Sydney Sprague is no stranger to letting her heart bleed onto her sleeve. Hailing from Phoenix, she’s always written stirring, beautiful, and emotionally charged songs about the struggles of life and love and anxiety and mental health. In 2020, her debut album maybe i will see you at the end of the world was released to great acclaim, putting her delicate yet defiant songs on the map. In 2023, she released its follow-up, somebody in hell loves you, to even more fanfare.
Peak Experience is Sprague’s third full-length, and first with capital letters in its title. Yet perhaps more so than the two albums that preceded it, Peak Experience feels like a lowercase record, on which Sprague comes off more vulnerable than ever. On the whole, the album’s eight songs are some of the most stripped-back and slowed-down that she’s ever written—hushed, tender odes to who she is, what she feels, and why. It may only be eight songs long, but that makes this record, despite its fragility and tenderness, all the more potent and powerful.
Stream the full album below, and read on for Sprague’s track-by-track breakdown.
1. “As Scared As Can Be”
“As Scared As Can Be" is the most unhinged song I have ever written. It’s a manic, headbangable doom spiral about unrequited feelings, paranoia, and the humiliation of being desperate for attention from someone who clearly doesn’t want you back. It’s a guided tour of what it's like to be mid-meltdown and still trying to flirt. It’s uncomfortably honest about some things I’ve been going through, and the catharsis of being able to talk about it out loud (in song form, the only way I know how to talk about things) has made it my new favorite.
2. “Critical Damage”
“Critical Damage” is about holding onto a secret that feels like it’s going to kill you. Every day it’s chipping away at your health, but what would happen if you let it out would be even more damaging.
3. “Deads in the Van”
I wrote “Deads in the Van” after getting yelled at by a member of venue staff for existing at my own show. I was re-entering the building after stepping outside to get a restock of merch T-shirts out of the van. She aggressively warned me that there was no re-entry. I pulled out my laminated all-access tour badge and held up my left wrist to show her the red artist wristband that I’d been given when me and all of my belongings were searched and I was identified by security at load in. She looked at both of these things and said, “I’m not gonna let you back in there.” I started crying. That’s a normal Tuesday on tour.
I’ve spent a good portion of the last five years of my life on tour, so I guess it’d be weird if I didn’t feel like I needed to write about it. I know it’s maybe not necessarily the most relatable subject matter to someone who hasn’t lived in a van, but I do feel like the repetition of days and the blur of time passing while you do the same hard work over and over is universal. It’s about endurance and love of the game, even when you’re not winning.
When people ask me if I like being on tour, my answer really does depend on the day and who’s asking. Because sometimes I love it, sometimes I don’t, and sometimes I can feel both of those ways 20 times in one hour. It’s hard to convey how exhausting and surreal it can be while also maintaining with insistence that I am the luckiest, most grateful person that I get to do it. The thing I love most in the world is writing my songs and sharing them with people who can understand, and even though the logistics of that are sometimes actually insane, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
4. “Fair Field”
I wrote “Fair Field” last summer about a panic attack I had on tour after I ate an edible in a hotel room in Hays, Kansas. It’s got a constant, kind of unserious but still very concerning tension that at the time I wrote [it was inspired by] what it feels like to be on tour, but lately I feel like I’ve been relating it a lot to the state of the world and everything just spiraling into madness. I recorded it at home with my band (Chuck Morriss, Sébastien Deramat, and Matt Storto) and it’s my first independent release in a long time. It feels really good to take back full authority over every aspect of the process and get back to just having fun and making things that I love.
5. “Long Island”
“Long Island” is about being torn between acting on impulse and restraint. When you have to choose between connection and self-preservation because the truth is too messy or just too impossible to communicate. It’s a desperate plea for a moment of relief from the horrors. It’s a genuine request for another Long Island Iced Tea.
6. “Flat Circle”
“Flat Circle” is about what-ifs and wondering if I could rewind my life and make different choices if it would change anything. Would it be better or worse than it is now? What parallel universe versions of me exist, and are they happier? Did they do a better job at living? Does that even matter? Is it possible to create my own reality, or am I trapped in an infinite cycle of cause and effect beyond my control? This song is all questions and no answers!
7. “All Covered in Snow”
“All Covered in Snow” is about knowing you were meant for someone before they do, and sitting patiently and longing while you wait for them to see it, too.
8. “Your Favorite”
“Your Favorite” is about desperation. It’s a manic response to not being good enough for someone, where you lash out to try to feel like you have some kind of control over the situation, but that doesn’t work so you back down and just start begging to be loved and that doesn’t work either. It’s really hard to accept that someone can be uncertain about something you’re so absolutely sure of, and even harder to accept that there’s literally nothing you can do about it. The wrong thing to do is to refuse to accept those truths, live in denial, and keep trying anyway, and that’s what I’m doing in this song.
