From his start in experimental R&B with operatic interludes to his more recent brand of avant-garde soul touched by the holy spirits of gospel and house music, serpentwithfeet has always lived his truth. While the greatest part of that actuality exists in his out-and-proud life as a gay man, his generous lyrics radiate outward to his community, the call to LGBTQ+ brotherhood-sisterhood, and queer love—as well as inward to the tender intimacy of self-care.
On serpentwithfeet’s third album and first full-length since 2021’s Deacon, his pensive, banger melodies and electro-laced arrangements are more open, spacious, and spare, and his gleeful lyrics are more deeply sensual and giving than in the recent past. Though the lyrics within aren’t necessarily about one person, GRIP songs such as gently throbbing “Deep End” (with its tingling chorus of “I don't want to make a mess / I don’t want to move too fast”) and the softly acoustic “Safe Word” (“The safe word is me / The safe place is me”) certainly seem directed to a single entity, real or imagined.
In preparation for the release of GRIP, serpentwithfeet spoke with us about his way with sensual, emotional songwriting and more.
With GRIP, you’re following Deacon’s lead in its sparseness and its nuanced set of quiet vocals. How did you develop that quietude?
The gift that every artist has is process, mastering the art of play. Between Deacon and GRIP, I had a lot of time to play, to practice, to be in process. I was interested in coming up with strong melodies, in pursuit of creating strong feeling and the textures that go with all that. The album isn’t a narrative, but I did want to capture the feeling of being close to someone in public and private spaces. I wanted to rhapsodize about it. That influenced how my team and I approached vocal arrangements and instrumentation. I didn’t want there to be too much between myself and the listener, and I prioritized my lead vocals, for sure.
Rhapsodizing about love in public and private spaces: why? Why so much more now than with Apparition or Soil?
I think it’s important to express the fullness of me. I did a decent job of that on my other albums and EPs—exploring the heart, mind, and spirit, asking questions. Now I wanted to include the body in all this. My body. What has my body known? It has known wonderful touch—caring and loving touch. I’ve been transformed by that—from the more obvious big moments as well as smaller moments such as someone touching my hand and me learning how much I just love hands. Or someone rubbing my ear a certain way. Moments that stimulate me. I think about being with someone you care about in the morning before you go to work and the loving interaction you may have. That changes the way you work that day, changes how you ask for a coffee at your local café, or the way you go into a business meeting. I’d made a project of every other emotion—now was the time to do a project out of that touch and closeness.
“I did a decent job of that on my other albums and EPs—exploring the heart, mind, and spirit, asking questions. Now I wanted to include the body in all this. My body.”
This is about your own personal development, let alone a musical one.
It’s all personal, even if it isn’t all autobiographical. The songs are about experience and have been informed by the day-to-day of my life. It’s an exercise—what happens if I do this or do that.
I know that the songs of GRIP aren’t autobiographical, but its inferences seem singular, or the experience sounds as if it’s focused on one person at a time. Is there one person who helped you feel this way, or a series of relationships that guided you to this resolution?
I would say that it’s every relationship that I’ve had, whether it was for two weeks or two years. Each experience informs me, as would a patch in a larger tapestry. It would be counterintuitive to not acknowledge that.
I know you’re a big Björk fan, an artist who portrayed the bliss of burgeoning love and sexuality on one record, then detailed the horrible end of that same relationship with equal aplomb. What is the throughline that exists through all of your work as witnessed, now, by what you know of yourself, on GRIP?
I saw this post online that said that my music is for people who yearn. I thought that was really accurate. That was a succinct appraisal of who I am and what I make. I love that. I’m not too cool to yearn, or too grown to fawn. My music is about feeling secure enough to express desire. That’s the throughline.
“I’m not too cool to yearn, or too grown to fawn. My music is about feeling secure enough to express desire. That’s the throughline.”
Considering the level of intimacy on this record, was there a challenge to go deeper? Or did it come easier due to your increased attentiveness to touch?
When I first started talking to my team about the physical, about the immediateness of touch, about closeness, that conversation continued every day. They held me accountable to my intentions. If I had a moment where I wondered what to do where, or what to put there, they reminded me of my initial agenda. That’s the greatest aspect of collaboration and of the process I spoke about. It’s a skill to learn how to create, to play with others. These people reminded me of those goals so as to create greater clarity. In particular, the I Like That production team really held my feet to the fire, made sure that we created the thing that we intended to from the start. I didn’t want to do this alone. Working with a collective felt like working with a machine—not something sterile, but rather really pure. You mentioned “Deep End” and “I don't want to make a mess, I don’t want to move too fast.” We worked on that a lot. Chiseled it for a long time.
What’s interesting is that GRIP is a very manicured musical effort without losing its soul or sweat, without losing its rawness. “Safe Word” does that, too. It paints a sexual picture in a subtle way.
I wanted it to be sensual. I wanted to push myself, lyrically. I wanted to surprise myself. I actually asked the four of them [the I Like That collective] to leave the room so I could record that. I really wanted the isolation. I knew that I could edit the lyrics or change the sounds. I just wanted to get that out. The thing that I typically would say…that’s what I wanted to say. And that was definitely new territory. FL
