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Credit: Sebastian Buzzalino
Lindsay Ell carries the confidence of a guitar virtuoso and the curiosity of someone unafraid to ask life’s big questions.
On her new EP, fence sitter, she turns inward, exploring love, loss, ambition, and the lingering question that’s followed her, and many women, for years – does she want to become a mother?
The hands that once traded licks with Buddy Guy and Keith Urban are now shaping songs that feel like journal entries set to melody, illustrating that not knowing isn’t a weakness. It’s where all possibilities exist.
What was your first guitar?
“I found my dad’s American Standard Sunburst Strat when I was eight, and the first lick he taught me was the intro to Stairway to Heaven. That Christmas I got a black pawn-shop Ibanez that I carried everywhere. It was like another limb!”
What about a guitar you had to part with?
“An airline destroyed my acoustic Taylor 814CE – cracked top, ripped binding, wrecked sides. It was repaired but never the same. It was a really sad moment.
“Then one time I was working with a bunch of kids through Notes for Notes. I had this teal American Standard Strat, and one of the kids fell in love with it. I felt called to donate it. I often think about that guitar – but I love knowing it made that kid’s day. Maybe even their path!”
You’ve got incredible precision and technique. Who influenced that?
“When I was 10 I followed my dad to bluegrass camps and fell in love with flatpicking and fingerstyle. Bluegrass is as clean as it gets; distortion can hide things, but bluegrass won’t. I also learned Tommy Emmanuel songs. I thought it was so cool that you can play bass and melody at once.
“At 13 I started working with Randy Bachman. He introduced me to jazz chords and Lenny Breau. From there I went deep into Clapton, Hendrix – my favorite – and Stevie Ray Vaughan.
“Listening to John Mayer blew my mind with the way he fused their styles into contemporary music. And Derek Trucks’ playing sounds like singing. He pulls from Indian scales and microtones, which showed me you don’t have to play by the usual rules to speak directly.”
You experienced a watershed moment with Buddy Guy.
“That moment was so special. I was 18 and underage, but he invited me down to his club in Chicago. His band was so good – they just raised the floor, and I had to elevate to that. I remember hopping up with him, having no idea what I was playing, but I just knew everything would be okay.
“I learned from Buddy that it’s not just about skill. It’s about who you surround yourself with. I try to hire band members who challenge me to be better. If I’m the best person in my band, something’s wrong. I want people who push me; who say, ‘Come on, give me more!’ If we’re not challenging ourselves, what are we doing?”
Have you had any other “pinch-me” moments?
“Someone once told me I had vibrato like Eric Clapton. I thought, ‘Well, if you’re gonna give me a compliment, you can definitely say that!’ It made me start paying more attention to what makes my phrasing and solos unique.
“Then there was touring with Keith Urban. He taught me that music is really a conversation. We’d have these guitar battles every night – he’d play a few bars, then I’d respond. It reminded me that guitar solos are like lyrics. They should say something, not just be noise.
Credit: Jeremy Harnum
“And John Mayer – watching him play live is unreal. He’s one with his instrument. I love how he challenges himself onstage; he’ll change melodies and solos from night to night.
“I’ll also never forget shooting the Silver Sky commercial with John and Ariel Posen. We were talking about playing in sixths and how it ties up my brain and how it’s hard sometimes to keep track.
There are stories in my life I’ve never really talked about, but it’s important to claim back your power
“John says, ‘Yeah, I feel the same way.’ Ariel and I looked at each other like, ‘No way – you’re John Mayer! You’re all-knowing!’ It was so cool to realize one of my favorite players on the planet is human too.”
What did writing your fence sitter EP do for you?
“I’ve been trying to write as vulnerably as I ever have. Songwriting is therapy; I probably save a lot of money from my real therapist because I write songs! There’s one called magic, about wanting to follow your dreams while riding the rollercoaster of ups and downs.
Credit: Tessa Caroll
“Then there’s good guy; There are stories in my life I’ve never really talked about, but it’s important to claim back your power.
“The question in the title track takes up my whole brain and heart every day – whether I want to be a mother. In my 20s the question got louder; still didn’t know. Now I’m in my mid-30s it’s real damn loud, and I still don’t know.
“All my friends are married and having kids, and while everyone’s path is different, it’s interesting to reflect on the decision. I have amazing female artist friends who are mothers, who make it work with touring, nannies and family. But figuring out how to have a baby in that mix is not nothing.
“On the other side of the fence, I don’t want regrets. I see friends experiencing a love they say only comes from having a child, and I wonder if I’ll feel that way someday. We have a finite window, which is unfair; I think, ‘Will I regret it if I never have a baby?’”
You once said failure sets you free. Can you give us an example?
“When I was 16, still living in Canada, I got offered my first record deal – I thought it was everything I’d ever wanted. But the guy who owned the label saved my career. He pushed the contract back and said, ‘You’re too talented. Go to the States and sign there.’
We just need to do what’s cool for us, lean into what we love, and follow the joy
“I felt like such a failure at the time. But I moved to Nashville, worked hard, and got another offer relatively quickly. Looking from the outside, it’s incredible. But my biggest wins sometimes felt like failures, because I kept chasing the next thing, thinking it would make me feel grounded or secure. But those things don’t come from career milestones; they come from within.”
You also launched the Make You Movement. How has advocacy reshaped your relationship to the guitar?
“When I got into music I was inspired by artists who used their platforms to give back. Through my own journey around sexual assault and being diagnosed with an eating disorder, I’ve wanted to give back.
Credit: Alyssa Lancaster
“I started the Make You Movement, inspired by my song make you, to support disenfranchised youth and women in finding resources, getting help, and seeking therapy. That, to me, is the real point. Even as a guitar player, it makes everything matter more. I know music has the power to reach someone I’ve never met on the other side of the world.”
What do you want people to take away from fence sitter?
“I want them to get really honest with themselves; to listen to the questions that go on in their head. I think we often drown out that inner voice, but it’s the best guiding voice we’ll ever have.”
Knowing what you know now, what would you say to your eight-year-old self?
“I’d tell her to stop listening to everybody else about the music she needs to make. We just need to do what’s cool for us, lean into what we love, and follow the joy.”
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