Ingrid Elizabeth and Joe Stevens of the Americana band Coyote Grace make a sweet couple on stage; she’s a spunky redhead plucking an upright bass, and he’s a blue-eyed, bearded guy with a voice that envelops you like a worn armchair. But there’s more to the duo than first meets the eye. First of all, they’re no longer dating, though they remain best friends and musical partners. And for most of their romantic entwinement, they were both women—something that’s now hard to imagine, given Stevens’ masculine appearance and dusty baritone voice.

The two musicians met in Seattle, where Elizabeth worked at the sex shop Babeland and Stevens, at the time female, baked gourmet dog treats for a living while contemplating a gender transition.

Forming their band in 2004 “as street performers outside of Seattle’s Pikes Place Market,” they soon took their folk show on the road. As Stevens stepped into his new self, he grappled with questions of identity, as seen in his 2006 song, “Guy Named Joe”: Who am I to change my life?/ Who am I to fuck with form?...I said goodbye to everyone I know/and in the morning I awoke/and I was this guy named Joe.

As a singer, he had to contend with the fact that his voice would shift drastically as a result of the change.

“The first time I heard it recorded, I didn’t know it was me,” he says. “It was definitely a trip.”

Luckily, it dropped an entire octave, meaning he could sing his songs in the same key they were written in, though “it took a good eight months to a year for it to settle down and stop moving around.” Physical transformation mirrored a shifting sense of self.

“I had an identity before as a lesbian singer-songwriter, and then I was kind of moving into this unknown territory of male trans-singer songwriter. I kind of felt like I was drifting into this no-man’s land.”

But resilience in times of volatility makes Stevens a very special kind of performer, one who defies expectations and embraces innovation. Elizabeth follows suit. She has also dealt with feeling out of place in the gay community as a femme, or a feminine lesbian. “A lot of people don’t associate those two things a lot of times, so within your community, you’re trying to say ‘no really, I do belong here, I’m not lost. I know who I am. It’s not a phase.’ You kind of have to continue to come out every single day.” 

Gender identity is by no means the sole reason to highlight these musicians, though change remains a relevant theme in their songs. Their music hums with familiar roots, twangy and soothing, yet the lyrics are often complex and provocative. Their talent even earned them a spot opening for the Indigo Girls on their recent tour.

Just recently, they added Michael Connolly to their band, a talented fellow who plays sixteen instruments and owns his own recording studio (something Elizabeth was incredibly excited about, given that the band has always self-produced and now won’t need to worry about “watching the clock and the dollar signs” as they record their third full-length album this summer). Elizabeth and Stevens both call Sonoma County home for the time being, and they’ve amassed quite a community of followers in the Bay Area. The Sonoma Pride festival asked them to headline this year; they’re scheduled to strike up their string instruments in Guerneville Sunday evening.