Lamplight

Lamplight (aka Ian Hatcher-Williams) today shared his new single “Confrontation,” a song with a moody, meditative cadence that underscores its brooding theme. “‘Confrontation’ is an admission of guilt,” explains Hatcher-Williams of the track, out now alongside an abstract video. “Some settle conflicts with fire, exploding back in the direction it came from; I run from it. Friendships, relationships, jobs, confronting family history. Like tea stains spidering at the bottom of a porcelain cup, the liquid evaporates so slowly you don't get to observe it leaving. This song came out of reckoning with that - as scared as I am of those explosive moments, the alternative isn't better.” The single is the third from his forthcoming self-titled debut album–due out March 8, 2024 via Western Vinyl–following “House Rules” and “Call Your Mom,” which earned press attention from Stereogum, Brooklyn Vegan, Northern Transmissions, and more. Lamplight is now available for pre-order.

Lamplight has also announced an initial run of tour dates, beginning with a record release show at New York’s Mercury Lounge on March 5th. A current itinerary is below and more dates will be announced soon.

In the sway of a rural breeze, Hatcher-Williams’ vocals soothe and enchant the listener on Lamplight, which recounts his odyssey from a child raised in a Virginia cult, to a burned out tech worker in New York, and then back to Virginia, happily married to his childhood friend. Throughout the album, he explores identity as it relates to where a person is from and evolves with where they live, and how that facet of self is further compounded by the amount of agency one has over where they call home. To some extent, Lamplight is about learning when to take the reins, and when to let go—discovering what parts of yourself should be pruned, so new branches can grow.  

Though the album has moments that hint at the antique lace and creaking floorboards of traditional folk, Lamplight skews modern, in part thanks to producer Kevin Copeland's (Lightning Bug) deft production. Hatcher-Williams met Copeland while living in Brooklyn, and as they got to know each other, he revealed that he’d spent years playing in bands before his career took over his life. Copeland's encouragement, in tandem with the concurrent changes in Hatcher-Williams’ career and domestic life, gave him the confidence to revisit this part of himself that felt unfinished.

Much like a dream, these songs feel like rooms you recognize but can’t quite place, fragments of memories that you can’t pin down. There’s love but also panic attacks, realizations and reckonings, questionings alongside resignations, and confrontation as well as avoidance. By the end of the album, you get the sense that Hatcher-Williams has learned that he's not the dogma that over-promised and under-delivered, and he's not the youthful ambition that led him to the brink of self-destruction. He's a soft machine with limitations, improvising and adapting, seeking balance and a sense of place, just like everyone else.