Real Sounds Feature
Esther Rose Interview
By Real Sounds
Ahead of her London show at The Grace, Esther Rose talks to Real Sounds about the risky details that make it into her songs, the friends and cities that shape her writing, and why the work of living is inseparable from the work of making art.
Esther Rose writes with a rare mix of candour, wit and restless curiosity. On her fifth album Want — and its 2026 deluxe edition — the Santa Fe-based songwriter pushes her country-rooted storytelling into louder, more confrontational territory without losing the finely observed details that make her songs feel lived-in.
Ahead of her London show at The Grace, we spoke with Rose about choosing the risky detail over the safe one, how friends and cities find their way into songs, what genre means to her now, and why the work of living is inseparable from the work of writing.
Esther Rose plays The Grace, London, on Friday 24 July 2026. Tickets are available from Real Sounds.
Live photos by Jennifer Greene Photography.
Your songs often feel rooted in specific moments and observations. When you’re writing, how do you know which details belong in a song and which are better left out?
If there’s a detail in my writing that feels exciting or daring, I’ll keep it in and risk oversharing. I prefer to err on originality rather than keeping it safe.
You’ve lived and worked in very different places over the years. Do you find that a landscape or community shapes your writing while you’re in it, or is that something you only recognize later?
If you spent a weekend with me there’s a high chance that something witty you say would end up in a song. I’m just in love with my friends and the cities that keep us. I like to live inside the music completely… where the experiences and songs merge together.
A lot of your work leaves room for interpretation rather than spelling everything out. How much do you think about what a listener brings to a song versus what you’re trying to communicate yourself?
I’ve learned a lot from reading fiction. The best storytellers assume the highest intellect of their readers and don’t preach or explain. Our shared humanity fills in the gaps.
When you listen back to your earlier records now, what do you hear that surprises you most about the songwriter you were then?
The simplicity of the lyrics. I made it happen with very few words.
Many artists spend years trying to find a voice, and then the challenge becomes continuing to evolve it. How do you think about that tension between consistency and change?
This question is about the art of living. The work I do on myself is directly reflected in the art I share with the world. I’m not talking about just therapy-related work. It’s more like, how am I engaging with my life? Am I curious? Am I taking care of my people? When I feel stuck or uninspired, it usually hints at a bigger issue in my life.
When you’re starting a new body of work, are you usually following a particular question, feeling, or curiosity, or do you only discover the thread once the songs begin to gather together?
Once the songs begin to pile up, the narrative unfolds. For this new body of work, I’m very much looking forward, looking west. My last album felt almost confrontational, everything up close, confronting anxiety, addiction patterns, and behaviour. Now I try to pull back, zoom out, see what else I can take in. I am constantly asking “can I see the bigger picture?”
Your music has never felt especially constrained by genre. Do you think labels like country, Americana, folk, or indie are still useful frameworks, or do they matter less to you than they once did?
As a listener and fan of music, I never wonder what genre my new favorite band is. Genres seem useful for people who deal in marketing and selling music, but not for listeners per se. Perhaps to a fault, I've always bucked against knowing how to market my sound. I'm inspired by new artists like MJ Lenderman and Big Thief who seem to be creating a new world for genre. I want to be included in whatever genre you call that sound.
Are there songs in your catalogue that changed meaning for you once they started being performed live and shared with an audience?
There’s a song called Always Changing on my second album. The pronouns change each verse from she, he, to they. When I wrote it, I was not aware that saying “they” would make the song even more inclusive, but now this song has gained significance over the years as my awareness around gender has expanded.
How important is revision in your songwriting? Are you someone who tends to trust the first spark, or do your songs usually reveal themselves through the editing process?
I’m what I call a “finisher”. The trick is to follow the first spark and get a first draft. From there, the editing process and taste will shape the song. I’ll know right away if the song is good or not from my bullshit detector - if I’m not emotionally invested by the first draft, I won’t edit it further.
Is there an artist working today whose work you particularly admire? What is it about their approach that resonates with you?
I recently worked with Kevin Morby, and he’s a “first idea, best idea” kind of guy. He doesn’t waste time, very in touch with his instincts. His latest album is a fantastic ride through a life well-lived.