It's 2009. A 21-year-old Andy Shauf sits on the set of Stripped Down, a local music program based in his native Saskatchewan. He's hiding behind a guitar with three words engraved on it: "Jesus Never Fails." Through long, shaggy hair and nervous laughter, he explains how he's trying to write himself out of the love song category. "But I keep writing love songs," he shrugs.
It's a snapshot that stands in stark contrast to the 35-year-old singer-songwriter who speaks with Exclaim! on the heels of the first two dates of his latest North American tour. This Andy Shauf has seven solo albums under his belt. His music has been shortlisted for the Polaris Prize and his songwriting has earned the recognition of Barack Obama, Jeff Tweedy and Randy Newman, among others. He may still shrug off a statement here and there, but he holds a uniquely calm conviction. And as for that "Jesus Never Fails" messaging, though the guitar was his grandfather's, Shauf has long since parted ways with his Christian roots.
By today's standards, Andy Shauf is something of a music industry unicorn. Successful but elusive. Prolific but private. If you type an artist's name into Google, more often than not, something personal populates the suggested searches: "Billie Eilish boyfriend," perhaps, or "Phoebe Bridgers Bo Burnham." It's a reminder of how much the line between the personal and public has been blurred to a point of near-extinction for artists big and small. It's an accepted and bemoaned reality of the music industry ecosystem — one that many artists participate in actively, serving up their personal lives on a digital platter.
This has made the club of elusive artists an ever-shrinking one, and Shauf is happy to be a part of it.
"I like the separation between the person and what they've made," he says over the phone, speaking with a soft sincerity that comes through in conversation as much as it does through his music.
Shauf appreciates mystery from the artists he admires, and he has achieved the same for himself. If you want to know what the singer-songwriter is up to, you'd have better luck wandering the streets of Toronto's Parkdale neighbourhood, where his home and studio are located, than perusing online. While other artists share updates on what's for breakfast and who's for dessert, Shauf's social media accounts operate like a need-to-know bulletin: tour dates, single releases, video promos, repeat.
"Nobody needs to know what everybody is doing all the time," he tells Exclaim! "I ran into my friend on the street yesterday and we had a good catch up, and that's probably good for a couple of weeks."
Shauf's old-school sonic palette, a nuanced take on '70s-style storytelling à la Paul Simon and Randy Newman, mirrors an old soul mentality. He yearns for a pre-social media era with the perspective of someone far beyond his 35 years. "It's changed the community so much," he laments. "Everybody's interactions are so different now."
Shauf's apprehension around social media comes down to moderation — something the singer-songwriter says he has struggled with in a few areas of his life. During the pandemic, he quit drinking after acknowledging that it was negatively affecting his life. "I drank too much, and I couldn't figure out when to stop," he explains.
In the time since, he's been leaning into self-compassion — exchanging harmful habits for healthier ones. His days now include 30-minute yoga routines and early wake-up calls to replace the late nights. Most of the time, at least.
"I've been really trying to get into a place of being a little more kind to myself. So I think that's going to play a big role in the next year. Or forever," Shauf says.
But he hasn't completely cut the cord. "YouTube is my social media vice," he admits. When asked for a peek into his algorithm, Shauf cites Van Neistat, a 47-year-old artist whose most popular content includes videos like "The Reality of Owning a Vintage Truck," "3,597 days of sobriety" and "Essential Travel Packing Tips."
"He's a really positive person, and he kind of just gets shit done, and I like to see it," Shauf explains. "It's super weird though. He rips around on this motorized longboard and it's like, I don't know if we'd be friends. But I like his energy."
As much as creating this distance can be healthy for an artist, elusiveness can be bad for business. Familiarity breeds loyalty, engagement and exposure. If you're not top-of-mind, you risk getting pushed to the back of the line. It's curious and unusual that Shauf has managed to build a decade-plus-long career on his own terms.
