Start Listening To: Bells Larsen
The Montreal-Toronto songwriter on fluid timelines, finding harmony with the past, and the emotional layers behind Blurring Time.
Bells Larsen’s music has always felt intimate. Tender, searching, and unafraid of emotional complexity. But on Blurring Time, their latest album, that intimacy reaches a new depth. Spanning lo-fi textures, folk balladry, and reflections on gender, grief, and growth, the record captures an artist in motion, harmonising with the past while reshaping the present. Recorded across different stages of vocal transition, Blurring Time doesn't just trace a narrative of change; it embodies it.
In this conversation, Bells speaks with striking honesty about the emotional and creative process behind the album, from reconnecting with old recordings to finding comfort in fluidity, and from longtime collaborations to lessons learned on the road. What unfolds is a portrait of an artist who is, above all else, deeply committed to making sense of themselves - through sound, through story, and through song.
For those unfamiliar with your music, can you tell us who you are, where you’re from and about the music you make?
My name is Bels Larsen and I am a singer/songwriter and performer. I split my time between Toronto and Montreal, and I think it would probably be easiest to say that I make indie folk music, but I'm also very inspired by elements of jazz, rap, punk, and country.
Your new album Blurring Time is deeply personal, weaving together different versions of your voice. What was the emotional journey of creating this record like for you?
I feel like there have been many, many different emotional journeys that are not only embedded in the creative process(es) that went into making the album, but also in the process of releasing it. It was—and continues to be—so meaningful to me to have figured out who I was through the making of this record. This sense of becoming is, even now, ongoing and constant. Which is emotional in and of itself.
The idea of harmonising with your past self is so powerful. How did the process of recording your high voice in 2022 and then returning with your low voice shape your relationship with time and change?
My relationship with time has kind of been changed out of necessity, and that's why I wanted to call the album Blurring Time. My timeline as a queer person, yes, but also as an artist has been very blurred. I'm following a different timeline than many of my friends and there is both freedom and also confusion in that sometimes.
I feel like time, for me, is not fixed. It is movable. It is non chronological. And, yes, it is very blurry. Of course, that was all accentuated when I revisited my high vocals once my voice had dropped.
But also I think that the sentiment of time being fluid has only continued to be true since the low voice recording sessions two years ago.
You’ve said you wanted to move from “or” to “and” when it comes to your past and present selves. Was there a particular moment during the making of Blurring Time when you really felt that shift happen?
There definitely was a shift. By the time I finished writing the record, I understood not only who I was, but also the changes that I needed to make in order to be closer to the self that I knew I wanted to be. I didn't necessarily know whether I wanted to capture the record with a high voice and sing these songs from the point of view of someone who was nervous to change—and didn't necessarily know whether they would go through with said changes—or start testosterone, wait for my voice to drop, and record the music after the fact.
The shift happened while I was thinking about dichotomies: either or, this or that, high or low, boy or girl. I did have this sort of moment where I thought to myself, you know what? I think it actually can be “both and”. Even if I hadn’t necessarily seen trans narratives be depicted in a before/after way (where the two are married), that doesn't mean that they can't be.
The record moves between lo-fi 90s indie and folk ballads. How did you approach balancing those different sonic textures while keeping the album cohesive?
I mean, to be totally honest, I think that these two genres are contradictory. In terms of cohesiveness or cohesion, though, there are certain songs on the album that exist in the same sonic universe, and then others that exist in different ones.
Georgia Harmer played a key role in helping shape the vocal arrangements. What was that collaboration like, and how did she influence the final sound?
It was the most no brainer collaboration in the world for me.
Georgia and I have been making music in some way, shape, or form since we were kids. We went to the same high school and have been writing music together, singing on each other's projects, playing shows together, and generally just creating together since then. We are not often in the same place these days, but when we are, it's such a joy. Georgia has known my voice for as long as I've had one. So, it only made sense to ask her to help me figure out how to weave my low voice into this project. I think that you can hear friendship in the record. Me befriending my past self, yes, but also that this record was made with friends. I hope that this translates in the sound for others, too.
