Overview
For two years, Matt Myers struggled to finish new songs.
"I was all raw emotion," says the Houndmouth frontman, who'd spent the previous decade blending rock & roll and American roots music into radio staples like the chart-topping, platinum-selling "Sedona." He'd written four albums in less than 10 years, but inspiration just wasn't showing up anymore. "I was feeling so much that I just couldn't write anything," he adds.
The end of one relationship. The beginning of another. The all-consuming feeling of new love. Myers' life had been eventful, both onstage and off, and all that living didn't leave him much time to create. Things changed when he paid a visit to Brad Cook, the Grammy-winning producer who'd overseen Houndmouth's fourth record, Good For You. What began as a reunion of two friends soon gave away to something bigger: the restart of Myers' songwriting engines and, in its wake, the creation of Lordy.
With its naked honesty and uncluttered arrangements, Lordy takes a stripped-back approach to Houndmouth's ever-evolving sound. It's an album about surviving, rebuilding, accepting, and thriving once more. Myers wrote most of the record's songs at home, strumming his Martin guitar while sunshine streamed through the kitchen windows. Years ago, he might've composed the record at night, tossing back a few drinks for encouragement. This was different. Clear-headed and wide awake, Myers reclaimed his muse during the daytime hours, starting with songs like "Tiger Blood" — a ragged folk-rocker that builds its way toward a screaming finish — and the album's gorgeously intimate title track.
"I let unfiltered emotion inform the words," he says. "With several songs, I learned to be ok with just letting some syllables line up, and letting the emotion behind it all do the talking."
This marked a change from the band's early days. Back then, Myers and company agonized over the precise placement of every snare hit and vocal harmony on albums like Little Neon Limelight, Houndmouth's commercial breakthrough. Steeped in the influence of 1970s roots-rock, those early records were collaborative efforts that merged Myers' vision — as a songwriter, vocalist, and fiery lead guitarist — with the input of his three bandmates. "I needed those albums to be collaborative projects because I was scared of being completely in charge," he admits. "Maybe that stunted me. This is the first time I've been able to write a record completely on my own, and there's a pressure that comes with that. I had to relearn everything."
Recording sessions were scattered throughout the course of a year, but Lordy still came together quickly. Myers would record a one-take performance of each song on his acoustic guitar, then build it into something bigger with help from other musicians. He told himself not to get lost in the mechanics or the minutia. After all, the goal wasn't be to perfect; it was to capture a moment, allowing the thoughts that swirled inside Myers' head to find the quickest way into his music.
Cook played an integral role in Lordy's creation — not just as a producer, but as a close friend and confidante, too. "When I visited him in North Carolina for the first time, he walked out of his garage and gave me a big bear hug," Myers said. "He told me he was happy for me, and he gave me a lot of confidence with my new songs." Cook also reached out to others, surrounding Myers with a small circle of musicians who, like him, blurred the lines between modern-day indie music and the old-school roots of Americana. Iron & Wine's Sam Beam stopped by the studio during the creation of the album's final track, "Holy Moses," to offer advice and encouragement. MJ Lenderman paid a visit, too, adding his trademark guitar licks — loose, lo-fi, and full of life — to multiple tracks. Phil Cook (Megafaun, Hiss Golden Messenger) played on several songs, as did Caleb Hickman, Houndmouth's keyboardist. Hickman and his wife, Kay Robertson, also contributed to the songwriting process, and for Myers, the musical input was uplifting. "I've spent years working with peers and contemporaries," he says, "but this felt different. I was surrounded by people who were literally trying to pick me up and help me out. They pushed me to do the work."
Between recording sessions, he headed back to Louisville to rehearse the songs with his bandmates in a warehouse basement. Something about the basement's vibe — gritty, frills-free, and utterly unlike the restored 19th century house that had served as the band's headquarters for years — seemed to suit the new music. Steadily, the songs came together. "Heavy Eyes" explored the intersection of fatigue and hope, building its way toward a cinematic finish. "Don't Wanna Talk About" bounced between scaled-back verses and singalong choruses. "Never Gonna Die" turned simplicity into beauty, with Myers singing about challenging relationships over an uncluttered mix of hooks, harmonies, and groove.
Lordy asks its audience to lean in, listen closely, and engage, kickstarting a new era for Houndmouth. From Golden Age's embrace of shimmering electronics to Good For You's return-to-form focus on American roots music, this is a band that's spent years in evolution, unafraid to examine new sounds and different perspectives. Lordy continues that exploration — and if it often sounds like the most intimate record in the band's catalog, it still packs an emotional punch that lingers long after the music fades.
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