Bob Augustine has always written like a man with nothing to hide and everything to understand. His songs—unvarnished, tender, and steeped in lived experience—carry a kind of quiet honesty that feels rare in a world of noise. With his new LP Folk IndieBob, the Pittsburgh-born singer-songwriter digs deeper than ever, tracing the contours of loss, resilience, and grace with a storyteller’s steady hand. In this intimate conversation, Augustine reflects on the roots of his craft, the city that shaped him, and the truths he can only reveal when he has a guitar in his hands.
Bob, when people listen to your music, they hear a quiet honesty—an intimacy. When did you first realize that songwriting was the place where you could speak the truths you couldn’t say out loud?
As soon as I picked up the guitar as a kid. There is comfort in putting my thoughts and feelings to music.
You grew up in Pittsburgh, a city known for its grit and heart. How did that environment shape the storyteller you became, the man who now writes songs that seem to come from the very center of lived experience?
The people I grew up around were plain-spoken people who spoke their mind. It caused friction at times, but you always knew where everyone stood. I started out trying to write flowery “code,” but soon realized it didn’t convey what I needed. I found my footing by writing in a plain-spoken style.
Folk music has a long tradition of turning ordinary lives into extraordinary stories. When you look back at your journey, what moments or memories from your Pittsburgh upbringing do you find yourself returning to again and again?
A lot of my writing has to do with missing the loved ones I have lost and the moments and memories we shared. They are all extraordinary people in my eyes, so I return to the memories of them often as subject matter for my songs.
Your new LP, Folk IndieBob, feels deeply personal—almost like a journal set to melody. Was there a moment during its creation when you realized you weren’t just making a record, but telling a chapter of your life?
Yes. A few songs in, I noticed that the writing was releasing emotions I had been carrying around without even realizing it.
Many of the songs on this album deal with vulnerability, resilience, and quiet reflection. What was the hardest truth for you to write about… and what gave you the courage to share it?
The hardest was the loneliness I deal with. The courage came from not being able to find something to alleviate it and hitting rock bottom. There really was nowhere else to turn but to my music.
https://open.spotify.com/album/4VyJadDxod7PaKxtmH5HQR?si=29c8507d0e4e4fcb
Listeners often say your songs feel like conversations with an old friend. Who were the musical figures—local or legendary—who first made you feel seen, and how do their voices echo in your work today?
I like that analogy. I don’t like to single out specific songwriters because after 50-plus years of listening, I have this musical “salad” in my head. I don’t really know who gave any specific influence to what I may be writing at the moment. I don’t set out to write in a certain style—I just let whatever happens happen. I’d rather let listeners enjoy discovering influences on their own and decide what the conversation will be.
Pittsburgh artists often carry a sense of community with them wherever they go. How has your hometown supported you or influenced your identity as an artist, even as your music reaches beyond its city limits?
The open stagers I know, and the members of the Pittsburgh Songwriters Circle, the Pittsburgh Poetry Exchange, and the Caliope Song Circle have become more like friends. We meet regularly, and I carry their influence, critique, and inspiration with me every time I perform.
When you look at Folk IndieBob not just as an album, but as a portrait of who you are right now, what do you hope listeners will understand about the man behind these songs?
That there is bad luck but also a lot of blessings. Both are reflected in almost every song, and I continue hoping for and working toward my peace.