A few days before this conversation took place, while on tour in Jacksonville, Truman Sinclair posted some alarming news to social media: “There was a sinkhole, so they moved us to another venue.” Of all places, trust the earth to open up right beneath his feet. The situation could easily be a metaphor in one of Sinclair’s songs – the imagery speaks for itself – whose evocative songwriting sees him tread in the footsteps of those great Americana troubadours concerned with shifting ground. Sinclair’s own tales speak of washed-blue skies, star- webbed nights, and heartland heartbreak. They float across highways, past wild horses, through badlands, dustlands, and strangelands. They’re songs that never seem to stand still, written for driving toward something – or away from it.

At the heart of Sinclair’s music is the instinct to set stories to six-string. It began with a garage-sale guitar his parents brought home when he was a kid, then came the teenage garage bands in his hometown of Chicago, and later crystallised in solo work fuelled by the pull out West to LA. With that comes a broad range of sound, across his 2024 EP Pale Moon Pale Horse, his 2025 debut American Recordings, and 2026’s Rivers of Sugar and Blood, Sinclair coats every recording with a deeply lived-in patina; whether acoustic or electric, Sinclair’s always plugged in.

Recently returning from a run across North America opening for Courtney Barnett, the dates placed Sinclair alongside a songwriter whose gift for embellishing the everyday has long resonated with his own – here are two storytellers chasing a feeling, avoiding sinkholes along the way.

Courtney Barnett: Hey Truman, it’s nice to see you again.
Truman Sinclair: It’s great to see you again as well. I’m really excited to do this because I genuinely had a lot to ask you that I didn’t get the time to.

CB: I was so excited that you asked me. Often, I have this thing with press where I get really self-conscious. Then when they said that you wanted to talk, I was like, “Oh, that’ll be nice.” It makes it feel less awkward or weird.
TS: I’m gonna take advantage of this time to ask you some questions. I’m making an album right now and I love recording music, and I’ve always been super inspired by your band sounds. I think that the way you record a rock band is the best. Also, when I found your record, Things Take Time, Take Time, with all the drum machine stuff, that was endlessly inspiring, because I make music in my room, so I’m using drum machines all the time. Do you make music alone a lot – were you making that record alone?

CB: I normally write alone, and make demos alone. I’m figuring out as I go along that I do actually really love that process more and more. My home recording skills are so basic, so everything is always a little bit trashy. I never perfect things, because I never get around to it, so everything always sounds pretty shit, but in the most perfect, beautiful way to my ear. Then, often, I’ve done that and then taken it to the band and into the studio to make the album version. I do like that process. I want to write with people and collaborate, but I think I find it a little bit tricky. I hear people talking about it, and it sounds like it could be so good, and I’m missing out on things. But I just have such a weird process. Sometimes it takes me so long, and I don’t like to be rushed. I think I just realised that I don’t like people seeing the messy parts of my process, which maybe is something I need to work on. Is that similar for you? Do you write a lot by yourself?
TS: For sure. I’ve been in bands a couple times that were collaborative processes, but I’ve definitely always gravitated towards writing alone. I think that it’s the same thing, where I have to feel really comfortable to make something that I like. And it’s easier for me to feel comfortable writing alone, because something can happen, and you can just do whatever you need to do to stay in your space. You can write something stupid, and it’s not even a thought of like, “Did somebody else think this is stupid?” Because there’s nobody there. You just want to be able to write freely, without even the notion of being judged. I agree with you, I find it hard to write with other people, even though I want to, because music is so fun to collaborate on.

CB: There’s something so nice about those really childish moments, when I’m writing and I get carried away following a really silly idea and having fun with it. A lot of my writing style, I used to do this a lot actually, was to make a loop, and then sing over it for like, 40 minutes. And if I was doing that in a room with other people, I would be so aware of feeling like I was wasting their time. I think that’s why I find that alone time really important, because I can just go for an hour singing gibberish and not worry about how bad it sounds to someone else. [laughs] That’s an important part of the process.
TS: That’s kind of how I feel about studios right now, because I can’t just go into a studio for a super long amount of time, and it takes me forever to make music – that’s not necessarily always true, but I work on it for forever. Sometimes things come together quickly, but I will sit in my room for like, three months to make an album, and I’m literally doing it all day, every day. So if I had somebody trying to like, go home, they would be so bummed, and I just don’t want to deal with that guilt, so I make it alone. Do you have a lot of songs you don’t use? Do you finish everything?

