The FEVER Issue: Tomberlin

by amany khreis

Photo by Ebru Yildiz

Sarah Beth Tomberlin is a self-proclaimed horse girl who makes music for horse girls. The indie folk artist was raised on farms in Kentucky and Illinois by religious parents. In late 2020, she moved to New York City in the midst of writing her sophomore album, i don’t know who needs to hear this... The album was released in April of this year, produced by Phil Weinrobe, who also worked on Adrianne Lenker’s songs.

i don’t know… finds Tomberlin breaking free of her usual hushed sound: it’s loud, bold, brutal and acerbic. Her wit is as sharp as it’s ever been, and her sound has evolved in a way that can’t be ignored. You can hear her embracing New York chaos in her own horse girl way.

With her acclaimed Alex G-produced EP, Projections, under her belt and, now, i don’t know who needs to hear this…, it is clear that the Saddle Creek signed artist is only getting started.

A week before her second LP came out, I sat down with Tomberlin via Zoom to talk about how moving to Brooklyn influenced her songwriting process, kismet experiences and the importance of feeling your feelings.

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

I have to give it to you, I think you're funny on Twitter. I saw the horse girl bit today.

We grew up in Kentucky during my primary years. Not only did we live on a farm with horses and cows, but I also had a barn. My sisters and I played with horses until we were probably 13. It’s undeniable who I am. It's true. Horse girls do love Tomberlin.

So true. How has touring been? I've read about how, during the pandemic, you were moving around a lot and how that influenced the album. Is touring the same level of pressure as moving or is it more structured?

I feel like it's more structured in a way because you know what your day to day life is going to be like. There are pockets of time that are open and you get to fill it, but that's rare. I know what I'm doing every moment of every day. And there's something reassuring about that. It is stripped away from reality, in a way. 

Was Projections influenced by being shut in, or was that written prior to the pandemic?

Projections was written and recorded before the pandemic. I came off that Alex G tour then flew back to LA where I was living and, a week or two later, flew to Philly to go record it. I think we spent about 10 days or something recording half of it. “Sin” was older. It was written around the time that Weddings was written. It just didn't, to me, go with that record and I didn't know if I liked the song. Now, so many people love it. It's funny how that works. I was starting to write i don't know who needs to hear this... right before the pandemic. I think “possessed” and “unset” are probably the oldest songs on the record, but everything else is pretty new. 

And how was it working with the producer who helped Adrianne Lenker and Buck Meek?

I met Phil Weinrobe when I was touring in Europe because Big Thief was also touring at the time. They used to be on Saddle Creek so they knew of me, I knew of them, but we hadn't really met yet. On that tour, they just embraced me. One day, we were playing Primavera and then Buck [Meek] and Phil were like, “We're gonna go eat some crazy fish, do you want to come?” I was like, absolutely! I remembered Phil being really sweet, very communicative. You can tell he loves to learn. And I was like… noted. At first, he was just going to engineer the record and then I just was like, Phil is fully capable of doing this and I want to produce alongside him. It’s really funny thinking about someone else producing the record at this point because it wouldn't have been the record that we made. I love Adrianne Lenker’s solo records in general, but songs especially is a comfort album at this point. I love what they captured. Phil has a really good ear for picking out things that need to be elevated. It was really fun to learn how to listen better from him. 

I saw you recorded the entire album in two weeks, too. Isn't that a bit of a time crunch? 

Once we were getting into it, it wasn't stressful. Leading up to it, you're like, “How is this enough time?” And it worked out with the musicians we brought in because we didn't schedule them ahead of time. I was new to the city so I knew of less musicians to bring in than Phil and Felix [Walworth] did. I knew that Cass McCombs was going to play on the record. I knew that my friend John from Young Jesus was going to be in town and wanted him to play on the record. We kind of just went along as we were building the songs. Then Phil would be like, “Oh, I know this amazing piano player, David Cieri, who's a deep feeler and would shred on a song.” We brought him in continually for the record because he was an angel. He was deeply in tune with the music. We played him “memory” and he just sobbed. Everybody who played on the record felt it. You can't schedule that out or make that happen for someone. It just has to happen. 

With moving to New York do you hear a difference in your music? Is it something that a listener could pick up on or is it personally attached to the album for you?

I think it's probably more personal to me. People pick up on stuff that I don't even pick up on sometimes. Songs are cool because they reveal themselves to you more over time. Even if you're the one writing them. Songs like “stoned” and “happy accident” have a sledding, grungy kind of rock vibe. I knew I wanted them to be that way. That definitely came from wanting the aesthetic of the record to have this old school, New York, ‘70s vibe. I think there's also city flourishes, like “tap” is definitely a combination of missing the country but trying to connect while in the city. I was only in LA a little over a year but it never quite clicked for me. It's a beautiful place, but it's fake, it's not a real city, everything is spread out. New York hits you in the face and you can't really avoid it. There's camaraderie that's unlike anything I've really ever experienced. The city shows up on the record a lot. I think there's something kismet to living in a place like New York where stuff just happens and you're not sure how it does.

“born again runner” is so charged. When I listened to it, it felt so personal. Was that hard to write and share with people?

It's very hard. I was processing a recent event that had happened and playing guitar to comfort myself. I wasn't really trying to write a song. It just started flowing. But I was also like, yikes. Really, really getting into it here. People are always like, how are your parents doing with your career? And it's like, I am 27 years old. The purpose of the song is to be like, “look, we have extreme differences, but I want a relationship with you. You're my family.” It's almost taught to us to be threatened when people are different from us. It's just a really gnarly way to exist. 

i don't know who needs to hear this... feels like an album that is there for you if you need it. What would you want people to take out of it?

The record is lighting a candle for things that have happened and experiences in this particular chapter of my life, and at the end, being like, okay, here's this mantra to leave you with: it's good to sing your feelings. It is good to do this thing that I did. That's why it's been happening for years and years and years. That's why people do it. What I want it to be is a companion for someone who maybe doesn't even want to fucking feel their feelings. They just want to listen to somebody else do it. And then, through that, help them engage with their own reality.