Driving long hours through the middle of America, time seems to evaporate, nebulous spaces where memories flit up to the surface and fill the present. Sierra Spirit knows those stretches of land intimately, as if they live in her blood. Some of the Connecticut-via-Oklahoma singer-songwriter’s favorite memories tie back to long car trips with her grandmother, listening to stories about her Native American heritage. “We would listen to music, and my grandma loved the old country stations,” she says. “But what really stuck with me were the stories, the history, the connection.” For her new EP, Rodeo Clown, Sierra Spirit tapped into all of the timeless depth of her heritage, and of those car rides: honoring her attachment to Indigenous culture and blending classic country and folk with soaring indie songwriting.
Even from her name, Spirit’s Native American family plays an important role in her art. “In indigenous culture, we believe in listening and being perceptive to what the world is trying to tell you,” she says. “Before I was born, my dad had a dream where ancestors and family came to him and told him what my name should be.” As she grew up, Spirit then learned more about those traditions and took them into her own creativity. After first learning to play piano as a kid, she took up guitar and unlocked a new songwriting strength. “Oral history is such a huge part of Indigenous culture, and I wanted to paint the picture in as much detail as I can,” she explains. “Songwriting for me is a lot about finding closure for moments in my past and making it into something beautiful and meaningful.”
That transformative power drives the EP’s breathtaking lead single, “Lift A Finger”. A folk rock soar in the vein of Phoebe Bridgers or Big Thief, the song welds synths, wordless vocals, and guitar into a haunted chorus as Spirit details the ways in which the people we love can also cause the most pain. “You don’t have to lift a finger/ To hit me where it hurts/ You don’t have to raise a hand just/ Keep me waiting on those words,” she sighs, the pain ringing out between the curls of lap steel guitar and bass drum thump.
While the EP is powered in part by ancestral depth, the title track and second single draws its emotional charge from a closer familial history. Spirit wrote “Rodeo Clown” in honor of her uncle, who put on a charismatic front while he fought addiction. “He was always the funny guy in the room even while he was struggling all that time,” she says. “I wanted to capture that tension of someone so strong losing themselves.” A rising tide of acoustic guitar plucks ushers in Spirit’s crystalline vocals, a sad-eyed smile practically evident in her softly sung golden tones. A soft roll of percussive thunder and affected background vocals pull everything taut, the generational power provided by The Sisters of the One Drum. “They’re an intertribal group of female powwow drummers, and I was so excited to work with them,” Spirit says. “This kind of drumming is not traditionally something women are allowed to do, but it’s so special to have them play on my songs. Growing up there weren’t really any Native artists that I could look up to, so it’s also about normalizing and adding those things just into everyday life or music.”
Later in the EP, the Sisters’ subtly insistent drumming pushes the majestic “Devil’s Tower” ever higher—much like its namesake rock formation. “Devil’s Tower is a native spiritual landmark in Wyoming, and it was one of the places my grandmother taught me about,” Spirit says. “All the tribes in the area have a slightly different story about the origin of the tower, and I wanted to tell the story through music.” The track unravels like a mystic spiral thanks to intricate guitar lines and Dan Wilson’s immaculate production. Both with his band Semisonic and writing and producing for everyone from The Chicks and My Morning Jacket to Adele and Mitski, Wilson’s ability to balance immense emotionality with subtle shading helps Spirit’s songwriting shine throughout the EP. “It was a very collaborative effort, working to layer in a lot of texture, emotion, and ambient sound,” Spirit says. “I really admire him as an artist and producer.”
Much like Wilson’s other high-profile collaborators, Sierra Spirit channels both the ache and the awe of remembering—songs and stories bigger than Spirit herself, bigger than the people and moments that inspired them. Like a car ride through the great wide open, Rodeo Clown is tender yet unrelenting, filled with quiet revelations and a steadfast reverence. The EP bridges the seen and the unseen, the past and the present, the highest highs and lowest lows. With each note, Spirit transforms memory into motion and pain into something luminous in a voice destined to echo far beyond the horizon.