CB: I have a lot of unfinished songs, and that’s something that I’m trying to get better at. I kind of get to a point and then it’s all too hard, and I move on to something else. [laughs] I’m trying to practice getting better at that. When I start collecting ideas for an album, I normally think, a rough ten songs, plus maybe five extras. Then I work on them all, and the ones that just aren’t getting there get pushed to the side. Lately, I’ve been trying to do a thing where I write one song per day.
TS: Oh, really? That’s sick.

CB: Just a really small idea of a song. It feels like it’s good for my brain, it’s kind of like exercising or going to the gym. Getting a little idea, even if it’s just a musical idea, recording it, jotting it down, and then singing about whatever is on my mind that day. I think part of my problem is that often I go through phases of not writing, and then I try to write something that incorporates all of these feelings or all of these thoughts from this big chunk of time, and you can’t squeeze all of that into a song. Tell me about the new album that you’re working on.
TS: I feel like an album… I make music all the time, basically, and sometimes it feels like I’m just doing it to see what I could possibly do – just trying stuff, and pushing it. Then sometimes I make a couple of songs, or I have some kind of experience that inspires me to make an album. That becomes a different process where I’m doing things to maintain a certain headspace that I know is what I want to express, because I feel it really strongly. Then I’ll spend an amount of time putting it together, and then I’ll usually try to have everything recorded in a certain amount of time, which lends it to sounding kind of similar. Sometimes I’ll re-record old songs, even if I’m literally recording it pretty much the same way with the same gear. I’ll do it again, so that I can have it be a [cohesive] thing. After our tour, I went home, and then I went to Florida with another band called Lowertown – shout out Lowertown – and I had such an inspiring time. I was in Europe with my dad for a month, I was with you guys in the US for a month, and then I was in Florida for a really crazy week, just doing acoustic opening shows in awesome little venues. It was all really inspiring. So when I got back, I took that inspiration and put myself into that thing of, “I’m gonna make a record right now. I’m gonna take the summer, take all my best stuff and really commit.” That’s when I started really working on it. I’ll work on it super, super long and make sure that it’s gonna work. I’ve been doing some really long… musicking recently.

CB: [laughs] Long musicking, yeah. It’s nice having that intention. When we were talking about the studio versus working at home, I was thinking that it’s a fine line between… Sometimes in the studio I feel stressed because I know there’s a certain amount of time. I’m always constantly worried about taking up people’s time and taking too long. But then I’m also aware of the fact that I’m paying for an amount of time, and every minute that ticks past I’m like, “Oh my god, I’m wasting money,” and feeling stressed about it. Then the other side is having too much time working at home or working in your own space. How do you balance that?
TS: I don’t do it that well. I definitely burn myself out pretty frequently and get pretty frustrated with it. But I have found certain ways to bring myself back, and I’m also really, really determined to do it, so I don’t really quit. Even if I wake like, “Ah, I’m so bummed,” I just don’t let it go. But I definitely burn myself out – all the time. I do it in a way that isn’t easy for me. I’m honestly trying to work on it being easier. This is unfortunate to even admit, honestly, especially in your presence because I really respect you, but I have to get a little pissed to make a record. Like, sometimes I’m like, “I’m just gonna do this!” – that kind of energy. I have to get myself to that point…

CB: A kind of frustration?
TS: Yeah. A real like, “I’m gonna make this thing!” Or, “Oh, you made something you don’t like today? Why don’t you like it? What’s wrong with it?” But then other times, I try to be kind to myself. Honestly, it takes a lot of management to not go insane.

