Musician Nate Amos, known for his prolific output under the moniker This Is Lorelei, has navigated a complex journey through addiction and mental health struggles, ultimately finding a sense of peace and a new direction in his music. His latest album, ‘The Singer in My Band,’ released on September 11, 2024, marks a significant milestone as his first fully sober record, showcasing a departure towards more accessible, country-tinged melodies that echo his upbringing.
From Prolific Bedroom Pop to Country Roots
For over a decade, Nate Amos has been a fixture in the independent music scene, uploading dozens of albums and EPs to platforms like Bandcamp. His work as This Is Lorelei defies easy categorization, blending elements of bedroom pop, alt-country, and indie rock, often imbued with a profound emotional weight. Peers often describe him with an almost mythical reverence, as if he were a rediscovered folk hero. Amos, now 35, describes his early approach to music as a coping mechanism, a way to simply get through each day.
His new album, ‘The Singer in My Band,’ was recorded in his Brooklyn apartment, a space that evolved into a home studio. This setup allows him to maintain the rapid pace of creation that has become his hallmark. Despite a seemingly relaxed demeanor, characterized by a slow drawl, Amos possesses a relentless work ethic. He completed the entire album before signing with Matador Records, the label that also represents his other project, Water from Your Eyes. In a display of his characteristic efficiency, he delivered the finished record to the label within half an hour of signing the contract.
Musically, ‘The Singer in My Band’ represents a notable shift. It features jaunty melodies, twangy guitar riffs, and hearty harmonies that hark back to the bluegrass music of his childhood, influenced by his father, Bob Amos. This bucolic sound stands in contrast to some of his earlier, more experimental work, which ranged from sad chamber pop to murky post-punk. Amos acknowledges a lifelong affinity for country music, a sentiment rooted in his upbringing. Born in Denver, he felt more at home in the rural landscapes of Vermont, where his family eventually relocated.
Navigating Addiction and Seeking Solace
Amos’s journey has been significantly shaped by his struggles with substance abuse. At 14, he moved to rural Vermont and began to lash out, skipping school by his mid-teens to spend time on dirt roads, experimenting with marijuana and absorbing the influences of older peers. This period also involved extensive use of psychedelics, which he admits took a toll on him. He graduated and later moved to Chicago in his early twenties, where his musical explorations expanded rapidly. He experimented with various genres and bands, all while continuing to grapple with what he now refers to as “substance issues.”
Looking back, Amos views his intense focus on music and drugs as a way to postpone confronting deeper issues. “You find ways to be excited when you’re younger, and for me that was through drugs,” he explained. “I settled into what, at the time, I was sure was going to be a pattern of just being a lifelong addict.” He often felt a disconnect with the modern world, yearning for a simpler existence. “People say they’re born in the wrong generation… I honestly feel like I would have been a happier person working on a farm 300 years ago.” His attempts to find peace often involved “drowning out bad noise through substances, dumbing myself down to a point where it felt like things were simple.”
This internal turmoil manifested in his music. At one point, he was briefly banned from the online distributor Distrokid for uploading an excessive number of experimental drone pieces, which led to him being flagged as a bot. Much of this experimental work, themed around “technology corrupting nature,” was less an artistic concept and more a reflection of his anxiety and depression. The beauty, he felt, lay in the unknown, a stark contrast to the difficulties he faced with the known aspects of his life.
Finding Stability and a New Creative Path
Amos’s path eventually led him to Rachel Brown, a fellow musician in Chicago’s DIY scene. They formed the band Water from Your Eyes and maintained a long-distance relationship as Brown pursued studies in New York. Amos relocated to join her in 2017, but the band and their friendship endured even after their romantic relationship ended two years later. During this period, Amos found himself leaning heavily on music, particularly the pop-punk of Blink-182, to cope with his low mood.
In 2020, he began dating Al Nardo, who is now his fiancé and a collaborator in both Water from Your Eyes and his solo work. This relationship marked a turning point. In 2021, Amos gave up alcohol and hard drugs. While he initially turned to marijuana, he quit that as well a year later, describing the initial period as intensely difficult, with his “brain was on fire for three months.” He threw himself into making music for 12 hours a day, driven by the fear of relapse.
A documentary about Shane MacGowan proved unexpectedly influential. Watching an a cappella performance of MacGowan’s song “The Song With No Name” by Sinéad O’Connor reawakened Amos’s appreciation for pure folk melody. “I grew up surrounded by bluegrass and folk music,” he recalled, “so I felt like a sleeper agent being activated.” This rediscovery infused his songwriting