"I have been very fortunate to have been sort of grandfathered in," Shauf laughs, puzzled at his own ability to draw in new fans and retain old ones, all without adopting the industry's paint-by-numbers approach to self-promotion.
That being said, pressure from within the industry is mounting for him to build more of an online presence, so he's been brainstorming ways that he can do that without abandoning himself in the process. Might we expect an Andy Shauf TikTok account in 2023?
"You never know," he teases.
In a way, Shauf has built a career out of furthering the divide between himself and his music. He's gained esteem for his ability to craft conceptual albums centred around fictional characters and plotlines. Over the years, we've met Rose the bartender, Jerry the clerk and Judy the ex. We've peeked into the minds of tortured widows, unlawful teenagers and vengeful lovers. All the while, Andy Shauf has strategically faded into the background of his fictionalized universes.
The Saskatchewan-born artist credits Randy Newman for this approach. He once read a quote of Newman's about how songwriters should have the same freedom as short story writers. Whether you have 10 minutes, five minutes or two minutes, you should be able to weave a complete narrative within a song. Shauf was sold.
"This is a great way to not have to talk about myself or rehash my personal problems or include other people, who suddenly are feeling very awkward at my shows because they're my friends but I wrote a song about them," he reasons.
Even so, you'd be hard-pressed to find an interview where Shauf isn't asked how much of himself he puts into his characters. Don't these storylines reflect moments from his own life? Isn't every female character an alias of a woman he's dated? If you walk by Toronto's Skyline Restaurant, will you see him nursing a Pilsner with his fictional drinking buddy, Charlie? With a gentle assertion, Shauf wants to set the record straight.
"It's been written a lot that I write fictional songs but they're super close to my personal life," he says. "But it's never been like that."
As fans and critics, we often try to shrink the gap between subject and author. We want artists to be knowable, even if the assumptions we make about them are forced and flawed.
"There's this thing that happens where people, if they know my music, will come up to me and they'll kind of assume certain things about me like they know me. It's uncomfortable, because they're often like, 'Who's Judy?' and I'm like, 'Well, there isn't a Judy.'"
Being knowable to the public, on a personal level, might not rank on Shauf's priority list, but that doesn't mean he's closed off. He's quick to describe himself as shy within the first few minutes of conversation, but brings an earnestness to every question as if it's the first one he's been asked.
"It's not that I don't want to talk to people. I love when people ask questions," he explains. He just happens to favour some topics over others. If you ever run into him in the street, musical equipment is a safe conversational bet. "I'm a gear nerd," he admits.
Shauf is also happy to talk about his creative process, which is a notoriously rigorous one. Not only does he write his own lyrics and arrangements, he also self-produces and performs every instrument himself. The next time you listen to an Andy Shauf track, he's the one you hear on the clarinet, behind the drums, on vocals and at the guitar.
Try as people may to pull back the curtain on Shauf's personal life, the gulf between himself and his characters has never been wider than on his latest studio album, Norm. Named after the album's central character, an infatuated stalker, Norm interrogates the sometimes-sinister ways that love can be misunderstood and misguided. Amidst textured, jazz-influenced grooves, Shauf masterfully builds a narrative that evolves from romantic to delusional.
The singer-songwriter presents listeners with a challenge: "[Norm] is introduced very slowly in a sort of disguised, concealed way, and the music is really sweet. Whether or not you pick up on what's happening depends on whether or not you're listening and if you're paying attention."
The album develops like a mini true crime series, perhaps a nod to Shauf's own love for the genre. While Norm is described as the type of guy who drifts in and out of consciousness on his couch with The Price Is Right blaring in the background, Forensic Files is more likely to be streaming in Shauf's living room. "I'll just watch those all day."
Shauf's sense of humour is an under-acknowledged aspect of both his writing and public persona. In conversation, he brings a blink-and-you-might-miss-it dry wit. "Everything is just a little bit absurd. I think if you're going to write about anything and you miss the humour in it, there's not really a human element to it."
