Spencer LaJoye makes queer indie folk music for everyone. With a coy smile, a wink to the back row, and carefree expertise, they spin their crystalline vocals through a loop pedal while strumming the weathered acoustic guitar they acquired for leading worship in high school. “I don’t believe in much anymore,” they announce to teary-eyed audiences, “except a little bit of everything. And you. And me. And that art can change the world simply by making us feel something.”
LaJoye is an East Coast singer/songwriter with Midwest roots, a classically-trained violinist with a proclivity for Broadway vocals, and a student of Americana music with a theology degree hanging in their studio. They’ve been writing and touring their own autobiographical folk/pop music for over a decade, but the virality of their 2021 anthem “Plowshare Prayer” secured them a permanent place in hearts and households across the world, as well as a peculiar career as a veracious songsmith with an unshakeable pastoral presence. Charming and banter-heavy, Spencer’s live performances at theaters, listening rooms, church sanctuaries, backyards, folk festivals, spiritual conferences, and queer clubs keep diverse audiences laughing one moment and weeping the next.
On February 16, 2024, Spencer is set to release Shadow Puppets, their first full-length album under their new name. Childhood memories, family patterns, shame, and desire form a cast of colorful characters in this 12-track, indie-folk tale of a formerly closeted queer kid from Southwest Michigan. The album was produced by Chris DuPont in Ypsilanti, MI, and is a clever synth-guided and lyric-driven work of folk.
The charming sound of Shadow Puppets is perhaps best exemplified in its title track, which we are offering an exclusive premiere of on Glide today. With vocals that are warm, inviting, and heartfelt, Spencer sets the stage for what’s to come with vivid lyrical character studies that feel autobiographical but also representative of both ourselves and those we have known. We get layers of lush strings to accentuate the theatricality of the lyrics and vocals, giving the song a moody glow that is surely setting the tone for the rest of the album.
Listen to the track and read our interview with Spencer LaJoye below…
What is the story behind this song? How did it come together? What is it about?
This is the first single for my upcoming album – it’s also the title track and the first track on the album, which admittedly feels a little bold? But I grew up as a musical theater kid, and I’ve always loved the orchestral overtures that open every show. I like the idea of being introduced to themes right at the very beginning so that when they recur later in the production, they’re familiar. So I wanted to open the record with a song that makes hints about what’s to come, sets the stage, opens the curtain.
This song explains the metaphor in the album’s title, “Shadow Puppets.” When you move away from a light source, the shape of your shadow becomes more clear and less daunting; it might even be friendly. Similarly, scary or difficult things from our past become more manageable with time. I fell in love with that metaphor and started seeing each song on the record as a shadow puppet, of sorts, telling stories about things I’ve needed to gain distance from. Many of the images I mention in this song go unexplained in the song itself, and that’s on purpose. An addict playing the piano, a kid praying up to the stars. It’ll all come back and be made clearer with subsequent songs on the record. I want to tease my audience a little with this first single.
Are there any lyric lines that you really love or that really speak to you? What do you feel makes them resonate?
Well, one songwriting rule I have for myself is to always confess. If I’m not confessing anything – whether that’s love or a bad habit or a need – then my songs are only self-pitying or echo chamber-y or masturbatory. There’s no vulnerability or intimacy without a confession. So the last chorus is my favorite. That shadow is big, that shadow is wide. It’s a darkness that I fit my whole self inside. But if I pull away from the flame, they’re just shapes I can make with my hand… people sinking in sand… I can understand. This is my confessional moment. I confess that I tend to let my darkness swallow me up, even though I have every capability of separating myself from it enough to see it more clearly and treat it with a little compassion. That’s my entire therapeutic effort in this upcoming album, distilled into one chorus. I can choose to live in the shadows my past bullies (the church, generational trauma, substance abuse, heteropatriarchy, self-sabotage) have created for me, or I can choose to take some distance, see, understand, and maybe even care for them.
If listeners can take away one thing from having heard this song, what do you hope that is?
Curiosity. I hope people come away from this song feeling curious on a number of levels. My producer, Chris DuPont, did a phenomenal job creating a spooky and exciting and colorful and inviting sonic landscape that complements my music and lyrics. Sav Buist and Katie Larson of The Accidentals arranged and cut string parts for this song that give it a sense of whimsy and imagination. When I listen to it, I feel like there’s so much to be discovered. Like I’m a little kid wandering into some shadowy woods. So I want listeners to feel curious about those woods. I want them to feel curious about all the shadows to come on the full album, but my deeper hope is that they get curious about their own shadows, their own woods, their own landscapes that need exploring.
How does this song fit in among the others on the forthcoming album? How is it similar or different?
This song is a great nod toward what’s to come. We have the whole crew together on this one. Chris DuPont producing, Sav Buist and Katie Larson on strings, Billy Harrington on drums. Chris and I wanted this record to be full of “moments.” Little magic moments. A string flourish here, a weird vocal effect there, sparkly synths hiding around every corner. I’m certain “sparkly synths” is the correct terminology. Very appropriately, this is the first song we finished in production, and it set the bar and tone for every other song on the album. From a songwriting lens, this single is a pretty good sample of the storytelling angle I take throughout this album. My previous releases – Remember the Oxygen and Plowshare Prayer – were super anthemic. They had this universal quality to them. This whole record, by contrast, is specific and full of both sonic and biographical minutiae. This first single is an example of that.
If you could use only three words to describe your music, what would they be and why?
Dynamic – again, I’m a theater kid at heart who loves a tender start, an orchestral bridge, and an emotional tag; honest – another one of my songwriting rules is to tell the truth, which should never be confused with facts; and intimate – if people can listen to my music without feeling like they can see me and I can see them, I haven’t done my job.
