Sarah Kinsley Feels It And She Wants You To Feel It Too

Photo from @sarahkinsleyd on Instagram

04.19.26 - Chicago, IL

From the moment Sarah Kinsley’s opening track blasted a pulsing synthesizer through Thalia Hall, vibrating through the eager bodies of stunned fans who’d only heard her music in headphones and over car speakers, it was clear that this would be an event requiring more rapt attention than simple listening. In her live performances, Sarah Kinsley does more than play her music to a crowd; it’s more a transfer of a feeling, an infusion of hope, of inspiration. That’s what’s so special about Sarah Kinsley and so many other artists who inspire huge crowds at festivals and can tour the same album for years: it’s not just about the songs. It’s about the feeling, and more than anything, it’s clear Sarah Kinsley feels it, and she wants you to feel it too. 

At Thalia Hall in Chicago, halfway through her tour for her 2026 EP Fleeting, I first experienced the spiritual escapade that is Sarah Kinsley live. It was the second time she’d played at the intimate venue after having to cut her show short in late 2024 due to vocal strain. Though I can’t say for sure if she put her all into this show to make it up to her Chicago fans or if she plays every show with the same ardent energy, it was certainly a sight (and a feeling) to behold. 

To describe Sarah Kinsley’s sound is to use hyphens, since she’s boldly ventured into an in-between, her synth-bedroom-pop evoking an atmospheric 80s feel reminiscent of Kate Bush with Fleetwood Mac-like lyricism and a Lorde-like uplifting sensory overload. Kinsley has named the inventive Caroline Polachek as a modern influence, and it’s clear watching her perform that she uses her voice as a true instrument, even distorting it live with a hand-held reverberator in one hand to create background layers as she sings primary vocals into a microphone in the other hand. 

Against a soft oceanic blue backdrop, Kinsley glided out onto the stage draped in light lace like some kind of mystical angel. There was a moment of that whimsical small-venue excitement, the air filled with expectation, but then she began whipping her long black hair around and head bobbing, and suddenly what started as an emotional pop ballad on the keys turned into a synthetic screamo that had the audience clutching their hearts. It was as if each word held a particular weight, infused with Kinsley’s unmistakable passion, making it an almost spiritual experience. 

In between songs, my friend next to me whispered that she sounded like a Disney princess—I thought it more angelic—but the consensus seemed to be that she was otherworldly, ethereal. It’s a wholly different experience than listening to her recorded songs on Spotify and at select cafes that have finally caught on. Her presence is captivating, her voice alluring. The best way to describe it, I think, is that it’s the kind of concert that makes you want to close your eyes and twirl. 

Her most recent EP, Fleeting, released in February of 2026 contains just five songs, yet her set stretched almost two hours with 16 songs from her relatively recent discography, songs that, even if I had heard before, I had never heard like this. 

“The Giver,” especially, was reinvented before a crowd. Recorded, the track is a melancholy, stripped-down acoustic production, but in concert, Kinsley amps up the track. Doubling down on the chorus, she repeats herself, over and over, louder and louder, until the audience is not even singing but watching in awe, mouths open, as Kinsley screams, begs, and bares it all, “Are you hungry?” The electric guitar echoes her screams, and the bass penetrates deep into the yearning-feeling hearts of every stunned audience member. It was at this moment it became clear that Sarah Kinsley has it: that rare, hallowed passion that transcends the barrier of the stage.

Kinsley’s voice itself echos the rich dips and flips of Chappell Roan, though nobody can blame her for copying, as she’s been singing in her style since 2017. She even released songs named “The Giver” (2022) and “Karma” (2021) before Roan released hers of similar names. 

Chappell Roan is a self-professed fan of Kinsley herself, giving Sarah Kinsley a shout-out on her own Instagram about a year ago and naming Kinsley one of her favorite artists that “deserve more love and a bigger platform.” With Chappell Roan’s own self-professed title, it begs to ask: Does that make Sarah Kinsley your favorite artist’s favorite artist’s favorite artist? The compliment is a bit winded, but still, it stands.

After an awe-inspiring display of stamina and belted passion from Kinsley’s performance of “The Giver,” she dismissed her band, switching to a quieter, more intimate performance for the next few songs, speaking directly to the audience with a stripped-down performance on the keys in a ballad-like interlude. 

Modulating between these belted urgent pleas and spotlight ballads, the Fleeting tour is a journey from romantic love to daring individualism with a not-so-subtle undertone of hope. Songs like “Sublime” inspire hope in the truest sense, her lyrics remaining light and easy while the meaning feels straight from a philosopher, like, “The moment's fleeting; why not live despite the pain?” While songs like “After All” and “I’m Not A Mountain” display her ability to access her most intimate doubts and pour these feelings into imploring, poignant performances.

Kinsley also has the unique ability to create dreamy, timeless pop songs like “Fleeting” and “Oh No Darling!”—catchy in the way of a song at the end credits of a coming-of-age movie that you sit and watch even as the screen fades to black just to feel something. And in a world of distraction and disappointment, what more can you wish for than to feel something as real as hope? To me, Sarah Kinsley, with all her hair flips and thrashing arm sways, is the embodiment of freedom and youth. It takes a special kind of passion to inspire the same in others. It’s that kind of unapologetic passion that makes you remember why you live and breathe and why you want to be loved. 

As the heavy fog on stage faded and the lights diffused into darkness, the audience begged for an encore. But it felt like an impossible thing to ask for because how can you ask for an angel to reappear just after they’ve graced you with their presence? Leaving was like coming down from a high, wondering if it actually happened that way or it was just so in the moment that it felt like ascension. There was something certainly reminiscent of worship, to a god, a figment of youth, or a “Lovegod” in a congregation of young, inspired, hopeful, beautiful people with dangly earrings and flowy skirts.