That humour comes through in the way he incorporates God as a narrator throughout Norm. After spending pandemic days reading Bible stories in his studio, Shauf started wondering what might happen if the narratives were flipped: what if we heard these stories from God's perspective instead? That seed evolved into his first single, "Wasted on You" — the video for which involves a cartoonish God speaking to Jesus about whether his love is underappreciated by the mortals below. (Shauf makes a cameo in the video as heaven's janitor, perhaps a nod to his own janitorial career during his days making 2016's critically acclaimed The Party.)
Shauf grew up religious. He was born in Estevan, SK, where he attended Christian school and first cut his teeth as a drummer in Christian worship bands. He's candid about his own reservations with religion, which contributed to his decision to leave the Church in his early 20s: Why does one person suffer and another person doesn't? Why does God ignore certain people and allow other evil people to prosper in His name? He lists off a series of existential questions in the way you might recite a grocery list.
Someone who spent two decades in the Church could understandably grant himself some authority on religious critique, but Shauf dismisses his views as "basic" and over-simplified. He insists that he's not trying to make grand statements about faith or the faithful with his music. He'd rather leave that to the theologians and believers.
Over a decade into his career, Shauf has marked off many items from the industry's success bingo card: late-night TV show appearances, international tours, accolades and endorsements from music legends. The singer-songwriter has historically adopted a "lucky to be here" attitude, but he now seems to be taking more ownership of where his talent has gotten him. He's found his stride, even if he's still trying to figure out what success means to him in the long run.
"I'm aging, and there's a thought in my mind, like, 'Hey man — you don't have any savings and you don't have any backup plan,'" the 35-year-old acknowledges. "The support won't always be there, you know, so you just kind of hope that at some point, you can get a leg up and be able to take it easy if you have to."
For Shauf, humour helps the uncertainty go down a bit smoother.
"I think the real goal is that you want to live like a successful dentist," he suggests, citing the idea from one of Neistat's YouTube videos.
"Whether or not I'm still doing this at 50 and living in a little apartment, that'll still be the goal."
It's a snapshot that stands in stark contrast to the 35-year-old singer-songwriter who speaks with Exclaim! on the heels of the first two dates of his latest North American tour. This Andy Shauf has seven solo albums under his belt. His music has been shortlisted for the Polaris Prize and his songwriting has earned the recognition of Barack Obama, Jeff Tweedy and Randy Newman, among others. He may still shrug off a statement here and there, but he holds a uniquely calm conviction. And as for that "Jesus Never Fails" messaging, though the guitar was his grandfather's, Shauf has long since parted ways with his Christian roots.
By today's standards, Andy Shauf is something of a music industry unicorn. Successful but elusive. Prolific but private. If you type an artist's name into Google, more often than not, something personal populates the suggested searches: "Billie Eilish boyfriend," perhaps, or "Phoebe Bridgers Bo Burnham." It's a reminder of how much the line between the personal and public has been blurred to a point of near-extinction for artists big and small. It's an accepted and bemoaned reality of the music industry ecosystem — one that many artists participate in actively, serving up their personal lives on a digital platter.
This has made the club of elusive artists an ever-shrinking one, and Shauf is happy to be a part of it.
"I like the separation between the person and what they've made," he says over the phone, speaking with a soft sincerity that comes through in conversation as much as it does through his music.
Shauf appreciates mystery from the artists he admires, and he has achieved the same for himself. If you want to know what the singer-songwriter is up to, you'd have better luck wandering the streets of Toronto's Parkdale neighbourhood, where his home and studio are located, than perusing online. While other artists share updates on what's for breakfast and who's for dessert, Shauf's social media accounts operate like a need-to-know bulletin: tour dates, single releases, video promos, repeat.
