When Paul Loren started writing new music in the spring of 2020, he didn’t intend the songs to signal a break from his past. In fact, there was nothing conscious or intentional about the writing at all. Perhaps that was the clearest indicator that this batch of songs would point the way to a new direction. With the 11-song collection “Betwixt,” released this fall, that new direction is firmly cemented as a clear pivot. “I started writing as an exercise. It was late March of 2020 and we were locked down in New York City. It was just something to fill in the schedule every day and keep my mind occupied. And maybe unintentionally it created a habit of sorts. It became my daily routine, just like making the bed or a cup coffee. I held myself accountable to showing up at the guitar and piano.” 

To paint a picture of that past, Paul’s pre-2020 output was ripe with mid-century American nostalgia and influence. Channeling the sounds of the records he loved growing up—Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons, Sam Cooke and Bobby Darin—his songs had a vocabulary that evoked the Brill Building, Sinatra and mid-60’s Soul music at its most effervescent. His sold-out live shows in New York City at famed venues like Joe’s Pub harkened back to Rat Pack-era nights at the Sands, dressed in a tailored tuxedo replete with a 10-piece band. With a cocktail in-hand, he offered audiences soaring notes and witty schtick in-between songs. Paul’s appearances in Las Vegas, at Jennifer Lopez’s birthday or on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon solidified the connection with (and his love of) traditional showbiz. His videos, album covers and photos depicted a fancy-free and smiling bon vivant, affectionally nicknamed “Mr. Leisurely” by his fans. The optimism and romance that embodied much of Paul’s song catalog, translated effortlessly into his high-flying career arch.

The new songs on “Betwixt,” while retaining his knack for melody and timeless songwriting chops, traffic in a depth and brutal honesty not found in his earlier material. Documenting both a world in turmoil and the heartbreaking end of a relationship, we’re offered a glimpse of a more confessional Paul Loren—one who maybe unknowingly, would shed the tailored tuxedo and witty schtick in favor of a more raw and real version of himself. And while the music details a life in transition, it never devolves into grimness. There’s an upbeat and groove-based thread that connects all the songs on the record, tying together the more profound lyrical territory with a blazing rhythm section that feels rearing and ready to hit the road again. There are nods to Sun Studios-era Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash and even Billy Joel—all a reminder that while he still may wear some of his influences on his sleeve, this music feels more contemporary than ever. There are hints of classic 60’s country songwriting, that may reflect some of Paul’s time spent in Nashville, and there are traces of early Randy Newman.

Reflecting on the creative process, he shares what the transition away from personal pain and uncertainty felt like. “Somehow the pieces of ‘me’ began to reassemble from the dust and ashes of early 2020. Somehow, that thing that I was afraid to share—that inner truth—became the only thing I cared about. It became my map for navigating the world. It became my compass. Truth had now become the currency for dealing with everything. Somewhere along the way, I saw that the darkness in me wasn’t impenetrable. In fact, it was shining.” 

That career, like those of all performing musicians, quickly evaporated when the pandemic struck. Left with a year ahead of cancellations and sidelined dreams, in that moment Paul turned to the one thing that sustained his spirit and gave him hope: music. In early April, he spent two weeks spent in Nashville, trying to salvage what was left of an ending romance and wrote the first six songs on the record. “From the very beginning, the very first song actually, the tone was really personal--more personal than anything I had written previously. Probably more personal than anything I thought I’d ever wanted to release. These songs were just for me. I had no intentions of actually recording them, other than the voice memos on my phone. I considered them cathartic—healing pastimes during an incredibly trying season—but maybe nothing more. They helped to drown out the constant sirens from ambulances I’d hear through my window every few minutes. They were coping mechanisms that kept my spirit afloat and helped me forget about it all for a few hours a day.”