Lana Crow On Gratitude, Growth, And The Songwriting Process Behind

Lana Crow’s “Rise and Shine” is built around a deceptively simple request: give me a smile. That can sound almost too light on paper, the kind of phrase that risks drifting into greeting-card optimism if the song doesn’t earn it.

But Crow is not talking about positivity as a decorative mood…

She is talking about thought as a daily force, the kind that shapes posture, tone, reaction, self-respect, and the version of the world a person keeps confirming back to themselves.

That is where the song’s backstory gets more specific. Crow traces the idea back to her late teens, when she first encountered the possibility that thoughts and environment might be more connected than she had understood.

At first, it sounded unconventional, but the shift in attitude became real enough in her own life that she started noticing the pattern more clearly years later. Her move to Western Europe, her gradual break from what she describes as a Soviet-conditioned “slave mentality,” and her later realization that self-worth did not have to depend on being useful to others all became part of the same internal map.

“Rise and Shine” did not begin in her usual writing process and instead of starting with an immediate personal feeling, she built the song around a phrase given to her during a collaboration with Tristan, then reframed that phrase into something less obvious. In her hands, “rise and shine” becomes less about bouncing out of bed with forced cheer and more about waking up to the way thought, attitude, gratitude, fear, and self-perception shape the day before anything has even happened.

In our in-depth conversation below, Crow talks about thought loops, observation, self-respect, gratitude, and why even a bad day can become movement rather than waste.

Interview With Lana Crow

What was happening in your life when the relationship between your thoughts and your daily experiences became something you wanted to write about?

The concept of this connection between our thoughts and daily experiences was first introduced to me many years ago, but it took a while to sink in. In my late teens, I read somewhere that happy thoughts create happy environments, while unhappy thoughts contribute to our own misery and to world turmoil. This line of thinking was unconventional, to say the least, but I liked it. I decided I didn’t want to contribute to world disasters, and I started approaching life with a different mindset. I don’t know if I helped the world at large, but my own life changed dramatically for the better. Some genuine miracles happened—one of them being my move to Western Europe, which helped me grow significantly as a person.

However, I still wasn’t fully at peace with myself. Having been brought up under Soviet ideology, I carried a slave mentality where I believed I had no value unless I was useful to others. For most of my life, I was unaware that this mindset was causing me fear and pain; it was all I knew, so I had no idea. Looking back, I would describe my former self as fearful and judgmental.

Things changed drastically just a few years ago when I read another book that dived deeper into the connection between thoughts and the external world. I became much more open to the idea that I generate my reality through my attitude. It was then that I realized the positive changes in my youth were the direct result of a mindset shift. It was quite a revelation—it’s funny how many connections in our lives go unnoticed until we gain wisdom.

The first time I put these findings to paper in my music was when I wrote “You Can Run.” The reality is, I only started writing music four years ago after I welcomed the idea that my thoughts create my reality. Before that, I wasn’t a songwriter, and although I could sing, I never did because I didn’t consider myself good at it. As I realized I had unlocked this whole new world simply by shifting my mindset, I decided to devote more songs to these discoveries. I feel like the world is at war with human sanity right now, and if there is anything I can do through my music to help people navigate that, I am all for it.

You describe how an initial thought can influence our attitude and the response we get from other people. What helped you start recognizing that pattern in yourself?

Observation. It is incredible how many things we miss when we refuse to open ourselves up to simple observation. I used to—and sometimes still do—assume a lot before another person even finishes speaking. As a result, you end up living in a closed loop where things never evolve: same people, same experiences, same frustrations.

The turning point came a couple of years ago after a really unpleasant experience with someone. Instead of drowning in victimhood as I used to, I mentally said “Thank you” to the person who hurt me. I know it sounds strange, but at that point in my life, I had begun to realize that everything happens for us, rather than to us. I didn’t know what I was thanking that person for at the time, but I was willing to see, and the answer eventually arrived.

It sounds obvious now, but I learned that we humans tend to hate admitting when we make mistakes or hold certain traits, so we build defensive walls out of excuses when we act poorly. We blame others because we think it frees us from accountability, but that’s an illusion. My personal struggle was my own weakness and a lack of self-respect. I hated being weak—you couldn’t afford to be weak in the Soviet and post-Soviet world. You couldn’t be a problem-maker or have the audacity to ask for basic, legitimate things; you had to be tough, useful, and suffer quietly. Right then and there, I finally admitted I was just being weak. Tolerating something intolerable wasn’t a virtue—I simply couldn’t face my own shortcomings.

