Start Listening To: Herbie May
Quietly searching songs about being young, unsure, and learning to sit with the feeling.
Yorkshire songwriter Herbie May has a way of making uncertainty feel shared rather than isolating. Following his time with The Lounge Society, his solo work turns inward, favouring intimacy, observation, and language that lingers. With new single ‘Shoelaces’, May explores desire, self-esteem, and the strange weight of growing up, drawing on poetry, film, and everyday moments. We caught up with him to talk writing alone, life after the band, and why the words always come first.
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 Herbie May. I’m 23, I’m from Yorkshire and I write songs and sing them - mostly alone. At the moment I write songs for the moments people feel lost, because all you need in those moments is the quiet knowledge that someone else is lost too. We’re all lost together. I think that can be uplifting. I use folk, I use “indie-rock” (whatever that means), I even use pop sometimes. These genre signifiers are different brushes for different moments. I’m inspired by poets (like Sylvia Plath and Lawrence Ferlinghetti), songwriters (like Courtney Barnett and Johnathan Richman) and some film directors - like Noah Baumbach and Greta Gerwig (pre-Barbie).
How did your experiences with The Lounge Society influence your approach to crafting your solo work, particularly with ‘Shoelaces’?
My time as a lyricist, guitarist and co-writer with TLS allowed me to see the world. I got to go to America and Japan and all over Europe with me best mates. Not to mention every bloody awful Travelodge in Britain, seemingly. I learned to love life on the road. I learned to love being in front of a crowd. Being in “the van” also gave me shit loads of time to write, write, write. I wrote too much. So it spilled over into something new! Something more personal. Shoelaces is a pretty lonely song, not suitable for a group.
Can you share any specific moments or inspirations that shaped the writing process for ‘Shoelaces’ and its themes of desire and self-esteem?
Ever had one of those moments where you just feel like the world has left you behind? I reckon a lot of us feel that every day. One day you’re telling the class how you’re gonna be an astronaught, the next day there’s people playing for England who could be your little brother and you’re still in your home town, walking the same old flagstones. It’s weird. It’s universal, but it’s weird.
What was it like collaborating with Archie Dewis and Gordon Raphael on this track, and how did their styles impact the final sound?
God I love working with those guys. Gordon is a Zany mastermind. He brought the best out of my vocal, which is a highly delicate operation. Archie is a blood brother and a sonic wizard. Being in the studio is alchemy - turning the roughest of sonic sketches from your desk into what feels - at the time - like SISTINE CHAPEL level undertakings is a magical and enlivening thing. There’s no better feeling.
Are there any particular visuals or imagery you envision accompanying ‘Shoelaces’?
Patti Smith’s short story “Devotion” has some similar images I think. The descriptions of a child dancing on ice. The song is in black and white, in my head at least. Ever seen Chris Killip’s pictures of Hull? That suits the mood. “Girls playing in The Street” is a good one.
What are your plans for live performances in support of ‘Shoelaces’?
Next up I’m supporting Chris Helme of The Seahorses in Halifax! And I have some shows around The Calder Valley.
Can you describe your creative process when writing music?
I have a trillion notebooks. And even more “voice-memos”. That’s it. I don’t use a “DAW” or anything. It’s me, a notebook and a guitar or a bass or a piano. Something to record it onto. The rest is pure imagination. I’ll use a film, a book, a song, a poem, a meal, you name it - as a springboard and then I’m off. Pairing phrases together, experiment with new rhythms, new chords. I hum in the street. I sing into my phone on buses. I tap on tables. I think some people around town have gotten used to seeing me doing odd things in odd places and have got used to it. It works for me, for now. Then in the studio it’s pure experimentation, nothing off the table. Except maybe shredding guitar solos. They can stay off the table. For now.
How does your personal journey influence the lyrics in ‘Shoelaces’?
I’ve had run ins with addiction (which is boring), I’ve been obsessed with “healthy living” (which was worse), I’ve been in love, I’ve been alone, I’ve had successes, I’ve had periods of total failure. If you can’t write a song after all that, you never will!
What role do you believe music plays in addressing feelings of domesticity and normality, as explored in your latest single?
Normality, plus music, is happiness. And the converse is also true - Nietzsche puts it best: “life without music would be a mistake”. It’s how we decorate our time.
Are there any emerging artists or genres you’re particularly excited about right now, and how do they inspire your own music?
There’s loads of great artists near me. Lily Rae Grant, who I had the honour of releasing on my record label, is fantastic. Rebecca Spooner is another local who is amazing (her guitar playing makes me want to go and practise - and I NEVER normally want to go and practise… I’m ANTI-Practise!) Also TTSSFU is really good. And lovely. And potentially a rockstar.
What do you love right now?
I love early mornings. The first record of the day (usually something mellow - folk music. Or Maybe James Endeacott’s “Morning Glory” show on Soho Radio). The steam from the coffee pot. The quiet.
What do you hate right now?
The news. I used to write about it. Now I avoid it like the plague, because I want to write about something TRUE,…
Name an album you’re still listening to from when you were younger and why it’s still important to you?
I listen to John Martyn’s Solid Air a lot. When I was 7 my dad said he’d get me a present if I could learn to play and sing “May You Never”. I’ve been too lazy and preoccupied to do it yet - and I bet he’ll claim I’ve fabricated this memory. But I should do it anyways.
When someone hears your music for the first time, what do you hope sticks with them?
The words. It’s all about the words for me. I’m a lyricist… or a blabber-mouth, depending on how you look at it. I’ve got things to say and not enough people to say it to, and making records beats talking to myself all the time. I want a conversation.
