CR 001: Zoe Boekbinder on Using Art to Influence Change

The singer-songwriter discusses social justice, their creative process, and their stunning new album, "Wildflower."

zoe boekbinder by justin nunnink

Singer-songwriter-guitarist Zoe Boekbinder (they/them) gained prominence in 2020 when Long Time Gone, an album they co-produced with Ani DiFranco, was released on DiFranco’s indie label Righteous Babe Records. A collection of songs spanning multiple genres and performed by an assortment of musicians, the album (which is attributed to the Prison Music Project) generated significant press for one notable feature: each song was written by a man incarcerated at New Folsom Prison.

The album was the culmination of four-and-a-half years Boekbinder spent volunteering as a music teacher at the prison, an experience they say was life-altering. “It changed me internally. It changed the way I thought about and interacted with the world. It changed the way that I thought about art, and the music I was making. It changed everything.”

Now, Boekbinder is once again using their art to influence change. Their new album, Wildflower, a stunning collection of country-tinged folk songs, was made, performed, produced, and promoted by a team of all women and non-binary people—which, they say now, was a game-changer. “I think this is the best album I've ever made,” Boekbinder says. “We made it in five days. It was incredible. Honestly, I don't think I'll ever go back. I mean, that album was sort of a concept, but I don't know why I would ever go back to the other way. [Laughs]”

I recently chatted with Boekbinder over Zoom about their new album, their time volunteering at New Folsom Prison, and their advice for how to break through creative blocks.

---

This is a benefit for paid subscribers. If you’re interested in reading this and hundreds of others in the archive, please upgrade to a paid subscription. It gives you access to inspiring interviews, and helps me keep the lights on. Win-win!

---

SANDRA EBEJER: I’d like to start off by talking about the years you taught music inside New Folsom Prison. You were already a working musician at that point, and you’d been touring and releasing albums. How did the experience of working with those men change the trajectory of your career?

ZOE BOEKBINDER: I would say entirely. From the first time that I went into the prison, it was something that I felt like everyone should witness. Because whether we like it or not, we are participating in the system, so we should really know what's going on in there and we should have to face it. I couldn't bring the general public in with me, but I thought, "I can't bring people in, but what can I bring out?" At first it was stories; I would tell stories about the people that I met. I was trying to also write songs about it—because that's what I do, I write songs about my experiences—but I was struggling with it. And then a light bulb went off, like, "I'm interacting with all of these songwriters and poets and lyricists in prison every time I go in. I don't need to write the songs about this experience. It's not my experience."

I asked some of the writers I was working with inside about sharing their work and most of them jumped at the opportunity to share their stories. Because a lot of what the people that I was working with were experiencing was not only the incarceration of their body, but also the incarceration of their voice. And having their work leave the prison was like some experience of freedom. I got such a great response and I thought, "Oh, maybe I'll do an EP.” Eventually, as you know, it turned into a whole album.

Going through that process and bringing this writing out, I thought of myself as a microphone and in a way lost touch with my own creativity, because it just felt like what I was doing as a microphone was more important than my work as an artist. The feeling that I had at the time was the voices of these incarcerated people just needed to be heard so much more than my voice. And it took years, but eventually what happened is it gave me courage to start writing about things that mattered more to me, which I hadn't done before. My songs had been mostly personal before. So in that way, it totally shifted my relationship to my art and my music.

You were volunteering in the prison as a music teacher, but I’m wondering if you learned anything from the men there about the craft of songwriting or making music? So not just changing your feelings about things, but actually changing the way you approached art-making?