Discovering the Folk Punk Sound of Lou Mace

Lou Mace exemplifies the best of Allston: angsty, queer and relentlessly creative. Since moving to Allston 4 years ago, he’s been opening up about mental health, relationships and support systems through his raw and humorous music. After moving from Virginia, then Brooklyn, then Portland (Maine, not Oregon) and New Haven, Connecticut, they feel more at home in Allston’s music scene than ever before.

I met Mace in Ringer Park, the “spiritual center of Allston,” according to Mace. With broken beer bottles and graffitied boulders scattered around, we met at the top of the park to talk about mental health, past relationships and more.

So how did you get started in music?

I got started writing music when I was 14, and just like every queer person ever, I started out on a ukulele, that’s just kind of a rite of passage. I feel like I wasn’t too serious about music for a while— it was a hobby for me. And then, when I was living in New Haven, I started volunteering at this sober open mic place called “Musical intervention,” and I started writing more music there, and they do a lot of production work for the community there as well. No one’s turned away for lack of funds. It’s a super great community space. And I just started feeling a part of a community with music there and that was really huge for me.

When I came here, I ended up finding out I was working in mental health as a peer specialist, which is a job in which people use their own lived experience with experiencing mental health issues to aid others in their own path to recovery. It’s a really beautiful mutual support network. And I found out there was this org called Tunefoolery that was for musicians in mental health recovery, and so I started getting paid to perform for them and run songwriting workshops at the women’s shelter and perform at hospitals, and then performing just kind of went from there.

I started finding people to play with me in a band, I started learning more about venues in the area and making friends and, yeah, just gone from there.

At one point, you moved from Virginia, then Portland, New Haven, Brooklyn and Boston. What prompted all those moves?

Gosh, what prompted all the moves? Being restless and having bipolar disorder. I’m very open about my mental health on my social media. I use it as a place of advocacy, so I do not mind talking about that. Sometimes I used to be in a place for too long, I would feel too restless, I would feel like I was in a cage and I just needed to move on. It would all happen very quickly; be a very sudden move. I’m so glad that my mom has always been there to just like, get me to the next place, get me settled, because she understands what that’s like for me. Nowhere has ever felt just right until Boston and until the Allston-Brighton area.

You mentioned how open you are about your mental health struggles. What prompted you to really start speaking about it and tie it to the EP?

I was prompted to be open about it, because of the work I do, music is very connected to mental health for me, it’s what keeps me Well, it’s an outlet for me. You know, if I’m feeling more heightened and excited, it’s like the best way for me to get out that pent up energy. Same thing for anger. I feel like I can pretty much put any emotion into the songs that I’m writing, and I often write when I’m having these spurts.

The latest EP I recorded that’s coming out on the 21st of this month is called “I recorded in one take on my porch during a manic episode,” and it is exactly that. It’s a live EP, so some of my vocal takes aren’t the best. I have some interludes in there where I’m saying some no filter shit and it has a bit of a silly vibe, but those songs do mean a lot to me. I wanted to portray it in a seethingly accurate way, I suppose. I also wanted to do it in an authentic way, like not just use “manic episode” as like a drawing point for someone who might be like, “ooh, this looks sensationalized,” but actually go in depth on the demystification and destigmatization of bipolar disorder.

Your music is full of angst, frustrations, love and, at times, humor too. What is your songwriting process like? 

I wish that I was a songwriter where I could decide that I want to write a song and sit down and do it that never happens for me. I have to be really angry or really confused or sad in order to write. I’ll be walking down the street usually, because that’s my favorite thing to do when I’m stimming and I’ll get out my phone and I’ll start recording a voice memo, and it just kind of comes out of nowhere. I’ll just start singing a melody, and then when I like it, I’m starting to sprint home so I can get my guitar from wherever I am.

I’m a comedian at heart. I also like to make people that piss me off mad. That’s why sometimes there are some tongue in cheek comments or lines alluding to the ridiculousness of folks who have treated me not the best. I feel like specificity and vulnerability helps people who are listening relate more.

A lot of your songs do sound like you’re talking about past relationships. I’m curious, have your exes ever listened to your music?

Shoutout my ex that I recently became friends with again because of one of my songs! 

I wrote Lance Armstrong, which is a really mean song, about one of my exes, and it was about other people as well— just like different relationships in which I’ve experienced. I think this person was a little shitty, but just kind of got caught in the crossfire of those other comments I was making in the song, and there were very specific references to them in there. They once said to me about someone who they were lying about also being in a relationship with. They said “Are we together? Are we not together? The truth is like Schrodinger’s cat, it doesn’t exist.” And so that was kind of the inspiring line for Lance Armstrong

They definitely knew it was about them, and I decided to give them a call and let them know that I was open to reconciling and talking. And we ended up having a great conversation and both apologizing to each other and both taking accountability. So my silly like folk-punky diss track actually created a friendship reunion of some sort.

