“A writer should speak with candor and truth no matter what they’re writing about, whether political or personal. That’s the writer’s obligation.”

Cuz I got Louie Rosen … or “Louis Rosen,” as he’s known to his many fans.

I’ve known Louie since we were kids in college back at the University of Illinois in Champaign/Urbana. I was a theater major; he was in music. He ultimately landed in New York; me, LA. We’ve stayed connected over the decades, and have been supporters of each other’s artistic endeavors from the get-go. He reads my books, listens to my music, I collect his albums and anytime Lou is playing at, say, Joe’s Pub in NYC or Davenport’s in Chicago, I’m there.

Louie’s list of compositions and albums is breathtaking in scope and creativity, his official bio stating, “Louis Rosen is a composer, lyricist, performer, author, guitarist, educator and Guggenheim Foundation Fellow in Music Composition, whose musical style fuses and juxtaposes classical, folk, jazz and popular styles.”

Given this impressive resume, and my lifelong appreciation of his myriad talents, I’m always delighted when Louie gives me an early listen to his latest work, as I was recently gifted with his just-released album, American Sunset.

To call it a “departure” is not exactly accurate. Though his milieu does tend to fall more in the songbook, theater, jazz arenas (he worked for years with vocalist, Capathia Jenkins; those albums are some of my favorites), his expansiveness as a composer is notable. Still, American Sunset veers hard and unvarnished into “protest” territory, and I gotta say; I am so here for it!

With twelve tracks (and a bonus thirteenth track), and Louie’s unique, evocative vocals interpreting the lyrics, it’s a profound musical statement. I’ll let the album description make the point:

“AMERICAN SUNSET is a twelve-song cycle—or if you’d prefer, concept album—that was mainly written between Election Day, November 5, 2024, and Inauguration Day, January 20, 2025. The album is both a personal and a political response to this unsettled and disturbing American epoch. It’s filled with the immediate intensity of the present, reflected in songs that are by turns dramatic, ironic, comic, and sometimes all of those at once. And AMERICAN SUNSET is a true cycle: while each track stands on its own, the personal narrative and political thematic connection of each song to the whole cycle is immediately clear when the work is listened to from start to finish.”

After doing just that, I had some questions for my friend, and invited him to (virtually) sit down with me and have a conversation about this epic work. He generously obliged.

LDW: Lou, you’ve delved into political issues before in your memoir/oral narrative, The South Side, which was about “white flight” on the south side of Chicago in the 1960’s and 1970’s, but have you ever written a musical album, a collection of songs, a song cycle, or, as the rocker in me likes to call it, a concept album, that’s as overtly political as American Sunset? And if this piece is unique in that focus, share a bit about what compelled you to do so.

LOUIS: No, never an entire album. The times never seemed to warrant it before, though there’s been something pointedly political—or some social commentary—on nearly every album, increasingly since the Bush/Cheney era through Trump, Part 1. But this moment is obviously different. The period between Election Day and Inauguration Day seemed to offer at least one new outrage per day, rhetorical or via the nominations of the many incompetent, unfit characters who were joining the administration. A response seemed more than warranted, it seemed necessary, if only to maintain my own sanity and equilibrium. And if writing helped me process this moment in time, I thought similarly-minded people might get something from listening.

And it was often fun to write. The songs flowed, music and lyrics; the more critical lyrics sometimes provided a pressure-valve-like release, occasionally made me laugh—and again, I thought if I responded that way, so might the listener. It’s enjoyable to write lines like “Look who we admire/scoundrels, megalomaniacs and billionaires”—I think it’s an accurate observation of the direction the culture has gone. I imagined the lyric and music to the darkly comic, “American Clown Car March,” for instance, as a new, contemporary national march. Again, enjoyable to write it, to express the frustration with our current situation in a way that Sousa couldn’t have.

LDW: At this highly polarized time in our country, when so many on the right think artists should “stay in their lane” (i.e., “shut the fuck up”), why do you think it’s essential that artists speak up, speak out; take a stand on the injustices we see unfolding before us daily?

LOUIS: The political right only thinks that artists should “stay in their lane” when they don’t agree with those particular artists. I haven’t heard anyone on the right mention that Kid Rock or Jon Voight should stay in their lanes. More to the point, artists don’t have a particular lane to stay in, so that’s a false argument. An artist’s lane is whatever path she or he chooses to travel down. (Had to highlight that. LDW).

