DRAFTING W/ GREYSON CHANCE

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This January, Greyson Chance set a hard deadline for himself. “By June 15th. I would have a fully mastered album into the system,” says the Oklahoma musician, who hasn’t released an album since 2022’s Palladium. “I delivered it on June 12th, three days ahead of schedule.”

Titled BOYSTOWN, Chance’s forthcoming effort is a fully independent record, due out September 25. “It is my vision, my heart, my money. I have no manager or record label at the current moment. It’s the first time that has ever been the case since I started when I was a kid. This is the most liberated I have ever felt creating art.”

For DRAFTING, Chance brings us through the album-making process, from a photographer that inspired the visual world to a playlist that set the foundation for what it sounded like.

My boyfriend and I broke up the day before Christmas Eve. It had been three years since my last record. I was by myself in Oklahoma. Things were upside down. I discovered the photographer Arthur Tress and became obsessed with a photograph of his, Band-Aid Fantasy. It’s subtle, but there’s a lot happening in the picture — at least to me there is. Who hurt who? Is it self-inflicted? Who ripped the band-aid off first?

The first piece of music I remember writing was a progression in B major. The piano part was reminiscent of “Holocene” by Bon Iver, but it also reminded me of something Bruce Hornsby would have played. The first recording is marked January 11th, called “Boystown new chorus, exploring.” I don’t remember the original chorus.

Outside my affinity for the gayborhood in Chicago, the word felt like a bridge to a larger concept. What if I made an album that followed the arc of my relationship, but used that structure as a space for me to explore parts of my own relationship to queerness? I also liked the idea of an album that encapsulated a period of time — something not overthought, but raw and authentic. A note I wrote to myself in January.

I knew John Fellner could be a good producer for the project. He was young and eager to sink his teeth into something. I also loved his string production. I remember not wanting to scare him in the beginning, for I felt like my energy was verging on crackhead mania. Could this straight Canadian boy handle it? A text I sent him early on.

I also made him this playlist, originally called btownworld. It’s funny, I don’t remember playing these songs during the writing process at all. These were all songs from albums that I had worn down in my teens and early 20s. Sonically, I’m not even sure they made that much sense being grouped together. Was the playlist for John or was it a way to trigger a feeling of nostalgia within me? I don’t know.

It was confirmed. 20 days in a studio outside of Toronto to make a full-length album. Time was of the essence, I was moving fast and I was taking around 100mg of THC everyday. Is it substance abuse if it’s pot? I hit up Linus Johnson, a friend of mine and the best film photographer I know, to start talking visuals. There was a line on the record already, “What is it to be masculine, what is it to be feminine?” That felt like a cornerstone. I wanted to use hyper-masculine spaces as symbols — a sports field, locker room, bathrooms. I’m a horrible drawer, but I sent a few sketches to Linus to get the ball rolling.

Linus came to Oklahoma a few weeks later. We shot all the principal photography across two days. My friends modeled for me, helped style, set designed, carried gear and drank their way through all the booze at my house. I had so much fun those two days. I couldn’t believe what we were pulling off.