John Moreland’s FUTURE is COMING FAST
Photo: Mike Vanata | Western AF
Written By: Meredith Lawrence
On the back of singer/songwriter John Moreland’s shaved-bald head is inked the words “Hell Bound,” in a sailor tattoo-style ribbon. Above it, another tattoo depicts Jesus, complete with a crown of barbed wire ringing Moreland’s forehead. Though incongruous, together the two images convey the tension Moreland still feels after falling out of his Christian upbringing, as well as the ongoing, soul-deep tumult that makes his music resonate deeply with so many audiences.
“One man holds the world hostage / 'Cause he's afraid of his feelings / And he's a fraud when he's dealing / No telling what he’s concealing,” Moreland sings in his roughed-up velvety voice on “One Man Holds The World Hostage,” off his most recent album, Visitor. His is one of those voices that makes you feel as though maybe Moreland’s right next to you, singing in your ear about something only the two of you really understand.
“People ask me who it's about, they think it's a political thing, and I think it applies to that, but it's not meant to be a political song, and it truly is about me,” Moreland says of “One Man Holds The World Hostage.” “I wanted it to sound like I'm singing about some asshole, because it was the first time I was being real with myself about the less than cool shit that I'm capable of, and that I think everyone is capable of.”
Photo: Brian Harrington | Western AF
Moreland writes extremely personal-sounding ruminations on life and can deliver hard truth in the space of a lyric couplet. “So we’re covered up in fiction chasing something too / but darlin’ damn the luck and damn the consequences, too,” he sings on “Cleveland County Blues,” off 2015’s High on Tulsa Heat; and on 2017’s Big Bad Luv he doubles down in “Old Wounds”: “Love’s a violent word, don’t you forget it / I ain’t saying that you ever could.”
“Something I'm learning in general is that it's okay to have my own feelings and needs,” he says.
Moreland was born in Texas and spent many of his formative years in Burlington, KY, but when he was 10 years old, his parents moved the family to Tulsa, OK. Uprooted from everything he knew, the young Moreland didn’t understand it was okay to be unhappy about the change, and only recently started to reckon with that monumental shift in his life. “I think that move is maybe where my loner, weirdo, depression and anxiety shit started, which is where the songwriting comes from, I guess; maybe it's kind of a blessing,” he says.
In Tulsa, Moreland turned to the guitar, an activity he could do by himself, playing first his dad’s 1951 00-18 Martin, and then his own cheap guitar ordered from the Sears catalog. His dad played classic 1960s and 1970s rock around the house, and as a teenager Moreland discovered the alternative radio stations, absorbing Green Day, Weezer, Smashing Pumpkins, and then Rancid and Social Distortion. And he started writing his own songs.
“At first it was just like, ‘I want to play music, and I need songs.’ So I did it. And then it became gradually ‘I think this helps me, and means a lot to me, and is a good outlet,” Moreland says.
One foot out the door into the hardcore music DIY scene, Moreland squeaked through high school graduation and started playing music seriously. Only after all his bands had broken up a few years later, did he try community college. He regretted it almost immediately. Miserable, Moreland realized all he wanted to do was play music, and that if he didn’t make a go of it solo he’d always regret it.
Moreland released his first album in 2011. Though he’d mostly burned out on hardcore music’s anger, Moreland’s Earthbound Blues retains some of the swagger and looseness of hardcore. “I just didn't want to be known as the sad folk dude…I didn't want to be another fucking acoustic white guy,” Moreland says. Both brash and thoughtful, Moreland’s first few albums, In The Throws, High on Tulsa Heat, and Big Bad Luv all blended introspective songwriting into a bold sound. By the time he wrote 2020’s LP5 and 2022’s electronic-tinged Birds in the Ceiling, the era of the sad folk dude had faded a bit, allowing Moreland’s elevated self-reflections to shine.
“I just want to let my psyche vomit. And I think that is what I do, and it ends up being relatable and meaningful to people somehow,” Moreland says. “The kind of songs I prefer — even as a listener as well — are maybe more lyrically abstract.”
“I just want to let my psyche vomit. And I think that is what I do, and it ends up being relatable and meaningful to people somehow,” Moreland says. “The kind of songs I prefer — even as a listener as well — are maybe more lyrically abstract.”
But popularity and external success don’t equate to happiness. And Moreland found he dreaded tours. Everything felt too big: too many people on his crew and team, too many concerts and tours, and too many musicians playing with him. So he quit. For a year he stopped playing out (a luxury he’s aware not everyone has) and turned off his smart phone for six months. He journaled, attended 12-step meetings for co-dependence, hung out with his wife, went for long drives, listened a lot to jazz pianist Keith Jarrett, and he wrote songs.
Photo: Brian Harrington | Western AF
Writing 2024’s Visitor disconnected from the noise of the world, Moreland’s psyche spewed freely, resulting in his most lyrically abstract, stripped-down, and thought-provoking album to date. Visitor begins with “The Future is Coming Fast,” a finger-picked reflection on the cyclical nature of the world’s troubles. Next, on “Gentle Violence,” he sings about the generational and cultural disconnect he sees in his life and in the world. On “Silver Silver,” captured field-recording style live in the country, he lays out the ways technology impedes creativity. And later on the album with “No Time,” Moreland finally wrote a happy love song: “The clock will surely fall / empires all will fall / my love for you is everlasting.”
The recalibration before Visitor worked. Moreland’s signature vignettes are tinged with a new sense of self-worth. And even though he’s returned to performing and using his smartphone, he’s able to be much more intentional, he says. Operating with a bare-bones team, he’s more excited to tour than he has been in a decade, and looking forward to recording another studio album, and maybe even a full live record.
Still, though he’s content, Moreland is keeping one eye on the way the world turns. He ends Visitor with the album’s title track, which feels like a philosophy for life going forward. “Times are anything but kind / I've been dreaming like there's something there of meaning I could find,” he sings reminding the listener of life’s inherent transience. “But lost and found, 'round and 'round I go / Doing every bit I can with what little bit I know / I am a visitor.”
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