With a Collection of ‘Vignettes,’ Humbird Show How Expansive Love Can Be

What makes a song?

It’s a simple sounding question, one that invites discussion about structure, melody, production techniques and more (and certainly has no real answer). It’s also something Humbird explores on her transcendent new record, Astrovan: The Love Song Vignettes, which follows last year’s critically acclaimed Humbird LP, Right On.

Written before the pandemic, the 11-song project spans just 16 minutes, but is expansive in its vision and emotional depth, as principal Siri Undlin muses on love in its many forms using varied musical styles. The resulting album is especially meditative when enjoyed in one sitting and invites listeners to consider how love is present in their own lives, whether in the beauty of nature or in small, domestic gestures from loved ones.

Below, BGS caught up with Undlin to chat about making Astrovan, finding beauty in mundane moments and how creative restrictions can often lead to happy artistic accidents.

This new project is such a cool idea with these short vignettes. I’d love to hear a little bit about the project’s beginnings and how that idea came to you?

Siri Undlin: It started off very much not an album. I was struggling to write and struggling to feel inspired. A friend of mine was like, “Why don’t you write simple, short songs and not worry about if they’re good or not?” I had recently fallen in love, so I was trying to write some love songs that weren’t super annoying. I was like, “Maybe short is the way.” So, yeah, it was just a goofy project that I sometimes did at live shows, because it’s funny.

People usually get a kick out of it and it’s fun to talk on stage about what a song is, like, “Why do we expect it to be a certain length?” It’s a fun, intimate audience moment. But then, a couple of friends who are really talented producers and engineers were at a show and they were like, “What the heck? You should definitely record these.” Those pals were Brian Joseph and Shane Leonard, so the three of us recorded them. This was all back in 2019, so it was also a while ago.

So, you’ve been sitting on those for a little while. What made it feel like the right time to put them out as a full album?

They were just weird enough that I was not quite sure what to do with them. Back in 2019, we were very much a DIY band. I was booking most of the tours. We were self-managed, putting out albums independently. So, it was just this one-woman shop. I honestly didn’t have time. I don’t want to release music unless I can do a good job and be proud of really putting my whole heart behind releasing it. It took a while, but I feel like, in the last year, it was like, “Oh, you should come out.” They’ve been waiting for a while, and now I have the bandwidth thanks to some folks helping me out behind the scenes. I’m also more confident as an artist. We’ve been a band for longer, and we’ve put out other music. So, I felt like, “Okay, if [fans] are into what we’re doing, they have an idea of this project’s personality and we can throw this strange project at them.”

I love how know each song is a love song, but you’re you’re covering lots of different types of love. It’s not just your standard, romantic love – there’s love for nature and plants and for mundane-seeming gestures like leaving food out for someone who’s coming home late. It’s a very expansive vision of love.

I know that in my personal life, sometimes those [mundane] moments are the most loving. Sometimes in love songs, on a broader scale, we get high drama and high stakes. But I love the little, ordinary moments that, when you put them in a song, feel really magical.

It’s a rewarding experience to sit and listen to the record start-to-finish. It feels very meditative, in a way. What was your time recording like? A few moments ago, you mentioned thinking about what makes a song a “song,” and what a song is allowed to be. How did that play out while you brought these songs to life?

In my memory, it was a pretty quick, moving process. I think we did the initial tracking in maybe four days and then we did some overdubs a handful of other days, maybe half a year later. And because the songs are so short, it was like, “Okay, how can we make these feel fully realized in such a short period of time and still take risks and have various arrangement choices that are engaging?”

It has to happen in such a condensed period. It was a great challenge: take your ideas but make them as compact and meaningful as possible because you only have a few seconds. Now that it’s out in the world, people are like, “I wish this song was just a normal length. It’s so sad when it’s over.” But I felt like we had to stick to the premise. Some of the songs could go way longer, sure, but it’s fun to keep it short and sweet.

What did you take away from that experience? It seems like it would be instructive to have to work with those restrictions and to learn how to cram so much meaning into a minute’s worth of music.

