TIME OUT
Courtney Barnett’s third studio album is the sonic equivalent of a warm, embracing hug. For many, the past two years have been lonely and difficult. For Barnett, it’s been a time of enforced introspection and noticing poetry in the most humble of domestic circumstances, giving her the chance to demonstrate her rare knack for documenting suburban mundanity with just enough humility and humour to elevate it into art.
She is on the phone from Joshua Tree, California when, early in our interview, she gasps loudly and then laughs in that laconic, laidback Australian fashion. “Oh my god, a bee just flew at me! Sorry, that’s what that noise was.”
It feels as if we have inadvertently become part of a Courtney Barnett song. These are the sort of innocuous moments that Barnett imbues with profound meaning, transforming them into paeans to suburban life – as our conversation continues, we can’t help but wonder what the secret meaning behind
