With the release of her new instrumental single “Golden Hour” set for June 12th, Nashville-based singer-songwriter and fiddler Jessica Willis Fisher returns to the Irish musical roots that first shaped her artistic identity. Inspired by her experience winning the Grúpaí Cheoil competition at the 2012 All-Ireland Fleadh Cheoil in Cavan, the track captures a pivotal moment of joy, ambition and creative discovery through Fisher’s distinctive fiddle-led sound.

Arriving ahead of her forthcoming album Wait For My Signal, a project she describes as a love letter to her Irish roots, “Golden Hour” reflects a period of reconnection for an artist whose career has taken her from traditional Irish music sessions to stages including the Grand Ole Opry, America’s Got Talent and Croke Park. Warm, cinematic and deeply personal, the single bridges Irish folk traditions with contemporary folk and Americana influences while celebrating the community and experiences that continue to shape her work.

Raised performing traditional Irish folk music from childhood, Fisher toured internationally with her family band – The Willis Clan – before establishing herself as a respected solo artist in Americana and contemporary folk circles.

Her songwriting and instrumental work have consistently drawn on themes of resilience, identity and personal transformation while remaining deeply connected to the traditions that shaped her earliest musical experiences.

Ahead of the release of “Golden Hour”, Fisher spoke with The Industry Review about creativity, resilience, Irish traditional music, artistic identity and the importance of following instinct over expectation.

“Golden Hour” revisits a pivotal moment in your life. What made now the right time to tell that story?

Honestly, I’ve been following my gut more and more lately. As proud as I have been of everything I released as a solo artist over the last few years, I have felt pulled back towards my fiddle-playing and composing roots and felt so strongly that it was time to feature that love and that outlet in a way I haven’t up to this point. I wrote the piece over the top of a guitar part I heard my cousin Chris Wright was playing, and it was a delight to get to produce and record the piece with him all these years later.

The track is entirely instrumental. What emotions or memories were impossible to capture with lyrics?

There were so many emotions at the time, and I also find that instrumental music in general can keep providing endless opportunities to channel emotions way beyond the initial inspiration. In 2012, there was much celebration, joy, relief and a bit of euphoria after so much hard work preparing with the whole group of friends and collaborators. And maybe most of all, the other artists and musicians and players throughout that whole week inspired me to want to contribute and take part in the arts in new ways. I think that’s the urge I’ve had since I was a child.

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Winning the Grúpaí Ceoil Competition at Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann in 2012 was a significant milestone. Looking back, how did that experience shape your career?

All the many years I competed at the regional and All-Ireland Fleadhs were so formative. Every year, no matter the placement, I learnt so much, was totally inspired and came away determined to study, practise and compose all the more. Winning first in the senior group and third in ladies’ singing was an extreme honour and was a validation of all the hard work and love throughout those years.

Irish traditional music has always been part of your musical DNA. How has your relationship with those roots evolved over the years?

It’s the bedrock of my musical creativity. I have come to enjoy and make a wide-ranging field of music in my life, but Irish traditional music, with its sets of driving tunes, intricate melodies and songs of celebration and lament, has shaped me the most out of any.

Many artists spend years searching for their authentic voice. When did you feel you truly found yours?

While traditional Irish music was my first musical love, I’ve had a long and winding journey to accept and articulate my own personal story and to claim my voice in my own right. It’s a journey still unfolding. It was a huge step to use my songwriting to be fully honest and courageous, my first solo record being that turning point for me.

Your career has unfolded across very different chapters. How have those experiences influenced the music you’re making today?

Music has been therapeutic, even life-saving for me. Though there indeed have been many different chapters, I love this one I’m in now where I have chosen to dismantle any barrier to truth and personal vulnerability. I think joy and sorrow are both very present in my work, plus a fierce hope for the future.

There is a cinematic quality to “Golden Hour”. When you’re composing, do you think visually as well as musically?

Yes. Since I was little, I would play out stories and scenes in my head when listening to or writing music, imagination running wild, really. I’d say it’s closely related to being a writer and author. As I’ve been writing my first novel, I listen to so much instrumental folk music. I’ve been on a Norwegian fiddle kick for a while now.

You’ve built a reputation as both a songwriter and an accomplished fiddler. Do you approach instrumental storytelling differently from songwriting?

I love it all and many more outlets besides. Being around other creative and crafty people always gets my own creative juices going. Poems, books, crochet, leather crafting, watercolour, fashion, and sourdough baking – I love that all these things feel connected in my brain but are each unique in their ways of expression. So, yes, it feels different, but sometimes even the approach to writing one song to the next can be wildly different too. It’s the best.

