With his second album, ‘AudioLust & HigherLove’, SG Lewis stepped into his next evolution as an artist. Speaking to Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs, he reflects on all the ways he stretched his comfort zone to get there.

A songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, singer and in-demand producer, SG Lewis has worked with everyone from Elton John to Robyn, Clairo, Khalid and Dua Lipa. On his own music, SG has racked up a whopping 1.4 billion streams (and counting). One taste of his technicolour, synth-sweeping songs and you’ll understand why.

 

After his successful disco-influenced debut record times landed in February 2021, Sam set off on his most expansive US tour to date, selling 50,000 tickets with a landmark headline show at LA’s famous Greek Theatre. Next March, he will bring the live experience to nine cities across the UK and Europe.

 

When we caught up with the artist back in July, he revealed that his sophomore album AudioLust & HigherLove would begin a new era for his music, broadening his horizons in directions we have never seen him explore before. Sam has most certainly delivered on his word. Slick, refined and yet still adventurous, while some artists may fear the curse of the second album slump, there’s no duds to be found here.

Not one to mess around, Sam began work on AudioLust & HigherLove almost as soon as he had wrapped times. As most of the writing and recording period happened during the pandemic, album two is naturally more introspective than his first offering, drawing on his own experience and emotions. Comprising two worlds sonically, the record explores the distinction between lust and love in relationships — how the two feelings blur into and differ from one another.

 

Not only that, but AudioLust & HigherLove is also testament to Sam evolving and maturing as an artist. Day one fans will recognise the journey he has been on in terms of vocals — at the beginning of his career, his releases were almost all instrumental or featured guest vocalists. Now, after a period of growth where Sam has been able to experiment freely, he has actualised the artist he wants to become. The result is a record that is untethered to one genre, dancing between new wave, yacht rock, dance and pop, with his own voice holding a strong presence throughout.

 

Though the album boasts features from the likes of Tove Lo, Ty Dolla $ign and Lucky Daye, it’s Sam’s close working relationship with artist, producer and long-time collaborator Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs (TEED, or Orlando to those who know him), that has really shaped the album. Sitting down to chat about their creative process, Sam delves into his development as an artist, overcoming on-stage battles with imposter syndrome, and finding balance in his vision for the future.

TEED: When we started talking about this album, you had a fairly strong concept and vision for it. Has it ended up being that?

SG LEWIS: Yeah. The whole concept was exploring lust vs love in relationships — how these two differing versions of love and romance can bleed into each other and be confused with one another.

T: And now, have you learnt something from that?

SG: It’s about one of them being destructive and toxic in its nature, and those emotions tending to become addictive, rushy, egocentric and self-serving versions of romantic relationships. Rather than it being about someone else, it’s more about this internal, self-destructive behaviour pattern versus a more actualised, fulfilled version of love that my current situation has made me feel.

T: Woah, don’t get too personal! When we were working on stuff together, the category the music would fall into would appear fairly fast in the creative process. It would be in that first magic hour. Is that the case?

SG: Yeah, absolutely. The reason I wanted to explore those two different worlds is because they have two very clear sonic characteristics to me. The lyrics followed the feeling, as it always does in my music. It tends to be feeling first over lyrics first. I could distinguish these two different feelings, these two different worlds, and categorise them. When we were working on music, it was clear which side of the album the music would exist in. There was a feeling that represented that rush and intensity, versus a feeling that represented that openness and warmth.

T: There’s a nice thing here that I get to experience, which is that as much as you communicate a lot with me in the studio, I’m aware there’s more you’re keeping to yourself and you’re playing within your head before you tell me. There’s an internal creative monologue going on. I don’t know what’s going on in there, but there is a lot going on. Then there’s that little bit that drips down to me.

SG: Something that I wanted to try with this album, which I found uncomfortable at points, was writing from a more internalised perspective. It’s hardly that they’re soul-bearing ballads, but perhaps there’s slightly more of me in the songs. Just from singing more as well. To turn the question on you, how have you found that? I’d say your most recent album is more soul-bearing than the first record. Did you find that more uncomfortable in the promo of the album?

T: There’s a nice thing here that I get to experience, which is that as much as you communicate a lot with me in the studio, I’m aware there’s more you’re keeping to yourself and you’re playing with in your head before you tell me. There’s an internal creative monologue going on. I don’t know what’s going on in there, but there is a lot going on. Then there’s that little bit that drips down to me.

SG: Something that I wanted to try with this album, which I found uncomfortable at points, was writing from a more internalised perspective. It’s hardly that they’re soul-bearing ballads, but perhaps there’s slightly more of me in the songs. Just from singing more as well. To turn the question on you, how have you found that? I’d say your most recent album is more soul-bearing than the first record. Did you find that more uncomfortable in the promo of the album?

T: The thing with my record is it took me so unbelievably long that I went through that on my own long before it actually came out. In 2014 I was thinking about putting out songs that were just me and a piano, and that felt like I was stepping into the unknown and like a major leap for me. By the time I got this album out, in my own perception of myself, I’d long overcome that. Your time in-between records wasn’t that long, and I know that you’ve been working the whole time. It hasn’t stopped. I think the change for you is sharper.

SG: I guess that transition has felt sharper for me. Even as the album rolls out, I’m becoming more OK with it. When people have an interest in what the song’s about or where it comes from, at first I was like, ‘Woah, this is uncomfortable’.

T: Why is it uncomfortable?

SG: Because it’s easier to talk about other people rather than myself. I’d rather point to other things.

T: Yeah, but why?

