Around the same time that Beyoncé’s masterful Cowboy Carter won Album of the Year, a certain twang had been proliferating the mainstream discourse. From Lana Del Rey to Post Malone to Stella Lefty, a pervasive, tumbleweeded longing for Western sentimentality has increasingly placed emerging folk and country artists further and further into the limelight.

From Levingston, Texas, songstress Laci Kaye Booth’s rise to center stage has further evidenced, and expanded, this ongoing cultural paradigm. As a little girl in a trailer park in East Texas, Booth’s lyrical prowess first sparked at the age of nine, when she began writing songs and learning guitar. Unlike many artists, whose sudden pandering to the “country” genre epitomizes a commercialized fitting into the times, Booth’s impetus for participating in the world of folksy blues transcends solely increasing stream counts or trophy success. Dating back to her great-great-grandfather who played in the Texas swing band “Polk County Ramblers,” Booth’s confessional storytelling—sprinkled with a dash of melancholy and doused in a whole lot of Texas—is energized by the familial. With deep inspiration from Patsy Cline, Stevie Nicks, Merle Haggard, and her own mother, a string of powerful women have paved the way and enlivened Booth’s lyrical honesty, perseverance, and beauty, resonating today with audiences across the globe.

Laci Kaye Booth has been booked and busy for years, though this fall is a particularly exciting chapter in Booth's artistic journey. On October 13 & 14, Booth opened for Ella Langley at Los Angeles’ Greek Theatre—a night of starry Americana, calling together the dusty boots of outlaws creeping in the corners of Angelino urbania, all captured in her very own photo diary.

Laci’s time in the city of angels didn’t stop there. On October 15, Booth played her first-ever headline set at Desert 5 Spot in Hollywood to support her latest album, Love Ain’t For The Faint Of Heart. To reminisce on the buzz of it all, FLAUNT sat down with Laci to piece together the intricacies of her crescendoing influence on country music’s evolving sound.

Your newest album, Love Ain't for the Faint of Heart, explores a sound that is much richer in the aftermath of lingering heartbreak, but also in relinquishing these feelings and finding absolution for yourself compared to other projects. What was the experience like writing and producing these different emotions?

The experience was a little painful, but cathartic, looking back on it. During the process of feeling these emotions and turning them into songs there was a lot of self-examination going on. It caused me to dissect certain parts of myself, especially the parts that I’m the most ashamed of. Who I am in a toxic state, who I am when I’m completely engulfed and blinded by love, who I am when I have nothing left but to escape reality and get lost in fantasy, romanticizing the darkness.

I know you express a bit of catharsis on this new album, with themes of "letting out old ghosts"; was there that much of a difference in how you approached the production as a whole for this project?

When it comes to production, I put all my trust in my producer Ben West. He’s so gifted and he understands me on a level most people don’t. We also communicate without needing to speak much. I can sit down and show him a song I just wrote, me and my guitar, and he knows exactly where it lives, sonically. I feel very lucky to have him, but I also believe it was all divine intervention.

In the title track especially, you really touch on deep themes of not only romantic love but familial love and nostalgia; what was the process like for curating a track of a multitude of themes?

It was hard, but it was a realization that everything, every anxiety or deep fear that I had, all the grief and guilt hiding in my body, was all because I loved. It all came from love and fear of losing the things I love. And when that realization came, so did the gratitude. I then became so grateful to have these creatures in my life to love this much, and I couldn’t stop writing about it.

Are there any themes you find yourself circling back to quite often in the songwriting process, or do you write as they come, or both?

Both. I write as inspiration comes, but sometimes I find myself circling the same thought, unknowingly. Usually that’s because there’s something else to process. There’s another layer to dig out, deeper and deeper.

You've grown up with a musical background. How has this influenced your journey at all, or do you feel independent in how you've found the space for yourself in this industry? What has it been like foraging your own path?

I’ve always known music was in my blood; I’ve felt it my entire life. I come from a long line of hillbillies who played banjo and fiddle and washboards. Country music was my childhood and all I knew for the first little bit of my life. But I was always able to hear the rhythm and blues, the gospel, the jazz, and the bluegrass that country music was founded on. I was lucky enough to set myself free from the shackles of genre at an impressionable age. I found something to love in every genre and listening to music has been so fluid for me ever since. People within this industry have this incessant desire to take a hot iron to my skin and label me. But I live off of inspiration and the only reason that I’m still getting up every day and choosing to chase this music career is because I have the freedom to create whatever I want, the day that I ever lose that freedom again will be the day I hang it up.

Love Ain't For The Faint Of Heart is your second album since your debut The Loneliest Girl In The World released in 2024. How are you feeling about the trajectory of your career so far, and what can you say about the place you're in right now?

If I could paint you a picture of where I was when I created The Loneliest Girl in the World, it would be a picture of a girl in a field sitting in all her lonesome. And if I could paint you a picture of where I’m at now within the trajectory, it would be a painting of that same big empty field in the middle of Texas, but instead of the big blue sky, there’s just outer space with all of the stars and planets. And I’m still the barefoot girl in the grass looking up at how close all of it is now. I can’t believe it’s all so close, but I still don’t own a rocket ship and I’m not sure how to get there. I love where I’m at, there are times when I would love to be further along for the sake of the people that work so hard for me and believe in me. I wish this level of career was more financially sustainable. Because getting to create music and showing up to sold out clubs and dive bars is the most fulfilled I’ve ever been in my life. Truly.

What has the experience been like for you on the road touring so far? Do you find space to continue creating?

There’s no space for me to create on the road, only because I thrive on solitude and there is absolutely no solitude to be found in a van or bus full of people and personalities. I feel like road life, for me, is for the experience of life, and creation and inspiration will follow during the months off. But overall, tour has changed my life. I don’t feel like the same person who, at the top of this year, was scared of doing a 60 minute set. It’s all so fruitful now. I love spending time and meeting people who have organically stumbled upon my music. The thought of someone stopping their skip to listen and liking it enough to buy a ticket to come hear it live in some random dive bar has me giggling and kicking my feet.

How have you found yourself navigating life on the road when it comes to both headlining your own tour and also opening for Ella Langley simultaneously?

Being out on the road with Ella is an experience hard to explain. I go on at 7pm. It's still work, but the payoff is finding myself on stage with her every night singing my favorite Stevie Nicks song to 15,000 of her screaming fans. She lets me see the world from her rocket ship every now and then, and good Lord ain’t it beautiful, and so incredibly deserved. She built it from the ground up. My headline shows look a bit different compared to the opening slots, the days are longer and we’re hanging up $13 red streamers from amazon and calling it Aura farming. And the payoff is being in a room full of 300 people singing my own songs back to me for 90 minutes. Then meeting and hugging every one of them, getting to look them in the eyes and telling them how grateful I am. And at the end of the night, when it’s nearly 3am, and I get to take the stiletto boots off my feet and climb onto the bus, my entire body is filled with so much gratitude it could burst. And the post-show high is so high that it has me forcing my eyes shut, and then I’m falling asleep smiling.