Cooper Kenward
As we continue through the crisis of existence, it’s easy to turn away from each other and into the abyss of solitude and digital overwhelm. Distractions abound and it’s harder than ever to stay present, to see the shape of the day or the first flourishes of a new season. What does it mean to be a person, right now? For L.A.–based songwriter and instrumentalist Cooper Kenward, being present means staying curious. Paying close attention to the tiny details allows the absurdity of the world and its inhabitants to unfurl; for Kenward, this means an abundance of inspiration, awe and hilarity. On his latest album haha, now I’m sad, Kenward pokes at this absurdity, creating characters, scenes and stories that feel universal and true. We’ve all met these people or have been them at some point; by recognising this omnipresent thread of existence, haha, now I’m sad helps us to see the silliness in the sorrow.
Kenward grew up in a small town in Northern California, later moving to San Francisco and then finally to L.A, where he now works as a director and video editor. His knack for visual storytelling is palpable throughout his songwriting; there’s a nostalgia to the work––that unsettling yet comforting oddity that tends to interrupt almost every day, consistently bubbling under the surface. His previous LPs Cooper Kenward (2022) and Dying in a Diner (2024) showcased a songwriter trying to parse the existential, stretching his neck out of a suburban window to witness something––anything––that would make it all make sense.
To piece together the world of the album, Kenward gathered his favorite musicians and spent three days at Altamira Sound in L.A. recording the tracks live with the band. Despite writing some of the songs years prior, it’s the spontaneity and spiritual connection with these musicians throughout those days that centers the album’s energetic pull and sonic foundation. “I learned to really realize that joy does come in the act of creation because that's the only thing that you really have control over,” Kenward says. Griffin Goldsmith (Dawes), Harrison Whitford (Phoebe Bridgers), Ryan Richter (Dijon), Caleb Buchanan (Still Woozy), Jesse McGinty (Cassandra Jenkins, Pharrell), Adam Moss (Brother Brother, Zach Bryan), Tyler Nuffer (Lizzie McAlpine) and Robert Shelton (Meernaa, Lucius) all contributed to the session and it’s this rapture of artistic community and messing around with your friends for the heck of it that gives haha, now I’m sad it’s brilliant, kaleidoscopic bones.
“I have empathy for anyone who has to go through life,” Kenward says. “Everyone is interesting, even if they’re an asshole, y’know. What made them that way?” This is the crux of haha, now I’m sad, where we encounter an abundance of characters, each as intricate and strange and relatable as the next. Bluesy opener ‘53’ Bel Air’ was written the night before recording the album and details the chaos and cast of a bank robbery, mimicked by anarchic percussion and swelling horns. “Money buys a lot of things / But stealing it brings me joy” Kenward sings of the cash, compassionately cracking open the brain of a criminal that we may understand more than we realize. The slow-burning, Americana acoustics of ‘Queen of It All’ speaks of a past-life, as a drag queen of yesteryear writes to a friend, missing the life they once had and now hide. Strings swell as the narrator asks “Tell me there’s a place we can go / Where we’re still young,” pointing to the poignant nature of doing what we think we should do, and regretting it years down the line.
Nostalgia continues on the somewhat-autobiographical ‘Wheelies’ as Kenward rehashes the blurry clips of his highschool memories. The goofy, self-seriousness of masculinity and the foreign nature of how men communicate is often explored throughout Kenward’s work and on ‘Wheelies,’ the push-and-pull of figuring that out is captured with the song’s slide guitar battle and yearning progression. While Kenward didn’t experience what happens in the song himself, absurd gossip coexists with mundane reflection, which showcases the outrageous, poignant and mercurial experience of growing up, and the people who lit the way. Album closer ‘Ken Burns Hot Dog’ sees a wise narrator, played by Caleb Buchanan, slowly speaking of life’s disappointments, and of trying to create art in a world that just wants a product. But as is Kenward’s way, there’s a wink throughout the speech, a nudge that says, “When life gives you a hot dog roller / Sometimes all you can do is just lay there.”
haha, now I’m sad is an album of community and connection and the ridiculous nature of trying to live a life. These songs point to the ephemerality of existence, and remind us to not take everything so damn seriously. Kenward understands that nothing makes sense, not really, but if we take the time to explore outside of the box we’ve so carefully crafted for ourselves––to notice the strangers we pass on the street or the changes we see in the mirror––we could encounter a reason for it all or at least, get a kick out of it.