Jordan Burchel Finds Clarity With Everything Going On

In Gainesville’s rich music landscape, few artists feel as woven into its fabric as Jordan Burchel.

A songwriter whose sharp wit, restless curiosity, and unflinching honesty have shaped both his own catalog and the city’s creative community, Burchel has long been a touchstone for Gainesville audiences hungry for songs that balance craft with candor. Known for his quick improvisations between songs as much as for the songs themselves, he’s the kind of artist who makes every show feel like an unrepeatable night—an anchor in Gainesville’s listening rooms and a bridge to its wider cultural identity.

Now, with his upcoming album, With Everything Going On, Burchel turns his lens inward and outward at once, capturing the mix of chaos, humor, and humanity that defines both his personal life and public moments. It’s a record born of discipline—he writes every day, no matter what—but also of spontaneity, following the scent of inspiration until it reveals something unexpected. As Gainesville continues to nurture new generations of writers and musicians, Burchel stands as both example and collaborator: a reminder that songs are not just entertainment here, but community currency.

Do you consider yourself more of a disciplined writer or a spontaneous one?

I’m disciplined in that I write songs every day, which is a non-negotiable for me, even though my life is busy. My process of writing an individual song is spontaneous, though. Over the years, I’ve tried to strip away as much of the scaffolding of my own mind as possible when writing, so I can sort of just follow the scent and be surprised by what I find. 

When a song idea first comes to you, how do you capture it—voice memos, notebooks, or just trusting your memory?

Voice memos! I would die without voice memos. I think I’ve physically written down lyrics on paper maybe five times in my life, mainly because my handwriting looks dumb. I get distracted by the ugliness of it and give up.

What’s the most unexpected reaction you’ve ever gotten from an audience to one of your songs?

We played at a biker bar in Kenosha, Wisconsin. I think the fact that people liked it was unexpected! Recently, a dude misheard a lyric of mine – “holy shit, I’m in love” as “I shit on the rug.” Which, in addition to being a better line, makes me wonder just how often people are wildly mishearing what I’m singing. Probably a lot. A guy once said we were like Fleetwood Mac after a full-band show, and I asked him why he thought that. He said, 'Because we had two wo Duh! Another’ Duh! Another guy told me I needed to “hang back” a bit during the set while he tried to hit on my wife, who is in my band. Men say the darndest things.

Do you enjoy talking to the audience between songs or prefer to let the music stand alone?

To be completely honest, I think I enjoy talking between songs more than playing them. I find improvising with an audience exhilarating – it gives each show a unique thread. Of course, I love playing the music, but in a way, the songs are like a safety blanket. The structure of a song gives you something to anchor to, regardless of how you’re feeling or what is happening in the moment. Just talking on a mic in front of people without a plan feels satisfyingly dangerous. I think it quiets my mind down in a really pleasing way, too.

Has there ever been a night when the room's energy completely shifted how you played?

Last year, and without explanation, people started dancing at our shows in a major way, which is the best, and turned me into a totally different person on stage.  

What non-musical experience has had a major impact on how you write songs?

Not so much a single experience, but the way my friends and I thought and spoke to each other in high school had a huge impact on the way I think and write. I think we had a blue-collar chip on our collective shoulders, but were somewhat sophisticated (at least I’d like to think so) academically and philosophically. That group had this kind of jagged insightfulness that I think still runs through what I do.

Which album (by any artist) do you return to the most when you need to reset or find perspective?

This will sound silly, but I don’t listen to music that much unless I’m working on it. To reset I like to walk around or read, and by read, I mean watch videos of cars on my phone. 

Do you see yourself as part of a larger songwriting community, or do you prefer working outside a “scene”?

I think I’m a bit hard to pin down genre-wise, which made it hard to find my people when I first started playing. That, and my resting what’s-a-matter-face.  Slowly but surely, though, I have found my “scene” in Gainesville, where I live. I also did my first-ever co-write in 2024, which was a gratifying experience and expanded how I think about songwriting. In the early days, writing and music in general were solitary pursuits for me. I’m very grateful to have found myself surrounded by musicians and writers who let me work on their stuff and work on my stuff, too.

Have you ever written something and thought, “This isn’t really a song for me, it belongs to someone else”?

All the time. As a rule, I try to stay out of the way when I’m writing. I struggle to explain this whenever I try, but what I mean is that I work hard to ignore my own critical mind and let my creative mind run wild. That means I’ll often make something that my critical mind doesn’t like, like pop country and jingles for toothpaste. The tension in there, though, is where a lot of good stuff comes from. You let your mind wander to the edge of your taste and then document what you find.

Are there themes you haven’t written about yet that you know you want to explore in the future?

My literal childhood, my hometown, really anything concrete from my life pre-2015. All that stuff pops up in my songs as dream imagery or abstraction, but I really want to make a purely biographical album. I walked into the break room, and Stephanie spilled sweet tea on me. That sort of thing makes me super uncomfortable, which is probably a good sign that I should do it.

Do you see yourself experimenting with new sounds or instruments, or doubling down on what feels most natural?

Experimenting for sure.

What’s a dream collaboration—musical or otherwise—that feels exciting to you?

Kevin Parker – Lonerism completely cooked my noodle when it came out and made me believe in guitar again.

How do you hope people will describe your music ten years from now?

Chart-topping, baby.