Lyrically, your music is rich with introspection and storytelling. Were there any specific books, films, or other artists that influenced your writing on Blurring Time?
Absolutely. I wrote Blurring Time over the span of one year, during which I did The Artist’s Way (an artist recovery book) on and off. That book was, for me, very pivotal in developing an artistic sense of self who moved with confidence. I also love the writing of Elliott Smith, Adrianne Lenker, and Sufjan Stevens very much and I carry their voices with me in my own art making for sure.
Your previous album Good Grief explored loss and mourning, while Blurring Time seems more about self-actualisation. Did you approach writing this album differently compared to your debut?
When I was writing Good Grief, I didn’t know I was writing an album. I was just trying to write songs to process an immense tragedy that I had been through. I was trying to make sense of myself in the wake of loss and understand the world now that this person was no longer a part of it. There are explorations of the self in that album, but I also think it's more about my relationships with other people and the world with grief coloring all of that. Blurring Time is very much about me understanding myself as a lover, a friend, a brother, just really as a person in general, as it relates to gender. So the impetus for writing these two bodies of music were very different.
You’ve drawn comparisons to artists like Elliott Smith and Adrienne Lenker. What is it about their approach to songwriting that resonates with you?
I think there's a real honesty in their music, and I think that that is not only true in the writing itself, but also in the sonic quality. There’s a humanness in the way that these two have chosen to capture their songs. And I think that that makes the music all the more accessible, even if there are alternative tunings or even if the poetry is such that you don't necessarily know what specifically they're singing about. As a result, they write music that is quite complex while still being very, very human and candid. I love that.
The lead single, “514-415,” is described as a duet between past and present. What’s the story behind that song, and why did it feel right for it to be a duet?
That song is about an on-again-off-again relationship. In the song, I’m considering the ways in which change can affect a romantic relationship when both parties are going through so many changes. Are you still loving the same person? Are you still the same person? Those are the sort of questions that I'm trying to ask here.
It felt right to have that be a duet because there are a handful of clear dualities that are present in that song. Obviously, the two area codes being 514 and 415, but also the real elements of past and present that I sing about.
You’ve performed alongside artists like Buck Meek and Martha Wainwright, what have you learned from sharing stages with them?
People are there to hear your music, to see you, to get a glimpse into your life. And it's okay if you just want to present your most authentic self on stage. You don't need to necessarily, I don't know, present a version of that, I guess.
You’ve talked about “simply being” as a political act. How does that philosophy inform your music and the way you present yourself as an artist?
I mean, this question falls during a pretty interesting time, specifically in the wake of me having just cancelled my US tour for a reason that is steeped in politicization. So I don't really know how to answer your question, to be totally honest. I didn't write this album with the intention of being political. During the time of writing,this music was just a way for me to understand myself. And that didn't really have to do with anyone else.
Now, four years later, I understand that, for me personally, being a member of a marginalized group and being so loudly and proudly and through my art is a very political thing in and of itself.
There are times where I am jealous of other artists who have the luxury of being able to focus exclusively on their music. But if—through my own music—I can humanize my community and illustrate the fact that we are just people who want respect and care and safety like everybody else, then I welcome being a political artist.
What do you love right now?
What do you hate right now?
Apathy.
Name an album you’re still listening to from when you were younger and why it’s still important to you?
I will never not be listening to Illinois by Sufjan Stevens. That album is, I think, one of the most important pieces of art I've ever come across in my life, and it has informed so much of my artistry, yes, but also my personhood.
With Blurring Time on the way, what are you most looking forward to on your upcoming tour?
Again, this is a bit of a funny question to answer at this particular moment in time. But now, with my tour being a little bit shorter than it was initially supposed to be, I'm just looking forward to being able to be in the same room as my community and offer my shows as a means through which people can celebrate and grieve and cry and be happy and do whatever they fucking feel like.