Regarding the second part of your question: I actually don’t think it’s “essential that artists speak up … take a stand on the injustices…” etc. Artists should do what is true to their nature. Though I attend some protests, or volunteer for a candidate now and then, I always feel I fall seriously short on the activist end of the citizenship scale. But writing about the current chaos was something I could do; and was, in fact, compelled to do. As I suggested above, it was the best way for me to process the madness that was already unfolding in the days between the election and the inauguration; a way to discover, articulate, and share what I was thinking and feeling; to release a bit of the anger and frustration brought by the daily news cycle, and to talk to others who might find some solace or satisfaction in these ideas articulated in a nuanced fashion in song. We know that political and social commentary is an old tradition in music. Some of my favorite songs by some favorite songwriters fall into that category—sometimes those songs are subtle and complex, sometimes agitprop. I like both. I think both can be satisfying. I’m just carrying that tradition forward in my own manner.

LDW: One element of this concept album that I loved is its narrative arc: you not only vent (”American Sunset”), rage (”Last Things First”), and righteously ridicule (”American Clown Car March”), but you find moments for tenderness (”Candice and Me”) and almost wistful hope (”And Still I Sing”). As an artist myself, I often feel compelled to find that balance in what I write, to offer a glimmer of hope despite the outrages we’re all impacted by, and I wondered: was that a compelling impulse for you, too, as you wrote these songs and assembled this album?

LOUIS: Offering hope … I didn’t set out with that as a plan, but I’m not without hope, so it wouldn’t be honest to write a piece that is completely without it—though it seems to me that hope is parceled out in limited servings from different angles over the course of the piece.

For instance, “The Wheel Goes ‘Round” embraces the notion of karma, a hopeful notion; as you mentioned, “Candice and Me” (which is inspired by Voltaire’s Candide) finds a subtle hope in the embrace of what is real and true in the midst of treacherous times; “Life On Earth” is hopeful in that it’s a gentle meditation on the contradictions of living. Even the rage in “Last Things First” leads to something akin to a call-to-action.

You found the most hope in “And Still I Sing.” The song wasn’t planned, but in looking at the writing process, it seems inevitable. Songs often come in pairs. “And Still I Sing” was written in one sitting, the same day that “Run It Back” was completed. The rage and desperation of “Run It Back” seemed to require an answer, something of an antidote. The intention with “And Still I Sing” was to write a hymn, a song for carrying on “when everything feels broken,” which is a fundamentally hopeful notion. The music itself embodies that notion in that it’s actually a major key transformation of the main musical idea of the two darkest pieces in the cycle, “Executive Orders,” and “Elegy.” (“Elegy” actually came first—then the lyric idea, “And still I sing a song for you” to match the first musical phrase of “Elegy,” but now in the major key; and last came the score for “Executive Orders”). I had to understand who the “you” was that I would still sing for. Realizing that it was both the people I love, along with anyone who chose to listen, I knew that I had the conclusion of a larger cycle—which means I knew that I was ending the work on a hopeful note. That’s a long way of saying the conclusion was more discovered than planned.

LDW: I know when I write something overtly political, even controversial—whether an article, a song, a novel—I can expect pushback, anger; trolling. But conversely, and what most pleases me, is how so often people will write or comment with something like, “Thank you for putting into words what I think and feel,” one of the reasons I believe artists must speak with candor and truth. As an expansion on the first question, do you feel a similar obligation, specifically with this album, one that makes no bones about where you stand on these issues, pushback be damned, and gives voice to many who feel the same?

LOUIS: I think that a writer should speak with candor and truth no matter what they’re writing about, whether political or personal. That’s the writer’s obligation. One hopes that the response to the work will be what you suggested, “Thank you for putting into words (and/or music) what I think and feel.” And as we know, the separation between political and personal often gets blurry. But in this piece, there would really be no point in pulling punches. The work would have just ended up as weak tea. One can disagree with the point of view—the critique of the current American political and social culture—but you can’t claim the work doesn’t have one. And the most personal songs ground the work, allowing the cycle to be more than only a political piece.

