Julien Baker, Half Waif, Adam Torres

Julien Baker’s all about give-and-take these days. Following the unexpected, widespread embrace of the Memphis native’s humble and sparse 2014 debut, Sprained Ankle, her jarringly candid work has blossomed into a communal experience with listeners, her hymnal performances eliciting pin-drop reverence.

“I was drawn to aggressive styles of music, like hardcore and house shows – that kind of very raw, intimate setting – because I felt there was something rewarding and disarming about it,” she says. “Catharsis is one thing, but there’s a lasting impact of choosing to be vulnerable and living your life in that way, or seeing others choose to admit things onstage. That validates your emotion and empowers you to be more forthright with those feelings.”

Baker’s introspective sophomore LP, Turn Out the Lights, released earlier this year via Matador, evokes Sprained Ankle: quiet, devastating sadness traversing addiction, mental illness, recovery, and relationships. This time, though, Baker’s story includes some light.

“Now that there’s an audience in mind, I think I was more deliberate in including a provision of hopefulness, instead of just allowing the record to be completely bleak,” she admits. “That was as much for me, because I needed to learn a lesson of, ‘You cannot be this discouraged all the time. You have to allow for the possibility of healing.’”