"Nobody needs to know what everybody is doing all the time," he tells Exclaim! "I ran into my friend on the street yesterday and we had a good catch up, and that's probably good for a couple of weeks."
Shauf's old-school sonic palette, a nuanced take on '70s-style storytelling à la Paul Simon and Randy Newman, mirrors an old soul mentality. He yearns for a pre-social media era with the perspective of someone far beyond his 35 years. "It's changed the community so much," he laments. "Everybody's interactions are so different now."
Shauf's apprehension around social media comes down to moderation — something the singer-songwriter says he has struggled with in a few areas of his life. During the pandemic, he quit drinking after acknowledging that it was negatively affecting his life. "I drank too much, and I couldn't figure out when to stop," he explains.
In the time since, he's been leaning into self-compassion — exchanging harmful habits for healthier ones. His days now include 30-minute yoga routines and early wake-up calls to replace the late nights. Most of the time, at least.
"I've been really trying to get into a place of being a little more kind to myself. So I think that's going to play a big role in the next year. Or forever," Shauf says.
But he hasn't completely cut the cord. "YouTube is my social media vice," he admits. When asked for a peek into his algorithm, Shauf cites Van Neistat, a 47-year-old artist whose most popular content includes videos like "The Reality of Owning a Vintage Truck," "3,597 days of sobriety" and "Essential Travel Packing Tips."
"He's a really positive person, and he kind of just gets shit done, and I like to see it," Shauf explains. "It's super weird though. He rips around on this motorized longboard and it's like, I don't know if we'd be friends. But I like his energy."
As much as creating this distance can be healthy for an artist, elusiveness can be bad for business. Familiarity breeds loyalty, engagement and exposure. If you're not top-of-mind, you risk getting pushed to the back of the line. It's curious and unusual that Shauf has managed to build a decade-plus-long career on his own terms.
"I have been very fortunate to have been sort of grandfathered in," Shauf laughs, puzzled at his own ability to draw in new fans and retain old ones, all without adopting the industry's paint-by-numbers approach to self-promotion.
That being said, pressure from within the industry is mounting for him to build more of an online presence, so he's been brainstorming ways that he can do that without abandoning himself in the process. Might we expect an Andy Shauf TikTok account in 2023?
"You never know," he teases.
In a way, Shauf has built a career out of furthering the divide between himself and his music. He's gained esteem for his ability to craft conceptual albums centred around fictional characters and plotlines. Over the years, we've met Rose the bartender, Jerry the clerk and Judy the ex. We've peeked into the minds of tortured widows, unlawful teenagers and vengeful lovers. All the while, Andy Shauf has strategically faded into the background of his fictionalized universes.
The Saskatchewan-born artist credits Randy Newman for this approach. He once read a quote of Newman's about how songwriters should have the same freedom as short story writers. Whether you have 10 minutes, five minutes or two minutes, you should be able to weave a complete narrative within a song. Shauf was sold.
"This is a great way to not have to talk about myself or rehash my personal problems or include other people, who suddenly are feeling very awkward at my shows because they're my friends but I wrote a song about them," he reasons.
Even so, you'd be hard-pressed to find an interview where Shauf isn't asked how much of himself he puts into his characters. Don't these storylines reflect moments from his own life? Isn't every female character an alias of a woman he's dated? If you walk by Toronto's Skyline Restaurant, will you see him nursing a Pilsner with his fictional drinking buddy, Charlie? With a gentle assertion, Shauf wants to set the record straight.
"It's been written a lot that I write fictional songs but they're super close to my personal life," he says. "But it's never been like that."
As fans and critics, we often try to shrink the gap between subject and author. We want artists to be knowable, even if the assumptions we make about them are forced and flawed.
"There's this thing that happens where people, if they know my music, will come up to me and they'll kind of assume certain things about me like they know me. It's uncomfortable, because they're often like, 'Who's Judy?' and I'm like, 'Well, there isn't a Judy.'"
