Your EP The Eternal Hour is structured around the idea of a single surreal day—morning, noon, and night. What inspired that framework, and how did it shape your songwriting process?
The framework actually arose by accident. I wrote the song Maples and Pines as a way of dealing with feelings of inadequacy after a brief fling had come to an end, and several weeks later, wrote ‘Rise Into the Gentle Night’ after feeling inspired by some traditional Irish melodies I’d been listening to on Spotify. Noticing how each song correlated to a time of the day- Maples and Pines for morning, and Rise Into the Gentle Night for night- I decided to complete the arc by writing a middle piece that correlated to afternoon, which produced The Stream. All that remained then was to name this little trilogy, a name which came to me after my producer had suggested how one of my lyrics contained the word ‘eternal’, and that I should use it in the name. After spending some time rummaging through my poetry books and googling famous poems I liked that covered themes on the nature of eternity, I finally landed on Blake’s line ‘eternity in an hour’. The concept seemed quite fitting for a trio of songs that reached for the timeless, and so from that line I derived The Eternal Hour.
You draw from some powerful literary and mythological references—William Blake, The Iliad, Celtic folklore. How do literature and mythology influence your approach to writing music?
I’m a huge fan of poetry and literary fiction, so much so that at this point literary works have a considerably greater influence on my songwriting than actual songwriters. When I was much younger, I dreamed of becoming a famous author, and in another life, that’s probably the path I would have taken. In fact, it’s a path I still might end up pursuing as I get older. I’ve always been in love with this idea of creating a kind of music that perfectly harmonizes the metrical sonics of poetry with the melodies of singing and instrumentation. Good poetry has its own kind of music, and while not all poetry works when put to music, ever since I was a teenager I had this vision of developing my writing to a point where my lyrics were strong enough to stand on their own as poetry, whose linguistic music could then be merged with guitar and vocals to create something powerful, something that wasn’t just music with lyrics, but rather infused the music of language itself as an additional instrument into the songs I wrote.
The songs feel intensely personal, but also timeless and dreamlike. Where do you draw the line between autobiography and storytelling in your lyrics?
While my writing almost always derives from actual events I’ve experienced, I don’t typically insert direct autobiographical details into my songs. Instead, I try to take the emotional undercurrents behind those experiences and universalize them through concrete, albeit neutral, imagery. I think getting too specific with autobiography can limit the relatability of art, and that good art strives to sublimate the universal hidden within the individual moments of a person’s life. That’s probably where the timeless, dreamlike qualities of my songs come from.
You were born in Houston, raised partly in Hong Kong, and are now based in Nashville. How have these very different places informed your sound or sense of identity as a musician?
I’ve always been artistically inclined, and I’m certain I would’ve grown to be an artist of some stripe regardless of topography, but my formative artistic tendencies were definitely cultivated in Hong Kong. I was enrolled mainly in British schools growing up, and it was through these schools that I was exposed to the literature that would eventually shape my songwriting. I loved writing fantasy stories not only during English class but even during my other classes, which admittedly did sometimes get me in trouble with the teachers, and my exposure to UK culture there- admittedly limited to the experiential via my friendships with my classmates, as opposed to the formally educational, since I really wasn’t the best student- did plant a seed in me that would later blossom into a fascination with traditional Celtic music.
Your music carries echoes of artists like Jeff Buckley and Nick Drake, but with a cinematic quality that feels very contemporary. Who are your biggest musical influences—past and present?
My biggest influence, by far, is Jeff Buckley. I was obsessed with his music from my teens all the way to my early twenties, and to this day no other artist has ever captured me the way he has. My teen years are frankly a blur of spending hours- no, entire days- just sitting in front of the computer, or lying in my room with headphones on, utterly entranced by his music. When I didn’t have class, the first thing I would do in the morning was put on his music, and just listen, all the way to long past midnight. I struggled with severe depression in those days, and his music was the only thing that kept me going. It was, in fact, the only thing I ever looked forward to upon waking up, and it invariably buried my depression beneath intense waves of almost spiritual ecstasy. For years, he utterly monopolized my music taste, and even when I did listen to other music, it would typically just be Jeff’s own musical influences. He’s the reason why I’m a musician today.
As I got older and attempted to write my own songs, I realized quite quickly, to my dismay, that I probably would never be able to sing the way Jeff did. I just didn’t have the natural singing talent. So instead, I decided to utilize my literary talent in my songwriting to create music that emphasized lyrical excellence rather than soaring vocal crescendos. In my efforts to teach myself how to do this, I turned to the great songwriters of musical canon as examples to pattern myself after- Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Townes Van Zandt, Leonard Cohen, and, as you’ve correctly discerned, Nick Drake. Instead of attempting to create musically complex melodies and harmonies the way Jeff Buckley did, I decided to focus on simple chord progressions that allowed the lyrical content to shine. In many ways, my vocal limitations eventually proved a strength rather than a weakness, as it forced me to carve out my own artistic voice that was distinct from Jeff Buckley’s. If I did have his singing capabilities, today I would probably just sound like some Jeff Buckley imitator, possessing an impressive vocal range but lacking in artistic originality.
