Some things aren’t easily explained, they just have to be experienced. So it is with Fanny Grace, a well-traveled confluence of contradictions and Gumpian convergence who are writing an extraordinary 10-year overnight success story. The culmination of this journey is 321 Broadway, their first nationally-distributed and promoted release. Preceded by the single "Sweet Tea," the Windswept Records album heralds the arrival of an exceptional band with an almost unbelievable tale—and an unusual name to match.

It all begins in war torn Belfast, Northern Ireland, where the soundtrack of young Paul Reeves' life was a mixture of gunfire and his father’s sweet singing voice. "We weren’t allowed to leave the lights on and slept on the floor a lot to stay low," Reeves says, recalling the persecution and threats the Catholic family received. "I remember my dad singing us to sleep. I didn’t realize at the time that he was singing American country music he was hearing in the bars. Willie Nelson, Patsy Cline, Jimmy Rodgers."

The family fled for New York City where, inspired by his father's efforts as a part-time musician, the younger Reeves taught himself guitar at 11 and formed a band, staging his first concert a month later. Paul quickly became consumed with music and began touring the East Coast immediately after high school.

      On the other side of the continent, Carmen Mejia grew up a model student in San Fernando and was naturally drawn to music and performing. A serious car accident after high school laid Carmen up for two months with plenty of time to think. “I realized this life thing could be over real quick, so I might as well do something I enjoy.” An open call led to acting, including three seasons on Saved By The Bell. But it was a chance meeting with recent L.A. transplant Reeves that turned her toward music.

Their personal relationship grew into a musical partnership. “I’d sing around the house and do some demos for him,” Carmen says, “but that’s as far as it got. His bands kept breaking up and I was getting tired of seeing him so depressed. I finally told him that if I were his singer he could depend on me."

Within three months of that moment, Fanny Grace was born, but their music was moving away from the grunge and hard rock in favor at the time. Convinced their devotion to slice-of-life songwriting and blue-collar work ethic would play better in Middle America, they literally got out a map, put a finger on New York, one on L.A. and met in the middle: Oklahoma.

      "I got there on a Thursday night," Paul says. "By Sunday I'd found us a house, four gigs and a job. I went around to all the clubs telling them we had the hottest band coming out of L.A. with a girl singer who was just tearing up the club scene. She hadn’t played live yet and we had no band!”

Undaunted, the two consummated the move and became a local sensation. "Nobody was calling it country, yet," Paul says. "It was just this Americana thing -- Celtic sounds, accordion and acoustic guitars with Carmen’s Latin vibe. People just gravitated.”

Though their circle of influence was expanding into neighboring states, they began to worry their appeal was regional. So Paul and Carmen sold their car, bought a conversion van and began working as street musicians all over the country. In the Pacific Northwest, their busking talents got them pulled onto the main stage at a Lillith Fair stop. In Nashville, they worked at a boarded up storefront -- 321 Broadway.

Happenstance led them to the stage of a national Amnesty International rally on the National Mall. Paul's flight from Ireland was recounted for a crowd of tens of thousands. "The president of Amnesty International got up and gave this long talk about my family," Reeves says. "My parents were there, brothers, sisters, cousins. I saw my mom in the front row with tears streaming down her face. It was unbelievable."

With the backing of Shandwick International, a division of the Interpublic Group Of Companies, which created an Emerging Artist of the Year program solely for Fanny Grace, the duo returned to L.A. to pursue a label deal. "No one in LA got it," Paul says. "They thought we were too country." So Reeves set out to prove them right, entering them in country station KZLA's songwriting contest, which they won.

The relationship grew to include opening station-sponsored concerts for everyone from Willie Nelson to Kenny Chesney, as well as regular airplay. Finally they realized that their true-to-life songwriting and traditional, acoustic sounds placed them squarely in country--the music of Paul's youth.

Windswept Entertainment, Reeves' publishing company, soon extended unprecedented support, creating a label around them at the behest of CEO Jonathan Stone.

The duo just finished recording 321 Broadway with producer Jeffrey Steele (writer of Tim McGraw’s "The Cowboy In Me", Montgomery Gentry’s “My Town”, “Hell Yea”, “Speed” and Rascal Flatts’ "These Days" among others), finishing the work started by Mark Spiro (Lila McCann). "We're really a duo built by our fans," Carmen says. "Even big boosters like Shandwick, KZLA and Jonathan Stone helped us because they genuinely loved the music."

That love of music might be helped along by curiosity about their unusual name. "A lot of people think Carmen is Fanny Grace," Paul laughs. "We'll be in the grocery store and someone will yell out, 'Hey, Fanny!'" And then there's the fan who approached Carmen with a different theory. "He asked if we're named Fanny Grace because it's music that saves your ass," she laughs. "I kind of liked that."