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Chris Pierce on Songwriting

Responsibility, Refuge, and Renewal

Chris Pierce has built a body of work that feels like a living conversation—one that stretches across generations, movements, and moments of personal reckoning. Drawing from folk, soul, and the long tradition of American protest music, Pierce writes with an acute awareness of those who came before him and those still listening closely. In this interview, Mr. Pierce speaks candidly about songwriting as responsibility, music as refuge, and the balance between vulnerability and self-preservation. Along the way, Pierce reflects on love and justice, political fatigue, and the physical fight to reclaim his own hearing.

SYV Buzz: Your songs often feel like conversations with history—are there any voices from the past that you are aware of when you write?

CP: Absolutely. There’s a responsibility with great honor to stand on the shoulders of so many incredible storytellers. I hold that close when I’m writing songs. I’m also honored to work with a handful of co-writers who are great friends and share the same sentiments.

SYV Buzz: At what point did music first feel less like expression and more like responsibility?

CP: Music has always been a deep place of refuge for me, and I’ve always felt a responsibility to do my best to share that safe place and feeling with others. A place of free-thinking and emotional venerability.

SYV Buzz: Your work carries both tenderness and fire—how do you decide when a song needs to whisper versus when it needs to roar?

CP: I honestly never think about that. I just feel it and do my best to serve the song and then trust however that comes out.

SYV Buzz: Do you believe a song can change someone’s life, or is its real power in simply witnessing it?

CP: Both. Songs represent the power of our spirit and our capacity for renewal. Sound is energy and our voices contain our wisdom, fragility, courage and influence. I’ve received numerous letters over the years about songs and performances helping in enormous life decisions.

SYV Buzz: Do you think aging—personally and culturally—has reshaped the way you approach songwriting?

CP: I feel that as I grow older, I’m making music from the deepest place that I ever have. Finding our true voice and being authentic can be a process. Also, as I grow older, I have a deeper sense of the blood of my ancestors flowing through me. Their sweat, scars, dreams, triumphs and tribulations hum to me like a singing river that leads me into the great sea of my life’s journey as a songwriter.

SYV Buzz: I like that many of your lyrics sit at the crossroads of love and justice. Do you think one can truly exist without the other?

CP: I believe that love and justice can exist separately, but they can’t be whole without each other. As Martin Luther King Jr. said: “Justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love.” I tend to think of the concept of tenderness that refuses to look away when I’m writing.

SYV Buzz: Are there any truths you avoided early in your career that you now allow yourself the voice to just sing out loud?

CP: Yes, again it’s been a process for me. I’ve been working on working on the balance of how to protect my spirit, be vulnerable and share stories that I believe will help with healing at the same time. It’s a process and a journey that I’m completely open to.

SYV Buzz: I feel that your lyrics produce such honesty. How do you protect your inner life while remaining open enough to write honestly?

CP: Thank you. Kind of like the way a fence protects a garden without blocking the sun. I attempt to share as much as possible at this point, but I do realize that some parts of my inner life are fuel, not material. I think the trick is to write like no one will ever read it and edit as if everyone might. That order matters. This way, judgement, audience, or outcome won’t enter the room too early. I also trust that restraint can deepen honesty and clarity. As long as I’m serving the songs with attention, care and courage, I feel like I’m doing the right thing.

SYV Buzz: In moments of political and social fatigue, what role do you think musicians could play—agitators, healers, or historians?

CP: All the above. My personal journey in songwriting and performing throughout the years has helped me explore the miraculous ways I can use my voice as a source of motivation, change, dissent and healing even when only the faintest of notes ring through. Musicians should never turn away from telling the truth.

SYV Buzz: Is there a song of yours that still surprises you when you perform it live?

CP: Yes, a song called “Static Trampoline” that I wrote the day that my father passed away 25 years ago. The energy exchange during that song and the powerful things that have happened while performing that song, like a temporary power outage, flickering lights, vivid imagery, a sense of presence. I even had a thick leather belt break in half when I was singing that song. It’s the energy, I believe—I can feel my father in a significant way as I sing that song.

SYV Buzz: Has performing for different generations changed your understanding of your own work?

