Spencer Thomas Climbs a Ladder With No Top Rung

Spencer Thomas has done the big stages.

Red Rocks, the Ryman, and international tours with the Futurebirds and members of My Morning Jacket. But the stripped-down solo shows, tucked into living rooms and listening rooms across the country, have reshaped his relationship with music and himself. On the road again this fall, Thomas opens up about the emotional excavation behind his album The Joke of Life, the discipline of storytelling in intimate settings, and why chasing contentment feels a lot like watching your dad mow the lawn. In this conversation, he speaks with the candor of someone who’s earned his voice, one song and one room at a time.

Your journey has taken you from Jackson, MS, to Athens, working with folks from My Morning Jacket and Futurebirds. How has touring solo shaped your growth as a musician?

I've done a lot of things that musicians would want to scratch off their checklist with Futurebirds. Red Rocks, the Ryman, the Fillmore, played out of the country, etc. It was wonderful for that time in my life, but I always had to fight to squeeze in my solo work and especially songwriting. Touring solo is scrappier. Though I'm fortunate to play in some pretty great listening and living rooms, it's not as glamorous as the full production and the big stage. At first, it was jarring, but that didn't last. I've settled into the ease of my small amount of equipment and am putting on a show all my own. Telling stories and engaging are a must beyond writing good songs. I also love that these little wins as a solo artist are my wins. The big stuff was cool, but I always felt detached from the accomplishment. I get to have more say and control in this career, and therefore, how I live my life! My goal is to make an enjoyable and meaningful life around my songs, and I'm seeing those seeds start to bear fruit.

“The Joke of Life” captures themes of nostalgia and personal struggle. How did the environment in Athens during the pandemic shape that album's emotional and sonic direction?

Less stimulation of the outside world during the pandemic caused a hypersensitivity to my inner world. I couldn't pack my car with baggage (physically and emotionally) and save it after the next tour. There was always a next tour anyway. I, like many, went into online therapy for the first time in 2020. I was digging up some pretty bad roots from how I treated romantic relationships, how I dealt with my family, and most importantly, how I dealt with feeling a lack of belonging. "Misty Eyes" delivers a positive spin to your inner child without hiding the realities of life. "Fake Rain" is about loneliness and isolation in a new city. "Dream Lilac" is about falling in love and dreaming up expectations that only fall short. "How Come Heartbreak" is about the cacophony of anxious thoughts that bother you in the night's quietest hour. "Woman Who Smokes Cigars" is feeling isolated in a crowded place and feeling low while people ride a loud and heavy high. Now that I think about it, many of these songs came from grappling with all these things I never faced. Sonically, I used the most incredible arsenal of musicians Athens had to offer. I may have gone a little too far with the amount of personnel, but Athens was a new town. I threw a lot at the wall to see what stuck!

You’ve mentioned influences like Elvis Costello and Warren Zevon. How do you balance channeling that vintage storytelling vibe while keeping your voice fresh and contemporary?

I love Elvis and Warren for their catalogue of music. Never defined by genre. I learned from them, but some folks in today's industry will take on the characteristics of old songwriters, almost like recycling down to the look or the voice. I didn't want to go that far, so I learned their tricks. I discovered their humor. I twisted some of their musical and lyrical ideas into my own music until it sounded more like me and less like them. The Joke of Life was made to sound old with modern capability. My upcoming record is probably the most contemporary I've ever been, but I keep the lessons from the old heads because their songs will last throughout our lifetimes and beyond. I treat my songs with care just as they would.

You’ve written openly about anxiety and contentment. Do you find touring stressful or comforting, and how does that emotional tension play into performance?

Preparing for tour is harder, especially since I'm back doing most of my booking. Going on tour is easy. It's so freeing because you can't do anything else until you get through. For a while, playing a show and meeting new people every night is your life. That's an incredible feeling, despite missing the people and things that make your home worth missing. But I've worked for a long time to get to "the show." When I finish the show, that's the most relaxed you'll find me. I do struggle often with contentment. I crave movement and completion, so playing another show feels like I took another step up a never-ending ladder. Unfortunately, that's when I feel the most present, but maybe that's my fuel to keep going. It's probably because I watched my dad stand around on a Saturday and decided to do 6 hours of yard work instead of just hanging out. Is that workaholism?

In a stripped-down listening room setting, what choices do you make around setlist structure and storytelling to create an emotional arc in your show? 

I have my piano and my guitar. Every 3 to 4 songs, I switch. I alternate the subject matter and tempos to provide a fresh breath from one song to the next. I've often thought that watching one person sing sad songs on an acoustic guitar can only grip your attention for so long. Especially now that we all have the TikTok brain. I try to keep the show moving from song to story to guitar to keys. I also think a set length is very important. If I open a show with an allotted 45-minute set, I'll play 35. If I'm told I can play for 90 minutes, I'll play for 75. I don't mean this to belittle my work or do less of it. People only have so much of an attention span for a solo artist they aren't super familiar with. It's better to knock out the set and meet those people after the show who might've sneaked out while you were still playing. My friend and recording partner, Nate, talks about setlists like being a DJ. I learned when to push it to 10 and draw it back down to a 3. 

What’s your favorite Florida ritual or local gem to explore?

I must admit I hardly ever came down to Florida. I went to Disney when I was a child. I went to Pensacola or Destin now and again. It wasn't until I went to Jacksonville a few times and hung with the people there that I realized I might like Florida. Especially Jacksonville. It's an often skipped over mid-sized city like where I'm from, so I understand it. I haven't spent enough time there to establish rituals, but I will say that the last time I was there, I went to The Fly's Tie at around midnight with a friend of mine. We watched a power trio play covers of Radiohead, Jefferson Airplane, Marcy's Playground, etc. All to the fun and free energy of the Jacksonville locals not giving a flying fuck who saw them. I just sat back with my tequila soda and a big smile. I'll make it there after my next Jacksonville show.

Spencer Thomas’ Performances

September 11 - Spinster Abbott’s - St. Augustine, FL
September 12 - The Bull - Gainesville, FL