“Having this outlet always feels therapeutic:” Sarah Meth in Conversation.

By Hard of Hearing on November 3, 2026

Sarah Meth talks to us about creative experimentation, New York karaoke bars and processing through music as she releases debut LP ‘Something Shameful’.

Words: Grace Palmer | Photo: Harvey Flume

Last week, Sarah Meth released her debut album, ‘Something Shameful’. Rooted in lived experience and heartache, and shaped by experiments with sound and genre, the album is a poignant reflection on the complexities of being in your 20s. Ahead of its release, we spoke with Sarah about her love of New York, the importance of balancing collaborative and solo approaches to music, and her adoration for Terrence Malick’s ‘Badlands’.

This is your first full-length album after three EPs. What did you learn from your EP releases that helped bring this full-length album into being? What made you decide to produce a full-length LP rather than another EP?

Sarah: The way I see it, all the EPs and demo projects up until now have been like mini worlds; explorations of the different things I’m influenced by. This album feels like a mix of everything. Recorded music has always been an exploration, and I felt a slight gap between those initial songs and my live set. So this album has enabled me to mix everything and record my band in a studio for the first time, and they’ve all been stepping stones to this point. I feel ready for the album. It’s been quite an incremental process; done in people’s spare time. It’s the result of all the different eras and experiments.

I know very few people who record an album all in one stint. It takes a lot of time for it to come together.

Sarah: Quite a lot of artists will go on a residential, if they have the budget. Or they’ll spend a long time writing the album, then it will be like, okay, we’ve got two weeks in this studio to record. Whereas for this album, everything was done as favours from friends playing. But it also means I hear a lot of love in it from the people who contributed. It felt like a leap from being quite singular to really collaborative, and I’m grateful to the people who participated.

Do you want to mention the people who helped on the album?

Sarah: Charlie Reid Clarke on multiple instruments. He has his own band called Roscoe Roscoe. My bass player, Kit Derbyshire. He’s a welder, and this is the only music that he does. We all went to school together, so we’ve been doing this for a long time now. The drummers alternate on this record; my friend Stella Alkan plays on most of the tracks. My friend Jamie Staples, who’s the drummer in Wunderhorse, plays on one. Cameron Picton, who’s in My New Band Believe, plays guitar on some of the songs. Louie Barbie is also playing cello on ‘Lonely Girl World’.

For production, my friend Louis O’Bryen (in the band Sorry) co-produced three songs with me, and I produced the rest. Fabian Prynne, the engineer running 4AD Studios, recorded all the live elements of the album. He gave us our first opportunity to record in the studio. It’s still a mix of stuff on my laptop, which has become a signature sound for me.

As you mentioned, you often record in your bedroom, maintaining the DIY element of your practice. How was it recording in a studio for some of these tracks? Did you notice a difference in how you felt and how the songs came across?

Sarah: It felt like hearing them come to life. Some songs make sense to be lo-fi and intimate. Then there are some songs where it felt really nice to capture that live experience. In the live set, we’ve started using more textural samples from my home production to bridge the gap. I do everything on my laptop with plugin pedals, so it’s been cool replicating those sounds live. Fabian and Louis are both people whose work I love and whose opinions I really trust, and they’ve allowed me so much space to do my own thing.

Photo: Milly Cope

I was reading about how influential your 2024 trip to New York has been in writing the album. Could you elaborate on how that proved so important?

Sarah: It started as a long love affair with the city. I’ve been to New York many times now, and it’s always interesting when a place stops feeling shiny and new and becomes real. Every time I go, I tap back into this constantly changing pool of people. I first went when I finished my major support tour with King Krule, which was a big experience for me. But with touring, I always find it hard to adjust back to real life – it’s such an intense high, living and you become close with people you’ve never met before. So I ended up in New York, meeting a bunch of different people, musicians and characters. All these experiences were compressed into one week, but it felt like a month. It was the first time I confronted myself with this pool outside London, and it was fun, enticed by all the weirdness there. The songs on the album aren’t necessarily about this time, but more about the people who inspired me to write it.

Do you have a favourite place in New York that you always go back to?

Sarah: It’s a bit of a lame answer, but I have this song named after it. It’s a karaoke bar called Winnie’s where one of my friends works. It’s not anything glamorous, but I always have these strange nights. It’s where I do my farewell drinks. It always feels like the right place to mark the trip. But every time I say that, New Yorkers roll their eyes, so maybe I need to find a new spot.

My favourite song on the album has to be ‘Horses’, where you explore reconciliatory feelings through heartache. I also really love the concept of a horse’s untamable freedom reflected in our own lives. I wanted to ask about the music video, which I thought was such a fun idea. How did the concept come about? Where did you take this tiny horse?

Sarah: It’s very much based on my life. It’s a nice way to end the album because it’s a song about acceptance.

