Little Things That Bring Us Back
“van gogh” is such a personal song. What was going through your mind when you wrote it?
The story behind the song is rooted in one of those seemingly insignificant moments that becomes incredibly meaningful after loss. A few months after Blu died, Nina finally had a day when she got herself together enough to meet a friend for coffee. She was driving and thinking about spring in Texas her favorite time of year and the bluebonnets she and Blu would photograph together.
It was a tradition. A small one. But after Blu was gone, those little traditions carried enormous emotional weight.
“For me, it’s usually the little things that cheer me up and put me back together,” Nina says.
Sometimes that means a good meal. Sometimes it’s a hot bath or a drive through the country. Sometimes it’s hearing the Beatles on the radio and being reminded that things can eventually be okay.
“van gogh” grew out of that understanding: healing doesn’t necessarily arrive through one monumental moment. Sometimes it comes quietly, through the ordinary things that remind us we’re still here.
The Question Hidden Inside “…asking for a friend”
“…asking for a friend” immediately suggests there’s something personal hiding underneath the phrase. What inspired the song, and what does that title mean to you?
Originally, the song wasn’t supposed to be what it became. Nina had another lyric idea for the melody and knew she wanted the album opener to explore denial. Then someone at a writing retreat suggested her original lyric was too common. That criticism ultimately opened the door to something more interesting. Nina began thinking about the phrase “I’m just asking for a friend.” Suddenly, the wording carried a double meaning. Am I asking for a friend or am I asking for a friend?
That ambiguity became the foundation of the song. The lyrics ask deeply uncomfortable questions without providing easy answers. Then, at the end, the title almost allows the narrator to shrug everything off as though none of it was actually about her.
“To end with an attempt to blow them off with the double entendre felt like a perfect representation of denial.”
The title isn’t just clever. It’s part of the emotional architecture of the song.
What She Would Tell Her Younger Self
If you could sit down with the version of yourself who first wrote “…asking for a friend,” what would you tell her today?
Nina’s answer begins with a very relatable reminder: always carry Dramamine. But beneath the humor is something much deeper. She still loves revisiting the lyrics.
“They hit so hard every time I listen to the song.”
Writing them required her to dig into parts of herself she didn’t necessarily know were there.
“Sometimes, when you dig deep, you can surprise yourself.”
And if she could give that earlier version of herself one final piece of advice?
“I’d tell her that she knows the way out of purgatory and it’s worth the journey.”
The Pull of “Magnetic”
“magnetic (closer, closer)” has such a hypnotic quality to it. What was happening in your life when that song first came together?
Ironically, the song’s own journey mirrors its subject matter. It was rewritten at least five or six times after the original experience that inspired it. The process took so long that Nina eventually forgot the name of the person she had originally written about only to remember it twenty minutes later while making a smoothie. But the endless rewriting ultimately became part of the song’s meaning.
“In a very meta way, the song became about itself as I got closer and closer to getting it right.”
The track also played a major role in Nina’s career. Its second rendition was one of the songs she submitted when applying to Berklee. At its core, though, “magnetic” explores something far bigger than one relationship. Why are we drawn toward certain people even when they aren’t necessarily good for us? Why does attraction sometimes overpower logic? And what exactly is yearning?
“What is yearning if not bargaining?” Nina asks.
That question lingers long after the song ends.
Letting Some Light In
“Options” brings a much more vibrant, pop-centered energy to the project. What inspired that shift in sound?
At one point, Nina listened back to what she had written for Purgatory Road and realized something important. The album was getting heavy. Very heavy. While listening to Dolly Parton’s America, she heard Dolly talk about writing “a lot of sad ass songs” early in her career. Nina immediately recognized herself.
“I listened back to what I had written so far for my album and thought, ‘Wow, this is one big bummer.’”
That realization made her want to introduce humor and fun. Because even during dark periods, there are still moments of light. “Options” came from that place. The song was partly inspired by people who disappeared during Nina’s difficult years, only to reappear once she began finding her footing. By then, however, Nina had built a different life.
She had new friends. She had moved forward. And she wasn’t interested in being dragged back into old drama. Writing the song became a way to laugh about it rather than remain hurt by it.
“The tone of the song needed to be secure and confident,” she explains.
And that confidence comes through.
“To this day, it’s some of the most fun I’ve ever had writing and recording a song.”
Where Is She on the Road Now?
You describe Purgatory Road almost like a roadmap through grief. If each song represents a different stage of that journey, where do you think you are on that road today?
Nina doesn’t pretend she’s permanently arrived at some final destination. Instead, she sees herself moving between different points on the album.
“I really hope I’m bouncing back and forth between the confident girl in ‘Options’ and the peaceful ‘van gogh,’” she says.
But sometimes she still lands in “Pity Party.” And that’s okay.
“Shit days are going to happen, no matter where you are on your journey.”
Healing doesn’t mean never having a bad day again. It means knowing how to move through it.
Healing Is Work
One of the most powerful ideas surrounding the album is that healing isn’t linear. What does that phrase mean to you now after living through such a long period of transformation?
Nina has come to reject the idea that emotional healing is something you simply wait for.
“I think people see healing like putting a bandage on an emotional boo-boo and waiting for it to close up.”
For her, it required active participation. She couldn’t simply drink away difficult emotions or medicate them away. She had to sit with them. She had to work through them. And while that process didn’t make her perfect, it made her more aware of what she needs.
“Now, I’m a lot more aware of my emotional needs,” she says.
Boundaries are still something she has to practice. Life still finds ways to test them. But she has become better at pausing before everything falls apart. And perhaps the biggest change is that her own experience has made her more compassionate toward other people. She understands now that someone else’s bad day doesn’t mean they’re failing. They might simply be somewhere along their own road.
“They could be having a ‘Pity Party’ day or an ‘I don’t feel good’ day. Either way, we all need a little more kindness.”
A New Road for Nina Blu
After spending so much time writing from a place of grief and healing, what do you want the next chapter of Nina Blu’s music to sound like?
The next chapter doesn’t sound like another trip through the same emotional territory. It sounds like exploration. Nina wants to hold onto the authenticity that allowed Purgatory Road to connect so deeply while giving herself permission to experiment.
“As long as music comes from a place of authenticity, it creates a sense of connection,” she says.
That connection remains important because it was something she needed herself when she was at her lowest. Now, she wants to give that feeling to someone else. But she’s also ready for something different.
“I’m ready to play and have some fun.”
She wants to explore her rock and pop influences, experiment with darker synths, potentially create a dance track, and collaborate with other artists. Rather than staying inside one established sound, Nina wants to step into other people’s creative worlds and see what happens. After spending four-and-a-half years learning how to navigate one road, she’s finally ready to build another.
“I’m ready to pave a new road. Let’s see where it goes.”
And perhaps that is exactly what makes Nina Blu’s story so compelling. Purgatory Road isn’t a declaration that the difficult parts of life are over. It’s proof that they can become something else.
A song. A memory. A lesson. A new beginning. Or simply a reminder that sometimes the person we become isn’t someone entirely new; we’re finally learning how to embrace the person who was there all along.
Leave a Reply