“I think my music is less about defining who I am and more about documenting who I’m becoming. Every song captures a different chapter of that journey, and I hope listeners can find pieces of their own lives within it, too.”
Homeplace Magazine: Introduce yourself!
Sydney J: Hi! I’m Sydney J, an independent indie-folk artist and songwriter based in Manhattan, NY. I have been writing and producing all of my music myself since age 15, when I released my first song, “It’s Only You,” which I created in my childhood bedroom. Simultaneously, I’m finishing up my degree in viola performance at the Juilliard School.
HPM: Walk us through your evolution as an artist. Did you always know music was something you wanted to do?
SJ: I’ve always known that music was something I wanted to do, but I never imagined this is what it would look like. When I was eight years old, I remember begging my parents to let me play the violin. I studied violin for several years before switching to the viola when I was fifteen, and that path eventually led me to Juilliard, where I’m now majoring in viola performance. For a long time, I thought being a classical musician was going to be my career. But by the end of my sophomore year, I realized something was missing. I loved music, but I didn’t feel like I was showing up as who I really was or expressing my desire to connect with people on a deeply personal level. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, my heart wasn’t in pursuing a traditional classical career because it was in writing songs, singing, and creating music that could comfort people, make them feel understood, and remind them that they aren’t alone. Last year, I made the decision to pursue my career as a singer-songwriter full-time alongside my studies. Looking back, I don’t think my journey changed so much as the direction became clearer.
HPM: What drew you to folk music as a genre, and what keeps you returning to it in your work?
SJ: I was introduced to folk music by a friend I grew up with. We were in a band together, and he would always send me songs by Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Joan Baez, and so many other incredible artists. I really fell in love with the tradition of folk music because of its honesty, storytelling, and the way something so musically simple can still carry deep emotion and lyricism. What keeps me coming back to folk is that it feels like the music my heart naturally sings. It feels like home. I can express myself fully in this genre while creating something that I hope resonates deeply with the listener. There’s a quiet vulnerability in folk music that allows me to tell the truth without feeling like I have to hide behind anything. I also admire the sense of community that is really the heart of folk music. Throughout its history, folk has brought people together through shared stories, empathy, and hope. That’s something I want my own music to do. To create a space where people feel connected, understood, and a little less alone.
HPM: How has [New York] influenced your songwriting and sound?
SJ: My hometown had a huge influence on the way I approach music because for the majority of my high school years I was a church musician. I tried to play just about every instrument I could get my hands on with the band. Even though the music I write today is very different stylistically, I still carry that experience with me. It taught me to think of music as something much bigger than a single melody or instrument. When I write a song, I don’t hear just a guitar part or a vocal line; I can almost hear the entire arrangement in my head. I’m thinking about how the strings, harmonies, piano, and other instruments will interact with one another and how each musical choice can deepen the meaning of the lyrics. Living in New York City has shaped my songwriting in a different way. Being surrounded by so many different people, cultures, and experiences has expanded the way I see the world. I think that, combined with simply growing older, has allowed me to write from many different perspectives instead of just straight ahead.
HPM: If someone wanted to understand where you’re from, which song of yours would you play first?
SJ: If someone wanted to understand where I’m from, I’d probably play my song “Brelan.” It’s a song I wrote about my older brother, but it’s really a reflection of the family and environment that shaped me. From a young age, my brother inspired me in so many ways. We were always playing music together, and he had this incredible ability to make anything he touched come alive. Even today, he’s an independent fashion designer running his own brand, DMALifestyle, and that same creativity continues to inspire me. One of my favorite parts of the song is that it includes recordings of our voices as little kids. Every time I hear them, I’m reminded of where I came from, the home that nurtured my love for music, and the people who helped shape me into the artist I am today.
HPM: If someone followed you for one ordinary day, what would surprise them most?
SJ: I think people would be surprised by how much I love to laugh. I love cracking jokes, being goofy, and finding reasons to smile. From the outside, I think I can come across as pretty introverted or shy. But if you actually get to know me, I’m loud, weird, and constantly joking around. I also can’t really stand still, and I’m just pacing back and forth, dancing for no reason, or moving to whatever music is playing.
HPM: How does your identity influence your creativity, and how does it manifest in your work?
SJ: As someone who’s just entering my twenties, I don’t know if I have one definitive identity yet. I think I’m still growing, learning, and discovering new parts of myself every day. In a way, one of the most exciting parts of being an artist is that my music gets to evolve just like me. I create from my experiences, bring my loves and heartbreaks, the people who have shaped me, the conversations that stay with me, the places I’ve been, and the little pieces of wisdom I collect along the way. All of those things become the world my songs exist in. I think my music is less about defining who I am and more about documenting who I’m becoming. Every song captures a different chapter of that journey, and I hope listeners can find pieces of their own lives within it, too.
HPM: What are some rituals that you have, whether before a show or preparing to create a song?
SJ: Before I write, I like to spend some time just playing my guitar and singing, and just try to create the emotion I am searching for in my body. I’ll often sing other people’s songs before I ever sing my own. A lot of the time, I’ll gravitate toward artists like Adrianne Lenker or Joan Baez because their music helps quiet my mind and helps me reconnect with myself. I always joke that I know I’m ready to write when I feel connected to my spine. It’s hard to explain, but it’s that moment when the music moves beyond my head and settles somewhere deeper in my body. That’s usually when I know I’m ready to create.
HPM: What’s a creative habit you hope you never lose?
SJ: Sketching. I always keep this tiny sketchbook with me, and when I have an idea, I’ll start filling the page with little drawings made up of lines, dots, and abstract shapes. I’ll write down words or phrases that come to mind and connect them with lines, almost like I’m mapping out ideas instead of organizing them. Sometimes those pages end up inspiring lyrics, and other times they’re just a snapshot of whatever was happening in my mind that day.
HPM: What are you still trying to learn as an artist?
SJ: I’m still learning that vulnerability isn’t weakness, and neither is sadness. Often I still worry that writing about difficult emotions or experiences means I’m dwelling on them or giving away too much of myself. But sometimes these are feelings that simply need to be expressed. I’m learning that songs with emotional depth aren’t inherently heavy in a negative way because they can still be healing. Sometimes the most honest thing you can do is say the thing that’s hardest to say. I try to remind myself that if I’m feeling something deeply enough to write about it, there’s probably someone else out there who needs to hear it.