As for where I took them, I took them around where I live and hang out. I walked past the main horse on the street on my way home from work, and the idea just came to me. I’ve never done stop motion before, but I always take pictures with my digital camera, so I went for it. I made it in April when I had time off from work, and I felt I needed to make this music video. I carried the horse everywhere and got a bit addicted. All my friends said I was going to have bad separation anxiety for this horse, but it was a nice way to be in my own little world.

It was the first time I’d made a video without any assistance. It took me about a month because I edited as I made it. I had this rough idea of how I wanted it to end, with the horse finding its people, but it definitely took on its own shape.

The thematic impetus behind ‘Something Shameful’ centres on romance, heartbreak, desire and shame, all twisted with a wry, satirical sense of humour. As a result, the lyrics often draw from intense emotion, especially in ‘Don’t touch me, you’re my hero’. Does it feel vulnerable and exposing to explore and put so much of yourself into your songs, or is it a liberatory process for you?

Sarah: I definitely find it empowering; it makes me feel strong afterwards. It’s very autobiographical, but it still exists in a world of slight fiction. The songs are capsules of how I felt in a moment; having this outlet always feels therapeutic. It helps me be less reactionary and process things that summarise that particular emotion. I have time between when things are released and when I’ve written the music, and my feelings always change. It’s important to have that because then you’re able to look at it more objectively.

As your debut album, do you have a personal favourite debut that you have loved?

Sarah: I’m staring at my Björk poster right now. That’s an amazing album. Also, titling your first album ‘Debut’ is very clever.

Many of the songs on ‘Something Shameful’ are perhaps the most experimental you’ve been in your music so far. I’m thinking of the octave pitch-down in the chorus of ‘Fun’ and uncanny noises towards the end of ‘Sonic’. What drew you to embracing a more experimental, non-straightforward approach to producing and mixing these songs? Is it messing around with the recording process and stumbling on happy musical accidents? Where do you find and collect these sounds?

Sarah: I just get sucked into these vortices, going through different sounds on Plugins and playing with the different effects. Sometimes people talk about things really technically; I see Fabian in the studio doing everything manually, and it feels like a different language. But when I’m on my laptop, I have grown in my own understanding of how the sound works. Often, I type in keywords: say I want something to sound dreamy, I type ‘dream’ to see all the different Plugins and keyboard sounds, or whatever comes up with the word dreaming or ambient. I’ll go through all of them until I find what I want.

It’s like learning an instrument. Everyone has their own style that makes it distinctly them. I definitely feel that with production. But I’m also influenced by the things I listened to growing up. Louis’ work with Sorry has inspired me, and I love Archie’s [King Krule] production style. When I wrote ‘Don’t Touch Me,’ I just played that to Louis on guitar, and he added the synth melodies and extra sounds. I never would have thought of that in a million years, and it was better than anything I’d come up with. It’s like speaking the same language with someone who gets you in a way you didn’t even know.

Obviously, you are influenced by an array of musical figures, ranging between the likes of Karen Dalton, LCD Soundsystem and Nina Simone. I’m wondering what non-musical influences you are inspired by, or obsessed with, when creating your music?

Sarah: I first watched ‘Badlands’ after the King Krule tour. I became completely obsessed with the film and Sissy Spacek. Watching ‘Badlands’ made me interested in how a city or environment affects music. The more bands that I become friends with outside London, the more I realise there is a London sound. The film was the gateway to me getting really into film. I really connected with ‘Badlands’; its themes didn’t feel dated. This exploration of mysterious connection and delusion from the real world, being on the road to nowhere – all these visual themes are metaphorical for being in your twenties.

Tell me a bit more about the Wishbone events you host. How did they begin? What have you learnt through doing them?

Sarah: I wanted to perform out of my comfort zone. One Christmas, I had this idea for a wishbone: two things two people break apart. I have so many friends who are amazing musicians (which is such a privilege), so I asked Cameron if he’d be down to perform together. Then I asked mary in the junkyard, and they said yes. It became a way to see how other people write and make their music. It’s a gateway for me to stay inspired and learn, and it’s really nice to have a sense of community. A lot of the time, the other artists and I play stuff that’s a work in progress, or a cover that we’ve just figured out. It’s the opposite of a Sarah Meth show, which is very rehearsed and deliberate. It’s nice to have a space to do something rough around the edges.

I feel really lucky that a lot of artists I’ve loved have given me opportunities to open for them, so I guess it’s a way to do that for other people at different points in their careers. It’s based on music, friends and the stuff I like. Being part of a community or any scene requires you to put in what you get out.

After completing your album, how did you feel? And what comes next?

Sarah: When the final steps of the release happen, I will feel it’s actually done – not just a seed in my head. But it feels really good; I’m really like happy with it. I feel lucky I’ve managed to form a team that lets me have free rein and whose opinions I really trust.

I’ve been feeling inspired lately, so I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s next, and I’m keen to do the next album. More immediately, I’m sharing this album and playing shows: living in this album’s era.