Interview w/ Kevin Quigley - 'Catch You Down The Road' EP

You write a lot about time — do you see it as something to be fought, feared, or made peace with?

I think it’s something to be accepted, really. Time’s always moving forward, it’s not a choice we get to make. You can fight it or try to outrun it, but it just keeps going. I’ve learned it’s better to move with it instead of against it. That’s what a lot of the songs touch on, accepting where you are in the moment rather than getting lost in what’s behind or ahead. There’s a kind of peace that comes with that acceptance, even if it’s not always easy.

When you’re producing your own songs, what’s the moment that tells you “it’s finished”?

For me, it’s when it feels right and it says what I need it to say. There’s never really a clear moment where I know a song’s done, it’ll never be perfect. But when it feels honest, like it’s finally landed where it’s meant to, that’s enough. It just has to feel true. If it still moves me after hearing it over and over, that’s when I know it’s finished.

If Catch You Down the Road was a place instead of an EP, what would it look like?

I think it’d be a dirt road at golden hour, that time of day when the light’s soft and everything feels a bit nostalgic. There’s a sense of moving forward but also a quiet stillness to it. It’s not flashy or loud, just a place you might pause for a moment and take it all in before carrying on.

Which lyric on the record still hits you hardest — even after hearing it a hundred times?

It would probably be the line, “You know I hate goodbyes, so I’ll catch you down the road.” The initial spark for that line came after my dog passed away, it was one of those moments that makes you feel how fleeting life can be. By the time I finished the song, it was about a lot of goodbyes happening all at once. Every time I sing it, I feel that mix of sadness and hope. Holding on to memories and moments, even when you have to let go 

You’ve played everything from packed venues to quiet rooms — where do you feel most like yourself?

I love both for different reasons, but there’s something magical about when a room of people syncs up and travels a journey with you. They’re along for the ride, and that shared experience feels really special. It’s communal, almost primal. There’s a connection in those moments that makes performing feel effortless and completely alive.