Landscape and the Creative Process
Ella O'Connor Williams, known to audiences as Squirrel Flower, has spent years documenting the physical and internal terrains that shape her life. Her latest record, Say A Prayer To The Gods Of Getting Going, released August 21, 2026, serves as a meditation on the tension between human fragility and the vastness of the natural world. Williams notes that her interest in capturing landscape in sound began when she moved to Iowa from the East Coast. The sheer expanse of the Midwest forced a change in her musical approach, leading her to prioritize space and slow development in her compositions.
This obsession with place continues on her new album, particularly in the title track. Writing in the desert of southern New Mexico, Williams sought to translate the feeling of seeing mountain ranges stretch for hundreds of miles into music. She describes the experience as feeling the weight of deep time, where the past, present, and future collide. For Williams, songs are not merely products to be manufactured but sentient entities that require respect and patience. She avoids the common urge to treat creativity as an efficiency problem, preferring instead to let the material dictate its own form.
Challenging the Myth of Ease
The industry push toward automated, AI-driven ease stands in direct opposition to Williams' creative philosophy. Reflecting on a recent comment from Suno CEO Mikey Shulman, she rejects the notion that music-making should be stripped of its difficulty. Williams argues that the painful parts of creation are essential to the work. To her, the current societal obsession with removing discomfort at every turn often creates a false sense of ease that masks exploitation and decay. Making music is a strenuous, deliberate act that helps her process the darker parts of herself.
She admits that producing this record was harrowing, even without external pressure from her label, Polyvinyl Records. With 30 demos recorded, she spent significant time narrowing the collection down to its final form, aiming for a voice-forward, intimate experience that avoids the sterility of modern studio production. She cites Joni Mitchell’s Hejira as a touchstone, admiring the way Mitchell balances technical musicality with raw, unapologetic honesty. For Williams, the goal is not to reach a pre-set finish line but to allow the songs to reveal their own purpose through the process of being made.
Ancestry and Community Service
Family plays an active role in the sound of the new album. Her father and brothers provided both creative input and instrumental support throughout the recording. This connection reaches further back through her lineage; she discovered her great-grandfather’s novels years after his death and found an immediate, profound kinship in his words. This experience frames her own view of music as a form of immortality. She views her work as a way to leave a piece of her soul in the ether, potentially offering a sense of connection to future generations who may never meet her in person.
Beyond the personal nature of the work, Williams remains deeply concerned with the political implications of her role as a touring musician. She rejects the idea that art exists in a vacuum. During a recent solo DIY tour, she intentionally bypassed traditional music venues to play at farms and community centers. These shows were designed to raise funds for mutual aid, including flood relief in Asheville and wildfire relief in New Mexico. By choosing to play for people dealing with real-world trauma, she reframes the act of performing as a form of community service rather than a self-indulgent endeavor.
This approach is a deliberate rejection of the corporate machine that dominates the modern music industry. Williams does not want her work to just be consumed; she wants it to be a catalyst for engagement with the world as it actually exists. Whether she is performing in a city impacted by immigration crackdowns or in rural areas recovering from climate disasters, she views the music as a way to gather people and support local needs. Ultimately, she believes that art is a tool for survival and connection, and she accepts the difficulty of the process as the price for keeping that connection real.