Two Sides of Change: Courtney Barnett’s Creature of Habit

Between Things Take Time, Take Time and Creature of Habit, Courtney Barnett dismantled the life she’d spent a decade building.

She closed Milk! Records, the label she co-founded in 2012 and ran on financial fumes and community spirit. She left Melbourne for Los Angeles. She started over as a beginner: in therapy, in pottery, in surfing.

Creature of Habit: What Changed for Courtney Barnett

In August 2021, Anonymous Club premiered. Barnett watched herself onscreen and didn’t like what she saw.

Anonymous Club was meant to document an artist at work. Instead, it became a mirror. What stared back pushed her into therapy, onto a pottery wheel, into the ocean, and eventually out of Melbourne entirely. Creature of Habit is what came out the other side.

Quick Pulse

Creature of Habit Doesn’t Ease Into This Version of Barnett

Her backstory matters, because Creature of Habit isn’t subtle about it. With lyrics like “Feels like I’m going backwards / Each day I preach my practice / And still it seems I wasn’t ready for this” the opening track “Stay In Your Lane” takes us right into the deep end of the pool. Beneath it, a funky, tom-heavy groove refuses to let my foot stay still.

No, it’s not subtle. Just the way I like it.

“Wonder” and “Site Unseen” pull the groove back without losing that subconscious foot tapping that carries through most of Creature of Habit. In “Site Unseen,” I started to notice the guitar tone: not too much distortion; warm and easy on the ears. That tone becomes more important as the album unfolds.

Where Creature of Habit Breathes

“Mostly Patient” is an acoustic track, and here Barnett leans into her trademark deadpan delivery. The song feels deeply self-reflective, and I can’t help but wonder if the line “When you’re feeling like a stone, skipping on your own across the waves” points to the ocean now separating her from home.

The groove returns on “One Thing At A Time,” but the acoustic guitar stays—for now. No song on the album captures the feeling of transformation more directly. Nearly every line reflects someone working through change.

Barnett closes with: “I gotta fix this all somehow now / I’m ready for a change,” then hands it off to an electric guitar solo that runs for nearly two minutes, carrying the same tension as the lyrics.

The Optimism Starts to Build

“Mantis” is the next track on the album, and it feels like everything has changed. We’ve come through it all, and we’ve made it. The weight is lifted off our shoulders.

The music feels lighter and more open, with a natural bounce. Inspired by a real moment (spotting a praying mantis in her kitchen), Barnett treats it like a quiet sign she’s on the right path.

“Mantis” is the standout track. It feels like the first real sunlight after a storm. When it ended, I was surprised to see it had run over four minutes. I wanted more.

“Sugar Plum” carries that sense of release forward. Even as Barnett sings “I’m in over my head,” the tension is gone. What replaces it is acceptance. She sings of doing fine and learning to breathe again. The storm threat is over.

“Same” comes in with an almost dance-club energy. Heavy bass, layered instrumentation, and a faster tempo push things forward. The lyrics loosen up too. This feels like someone rediscovering joy.

“Great Advice” keeps that momentum going. The groove is infectious, with sharp cymbal work and a rhythm that’s hard to sit still through. The urge to dance is strong.

By the final song, “Another Beautiful Day,” I don’t want the fun to end. The guitar tone mentioned earlier really shines through, as does Barnett’s optimism as she repeats “Another beautiful day / Just another beautiful day” followed by a guitar solo riding over a bouncing snare.

Creature of Habit Is More Than An Album

I’ve rarely felt an album take me on a journey the way Creature of Habit does. The opening tracks carry weight, self-reflection, and tension.

In a perfect sequencing decision, “Mantis” opens Side B. You flip the record, and everything changes. The weight is gone. The air is lighter. You made it through. That physical act of turning the record over becomes a symbolic part of the story. Side A struggles. Side B releases.

This is why the long-play album still matters.

If I heard “Mantis” on its own, I’d still love it. No question. But coming out of songs like “Mostly Patient” and “One Thing At A Time” gave it real impact.

Not just heard—felt.