The biggest takeaway was that you can do it. You can have an emotionally resonant song in 45 seconds or one minute if you’re really determined. Going forward with recordings that came after it made me a better listener and a better editor of my own work, because when you have to be so cutthroat during the editing and arranging processes, you’ve flexed that muscle. I think it strengthens the writing and arrangements going forward because it was sort of a, “Do we absolutely need this or not?” question. That’s how I prefer to move through music recording: throw it all at the wall and then pare it back and have something you’re really proud of.

I’m surprised to hear that these songs were written so long ago, as I had noticed some musical and thematic connection points between Astrovan and Right On and assumed that Right On played an influential role. Do you feel a connection there, too?

I think you’re hearing it just right. But the truth is that Astrovan led to Right On. Astrovan has some folky, almost country music moments. But then there are also some rockers. Those are, to be honest, some of the first times in the studio where I was like, “Dang, rock and roll is fun to play.” It’s so fun to turn up the amp and use a distortion pedal and just have fun. It’s really cathartic, and those songs were only a minute. So then, when I picked up the guitar again later on to write songs for Right On, I think in the back of my mind I was like, “I want to do more of that fun, loud, more abrasive stuff.” And that definitely informed choices for Right On.

Speaking of Right On, that’s been such a big record for you. And now that we’ve hit 2025, it’s been out for the better part of a year. When you reflect on the year you had in 2024, what comes to mind?

One really cool thing that I didn’t anticipate was a level of confidence that me and my bandmates were able to sink into with the Right On album. We put our whole hearts into making it. It was so fun to record and it’s so fun to play live. As a result of performing it all year, we’ve just gotten better at performing. I think we all really stand behind what we do on stage and in a music ecosystem that’s so confusing and hard to know. But when you can get on stage with people you love and play music that you’re proud of and you’re excited to share with people, that is the best feeling ever.

I feel like that was what a lot of our year was about. We love playing this music. We’re stoked to share it with you. And we’re not getting too caught up in all of the other elements that swirl around with making music your livelihood. Not that those factors aren’t there, but ultimately, the year was about this record that we were proud of. So, that feels great.

You have some festival dates on the books for this year. Do you have any plans to tour, too?

We’re a band that definitely hits the road, historically, and that’s the plan for 2025, as well. We were all upper Midwest kids, so we also hibernate hard. But when the snow thaws, we’ll be out there, and I think it’ll be pretty consistent throughout the year. That’s where we’re at right now as a band and we’re soaking it up because it’s a good chapter to be in.


Photo Credit: Juliet Farmer

Humbird: From Dinner Table Singing to Dismantling White Supremacy

Siri Undlin, better known as Humbird, is a talented singer-songwriter from the Twin Cities with deep roots in Minnesota music and the land that surrounds her. Growing up, she was a true cold-weather kid who loved hockey during winter, but also loved music and feeding her vivid imagination. Her interest in music was nurtured by her parents, religious music, church choir, and also her Aunt Joan, who taught Siri guitar at age 12. Hockey actually led her to her first band, Celtic Club, which would play at Irish Pubs, talent shows, and of course, at the local hockey rink. They introduced her to Celtic music and her first live performances.

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In this episode of Basic Folk, Undlin shares her rich experience studying folklore and fairy tales, which greatly influence her musical journey. She discusses her intensive research in Ireland and Nordic countries, exploring how music intertwines with storytelling traditions.

Throughout the episode, Undlin reflects on her upbringing, her time at an art school, and her evolving approach to songwriting, blending traditional folk music with indie music and experimental sounds. On her new album, Right On, Siri is acknowledging and addressing white supremacy in middle America, as highlighted in her song “Child of Violence.” She talks candidly about what writing and releasing the song taught her about white supremacy. Touring has provided Undlin with unexpected challenges and valuable insights, shaping her perspective as a musician and performer. We talk about the importance of being open to chaos and disciplined in one’s mindset while navigating the music industry and life on the road.

(Editor’s Note: Read our recent interview feature with Humbird here.)


Photo Credit: Juliet Farmer

BGS 5+5: Davina and the Vagabonds

Artist: Davina and the Vagabonds
Hometown: Twin Cities, Minnesota
Latest album: Sugar Drops
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): Dottie Boots & The Hostiles

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

This question gives me anxiety. It’s so hard for me to pick one. I would say Led Zeppelin for my love of English Blues. Preservation Hall for collective improvisation, horns, and Trad Music. Siouxsie and the Banshees for Siouxsie Sue’s style. Louis Prima for letting me know it’s OK to have a sense of humor on stage and still kick ass at music. Nick Drake for singer-songwriter and Tom Waits for everything.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?

