You never know when someone you meet is special — a quiet creative soul with depth. It could be a librarian, bricklayer or barber.

On the other hand, maybe everyone’s special.

One Arctic morning with temperatures in the single digits, bundled-up Emily How unwraps herself from a long, insulated coat, wipes frost from an eyelash and remembers writing one of her songs on a day like this: “I Hope I Die Inside a Fire.”

“It was the dead of winter and I hate winter,” she says, smiling some. “I was having a bad day and I was feeling dramatic and, almost spontaneously, it all sort of came together.”

However, her music and voice — whether on NBC-TV’s “The Voice,” public radio’s “Tiny Desk Concert” competition, or her album (“How Are You Lately?” out last June), various online offerings and live shows — can also be reminiscent of philosopher and writer Albert Camus’ line, “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”

A graduate of PORTA High School in Petersburg, where she grew up before attending the University of Illinois for a while, How evolved with some consistency. “I started singing when I was about 7, and I was really into Taylor Swift until I was 13 or so,” she says.

Her 2018 appearance on “The Voice” with Maroon 5 singer Adam Levine’s team was a nice turn. Then she played in the Champaign area and eventually moved to Peoria, where she works at a coffee shop as well as further developing he talents as a singer, lyricist and guitarist (“I just got a new guitar, a Reverend,” she says with some delight.).

How is often slotted into the “indie” music label — like Americana, emo, shoegaze or other hard-to-define terms. But How is independent, creating, producing and presenting material on her terms.

Some hybrid comparisons to her music are thrown out: Lucinda Williams and Teddy Swims? Alanis Morissette and Tom Morello? Or, for readers from a different time, Grace Slick and Mike Bloomfield?

She seems flattered. (Or indulgent.)

On or all the mark, such parallels feature an infinite, intimate blend of thoughtful and electrifying words and riffs with fury and fear, confidence and confusion, a coming of age or disappointment about a static state.

“I write what I’m thinking, almost like a diary — sorting through my brain. Maybe I’m a little ADHD,” she added, laughing. “I use my creative muscles and write what I feel strongly about, and I can overreact and kind of throw a tantrum, musically.”

She fronts a tight band that includes Jacob Hill (lead guitar and producer), Bowie Adams (bass) and Matt Filarski (drums). Together, they’re gritty, with growling vocals one moment, a plaintive plea the next, and then a shriek like dolphin fleeing a shark.

Elsewhere, the 23-year-old has been praised by the likes of the Chicago Reader newspaper, where Jamie Ludwig wrote, “ ‘I Hope I Die Inside a Fire’ goes from zero to 60 and back again; it starts with even-keeled indie pop and slacker rock, builds to an impassioned climax flooded with layers of haunting vocals, and drops off that cliff into a sparse, hair-raisingly lovely outro.”

Some may hear a sweet sigh but recall troubled, tortured singing here and there about daydreams and nightmares. Then How muses about life beyond writing, recording and performing, conceding she’s headed to workout at the Riverplex and noting that she’s listened to a Mixmaster mess of artists, from Nirvana and Ed Sheeran to the Lumineers and Big Thief, and has a bit of a green thumb and fascination with houseplants.

The group is busy via online platforms, earning thousands of views on Spotify, etc., plus posting on Instagram, Tik Tok, etc. They’ve issued some EPs (Extended Play records) and while she may not always wear her emotions on her sleeve, she carries them on her shoulders.

Some of the group’s repertoire stands out: Their number “Useless,” a melodic yet primitive song of frustration, was the tune voted in the Top 20 of more than 7,000 entrees in a 2024 contest for “Tiny Desk.” “Flight Behavior” has a delicate rage; the jaunty rhythm of “Brain Cells” is oddly cleansing; and her lyrics from the unreleased “Moss Avenue” offer a charming commentary on class differences along that storied neighborhood.

Subscribe to The Community Word, Peoria’s independently owned newspaper

How has wowed crowds not only at Chillicothe’s Summer Camp festival or its next incarnation, Solshine, but at Kenny’s Westside Pub and the 3300 Event Center — and throughout the Midwest. Last month she played Book Club in Chicago, King’s Crossing in Normal, and the Brass Rail in Fort Wayne, Ind.

“On stage, I push myself,” she says. “Our last tour came out better than break-even, so that was good.”

In a nod to different organization or professionalism, they’ve added help to build on the regional success they’ve achieved.

“As far as a career goes, we just hired a manager, so that might give us more access,” How says. “Right now, it feels like we’re more in control, absolutely — like we’re in charge. Maybe we’ll decide to work with a label, but we want to protect ourselves [and] the music.

“So far, so good.”