The Clementines’ Nicole Springer tries to find her eternal sunshine

Nicole Springer is on edge. During an afternoon meeting at Westside Local to discuss the Clementines’ upcoming EP, Someday/Over, Springer gingerly asks me if it’s too early for hard alcohol.

I assure her that she is in safe and similar company. She orders a “much needed” vodka and Diet Coke. She admits that she’s not comfortable being interviewed and laughs nervously as I place my recorder in front of her. Then again, it’s a little surprising that Springer hasn’t been the focus of more interviews before now.

Springer is petite. Wispy red curls frame her face. She talks with a built-in humility that is in direct opposition to her bombastic, show-halting vocal style. Although Springer admits to being “one of the most insecure people in the world,” you’d never guess it from the way she sounds on record and fronting her band.

Springer started the Clementines in 2011 with Tim Jenkins (guitar and mandolin). For a time, the Clementines were an acoustic duo. But as Springer and Jenkins pieced together their sound, they found other players to fill in the spaces: bassist Travis Earnshaw and drummer Aaron Derington, replacing Stephanie Williams, who left in late 2013 to become the full-time drummer for Katy Guillen and the Girls.

Last May, the Clementines released a self-titled full-length that showcased the new lineup’s catchy, powerful alt rock. The album hummed with promise, anchored by Springer’s voice, a heavy jazz influence and the intuitive ease of Americana.

But Springer says the five songs on Someday/Over were more carefully constructed than the band’s previous releases. Jangly, up-tempo tracks “In Yesterday” and “Afraid” are at odds with Springer’s solemn reflections on the complications of romance. It’s honest, square-shouldered writing. And if an open-diary format sounds too saccharine, don’t worry: Jenkins is ever-ready with competent electric-guitar riffs.

The dichotomy of human relationships is a popular theme for Springer, who explains her fascination by recounting how she came to name her band: for Clementine, Kate Winslet’s character in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Springer’s favorite movie.

“I like the way it’s told,” Springer says of the film. “It’s very unique and it’s kind of sad — exactly how relationships are. People get tired of each other, and things end, and you don’t always get a second chance. In the film, even though at the end they [the two lead characters] know that the relationship is probably not going to work, they want to try again. I think that’s beautiful.”

She goes on: “I don’t want to be a depressing songwriter. Even if you’re talking about losing love, the way you do it, you can have a different energy to it. And I think love is the greatest inspiration for any musician — having it or the loss of it. I don’t think there’s anything more important than that.”

Springer pauses, laughs a little and shrugs her shoulders, seemingly embarrassed by her proclamation. “I’m a romantic,” she says, half-apologizing.

A few nights earlier, at a practice session, she wailed into a microphone during the stirring and elegant “Misery.” She snarled the verses and transitioned easily into gospelworthy range. (Springer started singing as a teenager in a church choir.) Even in the Clementines’ cramped basement-level practice room, it’s clear that Springer is a natural frontwoman.

“Any confidence I have is when I sing,” Springer says. “It’s the after-I’m-singing where I analyze and pick things apart: ‘Was that good? Was that bad? Did everybody hate it? Why am I doing this?’ I ask myself a million questions, but when I’m singing, when I’m in the heat of it, none of that matters.”

Springer laughs again, but there is more bite to her tone. I ask if it’s difficult to be so open with her songs in front of strangers when they are clearly precious and personal to her.

“My songs are like children — they’re that important to me,” she says. “I just want to protect them. Sometimes I miss just playing them for one or two people at my house and not having anyone else know about them. It’s intimate, writing a song. There have been times when I wanted to quit so bad. I just could not face the vulnerability of writing a song and performing it for someone, and I’ve had to overcome a lot of that.”

Even if Springer hasn’t totally gotten past her insecurities, she does a solid enough job faking it onstage. In that respect, she says, there can be no compromise.

“Being the frontperson in the band, a lot rests on you,” she says. “You’re telling the story, you’re interpreting the song for people. I sing my heart out, and sometimes I don’t have a voice the next day, but I don’t want to hold anything back. This is what I live for, and I may never ever be famous or make any money doing this, but if I’m going on that stage for 45 minutes, you better believe I’m going to give it everything I have — even if it’s just for five people who aren’t even looking at us.”