Nature, which I consider art, helps ground me to understand my emotions enough to write. Fashion to give me a certain strength and little “feel boost” when I wear certain things.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

I find either songs come strangely easily, like “Where the hell did that come?” to being just absolutely never-ending to finish. This new album took me three years to write and arrange. What a head wreck when you can’t write… let me tell you! It’s past frustrating for me; I still have mountains of songs I haven’t finished.

What rituals do you have, either in the studio or before a show?

Before a show: I sit with myself and put my face on. I hum and listen to music. Before the studio: I just freak out due to being nervous and anxious, drink loads of coffee, run around looking for all my material, making sure it’s prepared, and possible cry.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

My heart’s on my sleeve. If I’m gonna feel, I’m gonna let you know.


Photo credit: Christi Williams

BGS 5+5: Her Crooked Heart’s Rachel Ries

Artist: Her Crooked Heart
Hometown: Minneapolis, Minnesota
Latest album: To Love To Leave To Live
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): My choir calls me ‘Coach Racket’ or just Coach which is super sweet. (My sister calls me Racket because I make noise, despite being a generally quite quiet person).

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

I’m the founding director and choral arranger for a weirdo charming 60-voice indie choir in the Twin Cities. For our first season finale, I arranged a backup choir part for a song of mine called “Ghost” off my last album, Ghost of a Gardener. That moment there on the Icehouse stage [a venue in Minneapolis], when the outro hit and all the vocals coalesced into one determined statement of faith in humanity and purpose — holy is the best way I can describe it. I’ve never felt so proud, satisfied, gratified, faithful, boundless on stage.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc. — inform your music?

I very much enjoy using my hands to create things I find beautiful and pleasing – from linocut prints, hand-sewn CD sleeves, detailed pencil portraits, to homemade rhubarb sour cherry jam… While I can’t say these art forms inform my music, I steadily strive to find ways to merge the various expressions with my music. I make handmade editions of releases, draw portraits of my patrons from time to time, make jam to sell at the merch table… I used to be a fairly unhappy monochrome musician. It’s helped me immensely to find ways to bring more of my entire self to this music-presenting table.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

I have no idea what led up to this moment, but I clearly remember being a 4-year-old, the youngest daughter of Mennonite medical missionaries in Zaire, sitting on Sue’s lap in our little house in the village. She was my friend, minder, and a fellow mission-worker. I gazed up at her (I adored her) and declared “I wanna be a singer when I grow up.” I have no idea where that came from and why. But it sure stuck. It’s been my engine of purpose; my wheel of longing for as long as I have memory.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

Ah the toughest time… When I was living in a relationship I knew in my core was not right for me; for either of us. The denial was deep and I wouldn’t let myself see it clearly, let alone articulate it. During that time, whenever I’d sit down to write a song, it was as if I’d lifted a manhole cover and this dark demon snarl of “Get me out / Run / Abort! Abort!” was trying to rush out and burn my life to the ground. So I’d quickly slam the cover back down and do something, anything else. Curiously, once I’d finally been honest, all those snarling sad song fumes just… vanished. They dissolved into the ether and I finally had songs again.

How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?

Almost never. And if I do, it’s an intentional choice with a reveal at the end when the pronoun switches to ‘I’ and I claim my role within the song. If memory serves, I’ve played this card a few times, though, so I might have used up that hand…

But this links up with something quite important to me in songwriting – attempting to articulate universals with emotionally resonant specificity. “Pleasant Valley Reservoir” describes the day I got dumped and willfully got lost driving the backroads of Vermont. It ends with the lyric, sung almost as a dare: “Am I lost if it’s where I choose to be?” I’m the ‘I’ but that’s totally for us. It’s one of my favorite lines to deliver live. If I’ve done my job, I swear I can almost hear the click of recognition in the audience. Pronouns are wonderfully mutable at times.


Photo credit: Nate Ryan