Abby Bellmer opened her mouth inside Beacon Hill Recording Studios and the room changed. That specific alchemy, where a familiar song stops belonging to its original artists and starts belonging to the person singing it right now, is rare. It is also exactly what happened when Bellmer took on ‘Home’ by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, a song so well-loved that most singers would be wise to leave it alone.
Sandtastic Travels (Our Sister Brand) had the chance to meet Abby Bellmer at Vanderpump Hotel Las Vegas where she was performing Live. She was absolutely amazing, truly an upcoming star. Can’t wait to see more from Abby in the future.

When a cover becomes its own creature
The original ‘Home’ is communal noise, built for festival fields and road trips with the windows down. Bellmer stripped that architecture away. What remained was the lyric itself, and the lyric turns out to be one of the most direct declarations of belonging ever written into a pop song. ‘Man, oh man, you’re my best friend,’ she sang, without any of the original’s ramshackle energy to hide behind. The line landed the way it only can when a voice is working without a net.
Beacon Hill Recording Studios provided a setting that matched the intimacy she brought. The session had the quality of something overheard rather than performed, close and unguarded. The chocolate candy and pumpkin pie verses, the ones that can read as charming eccentricity in the original, came through Bellmer’s interpretation as genuine rather than quirky, grounded rather than whimsical.
What the stripped-down arrangement revealed
The chorus, ‘Home is when I’m alone with you,’ is built on a paradox. Home is usually the place you share with many people, and the lyric redefines it as the presence of a single person. Bellmer’s performance made that paradox feel less like a lyrical conceit and more like a lived truth. She let the silence around the words do real work.
She put it plainly in the room: ‘there ain’t nothing that could please me more than you.’ Sung without flourish, that line became the kind of thing people write in letters they never send.
The moment before the final chorus
The instrumental break settled over the studio like a held breath.
The room at Beacon Hill Recording Studios had gone quiet around Abby Bellmer by the time she returned to the opening line, ‘Man, oh man, you’re my best friend,’ and it carried the full weight of everything that had come before it, which is precisely the way the best covers earn their ending.


