“All of my music is exactly what’s going on in my life,” indie-folk musician Odie Leigh told me over a Zoom call on Oct. 10. “So in a really broad sense, it’s all part of the same story.”

Hailing from Louisiana, Leigh takes pride in her southern roots and her tendency to wear her heart on her sleeve. In the song “Party Trick” off her recently-released debut album “Carrier Pigeon,” she muses that “maybe I’m too forward/but then again I’m not.” Two tracks later, on “No Doubt,” she admits that “I’m not too good at being subtle or acting unimpressed.” However, it is these very qualities that make Leigh shine as a songwriter and performer. 

Radical authenticity has been at the forefront of Leigh’s music since she released her first single in 2021. Her sound has evolved significantly since then, but the honesty at the core of it all has remained unchanged. Leigh describes her first two EPs, “How Did It Seem To You?” and “The Only Thing Worse Than A Woman Who Lies Is A Girl Who’ll Tell Truths” as being “two sides of the same coin.”

“I feel like ‘How Did It Seem To You’ is very much the confusion and the sadness and the mourning of a relationship, and then ‘The Only Thing Worse’ is the anger and the understanding and the processing that comes after that. And then ‘Carrier Pigeon’ is just a whole new start, a fresh new world.”

Aside from length, the main difference between “Carrier Pigeon” and Leigh’s first two projects is that the new album is markedly more upbeat and filled-out than the two previous EPs, which lean more acoustic. This shift doesn’t daunt Leigh, who told me that she feels no pressure to stick with the familiar sound her audience has grown accustomed to hearing from her.

“At the end of the day, I don’t know what my audience is hearing … What I know is that when I have trusted my gut, it has resonated with people. And what I know is that if I keep my songs honest, that is what has worked. I’m never trying to make a new sound, or be more exciting or go back to acoustic. I’m just writing the songs that resonate with me and just trusting that it’ll resonate with others.”

Speaking of her fanbase, Leigh emphasizes that she doesn’t want anyone to feel “left behind” as she ventures into this new era. She understands that her audience isn’t obliged to support and listen to her indefinitely, but hopes that they’ll see “the honesty that’s still there amongst the multiple guitars and the drums and the bass. I just trust that they will still hear whatever it is that they loved about my music.” 

The more Leigh divulged, the more apparent it became that the honesty in Leigh’s writing is not just a quirk or a stylistic choice, but the driving force behind the very essence of her work, breathing life into each of her songs. I asked her if she ever feels shy or embarrassed spilling her guts onstage to hundreds of strangers, and she responded that it’s something she’s grown accustomed to.

“It used to really bother me. It used to make me really nervous, but I’ve done it so many times now that I just go full force. I saw a quote the other day, something along the lines of, ‘as a performer, you’re being paid to embarrass yourself.’ You’re being paid to do the thing that the people in the audience feel they can’t do, and I think that that’s so true and so freeing. I mean, look, everyone thinks they want to see a normal girl on stage. Everyone thinks they want to see someone be 100% authentic, but then when you see that, it’s really uncomfortable. So in this twisted way, honesty becomes performance. And I’ve really come to terms with that.”

Leigh’s artistic integrity seems to stem at least in part from her refusal to let herself be reduced or restricted by a “twangy granola indie folk musician” label.  She encourages listeners not to make assumptions based on where she’s from or the music she’s made in the past. She told me that while her folk influences come from her upbringing in Louisiana, she wants to emphasize how diverse the deep South (and the music it produces) is. Fellow Louisiana-native musicians like Tim McGraw had just as much of an impact on her as those like Lil Wayne.

“I’m not granola. I hate the outdoors. I hate hiking. I’m allergic to the sun. If I get a sunburn, I throw up. Really, so allergic to the outdoors. I don’t live this ‘granola life’. And if you only liked my music for this aesthetic and this projection you put on to Odie Leigh, then I don’t think you were ever really listening. If all you got from my music was the acoustic guitar, then you weren’t actually listening … the lyrics to ‘Crop Circles’ [2022] are, like, edgy and crunchy and kind of punk. So of course, it would make sense that this is the music I make now, now that I have more resources and am more confident in my own artistry.”

Sure enough, “Carrier Pigeon” is a culmination of everything that makes Odie Leigh great: her lyrics effortlessly combine honesty, humor, and heart. She puts an edgy twist on her signature folksy sound, and her confidence and artistry shine through in the finished product. The album is as expansive as it is cohesive, and each song is as relatable as it is deeply personal. “Party Trick” contains the lyric Leigh claims best encapsulates the album as a whole: “I don’t know you, but I’d like to.”

When asked to describe the vibe at her shows in three words, Leigh responded “quirky, fun, and sassy.” She told me “I hope that [the people at my shows] have fun. I hope that they go home and they tell their friends about how they missed an amazing show. I hope that they make everyone around them jealous.” If this sounds up your alley, be sure to grab tickets to her concert at The Sinclair in Cambridge on Sunday, Nov. 10. Take it from me – an Odie Leigh show is not one to miss.

Contact the editors responsible for this story: Norah Catlin, Anabelle Meyers