What challenges and opportunities come with balancing traditional influences and contemporary audiences?

Audience-wise, I don’t know that I feel challenged as much as I feel that people will love what they love, just the same way I love what I love. Whenever and wherever that overlaps, I receive and celebrate that. Industry- and business-wise is where I feel the challenges and balance can be so hard to strike. Again, I would say I’m in a chapter where I’m doing what I feel in my gut most strongly and dialling down the noise of the industry for a while.

The music industry often asks artists to fit into neat categories. Have you ever felt constrained by labels or expectations?

Yes and no. I think in hindsight I know I’ve let other people’s voices sometimes negate or dilute my own in ways I hopefully would not do now. It’s a process, becoming yourself. I think if you are committed to the life of an artist, accepting that’s just who you are and that you want to make art for the rest of your life no matter what, there are going to be many different seasons and different chapters.

How has reconnecting with Ireland influenced your creative direction in recent years?

I would say I’ve never lost that connection, continuing to visit over the years since I last significantly toured there. But the industry, life itself, isn’t really something we can do on our own. This last chapter has felt more collaborative, more community-centred than any before and I’m super grateful. My upcoming full-length record was born from a long-time friendship with David Howley in particular and has come to include so many of our mutual friends from across the world.

Audiences often see the finished performance but not the work behind it. What does a typical creative process look like for you?

I’ve tried any number of different processes now, from Nashville’s speciality of recording with world-class session musicians to now goofing around in exploration mode with a good friend in their home studio. I love exploring and trying new things. I’m curious to make art wholly unlike any I’ve done before in the future. Generally speaking, the majority of my composing and writing has been solo, but the recording act has always included many other talented folks.

What have been the biggest lessons you’ve learnt about resilience, both as an artist and as a person?

Oof. I would say it doesn’t matter much if you’re making other people happy or making them money if you’re suffering or in danger as a human being during the process. The secret abuse throughout my upbringing meant that at my most successful point in my young adulthood, I was barely hanging on to my sanity. Getting away from my abuser and building a new life on my terms meant I had the chance and the need to build a healthy foundation from which to do everything else, including my art.

Looking at the current landscape for independent artists, what gives you optimism?

That the value in art for me is chiefly in the process. And as long as I have my fingers, my eyes and ears and mind, I can make my art until I die. There is so much that I can’t control, including how much other people get the chance to interact with what I make. Industry and technology, even power structures of society, rarely give me optimism these days, but I am determined to be a part of the change I want to see in the world.

You’ve performed on some remarkable stages throughout your career. Is there one performance that remains especially meaningful?

I would say returning to the Grand Ole Opry as a solo artist, the place I met my husband, where I reclaimed my voice and my story, a place that feels like my Nashville home. The other moment that really stands out was the time I played Croke Park with my family band in 2016. That crowd and that day, as we helped honour and mark the 1916 centenary, remains one of the most moving experiences of my life.

What role does community play in sustaining a long-term career in music?

I would say I’m really leaning on and learning from the community more than ever these days. I think it’s complete hubris to act like we don’t need each other as a species, that we don’t need nature, a healthy planet and a caring, diverse environment made up of all kinds of people to truly thrive. As I seek out more community in life, I have felt it grow in my art as well and vice versa.

Are there any artists, writers or creatives currently inspiring you?

So many. From my Nashville jazz friend Abigail Flowers to my Galway friend David’s new band Howley, trailblazing artists like Gregory Alan Isakov, I’m With Her, fiddle players, Irish bands, movie soundtracks and more. My younger sister JoyAnna, who contributed to the engineering of my upcoming album; my fellow players and bandmates who I get to travel and gather with; Simon Mårtensson and his fiancée Makena Hartlin. I better stop, otherwise I’ll just keep going.

If listeners take away one thing from “Golden Hour”, what do you hope it is?

An invitation to dream and imagine in your head and in your life, to follow your gut and channel your emotions into something beautiful for you and your community to enjoy.

For Jessica Willis Fisher, “Golden Hour” is more than a reflection on a treasured musical achievement. It represents a return to the creative foundations that first inspired her while embracing the experiences, lessons and relationships that have shaped her journey since.

As she prepares to release Wait For My Signal later this year, Fisher finds herself in a season defined by collaboration, honesty and a renewed connection to Irish traditional music. If there is a common thread running through both her story and her music, it is the belief that creativity thrives when rooted in authenticity, community and the courage to trust one’s instincts.

“Golden Hour” is released on June 12, with Wait For My Signal to follow later in 2026.