You’ve been using the roll out of the EP to fundraise for a family in Gaza. Where does music and politics intersect for you?

I think music and politics are inherently intertwined. I definitely vary by genre a lot, but I primarily write folk music, and I feel that that is an inherently political genre that is for the people, that is for the working class, that is for folks who are underprivileged, marginalized, and so if you’re writing music in that genre, or in punk or in hardcore, and you’re not actually politically active, and standing on business behind everything those genres stand for, then, what are you standing on guys? You’re just making music? Itt has to be about community as well.

I’ve been talking to Osama (family in Gaza) for a while, and I just wanted to do something that could make more of an impact and be able to donate more money to him than I’m able to give on my own. I was excited to kind of link the Bandcamp release to his family’s Chuffed account to get some more funds in there. So now every time someone buys the EP on Bandcamp, that’s all going to him and his family. I’m definitely inspired by other artists who have done the same thing and who have pioneered that effort to be like, “it’s Bandcamp Friday. Let’s make this a fundraiser.” I’m so glad so many artists are doing that.

What sorts of artists have not only inspired your music, but also the way you carry yourself through your art?

Definitely Alanis Morissette. When I was a kid, I was listening to “Jagged Little Pill,” and then later on, the musical version of “Jagged Little Pill.” I’m a theater kid at heart. Anyone who meets me can tell right away, I get clocked. So it is my dream to write an album that is then turned into a musical. I just admire her so much that “You Oughta Know” was a really important song to me when I was going through a breakup.

In terms of, kind of, like the funny, folky stuff that I do, I really love Lucille Bogan, who is an artist from a long time ago, she is an amazing musician, and she’s super blunt in her lyricism, and very tongue in cheek, very comedic, and she is just enchanting to listen to.. Indie rock bands that I really liked growing up were Radiator Hospital and Rainbow Kitten Surprise, those were really huge influences for me as well. Someone that I’m inspired by currently, I would say, is June Henry.

You’re using art to tell your story as a queer person. How important is expressing your queer identity through your work?

I’m gonna be honest, some of the songs that I’ve written about being queer and being trans, I haven’t released clips of online yet, nor will they be on the new EP, because they’re important to me. My identity is ever evolving and ever changing, as it is for many people in their 20s, so I’m keeping those ones a bit to myself. Because I do drop them, I want [people to] pay attention to that.

My favorite thing to do is perform and play with other trans and queer artists. I mentioned Dumbest Fella Alive, my friend Sarika as well. I’ve always loved collaborating with them, because they’ve always understood me and my queerness. If I show up to a show and I’m wearing a dress and I drew a mustache on, that’s part of the course. No matter how I dress, no matter how I look, they’re always calling me dude. I just feel so affirmed by my community and my circle. I feel so lucky to have them.

At the end of “Sea Glass,” you yelled out and said, “oh God, you understand me!” When it comes to relationships, do you feel like your music helps you learn about love and relationships?

When I have a feeling about someone that I can’t identify, or I have a question, I’m often doing Tarot reading, oracle cards, writing in my journal, lighting some candles or writing a song. And I often find that I discover things about myself and how I feel about others in my life through songwriting. When I was writing “Sea Glass,” seeing it a lot longer, actually, over and over again when I was writing it like, It’s scary how you don’t understand me. And then when I finished at the end, I realized, like, Oh no, they do understand me. This is terrifying! That’s why I’m so scared about this. Through writing, I came to that realization.

I’ve also written about relationships I was unsure about before. For example, there was one time I thought I was in love with this person, and then I realized that the lyrics I was writing about them had these interesting metaphors about sort of wearing a heavy suit of armor or walking on rocks barefoot. And I was like, these things actually don’t sound comfortable or safe or nice, like, am I actually in love with this person? This kind of sounds more painful than anything else, and so it really helped me process that, you know, maybe there were some more boundaries I needed to set in this relationship, or some more things I needed to ask.

What does the future look like for you?

This summer, I’m going on my first ever tour in August with my friend, Dumbest Fella Alive, and we’re going to a bunch of different places I’ve never been before, and we’re finding lots of cool places to play and lots of awesome bands to play with. Definitely stay tuned for the tour announcements. I just put my three biggest dreams on my Instagram story last night to set the intention. My first dream is that I will become famous enough as an artist that I can drop an EP on Bandcamp only, and in a day, I could raise funds to evacuate a family from Gaza or some equivalent act. Another thing I want to do is open some sort of music oriented peer respite, just like a care center. And then my [third] dream is that I would love to open a real life venue to support small artists and actors and people who do visual art and comedians and all that jazz. So those are things that I’m really aiming to do with writing and the work I love. I just hope they keep performing and putting out stuff people like.