Is that therapeutic for you?
Definitely. I think there’s something nice about having a feeling that feels so huge and knotted and being able to condense it into its essence. And that’s what songwriting is, for me. But then with poetry, that sense of being able to be free and chaotic when discussing something and just being able to have that looseness – it’s a beautiful chaos to me.
And you wrote a lot of this poetry while you were touring. What was that like for you?
Yeah it became something that I would return to when I was on the road. I was mainly working on it in green rooms. It was my grounding practice – I would wake up in a new city, I would open my notebook and jot down a few words. And it was my way of kind of feeling home because I think when I’m creating things I feel at home. And it brings me back to myself.
On your latest album My Soft Machine you’ve written a lot about love. What was that like to interrogate?
I mean, I do feel like love is kind of at the centre of my craft. There was something really beautiful about exploring different forms of love, because a lot of the love that I write about is platonic love. The romance that seeps its way into friendships and the sense of care isn’t honoured enough in art.
You took a break from touring last year – what was that like, drawing new boundaries with your work?
I think it taught me a lot about where I’m happiest and where my limits lie. It really put me in touch with listening to my body, because I have the tendency to not really check in with myself a lot. I found myself exhausted by accident, by not noticing that I’m running on fumes, and then suddenly, the engine wouldn’t go and I’m like, “why is this happening?”
Now, I try to make sure I’m journaling, that no matter what I’m always creating space in my daily life for something that is just for me. I think to have a long career, you have to take things incrementally. Having these enormous spikes of work, and then having a big crash just isn’t sustainable.
Lots of musicians seem to be taking breaks from touring to take better care of themselves, from Wet Leg and Sam Fender to Lewis Capaldi. Is it easy to take that pressure off, especially when you’re starting out?
I found myself in the position where exciting things were being presented to me, and obviously I wanted to do them, I wanted to do everything. Now, especially with me and other artists in my orbit taking time for themselves, I hope that people realise – especially younger artists – that you don’t have to do everything. You need to listen to yourself.
I hope that is something that becomes more of a philosophy for all artists, the fact that no matter how big or small of an artist you are, you should never be unhappy when you’re doing what you do, because you’ve got into it for the love.
What do you do to keep yourself centred with the chaos of writing and touring?
Staying in touch with people’s lives outside the touring bubble, because you can very much become trapped in that way. I also love being an eternal student of things. I taught myself how to DJ as well, and I’m learning to write for film – I’d love to do a screenplay one day. I need to feel like I’m growing and learning.