The music videos for The Eternal Hour add another layer to the story. What was it like stepping into the role of the lone seeker in that visual trilogy? Did it change how you experience the songs yourself?
The music videos were suggested and then later directed by my producer, Shane Weisman. It was definitely fascinating to see how he interpreted my music visually. His vision was that of a man in search of a mystical stream, and how each moment of the day detailed a segment of that journey. I’d never done any acting before, so it was lots of fun exploring this new avenue and following his instructions. Stepping into that role made my songs feel more expansive, like I was part of something bigger, a project that was no longer solely my own, but one where others were now pouring their hearts into. The visual elements definitely helped to vivify the pictures I had tried to create through language, albeit filtered through the perspective of another person’s vision. It allowed me to glimpse the images others may experience upon listening closely to my music.
“A Shield and a Sword,” your debut single, referenced The Iliad. What draws you to epic themes, and how do you make them resonate emotionally in a modern context?
As a fan of both classic literature and Greek mythology, the scope of my reading naturally entails those of ancient texts, including Homer’s Iliad and the Odyssey. Since creating timeless music is something I strive for, I do often refer to historical texts for lyrical inspiration. I love this idea of writing music that has the potential to transport listeners to another time, when music was not so much a commodity as pure, unmediated aesthetic phenomena, something to be emotionally and spiritually immersed in without any of the commercial considerations modern artists are expected to entertain, and classic and ancient literature lend themselves well to such timelessness. I don’t know if I consciously attempt to make my music resonate emotionally in the modern era. I believe that occurs more naturally- after all, notwithstanding my inclinations towards the timeless, I’m still a denizen of the present day, just as influenced by modern music as by the traditional. One thing that does perhaps help with modern resonance is how I strive to universalize the specific, as I mentioned in an previous answer. When you aestheticize the universal, I think such themes will resonate through any listener, regardless of what age they live in, precisely because the universal transcends temporal boundaries.
Your songs explore loneliness, mental health, and the search for meaning. What role does songwriting play in your own emotional processing or healing?
As I mentioned in a previous answer, Maples and Pines was written to help me cope with feelings of inadequacy after a brief fling had ended. When I’d finished writing the song, it was almost as if a healing had taken place, because I’d managed to turn emotional pain into art, something worth listening to. This is the primary role songwriting plays in my healing- it takes pain and elevates it into something more, making the pain almost worth it. I’d have no idea how I would process my emotions if I wasn’t an artist. I’m sure there are plenty of other ways to do it, since not everyone is an artist, yet we all experience suffering in some form, and we all have to process our emotions in some way. But for me personally, without the ability to create, I think emotional pain would be much harder to cope with, as it would feel almost meaningless- at least in the moment. It would just be there, for me to endure with no rhyme or reason to it. Sure, after enough time passes, I’d be able to reflect upon it with a clearer head and take what lessons are hidden within the suffering to inform how I move through the world moving forward, but in the moment, when in the midst of the suffering at its most intense, I’d have no idea what to do with it. Songwriting provides a meaningful way for me to engage with suffering, and not simply feel like I’m trapped in it.
Your sound has been described as minimalist, yet emotionally layered. How do you approach arranging your songs to maintain that balance of space and depth?
My writing style and approach to performance is heavily inspired by Jeff Buckley’s Live in Sin-e in particular. In that record, he performs solo with just a borrowed telecaster at a coffee shop, and it’s absolutely mesmerizing. Listening to it makes you feel like you’re there in the audience, up close and personal with Jeff himself. I write songs to try and emulate that experience, deliberately composing guitar parts and vocals that don’t need accompaniment in order to feel complete. As a result, when I approach production, I seek out producers who understand that my songs don’t need much arranging, that any additional instruments serve only to accentuate what’s already there. Shane Weisman, my producer, is a master of that, and it is through his refined ear for arrangement that the songs as they appear on the record are able to balance space and depth with such delicacy.
Looking ahead—how do you see your music evolving? Are there new themes or sounds you’re curious to explore next?
I’m already working on songs for my next EP, and I’m really excited about how they’re coming along. The songs are definitely much more complex, both lyrically and musically, and I think demonstrate a clear evolution in my progress as an artist. The new EP, still currently unnamed, delineates a journey through the psyche, a process of individuation that begins with lingering sadness and ends with a triumphant, almost Nietzschean emergence into a more complete, developed person. This hints at how I intend to proceed through my musical journey- to continue to refine and deepen my lyrics, infusing more philosophical influences into my music while preserving poetic clarity.