SG: I don’t know. There’s people that enjoy sharing and putting their emotions on display. I think I’ve learnt, perhaps, that I’m not. Maybe it’s an expensive course of therapy to find out why.

T: We’ve talked about this privately, but we’re hyper-aware of the artists that crave attention and overshare for online clout. Obviously the majority of people aren’t like that, but there’s a loud contingent of artists who are.

SG: Yeah, and we now exist in a world where people are rewarded for oversharing, with likes and engagement triggering a dopamine reaction. That’s addictive for a certain kind of personality. I think I have discovered I don’t desire that or crave it in any way.

T: That’s great. Moving away from the album, I haven’t seen your new show. What’s your routine when you get off stage?

SG: That’s such a good question. Playing live, it’s like an internal battle against your own imposter syndrome. It became strange to me that I’d come off stage one night — it would be a big show, a sold-out crowd — feeling weird, like there hadn’t been a connection. And then I’d come off another night, where there was a half-sold audience in a nothing town, and I’d feel like something really happened there. I said to Max, who plays bass in the band, ‘We’re playing the same setlist every night. What makes those shows different?’ And he said, ‘I think it’s you. It’s those microreactions in your body language. If you decide in the first three songs that everyone hates you and your shoulders shrug a bit, that back and forth of energy fizzles’. So to answer your question, if I build the idea in my head that they hate me…

T: You reflect that.

SG: Exactly. By the last three shows I spent a little longer taking it in. There’s no guarantee that you’re going to experience that again, especially after the pandemic and the cost of touring. To round up the question, some nights I would run from stage because I thought, ‘Oh god, they hate me, I don’t deserve to be up here’, and by the end I got to a healthier place and took it in.

T: I’m really happy with that answer and I experienced a similar thing on the tour I just did. You’re right. It’s those little microinteractions you have. There could be two or three moments where you catch eyes with a certain group in the crowd and you can see that they’re having a good time. If you smile with them, the whole audience sees that and it lifts them. It’s a funny position for me and you to be in, because we’re not entirely comfortable with that.

SG: Or you catch the eye of the partner who doesn’t know your music and got dragged along, or the person who wants you to play the one song you didn’t put in your setlist, and that can throw you.

T: We’ve talked about long-term careers in the music industry, and generally I’m the one who’s a bit doomy. You’re a little less doomy than me. In five years time, where do you think you’d like to be as SG Lewis, as Sam the musician?

SG: I’d like to be in the position where my career as an artist, writer and producer is more balanced in a way that is conducive to the lifestyle I want to live. I spent the majority of my 20s with this gung-ho, yes to everything attitude, which is a lifestyle that makes a lot of amazing memories. But I remember speaking to you once — I was talking about how I was going to a festival or a party and I wasn’t going to sleep — and you were laughing, like, ‘You do know you’re not going to be able to do this forever?’ Even in the last couple of years, I’ve noticed that you were right. Those things become harder to do, harder to bounce back from. Less appealing, less fulfilling.

T: Less benefits, eventually.

SG: I’d like to be writing and producing for artists in a situation that allows me to be in one place more often. I’d like to still be releasing music, but I’d like to have more ownership of that music. I’d like to own my music and see what that feels like.

T: It feels good, by the way.

SG: Yeah? I’d love to have various sources of income that mean all of my decisions can be made purely from an artistic standpoint. Just ‘What do I feel like doing? What feels good?’

T: Between the lines, you’re saying that you want to spend more time in the studio and want more balance.

SG: Yes, I think so. I love live music and I love shows, but a balance allows your relationship with those things to be healthier. You never want to be in a position where you’re rolling your eyes at a show; it’s something that you never want to take for granted. I’m scared for the future of live music right now because of the cost of it. It’s something that we’ve spoken about a lot. I hope that there’s a version of live touring in the future that’s more sustainable economically, and environmentally, too. Again, that ties into the ownership of music because there are these urban myths that you make your money from touring, but any live act will tell you right now that you lose money touring. To summarise, I’d love for my career to be successful enough in several different lanes to be given flexibility and freedom of choice.

T: You know what’s funny? I think probably all your fans, bar the ones that work in the music industry, would imagine that you have a pretty relaxed, comfortable life. That you don’t really have to worry about shit, you just turn up to shows and make hot tracks. And as musicians, we want that to be the truth. We don’t want music fans to be worried about us. We don’t want them to be feeling bad for us having to do all this shit, but it’s not that simple and it’s much harder.

SG: And as we both exist in a crossover between live and electronic music, we suffer from the Instagram DJ culture effect — which is the ‘I’m flying private and playing to 50,000 people every weekend’ Instagram thing. We’re all in this standoff of egos. No one’s posting their losses.

T: But it has changed over the past six months. We’ve had people writing about touring, even someone as successful as Lorde. There’s a lot of music fans that understand what’s going on there, so it does feel like these issues are opening up.

 

OK, we’ve only got three and a half minutes left. How long do you think our friendship is going to last? Do you think there’s a limit to it? Do you think we’ve got a couple of months? A couple of years? Or do you think we’re friends forever?

SG: The strange thing is I really think we’re going to keep doing this until we’re really old and really bitter with this industry. It’s become somewhat of an emotional support friendship for me.

T: Are we codependent?

SG: I’d like to think we’re stuck in this for the rest of eternity.

T: Well, if you don’t win a Grammy in the next four years, I’m probably going to start edging out of the situation. You won’t notice I’m gone; I’ll be so subtle.

SG: I think that’s a good note to end on. Thanks Orlando.

 

T: Ciao.

Stream ‘AudioLust & HigherLove’ in full below: