Her return to music feels like coming home. After more than four years away, Your Smith, born Caroline Smith, stepped back into the studio to make The Rub, finding a way to balance life as an artist, mother, and student. Known for moving effortlessly through folk, soul, pop, and intimate storytelling, she’s once again creating on her own terms.

From the early days playing small-town gigs in Minnesota to fronting Caroline Smith & The Good Night Sleeps, then carving out her own lane in Los Angeles with Bad Habit and Wild Wild Woman, Smith’s path has always been about change and self-discovery.

In our 18 questions, she talks with humor and honesty about returning to the studio, making music while raising a child, and the quiet sense of peace she’s learning to hold onto.

The Rub is your first new music in four years. What did it feel like stepping back into the studio after that time away?

Honestly, it felt a bit nerve-racking. When I’m writing a lot and in the studio often, it’s like I’m well-trained—my decision-making muscle is strong. But if I’ve been out of practice and come in cold, like I did for a lot of the sessions on this album, my confidence can get a little flabby. The muscle that keeps the doubt and second-guessing out isn’t as strong. My buddy Jake Luppen, who produced the album, is like my ego whisperer—he knows when I’m getting in my head and always finds a way to pull me out and remind me to just have fun making the music I want to make.

You’ve said this record was about figuring out how music could coexist with your new life as a mother and student. What did that process look like in real time?

Man, it was really tough. There were a lot of sessions with Marty running around banging a tambourine, or friends in the studio keeping him entertained while we worked. Being away from home to record was difficult, but I’m lucky my mom lives close by. When Adam, my husband, was pulling late nights at the restaurant while I was off in Cannon Falls being an artist, grandma was at home giving him all the sweets and unlimited screen time his little heart could handle.

The album blends confessional songwriting with breezy ’70s textures. What drew you to that sound palette?

It’s just what comes out of me naturally. My childhood was filled with the Doobie Brothers, Steely Dan, Van Morrison, James Taylor, Chaka Khan, and Paul Simon. When I sit down to write, that sound naturally flows out. I’m drawn to the verbosity of artists like Donald Fagen and Paul Simon, but I also need that ’70s pulse of piano and backbeats around me.

“Christina” feels like the heart of the record. Can you share the story behind that song?

I love that you feel that way! I think it’s a sleeper hit. That song is about my sister—whose name isn’t Christina. When someone hurts your little sister, you pretty much become homicidal. Anyone with a little sister knows exactly what I mean.

You recorded with Jake Luppen and Nathan Stocker of Hippo Campus at Pachyderm Studios. What did collaborating with them bring out of you creatively?

Jake and Nathan are such grounding forces for me. I’m genuinely not sure if this is a surprise or not, but I’m a total bro at heart and those boys get me. We share the same sense of humor—we feel things deeply but deflect with terribly offensive jokes. Their talent as artists and songwriters never ceases to amaze me, and they’re such incredible friends.

Which song on The Rub surprised you the most once it was finished?

“Lying.” I can barely listen to it because it’s so intimate. The lyrics are painfully honest, and it’s tough to hear back. I pushed myself to release it, though, and it’s been freeing to be that vulnerable, especially after hearing from fellow people-pleasers who connected with it.

You’ve gone from indie-folk beginnings to R&B-inspired solo work to breezy alt-pop, and now this new chapter. What connects all those evolutions for you?

That’s a great question. I sometimes feel self-conscious about all the phases my career has gone through, but I don’t think it could’ve happened any other way. Young women evolve in style and art, and my music reflects that. I think the thread that holds it all together is that songwriting has always been the heart of it. The lyrics are always self-reflective and earnest, and I hope that authenticity shines through.

What’s one exciting thing that happened to you this week?

I took Marty to the Harvest Festival in Stillwater, Minnesota, where our restaurant is. They have these enormous pumpkins—like 700 pounds—that people enter into a contest. At the end of the weekend, they hollow them out and race them down the St. Croix River. Yes, they actually get inside the pumpkins and row them. And somehow, they don’t sink. It’s unreal. The height of small-town living.

Where was the last place you traveled to, and what did it mean to you?

I just got back from Pittsburgh a couple of weeks ago for my grandfather’s funeral. It was heartbreaking—I was very close with both of my grandparents, who I lost this year—but it was also magical to be with all my cousins again. We grew up like siblings, and now our kids are growing up together. Family means everything to me.

What was the last thing you read that left an impression?

Ugh. I hate to bring it up—A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. If you know, you know. If you don’t, only read it if you have a year free to mourn.

What’s your favorite memory growing up in Minnesota?

I grew up in a small town next to the White Earth Reservation. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go. Everyone knew everyone. I thought I hated it and dreamed of living in New York City. But now I absolutely cherish that time. My friends and I would smoke terrible ditch weed out of pop cans on a stolen pontoon boat and laugh until we couldn’t breathe. We’d party in cornfields or someone’s fish house in the middle of a frozen lake. We’d take horses out on the reservation. Not a care in the world. It was magic.

What’s the last thing that made you laugh?

My husband doing impressions of me. It’s constant. It’s never not funny. He’s the funniest person I know.

If The Rub existed in a cinematic universe, which films or shows would sit alongside it?

That’s tough for me because I’m not a big movie buff. My favorite movie is Dumb and Dumber. I don’t get too deep about film—though honestly, Dumb and Dumber is a cinematic masterpiece. I’ll use this time to declare Jeff Daniels’ performance in that 1994 classic a true tour de force.

You’re about to hit iconic venues like The Troubadour, Lincoln Hall, and First Avenue. Which stop are you most excited to play, and why?

My answer is always First Avenue. It’s hard to describe the magic of standing on that stage, looking out at a sea of people. I’ll never get over it. Ever.

Who would be on your dream dinner party guest list?

Probably just my husband, my mom, and my kid. Everyone else gives me anxiety.

Favorite quote from a film, TV show, or book that’s stuck with you?

“I never explain myself to anyone.” — Mary Poppins (my son is obsessed).

What’s your nighttime ritual after a long day of writing, touring, or family life?

I read a lot—it’s the only way I can unwind. I pop in my oral appliance that keeps me from grinding my teeth and read a few chapters of whatever book I’m on. If I’m taking a night off, I’ll throw on Say Yes to the Dress. It’s so far removed from my own life that it fascinates me while requiring absolutely no self-reflection. A true brain massage.

If you could manifest one thing for yourself this album era, what would it be?

Peace. Peace with where I am, where I’m going, and where I’ve been. I’m grateful for all of it—actively and every day.

Follow via @yoursmith

Photography Erica Hernandez