CB: [laughs] I can totally relate to what you just said. It’s funny, I feel like I go through all these phases in my personality and moods. I’m sitting there feeling sorry for myself, thinking that I’m a failure, and then having so much fun, and like you said, challenging myself to do better. In those moments where I’m struggling to figure something out, or find the missing piece of the puzzle, it becomes a challenge, and I can either sit and feel sorry for myself, or try to prove something to myself. So I’m constantly having these weird little battles in my head.
TS: I’ve been trying to play an instrument for like, an hour, without any intention other than having fun or chilling out. I’m cat-sitting with my girlfriend for her cousins, and they have a drum kit, which is incredible. Usually I’m playing acoustic guitar, but playing the drums gets me stoked on music in general, which really helps, because sometimes it gets too much and I have to slow down and play music in a way that feels… I just like playing music.

CB: That’s a really nice reminder. It’s so easy to forget that what we do is really fun and special – we shouldn’t lose sight of that. Every year I have a New Year’s resolution to learn how to play the piano properly, which I never get around to doing, but we’ve got this rehearsal space that has a beautiful piano in it that I just want to sit down at and spend time enjoying playing. I bought the Carole King Tapestry sheet music book and I was like, “That’s my goal.” I don’t know how long that’ll take me, probably forever, but it’s good for me to have a goal. Also, it’s something that’s enjoyable and that I can feel proud of.
TS: That’s so cool. I also love that Carole King record. I’m thinking about you playing those songs and I’m like, dude, when you get that down, throw on the mics – just for me even! [both laugh] That’s so sick.

CB: What are your drum skills like?
TS: I’ve never owned a drum kit, but I’ve been around them since I was a kid, so I’ve played a lot, but not in a serious way. I can do a little bit, but I don’t think anybody would hire me for their band. [laughs] I’ve recorded drums on some of my stuff, but I usually call a friend to help. It’s too important and too specific – a good drum feel is priceless, you can’t replicate it.

CB: A great drummer makes it look effortless because it’s so natural to them. I think often people look at drummers and they’re like, “Oh, that looks easy, I could do that.” Then you see them sit down at a drum kit, thinking that they’re gonna just take it away, and the look on their face when they realise how hard it is. [laughs] My drum skills are so basic, but I love playing, and I love putting drums on my demos. I normally do the drum machine, the guitar and the vocals at the same time, and then I’ll overdub a live drum kit.
TS: That’s how I do all my shit, I love it. I also love drummers, because you have to have a very specific mentality for it, where you’re really locked in but also not thinking about it too hard. You’re just dancing and feeling it. A lot of drummers I know are these very monk-like, very practical, but also super spiritual people. It’s a crazy instrument – so simple, and yet so unbelievably complicated. You can tell drummers apart just by the way they play boo-ka-boo-boo-ka, like that shit can be a million different ways.

CB: I can hear my dog pitter-pattering around as you said that.
TS: Oh, what’s your dog’s name – was he on the tour bus?

CB: [laughs] Yeah, his name’s Larry. He’s very funny.
TS: I wanted to ask you, all the music that I like has a really thick sense of attitude and the person’s personality coming through, and you do that in spades, where everything you do sounds like you. Sometimes I get protective over the way that I make music, because I think that’s how I put that energy into it, but I feel like for some people it just comes through naturally.

CB: That’s nice to hear. I’m always inspired by people who make so many different types of music, with no real genre barrier, or genre consideration, but they still manage to sound like themselves – it’s natural. I love it when people follow their heart. I’ve been trying to do that. To me, songwriting is about following what I’m interested in and what I’m curious about, and trying not to think too much about how it’s going to end up, how it’s going to be presented, or consumed. Even though it’s kind of impossible not to think about that sometimes.
TS: In your new record [Creature of Habit], I really liked the imagery of looking for a sign, because I really feel that. I think it’s because you’re playing with shit that is really not understandable, you can’t break it down, it’s not a practical math problem. Sometimes it just works and sometimes it just doesn’t. So I’m very frequently looking for a sign, because I’m like, “Please tell me that I’m not wasting my time.” I think that’s what happens when you try really hard at something. It’s heavy.