CP: I’ve honestly never thought about that. I have had the privilege of sharing my songs with many different generations and all the experiences have been wonderful. I absolutely enjoy encouraging discussions after my performances with a wide variety of folks. I’m not there just to sing and walk away. Civil discourse is something that I encourage.

SYV Buzz: What does success mean to you now, compared to when you first picked up a guitar?

CP: Wow—Great question! I’ve certainly been through a lot of different phases of what one may consider success. I’ve concluded that there isn’t any real estate in my heart, spirit and intention to carry around a notion of what is successful and what isn’t. My end-goal is to leave something behind of substance.

SYV Buzz: Your songs are deep and energetic. Just curious, when you’re not writing or touring, where does your spirit go to refuel?

CP: Rest. Meditation. Love. Laughter. Family. Celebration. Reading. Writing. Stretching. Healing. Not in any particular order.

SYV Buzz: Has there ever been a moment when you considered walking away from music—and if so, what pulled you back?

CP: I’ve thought from time to time of pivoting to doing more educating that touring but so far, the road always calls me back to get out and share the songs and stories. I did teach at the college level during the pandemic for a few years—Songwriting and Music Business—which was fulfilling in a lot of ways, and I appreciated the work and spending time with the students during a time when touring was very difficult.

SYV Buzz: What do you hope listeners feel after the song ends, when the room goes quiet?

CP: Something. Whatever that is, is up to them.

SYV Buzz: Wondering if silence and stillness influence your creative process?

CP: When I was a teenager, I began drastically losing my hearing. I was diagnosed with Otosclerosis, a rare hereditary hearing disorder. My heart was broken; my soul was in crisis. I dreamt of sounds and visualized musical compositions in hopes that miraculously I’d wake up and be able to hear again. Thankfully, through the support of family and the community, I was able to have surgery on my right ear and get some of my hearing back. It was a grueling process, and I had to learn voice placement in conversation and song over again.

Losing and regaining part of my hearing offered me a challenging, yet exciting choice: I could allow deafness to deter me from singing, or I could face the storm and embrace the mountain ahead of me. I found the courage to fight for my voice. Everything sounded different at first, but my love for singing was deeper and more powerful than ever before. I began to learn sounds over again, one by one.

My head is now filled with my voice at an extremely loud volume. It’s sort of like plugging your ears and speaking. Sometimes, sound feels like being in a giant cave. Sometimes I hear nothing. I had to ease slowly into the process of speaking and singing again.

I sing from my soul. I’m a warrior for my voice and the gift of song. Every day I fight for this gift. I’m thankful for the challenges as they help me reimagine my relationship with singing and sound. It’s a blessing to be a lifelong student of human expression and emotion. Sometimes that means notes as gentle as an autumn leaf falling from a tree. Other times, that involves pushing out guttural notes that have the power of a freight train. Singing to me is the attitude of always serving the song and the emotion of the moment. I cling to the stillness of energy before every song like the moment before a rocket ship launches into orbit.

SYV Buzz: Is there a part of yourself that shows up in your music that rarely appears in everyday life?

CP: Yes, when I’m performing, I experience a true sense of freedom.

SYV Buzz: If you could collaborate with any artist—living or gone—who do you feel would challenge you the most?

CP: I’d like to collaborate with the late Langston Hughes. I’d like to sit with him, listen, laugh, cry and expand on the conversations with songs.

SYV Buzz: Is there anything that you’re still curious about musically that you haven’t explored yet?

CP: So much. Mostly having to do with how far I can go with my voice and spirit.

SYV Buzz: When all is said and done, how would you like your songs to be remembered?

CP: I’d like my songs to be remembered for usefulness. Songs that are shared hand-to-hand and heart-to-heart.

Pierce’s songs are shaped by lineage and loss, by discipline and doubt, and by an unwavering commitment to truth-telling—whether whispered or delivered at full volume. Success, for Pierce, is measured in usefulness: songs that travel, that linger, that help someone make sense of their own moment. In an era of constant chatter, Mr. Pierce continues to carve out space for attention, care, and courage—proving that the most enduring music is often the kind that listens as deeply as it sings.

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