Interview: Sarah Louise

Known for her cosmic blend of Appalachian folk, Sarah Louise has cultivated a profound connection between the natural and spiritual worlds through her music, as well as via her healing practice as an herbalist.

On her breathtaking 2021 album Earth Bow, the Asheville-based guitarist/vocalist didn’t simply incorporate field recordings from nature — she collaborated with the elements themselves, improvising with the earthly sounds of the Appalachian Mountains as a guide. That sense of communion has become central to her creative process: Whether she’s performing for a room of attentive listeners or singing to frogs by a forest creek, Louise approaches music as an act of care, a path to healing, and a means of reconnection — with ourselves, each other, and the Earth.

In recent years, she’s stepped back from the commercial music world, playing only select live shows. That makes her upcoming headline set at AyurPrana Listening Room on Friday, Aug. 1, feel all the more special.

Asheville Stages caught up with Sarah Louise to discuss music as a tool for human connection, the influence of nature on her work, and the dissolving boundaries between performer and audience.

Jonny Leather: Accompanying your Music is Alive Tape Club Vol. 1 release on Bandcamp, you wrote: “I had to stop recording and simply sing for the moment. I make music to deepen relationships with people, plants, frogs, patches of Earth, and fields of stars…” The last time I saw you perform [September 2023 at The Odd], you expressed a similar longing for a more communal music experience, which really resonated with me. Can you talk about what inspired that mindset — and how it’s been fulfilling for you?

Sarah Louise: I now see my early passion for folk music as a reflection of my longing for communal music that feels rooted to place. Experiencing music together is a crucial aspect of what kind of animal we are. Singing together helps us bond and ease stress, creating states of consciousness that I believe can offer us heart-centered clarity. Music can be one of our greatest tools for communing with each other and the Earth, which offers me hope at a time when our world needs so much healing. 

JL: During that show, you managed to draw out genuine participation from the crowd — a rare feat, but one that clearly fosters a deeper connection. Do you think there’s been a growing detachment between performers and audiences in the modern era?

SL: I think many performers do an amazing job connecting with audiences and creating meaningful group experiences. But I think performance is just one small sliver of how we can enjoy music together. Most of us, myself included, have memories where we felt shamed for our expression. As a result, we may feel awkward dancing at shows and frozen when asked to sing. Yet science tells us how healthy it is to sing and dance together. And healthy cultures around the world have known this for longer than we can imagine. 

My quest these last few years has been to help dissolve the boundary between audience and performer. A big part of that for me is honoring people’s silence as much as their expression. There’s never any pressure to participate at my shows. But recently I feel as though I have cracked some code to help people feel at ease to sing together. It feels like magical medicine. 

JL: As a listener yourself, what makes a performance truly memorable?

SL: Connection. This can be connection the performer transmits from their inner world, connection improvisers experience together, connection to lineage, connection to place, and connection with all that goes beyond words.

JL: Your records — Earth Bow in particular — are densely layered, full of details that seem to reveal themselves over time. Many artists get lost in that depth, obsessing over every moment to the point of paralysis. How do you know when a record is finished?

SL: Finishing a record like Earth Bow is difficult. It has to really want to be born. At my best, I enter into a trusting relationship with what is coming through me. I listen to my body and nervous system for when it’s good to take breaks, when it’s good to push through, and when it is finished. All of our bodies communicate in these ways, but so often this type of guidance is covered over with anxiety or mental chatter. Spending time in nature and meditation are key for me. I love that new details are still emerging upon repeated listens. That means the record is never truly finished.

JL: As a professional artist — or even an amateur — there’s often tension between art as pure expression and art as commodity. How do you preserve the integrity of your creative voice in a content-driven era?

SL: I had to really step away from performing and recording music for several years. But during that time I developed a great community of friends to jam with, and deepened with song as a tool for healing and connection. This approach has been important to help me contemplate what music is. I mean, what is it really? It is more than background music in a retail shop. And it is worth far more than .06 cents per play. 

I believe that music is a crucial aspect of our ecological niche as human animals. I sing to plants, to rivers, to my own heart, and to those I love. I had to step way back from the commercial side of things to instill those powers of music more deeply into myself. Now, I feel a rising passion to be back out there helping others feel our beauty as a species through song.

JL: Natural sounds —creeks, birds, frogs — are woven throughout your music. Do you spend a lot of time outdoors simply listening? And as you've deepened that relationship with the natural world, how has it shaped or shifted your musical approach?

SL: My love of nature is the through-line in my life. I remember singing in my garden as a kid because it helped me feel better. To me, singing is a listening practice. It teaches me how my body experiences a place, situation or even a plant. I am re-including myself as a part of the soundscape as a singing animal. I use my voice in my healing practice as an herbalist, and I love to hold circles where people can practice using their own song and dance to heal with the Earth.

JL: With the rise of artificial intelligence in the arts, do you think it’s time we collectively reexamine the role of art in our lives?

SL: I don’t have any concerns about AI negatively impacting the arts. I am actually hopeful that it will help steer us towards what is even more deeply human by forcing us to examine what we can do that it cannot. Our bodies, nervous systems and hearts can communicate through a paintbrush or a guitar in ways that AI cannot. We can sit in a circle together and sing. Our expression is a part of the infinite creativity of nature. If AI takes over a small piece of it, it doesn’t really decrease what is available to us as creative humans.

JL: Lastly, what can listeners expect from your upcoming performance at AyurPrana Listening Room?

SL: I make music in devotion to connection. I hope to help people feel rooted to the ever-available support of the Earth during these times and to feel held in community. I am so excited about the amazing players who will be joining me: Drummer Ryan Oslance, saxophonist Ashley Paul, guitarist Tashi Dorji and modular synth wizard Tony Rolando. The show will be ceremonial in nature and will also include harmony singing with what I’ll call The Music Gardening Singers. My sister, who is a projection designer, is also coming to animate some of my artwork for the show to contribute to the immersive experience. It’s a really exciting time for me to be back out there after being more quiet on the scene as I found my way to the heart of what music is to me.

IF YOU GO

Who: Sarah Louise (& Friends)
When: Friday, August 1, 7 p.m.
Where: AyurPrana Listening Room, 312 Haywood Rd., ayurpranalisteningroom.com  
Tickets: $21.49

(Photo courtesy of Sarah Louise)