Folk Bitch Trio: ‘Being pathetic and lonely is great for songwriting’

As Folk Bitch Trio tell it, the music industry is a sadly predictable place.

“It’s exactly what everyone says it is, and exactly what everybody warns you about when you’re 18 and want to start working in music,” says vocalist and guitarist Jeanie Pilkington. “No one makes much money. The artist often ends up getting the shitty end of the stick. You have to work really, really, really hard, and sometimes it feels impossible.”

“The way that minorities are treated in the music industry? Not surprising,” adds bandmate Heide Peverelle. “The way that women are treated in the music industry? Not surprising. The way that a lot of men are in the music industry? Not surprising, and often very disappointing.”

“But there is fame and glory at the other end!” laughs Gracie Sinclair.

Folk Bitch Trio have had a crash course in the good and bad of the music industry over the past few years. The trio met at high school in Melbourne and started making music in year 12, which is when they coined their undeniable band name (one that confuses the festival bookers expecting a more typical folksy act than the breezy, indie-pop-meets-alt-rock band they actually are).

Things moved fast: after a few early singles and “a lot of hustle”, this year Folk Bitch Trio announced their signing to US label Jagjaguwar, home of acts such as Bon Iver, Sharon Van Etten and Angel Olsen, and released their debut album, Now Would Be A Good Time. They modestly describe feeling “busy” right now; an observer might say they seem to be on the precipice of Big Things.

When we speak via Zoom, the band, now all aged 23, are sitting in a hotel room next to a highway somewhere outside Utrecht, the Netherlands, on week seven of an eight-week tour that has taken them through North America, Europe and the UK, an experience that has been both exhilarating and exhausting. As well as the jam-packed tour schedule, they launched Now Would Be A Good Time from the road, jamming press in around shows and feeling buoyed by the positive reception they were met with.

It’s an easy album to like. Now Would Be A Good Time is a tender, lovely listen, sonically somewhere between Boygenius and Laura Marling, and anchored by the group’s three-part vocal harmonies (all three sing; Pilkington and Peverelle do most of the guitar work). The album is, as they describe it, “about the turmoils of being in your 20s, and the pathetic little tragedies that you have”, such as the embarrassment of getting dumped and wanting more from a situation than you can get and “being really dramatic about it”. It’s fertile ground to mine.

“Being pathetic and lonely is a great space for songwriting, I think,” deadpans Pilkington.

But in Folk Bitch Trio’s hands, the woes of youth are handled with light humour. There are songs about having a sex dream soundtracked by the TV infomercial you fell asleep watching, and lyrics that sarcastically reference inescapable self-help books (“Can’t deny it my body keeps the score/ But if you tell me that you need it/ I can get up off my floor”).

“A lot of the songs are quite earnest, but we’re also poking fun at the situations that we’re writing about,” says Peverelle. “Because it’s not super deep, even though you feel like it is when you’re 20 and going through your first breakup. You will rebuild!”

While many Australian artists start looking abroad after building a profile at home, Folk Bitch Trio had their sights set on going global from the jump. As soon as their album was recorded they flew to Austin’s South by Southwest, where they met with every label they could before inking their Jagjaguwar deal. The music industry is, of course, far bigger in markets like North America and Europe than it is in Australia, which is a practical reason to hop a time zone or two. But the trio have never really felt as if they fit in the traditional avenues for breaking Australian bands.

Radio station Triple J, historically one of Australia’s most powerful tastemakers, has only very recently begun playing Folk Bitch Trio’s music, at the very end of their album cycle (“They took their sweet time,” laughs Pilkington). In an age where there’s a lot of pressure on artists to go viral, the trio aren’t much for meme-y Instagram or TikTok content. And while they’re thrilled to be on the bill at this year’s Meredith music festival in December (a “bucket list” booking), Australia’s festival circuit – or, after a tough few years for the local music industry, what’s left of it – doesn’t feel quite right for them.

“A lot of those Triple J festivals, I don’t think that’s ever really felt like what we’ve had our eyes on,” says Pilkington. “It’s not super accessible for us. I don’t think we’re quite making the right music for it. I think that our goals of [finding a] wide audience have existed outside of Australia.”

But while their aspirations are global, Folk Bitch Trio say they’re fighting to keep Melbourne their base for as long as possible. For one, the music scene in their home town is “just so pumping all the time that you can go to an awesome gig every night – it’s what you want to be around,” says Peverelle.

And while playing to a heaving crowd at a festival in Wales is cool, their most rewarding career moments have been at home – including hearing one of their mums listen to their record on vinyl for the first time from the other room. Those are, Peverelle says, “the special moments that surprise you and rock you a little bit”, and make the eyeroll-inducing stuff of bad music men and crappy money all worthwhile. The longer they spend away from home, the greater the pull becomes.

“I think we all have surprised ourselves in how much our love for Melbourne has grown through being away from it,” says Pilkington from that grim, highway-side hotel room, on their first night off in almost a week. “Because you really can’t fight your home. And when you exhaust yourself travelling the world, it’s what you crave.”

• Now Would Be a Good Time is out now (Jagjaguwar). Folk Bitch Trio are touring Australia and New Zealand 5 to 28 September