For Bob Augustine—better known as Folk-IndieBob—music isn’t just melody; it’s medicine. After losing his wife of nearly twenty-five years, the seasoned songwriter found himself in unfamiliar territory, searching for identity and solace in the silence that followed. Picking up the guitar again after decades away, Augustine began to write what he calls “postcards from the soul”—songs that balance sorrow with hope, confession with clarity. In this candid conversation, he reflects on grief, grace, and the healing power of honest storytelling, revealing how the softest voice in a noisy world can still speak the loudest truths.
You call yourself Folk-IndieBob — part troubadour, part truth-teller. But who is Bob Augustine when the guitar goes quiet? A man at peace… or still searching for something he can’t quite name?
Mostly it is searching. I had my comfortable life up-ended by the death of my wife of almost 25 years and so have been searching for who I am now. I picked up the guitar again after her passing, and after over 25 years away from playing music, a flood of material emerged. As I move forward, I am finding pockets of peace along the way mostly provided by the way my music is helping me to heal.
Your songs feel like postcards from the soul — faded at the edges, stamped with time. When you sit down to write, are you chasing memories…or running from them?
I love the description “postcards from the soul”. Thank you for that. At first, I just needed someone to hear me, and music gave me an outlet to just spill my feelings and run. I am now more thoughtful about the memories surrounding those early songs, and as I sing them, I am now able to appreciate the memories they encapsulate. I have also started to write more positive lyrics that depict enjoyable thoughts and memories.
There’s a thread of hope in your music, even in the saddest verses. Is that optimism a choice… or a survival skill?
I am happy you noticed the threads of hope. It is part of my personality to not easily give up and I have always been a hopeful person. I dream a lot, and I work very hard to make those dreams come true. I have accomplished a lot in my life, and I am proud of my inner strength. When I write sad lyrics, yes, I naturally and consciously also add in hope for the future because that is how I am wired.
You’ve written about the small moments that define us. Do you think we find meaning in the grand gestures — or in the quiet spaces in between?
The grand gestures are only valuable when they touch others in a positive way. I think many will agree that most of our time is spent inside our own heads surrounded by our hopes and dreams, our problems and feelings. Those quiet times within are where a large part of my time is spent and it’s where most of my writing comes from.
Your melodies feel lived-in, like they’ve seen some things. How much of your art is confession… and how much is camouflage?
Oh, I have seen some things! All of my writing is confession. I am at a point in life where I see no point in camouflage and keeping up appearances. You are hearing my soul. The musical ‘salad’ tossing around in my head that comes from a lifetime of listening to all types of music with an open heart brings about those melodies. They are being gifted to me from somewhere within and I feel very fortunate when I finish a song.
In a world that rewards noise, you make music that whispers. Have you ever felt like the still voice of a folk songwriter could still cut through all that static?
My audiences are proof that the answer is yes. As my presentation skills improve, I am increasingly enjoying stepping into a noisy venue and playing what moves me. When I do, I almost always find kindred spirits who are searching for the same peace and meaning that I am writing about.
There’s a sense of pilgrimage in your lyrics — like every song is a mile closer to home. What does ‘home’ mean to you these days?
Thank you for noticing that. I have 2 versions of ‘home’ that I write about: The first is the sharing of a life and a home with someone I truly love. I am very much missing this. The second is that since I am no longer a young man, thoughts of the end are more prevalent than they used to be. This version of home is not of this world and I often think and write about what a next life could be.
When people listen to Folk-IndieBob, they hear stories of love, loss, redemption. But what do YOU hear, when the song fades out and the silence returns?
When I think about my music in silence, I hear the echoes of my writing and I feel proud. These songs are a depiction of what is actually going on inside of me and I am proud of the way I have been able to wrangle some redemption away from a place of profound loss. I am defiant in this and I really am using my music to propel myself forward in a world that has tried to bring me down.
Thank you for a thoughtful interview. All great questions!