CB: What do you think it is that keeps you coming back to music and keeps you coming back to songwriting? I think about this all the time, especially the more albums I write, the more songs I write. Sometimes I feel like I’m kind of chasing the same ideas, or not even chasing, just that the same themes keep popping up. Sometimes I’m like, “When am I going to run out of ideas?” I’m often thinking about what it is that keeps me coming back here, and keeps me searching.
TS: I have a cheesy answer… Well, no, it’s not cheesy. I love it when you drop the needle on a sick song in the car. I love that. I also love it when you’re playing live, you count a song in and you’re just like, “Hell yeah!” I think that simple joy of music happening is enough for me to be like, “I want to be a part of this. I want to write something like this.” Every time I see a show, I’m dancing, I’m in the mosh pit, and I’m like, “I love this so much.” Then I go home and I want to play guitar. It’s always been my community, and that’s just the way I’ve operated for so long. I also think that what’s so cool about music is that you could do something drastic, and no one’s stopping you. It’s just your own mind. If you decide that you’re going to do something completely different and you really are certain about it, you can just do it. If you have a crazy idea, you can make it. I don’t do that all the time, [laughs] but I do like that that’s an option with music, you could just blow it up.

CB: I get it. There is something that feels so magical about that. When I’m making music, sometimes I’m just going along and figuring things out, but then other times I’ll play something and fall in love with it. I’ll get totally obsessed with it. There’s something really special [about that] that feels kind of childlike, being so excited about something that you’ve plucked out of thin air.
TS: Oh yeah. I’ve also really enjoyed doing opening slots, because you’re talking to people who don’t really have any preconceived notion of what you’re doing, so you can really say something and it can land without context, which I think is really cool. That’s something I’ve been really thinking about, your set being a kind of monologue that you want to say. Sometimes when I’m writing, I’m like, “What would I want to say if I was just gonna hop on the stage? What are you gonna put forward?”

CB: Yeah. Because I’ve done a couple of solo sets lately, and the difference between a full band show versus a solo set… I was thinking, like, “If I was to introduce this song in one sentence, how would I do it?” Because normally I don’t really explain or talk about a song. So it’s a fun game to think about the elevator pitch, or even just remembering [the stories behind] older songs.
TS: When you sing those [older tracks], do you feel like they link you back to how you used to feel?

CB: Definitely. It takes you back, but then it also makes you realise where you are in the moment now. It’s a bit of a trip sometimes, being between those two worlds and times. But that’s cool, I like that.
Truman: Do you play similar sets when you play acoustic versus with a band?

CB: There are other songs that I can do when I play solo that I don’t always play with the band, so it’s fun. I want to get back into it. I did this little solo tour in 2020 and it was kind of intimidating, but it also felt really liberating at the same time – you’re more vulnerable, with a band you have this safety net.
TS: I’m looking for this perfect thing where it has the elements of the acoustic stuff that I love, where you’re hanging on each word and the dynamics are really about the words and the singing, but then with the band’s power behind it. My band are the best musicians ever, so I think you just have to play for a long ass time and get it. The band gives off so much energy that makes songs become something different, something amazing, where it’s dancing, and it’s this big thing. But with the acoustic, it can be this real storytelling medium. Trying to have it both ways is what I’ve been after, and I think I’ve got there a little bit.

CB: You guys are such a great band. It was so fun watching you play – you achieve all those things, the dynamics within the set. I feel like it fully dances around. I thought of Neil Young as you were saying that, the dynamics between all of his different band setups and albums. He couldn’t do those sweet acoustic songs with Crazy Horse – sometimes it’s nice having that separation, that difference.
TS: It’s so true.

CB: Are you playing shows while you’re in this writing process?
TS: No, since I’ve been back, I’ve pretty much just been holed up.

CB: After our tour, I got home and I was learning how to play your song, sugar.
TS: [smiles] Oh, yeah?

CB: I love that song, it’s so beautiful. I sat down with my guitar one day, and sometimes I’m really bad at learning things by ear, but I finally got it, and I’ve been playing it around the house.
TS: Oh wow, that’s crazy.