Q: Can you tell us a bit about yourself and how your childhood impacted your musical direction?
A: I grew up in a small town tucked into the mountains of West Virginia. My dad played guitar, and I was always humming or singing little melodies around the house. If you asked my mama, she’d tell you I sang before I ever spoke a word.
I was surrounded by storytelling, open skies, and people who wholeheartedly supported my love for singing from the very beginning. That support gave me the courage to keep creating. I think that’s why I’ve always been drawn to writing songs that feel both personal and wide open.
Q: Can you describe the musical style of Lindsey Hull in three words?
A: Nostalgic, cinematic, and vulnerable.
Q: How do you stay connected with your fans, and what role do they play in shaping your musical journey?
A: I try to connect with listeners like we’re just sitting across from each other in a coffee shop. Whether it’s storytimes, small shows, or just swapping messages online, I love getting to know the people on the other side of the music.
I think music is my way of reaching out — trying to connect in a world that sometimes feels too loud. And when someone tells me that a song said something they didn’t know how to put into words… It reminds me I’m not alone either.
Q: You’ve just released your new EP, Learning to Fly. Is there a story behind it?
A: Learning to Fly was born in the messy, beautiful transition between college and adulthood. I started writing it junior year, and I remember thinking how similar the growing pains were to the ones I felt in high school — the ache of being on the edge of something new.
But now I know how much life was waiting for me in college, how many people I’d come to love. So this project became my reminder: there’s more waiting. More love. Even if I can’t see it yet.
It’s a six-song story about learning to let go, learning to trust, and learning to let myself be seen.
Q: What’s your favorite track from the EP and why?
A: Just Keep on Walking is the most personal. I wrote it in one go during a wave of grief — and cried for hours afterward. I had planned to hike one of my dad’s favorite trails that day, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I went into the backyard with a guitar and started playing.
Midway through, it started to rain… but something told me to keep recording. The rain faded out just as the song ended — like God was composing with me.
I brought that live demo to my producer, Eugenio Mirafuentes, and said, “How do we make this — but in the studio?” And somehow, he did. It still feels like a little miracle to me.
Q: Can you walk us through the creative process of producing Learning to Fly?
A: My friend Leo, a film producer, told me that if I could get two songs recorded, they’d make two music videos for me as their senior thesis. I ended up connecting with a music production class and met Eugenio, who became my producer.
Those two songs turned into six, and the music videos and EP turned into a massive collaborative effort — over 80 SCAD students and alumni from majors like film, acting, sound design, photography, and graphic design.
This project is the definition of collaboration. It was a year and a half of growth, trust, and trial and error.
Q: What has been the most memorable concert or performance for you so far?
A: One of the most meaningful was The 21 Live Session. I asked people I love to share advice they wish they had before turning 21 — and turned their reflections into lyrics. The performance was simple and intimate–-maybe 12 people were in the room-but it was deeply personal.
It wasn’t my first show by any means, but it was the first time I felt like I had something to say. The people in that room helped me believe I was worth listening to — and I’ll always be grateful for that.
Q: Reflecting on your body of work, could you share a track that stands out to you personally — and why?
A: Maybe Someday changed how I write. It was the first time I admitted — even to myself — how hard it is to ask for help, even when you’re surrounded by love.
We always hear, “You don’t have to go through this alone.” But no one really talks about how vulnerable it is to reach out — or how impossible it can feel. That song helped me be honest. It made me braver. And it’s helped others feel seen too, which means everything to me.
Q: What’s your creative process like — how do you bring a song to life?
A: I’m still learning what my “process” really is. For a long time, I’d just make up melodies and lyrics into voice memos with no structure.
When I wrote Maybe Someday, it was the first time I sat down with an instrument and built the song from the ground up by myself. Now that I play guitar, I usually start with a progression and listen for what melodies live inside it.
Some of my favorite songs have come from making a mistake — playing the wrong chord and hearing something beautiful, and laying down what I’m working on to chase it.
Q: What aspirations do you have for your music moving forward — and what would you like to say to your listeners?
A: I want to keep making music that feels like a safe place. A warm light. Something you can carry with you.
Someday, I’d love to tour, collaborate with artists I admire, and write for film.. But for now, I’m just grateful to be here, learning to fly in front of you.
To the people listening: Thank you! Thank you for walking with me, and for making space for these songs in your story too.