LDW: And, lastly, given the dedicated fan base you’ve accrued over your career, one that’s been regaled with incredible music that isn’t, perhaps, as political and unvarnished as American Sunset, do you expect any pushback or, conversely, and more positively, to expand your audience to those who will appreciate the rage, the truth, the candor of your political stance?

LOUIS: You are very kind. I never have any idea how the work I offer will be embraced. I just try to write what interests me, and hope that since the subject interests me, there will be people who want to listen. I don’t think interest in this subject matter is unique to me, so I hope that, as intended, it might offer some solace of shared recognition, perhaps a couple of laughs, and maybe a brief infusion of tempered hope to both audiences familiar with my work and those who are new to it. I have no illusion that a song or musical piece ever really changed anyone’s mind. And we’re all so siloed these days. But a song can inspire. As I answer your questions, it’s clear to me that the work is fundamentally about observing the dangerous national chaos that we are in the midst of, and then trying to figure out how to carry on in the difficult face of it.

LOUIS: A few random thoughts: I’d venture to say that “Executive Orders” is one of the most original compositions that I’ve yet composed, and as the seventh of twelve tracks, really functions as the centerpiece of the cycle. Also, I was contemplating putting a liner note on my website, but it ended up less as commentary and more of a scenario of the story-like arc of the cycle. In case you’re interested, here it is:

AMERICAN SUNSET—Liner Notes:

The cycle is divided into two parts. The titles of the 12 songs offer a hint of the overall narrative:

PART ONE: Track 1, “American Sunset,” the title song, sets up the premise of the cycle in a both serious and ironic fashion. Track 2, “The Wheel Goes ‘Round,” is a jazzy, R & B inflected meditation on the inevitable confluence of life, politics and karma here on earth and beyond; while Track 3, “Tango for Charlie,” is the first of two instrumental elegies in the cycle – with this one an expression of loss on the more personal side of the ledger. Track 4, “American Clown Car March,” offers a darkly satirical perspective on a contemporary cast of political characters in the form of a new American national march. Track 5, “Candice and Me,” is the one love song in the cycle. While tipping its hat to Voltaire’s “Candide,” it reflects on what remains unchangingly essential in a time when all around seems madness. Part One concludes with Track 6, “Gulf of Mexico,” a tongue-in-cheek, joyous jazz-rocker that catches our narrator as he plots his escape from the current national craziness down to a place that many in government claim no longer exists.

PART TWO begins with Track 7, “Executive Orders”—in some ways the centerpiece of the cycle—a composition for piano solo (played brilliantly by Charity Wicks) and spoken voice, with the spoken part being a recitation of the dates and titles of selected Presidential Executive Orders issued between Inauguration Day, January 20, 2025 and July 2025. Track 8, “Life on Earth,” offers a moment’s respite from the intensity of “Executive Orders,” and a gentle meditation on the contradictions of living. But the respite is short-lived: Track 9, “Run It Back,” finds the narrator raging against an unnamed, but understood, enveloping and anxiety-producing chaos, while still seeking a way to carry on. Track 10, “Elegy,” is the second instrumental elegy in the cycle – this one a lament for the nation. The penultimate Track 11, “Last Things First,” finds the narrator still raging, but this time with a shade of raucousness, while also offering something akin to a call to action. The cycle concludes with Track 12, “And Still I Sing,” a song of hope expressed as a secular hymn that suggests a more personal way forward for this moment in our lives.

NOTE: A Bonus Track, “Executive Variations,” will be made available to those purchasing the album.

Lou, thank you for offering such thoughtful and thorough perspective on your latest work. As we’ve discussed, I, too, find music to be a seminal outlet for our most passionate expressions. Whether waxing on love, aching over heartbreak, or raging about politics and injustice, there’s something uniquely powerful about music—writing it, singing it, playing it, performing it—as a conduit of human emotion. Of commentary and utterance. Of demand and whimsy. You do it all so well. Thank you, my friend.

To access American Sunset, go to these links. (Spotify’s link automatically puts up a preview; just click the thumbnail and it’ll take you there.):

APPLE MUSIC

https://music.apple.com/us/album/american-sunset/1846186165

AMAZON MUSIC

https://music.amazon.in/albums/B0FW5DSV79

SPOTIFY:

 

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