When I viewed that unfortunate event as an opportunity to see myself clearly for the first time, I realized how messed up I was mentally. I was creating my own problems without realizing it. Discovering that was deeply empowering, and I have tried to approach every experience from that angle ever since.

“Give me a smile” is a direct request. Who did you imagine saying it, and what did you want that exchange to mean?

I am speaking directly to everyone listening to the song. People often underestimate the value of a smile, both for themselves and for others. The physical act of smiling actually triggers happy hormones, even if the smile is initially forced. Is there any animal capable of expressing happiness through such a change in facial expression? I can’t think of one. A smile is precious. Use it for yourself and for others. While it might not instantly fix your day, it might make someone else’s—and that in itself is a win. Through this exchange, I want the listener to feel an instant moment of shared human connection—a reminder that we have the power to lift each other up.

Did making the song challenge any of your own habits, especially when the writing or production became frustrating?

It definitely challenged my habit of only writing from immediate personal experiences. Usually, my songs are born from my own direct feelings or ideas. This song, however, came from a catchphrase given to me externally.

Originally, I sent Tristan a demo for another song, but he was unsure if it was right for his sync library. He went ahead and produced the instrumental anyway, and when I heard it, I suggested writing a completely new song over it. He agreed and sent over a few sync-friendly catchphrases, and I picked “Rise and Shine.”

Building lyrics around an assigned phrase pushed me out of my comfort zone. The instrumental was very chill, whereas “Rise and Shine” usually implies energy, bounce, and movement. After some deliberation, I decided to re-frame “Rise and Shine” as an invitation to “wake up and see the world for what it is: a reflection of you.” Learning to adapt my writing habit to fit a specific production sound is uncharted territory, but it’s fun.

After spending this much time with the song’s ideas, what do you now do differently when a day starts badly?

The day never really starts badly anymore, but I do wake up tense sometimes, and I recognize that tension straight away—I’ve become very self-aware like that. The source of the tension isn’t always clear; a bad night’s sleep obviously makes you groggy and grumpy, but sometimes there seems to be no reason at all.

When that happens, I remind myself of all the things within my immediate environment that I am thankful for and smile. I started self-correcting like this a while ago and it eventually became second nature, which dramatically improved the quality of my daily life.

I am aware that I’m not always a breeze to be around. Sometimes I wonder why people love me, but they do, and I am super grateful for that. So yes, there are bad days, but they simply reflect me and my attitude—and that’s okay..

Closing Thoughts From The Writing Staff

The most interesting thing about “Rise and Shine” is that Lana Crow is not writing from the position of someone who has always believed in the power of positive thought. She came to it gradually, tested it against her own life, then tied it to a much more difficult question about self-worth.

That gives the song more gravity than the title might suggest.

That connects with my article on how to stop comparing your music to other producers. That piece was about the way external reference points can quietly bend the creative process before an artist notices, while Crow is talking about something broader: the way an internal filter can start selecting the evidence we use to understand our lives. In both cases, the first work is learning to notice the loop.

There is also a clear line to Andrew Balfour’s interview on The Ten Minute Rule. Balfour’s book focuses on lowering the stakes enough to return to creative practice, while Crow’s story is about becoming the kind of person who could write at all. She says she only started writing music four years ago, after accepting that her mindset could change her relationship with reality, and that makes the song feel like part of the same return-to-self conversation.

The Soviet and post-Soviet details give the interview its harder edge.

Crow is not only talking about having a bad attitude and deciding to think nicer thoughts. She is talking about a learned relationship to strength, usefulness, suffering, silence, and self-respect. When she says she once believed she had no value unless she was useful to others, the song’s request for a smile starts to sound less like politeness and more like a small act of reclaiming agency.

That also sits beside ELPHNT’s interview on building a sustainable music life. ELPHNT talks about stepping away from pressure and building a creative life with more intention, while Crow is describing a similar kind of inner reorientation from a personal and emotional angle. The shared point is that the work changes once the person making it stops treating their own nervous system like a machine built only to produce.

The collaboration with Tristan matters because it pushed Crow out of her normal writing route. She usually writes from immediate personal experience, and “Rise and Shine” began with a phrase given to her from the outside. That could have made the song feel generic. Instead, she pulled the phrase inward and made it about perception, gratitude, and waking up to how much of the day is shaped before it even begins.

The broader takeaway is that “Rise and Shine” is really about self-observation.

The smile is the hook, but the deeper movement is in Crow’s willingness to catch the thought before it becomes the attitude, catch the attitude before it becomes the day, and catch the day before it hardens into another version of the same old story.

That does not make life suddenly easy.

It gives the person inside it one small place to begin.