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ISMAY
Half Truth (Fossil Records)
Add date: 6.16.2026
Release date: 6.12.2026
Coincidentially, Hellman had been invited to the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Nevada, where they presented a few early poems — and opened the barn door. Creativity stampeded out, and, with the help of co-writer/producer Sam Cohen, Avery penned their new record as alt-country project ISMAY, Half Truth, out June 12th, 2026 on Fossil Records. “My intention with the record, especially given the fact that a lot of the songs started as poems, wasn’t to be perfect,” they say. “I wanted the words to be in the forefront — not smooth, but raw.”
Hellman grew up in the Bay Area on Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, and Hazel Dickens, hanging out backstage at their grandfather’s Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival since age eight. As a young person, they initially wanted to get into environmental studies — inspired by their work on the family ranch — but when their grandfather died, they decided to preserve his legacy. They started playing with his band, then honed their own sound, dropping their debut album as ISMAY, Songs of Sonoma Mountain, in 2020 (one of KQED’s 10 best Albums in the Bay Area), then Desert Pavement with Andrew Marlin of Watchhouse in 2024. Through it all, they grew into their own as an artist, performing at music fests and opening for the likes of Steve Earle, John Doe, and Chuck Prophet, and scoring a role on Apple TV+ show My Kind of Country, produced by Kacey Musgraves and Reese Witherspoon. And, after immersing themselves in the study of poetry, they wrote Half Truth, an 11-song suite of wry yet lonesome tracks about rodeo horses, salvation, and finding yourself — again and again.
Hellman workshopped the lilting, unhurried title track in a writing class. “I was getting feedback from my teacher, and realized that the poem was about what parts of ourselves we show and share with other people,” they say. “There's this whole inner world we want to show, but a lot of us keep within our minds. I felt like the idea of a half truth just resonates a lot with me as a person, how I'm able to communicate.” And then there’s the eerily beautiful “American Flag,” about trying and failing to train a wild mustang during the pandemic. “I had to let go of this horse being this thing I envisioned and let her live how she wanted to,” Hellman says. “Everybody who's creative knows how that is.”
“Torture Either Way” sidles in next on a sunny melody that amplifies the tongue-in-cheek lyrics. “Not creating art is like torture, but creating it and putting it out there also feels like torture,” Hellman says of the song. “The Let Down” rips in next, the tale of a teen much like Hellman who dreams of becoming a farmer, only to change their mind once they get down in the muck. “In discussing the concept I found a lesson from these youthful experiences,” they say. “That often my vision for a life as a musician, or a farmer, or a horseback traveler was too rigid.”
“Jesus Sign” could score a sepia-toned, dusty Western, inspired by a man Hellman saw standing on an freeway overpass holding a sign reading “Jesus Saves.” “All I could think about was the fact that this person was sitting in the shade of the Jesus sign,” they recall. “It was really hot that day, and so it just made me laugh a little bit and think about the whole nature of: what are we talking about when we say a god saves us? Is it about the afterlife, or providing literal shade halfway across the freeway overpass?” The bright, quirky “Shy Ann” brings us back to the ranch, where a poor brown horse watches on as the beautiful paints get all the shine at the rodeo. Little do those rodeo clowns know, but Shy Ann has the skills.
“Problems Galore” trips in next, its title belying its sweetness. “It's the theme for the record,” Hellman says. “This idea of when you're younger and you don't have a lot of experience, you can be part of this fantasy world where there's so many things I could become. I could be a horse trainer, I could be a rodeo rider, I could be an alt-country musician. But, in the end, you reconcile dreams with reality. And that’s OK.” The sweetly mournful “I Don’t Look at You” is another dose of reality, about obsessing over global issues and ignoring your partner. And then there’s the narrative song “Wildfire,” recounts their experience in the 2017 California blaze, and a phenomenon Hellman heard about where children birthed during the fires were born with their eyes wide open, so stressed were their mothers.
“On the Honest Edge of Being” began as another poem, an exercise where you set up a scene and let it play out on the page. “I based this story on my own experience, but also an imagined experience of a sister and a brother dealing with the sister’s mental health issue, traveling these mental trails over and over,” Hellman says. The siblings see that same experience playing out outside their window, where the feet of deer have worn down the hillside over the years as they traverse the same paths. “It’s about the bond between siblings,” Hellman adds.
The deceptively simple “Miracle Cure” concludes the record, a somber song about a snake oil salesman conning a farm family. “To me, that applies to the modern day,” Hellman says. “We're brought into these coercive communities and sometimes it’s hard to convince the people we love that they’re being had. I usually write such complicated songs, but with this one I kept it simple — repeating minor chords, a familiar story. But fresh in a way I’ve never experienced before.”
Photos 1-3 by Aubrey Trinnaman, 4-5 by Mark Halski