Being knowable to the public, on a personal level, might not rank on Shauf's priority list, but that doesn't mean he's closed off. He's quick to describe himself as shy within the first few minutes of conversation, but brings an earnestness to every question as if it's the first one he's been asked.
"It's not that I don't want to talk to people. I love when people ask questions," he explains. He just happens to favour some topics over others. If you ever run into him in the street, musical equipment is a safe conversational bet. "I'm a gear nerd," he admits.
Shauf is also happy to talk about his creative process, which is a notoriously rigorous one. Not only does he write his own lyrics and arrangements, he also self-produces and performs every instrument himself. The next time you listen to an Andy Shauf track, he's the one you hear on the clarinet, behind the drums, on vocals and at the guitar.
Try as people may to pull back the curtain on Shauf's personal life, the gulf between himself and his characters has never been wider than on his latest studio album, Norm. Named after the album's central character, an infatuated stalker, Norm interrogates the sometimes-sinister ways that love can be misunderstood and misguided. Amidst textured, jazz-influenced grooves, Shauf masterfully builds a narrative that evolves from romantic to delusional.
The singer-songwriter presents listeners with a challenge: "[Norm] is introduced very slowly in a sort of disguised, concealed way, and the music is really sweet. Whether or not you pick up on what's happening depends on whether or not you're listening and if you're paying attention."
The album develops like a mini true crime series, perhaps a nod to Shauf's own love for the genre. While Norm is described as the type of guy who drifts in and out of consciousness on his couch with The Price Is Right blaring in the background, Forensic Files is more likely to be streaming in Shauf's living room. "I'll just watch those all day."
Shauf's sense of humour is an under-acknowledged aspect of both his writing and public persona. In conversation, he brings a blink-and-you-might-miss-it dry wit. "Everything is just a little bit absurd. I think if you're going to write about anything and you miss the humour in it, there's not really a human element to it."
That humour comes through in the way he incorporates God as a narrator throughout Norm. After spending pandemic days reading Bible stories in his studio, Shauf started wondering what might happen if the narratives were flipped: what if we heard these stories from God's perspective instead? That seed evolved into his first single, "Wasted on You" — the video for which involves a cartoonish God speaking to Jesus about whether his love is underappreciated by the mortals below. (Shauf makes a cameo in the video as heaven's janitor, perhaps a nod to his own janitorial career during his days making 2016's critically acclaimed The Party.)
Shauf grew up religious. He was born in Estevan, SK, where he attended Christian school and first cut his teeth as a drummer in Christian worship bands. He's candid about his own reservations with religion, which contributed to his decision to leave the Church in his early 20s: Why does one person suffer and another person doesn't? Why does God ignore certain people and allow other evil people to prosper in His name? He lists off a series of existential questions in the way you might recite a grocery list.
Someone who spent two decades in the Church could understandably grant himself some authority on religious critique, but Shauf dismisses his views as "basic" and over-simplified. He insists that he's not trying to make grand statements about faith or the faithful with his music. He'd rather leave that to the theologians and believers.
Over a decade into his career, Shauf has marked off many items from the industry's success bingo card: late-night TV show appearances, international tours, accolades and endorsements from music legends. The singer-songwriter has historically adopted a "lucky to be here" attitude, but he now seems to be taking more ownership of where his talent has gotten him. He's found his stride, even if he's still trying to figure out what success means to him in the long run.
"I'm aging, and there's a thought in my mind, like, 'Hey man — you don't have any savings and you don't have any backup plan,'" the 35-year-old acknowledges. "The support won't always be there, you know, so you just kind of hope that at some point, you can get a leg up and be able to take it easy if you have to."
For Shauf, humour helps the uncertainty go down a bit smoother.
"I think the real goal is that you want to live like a successful dentist," he suggests, citing the idea from one of Neistat's YouTube videos.
"Whether or not I'm still doing this at 50 and living in a little apartment, that'll still be the goal."
