A Conversation with HAFFWAY on Nashville, and the Power of the "Live Moment"
- 11 hours ago
- 5 min read
From the rugged, isolated fjords of Norway to the high-energy stages of the Hollywood Bowl, Sam Westhoff aka Haffway today is currently living through what can only be described as a creative metamorphosis.
Once on the verge of walking away from the industry entirely to pursue a quiet life in Oklahoma, he is now the go-to collaborator for some of folk-pop’s most formidable names, including Dermot Kennedy and Noah Kahan. But while his fingerprints are all over the charts, his focus has shifted toward something far more visceral: the irreplaceable energy of the live experience.
Fresh off a recording session on a remote Norwegian island, complete with orchestral arrangements and landscapes that defy logic he joined us to discuss the "larger" sound of his upcoming record, the unique alchemy of the Nashville songwriting scene, and the wife-led ultimatum that saved his career.
You’ve had a whirlwind few weeks, most recently spending time in Norway. What was the atmosphere like making a record on the edge of the world?
It was absolutely stunning. We flew out three weeks ago to this island on the far west coast. It’s the kind of place that feels like a hallucination, mountains everywhere, water all around you. There’s one island that’s actually a mountain with its own lake, and then another island inside that lake. It’s ridiculous. The inspiration just hits you the second you land at the airport. I’ve always made my records in my own spot, but I finally caved, brought some orchestral players out there for two weeks, and just went for it.
We saw you collaborated on Dermot Kennedy's new album "The Wright Of The Wood" and opened for him last year in North America. How did that friendship and collaboration first begin?
It started last January in Ireland, another beautiful location where I truly had nothing to complain about. I’m signed to a producer and publisher named Gabe Simon, and when he was getting ready to work with Dermot, he brought me in to engineer. I was just the "gear guy," but Dermot and I hit it off immediately. We ended up making the record as a collective me, Gabe, Dermot, and a brilliant guy from London named Carey Willets. Dermot has quickly become one of my top five favorite humans. He is probably the healthiest artist I’ve ever met; he has his life dialed in with his friends and family and such clear boundaries. Touring with him was a dream because of that energy. We were playing these legendary 3,000-seat theaters in the States, which to me are the perfect rooms for sonic quality. Even when he "undersold" an intimate show, there were still 4,000 people there. Seeing him sell out dates in eight minutes and then text me about how stressful those eight minutes were. He’s just a great, genuine person.
You released "Wither", but you’re already deep into this new, "larger" sound. What shifted in your perspective?
It came down to touring. Last year I was out for about four months across the States, Europe, and Canada. By the time I finished in November, I had this realization: I actually didn't want to play a lot of my songs live. I wrote them for myself, on my own, which is valid but they weren't built for a room of thousands of people. Then, we did a headline tour in February with a full band in smaller rooms, and that solidified it. I want to lean into the one thing AI can’t touch: the live experience. AI will never take over a real live show. So this next record is intentionally bigger, louder, more strings, more horns. It’s designed to fill a room.
You’ve also worked with Noah Kahan on his new album, how did that happen?
It was beautifully organic. I had just signed my publishing deal and happened to be at Noah’s Hollywood Bowl show. We met backstage for a few minutes, and I was just a fan at the time, the biggest artist I’d worked with back then had maybe a hundred thousand listeners. A month later, he followed me and asked to write. We hit it off and wrote "Doors." The process for his record was wild: half with Aaron Dessner in Upstate New York, and half between Vermont and a farmhouse we converted into a studio south of Nashville. When someone like Gabe Simon calls and asks if you can come out and write with Noah in a farmhouse, you just say yes. It beats the clinical feel of a standard studio every time for me.
Let's re-wind a bit, you almost quit music - Am I right?
I was done. Fully burnt out. I was 26, working 90-hour weeks, and making maybe 20 grand a year. In the States, we have a store called Lowe’s, and managers there can make 250k. In Oklahoma, you can buy a lot for that price! I told my wife I was out, but she made me a deal: "Write for yourself one more time and see what you find." I did it begrudgingly, but that session became my first EP. She’s the pioneer, she’s the one who pushed us to move to Nashville three years ago, which changed everything.
Speaking of Nashville, it’s become the global hub for more than just country music lately, hasn’t it?
It’s massive. It used to be just the country center, but during COVID, Nashville opened up much faster than the coasts. Everyone moved there. Now, the major labels like Universal and Sony are restructuring their Nashville offices to move away from being strictly country. It’s become this melting pot. It works for me because the workflow is so unique. In Nashville, sessions are a job like a 11 to 5, in and out. In LA, you start at 3 PM and go until midnight. London is somewhere in the middle. I find that writing in different cities actually changes the language of the songs. I’ll bring an Oklahoma line to a London session and they’ll look at me like I’m crazy, but that’s the beauty of it.
With all this traveling, is it difficult to maintain a sense of home?
I’m rarely home, but I love it. My wife is a photographer, so she travels with me and shoots, which is a huge blessing. If you’re doing what you love, you can’t complain. Every now and then, maybe once a quarter, I allow myself to be a "little bitch" about the travel to my wife, but honestly, we’re the lucky ones. Being home feels like a vacation now, and that’s a pretty fun way to live.
Follow Haffway on
Words by Sal F.
Comments