Depression lullabies are how I’d describe the music of Alec Duckart, who goes by his artist name Searows. Soft as crushed velvet and soothing as the sound of rain pattering against the window, his melancholic melodies follow in a grand tradition of sad music, where Bon Iver and Sufjan Stevens have gone before – and, more recently, Ethel Cain (whom Searows has supported on tour), Clairo, Mustafa the Poet and Phoebe Bridgers, among others. Theirs is the music that soundtracks broken hearts, broken minds and souls weary with the sometimes seismic, Sisyphean task of … simply existing.
Aptly hailing from Portland (the Pacific Northwest is almost as famous for its dreary weather as Britain), Searows discovered the joy – or rather melancholic pleasure – of sad music when he was just nine years old and started writing his own in his teens, releasing his first singles in 2022 and first EP, End of the World, in 2023. Fresh off the back of his EU and UK tour, he’s now preparing to release his latest EP, flush, which explores a variety of themes – including love, relationships, identity, and the self – but evokes an intoxicating infusion of pain throughout, despite being so soothing.
People connect with Searows’ music because they feel seen and heard in his songs, which add a layer of comfort to them, on top of his already pacifying tone. This was evident at his London show, where the music wafted over the crowd like some sort of calming incense.
Here, Searows delves into the record, his discovery of sad music, and the experience of laying oneself emotionally bare on stage.
TS: How’s Portland? What’s the weather like at the moment?
S: It’s pretty cloudy, rainy – very autumnal.
TS: Have you seen those Pacfic Northwest-core TikToks?
S: Yeah, I love those. I love to romanticise the atmosphere.
TS: Do you live close to nature or do you live in the city in Portland?
S: I’m in the southeast of the city, which is a very neighbourhood area, but the nature is so close.
TS: But you were born in Kentucky, right?
S: Yes. I lived there for like a year of my life as an infant.
TS: So you’re Pacific Northwest, through and through. How was your time in London? Your show was amazing.
S: I had a great time. It was the highlight of the tour. I really love London. Something about it reminds me of Portland, and the shows were really fun.
TS: Your songs feel very intimate and very private; you’re excavating deep thoughts and feelings. How do you feel about bringing those private thoughts and feelings into a public space? Do you ever feel exposed?
S: Yeah. I mean sometimes, definitely. But I feel like, at least on tour, it’s very easy to just think about the technical parts of the show; it’s very easy to detach from the meaning of the songs. But at the same time, I want to know what I’m singing about.
TS: Do you enjoy performing? Do you feel a sense of connection with your audiences?
S: Yeah, I definitely do. I don’t know, it’s a very strange experience, playing songs that I wrote without really thinking about the context they’d be played in. And it’s weird to have other people know [your] songs and just be there in general. But it’s really, really cool. I do really enjoy getting to perform the songs for people. It’s very special.
TS: Have you ever had feedback that’s stuck with you?
S: I feel like the way I listen to music has always been like a soundtrack to what I’m feeling and experiencing, like a movie. So it’s very much a compliment when I’m a soundtrack to someone else’s sad thing, because that’s how I’ve loved to listen to music.
“I feel like the way I listen to music has always been like a soundtrack to what I’m feeling and experiencing, like a movie. So it’s very much a compliment when I’m a soundtrack to someone else’s sad thing, because that’s how I’ve loved to listen to music” – Searows
TS: When did you first discover sad music?
S: Very early. As a nine- or ten-year-old I was obsessed with songs that could make me really sad. I would make myself sad on purpose, just for fun. I remember, like – what’s that song called? There’s a version of it in Glee – Somewhere Only We Know.
TS: By Keane?
S: Oh my God, I’d listen to that song every day. I just wanted to feel the feelings of it. Yeah, there were a lot of songs that were fun to get that emotional response from.
TS: What do you feel is the biggest challenge you’ve overcome, and how has music connected with that?
S: Um, that’s a good question. I guess you could say my trans experience of like … I didn’t think I could be trans and also be a musician. It’s been cool to have been proved wrong in that, and not only have so many other trans people existing in the public sphere in the last few years but to also have success [myself]. I always knew that I wanted to be a musician but thought I had to choose between the two. And that was very rough.
TS: What’s it been like being able to connect with other trans musicians like Ethel [Cain], for example. Has that been impactful?
S: That has been so, so awesome. It feels especially safe to perform in front of her audience and in front of people who I can trust; people who see me in a way that other audiences might not. I feel like other trans people have found my music and found a connection to it. It’s very cool to get to talk to other young and trans people who come to the shows.
TS: Portland is quite an oasis in terms of queerness. Has that been your experience?
S: Yeah, it has. I feel very lucky to have grown up here. It’s been a pretty queer place for a while. Even when I was growing up, there were queer people. Everything is so quirky and I see other trans people a lot here, which is really nice.
TS: Obviously we’re speaking two weeks before the [US presidential] election and I wondered how you’re feeling about it?
S: Honestly, I don’t know what’s gonna happen. I try to stay somewhat politically educated, but also it feels so bleak, and I feel like I’ve been so much more focused on other atrocities that it’s hard to think about the country that I’m in right now.
TS: Back to your music, what’s your new EP, Flush, about?
S: It’s hard to say what it’s about because all the songs are so different – they feel almost intentionally not tied to each other. I mean they are because they’re in one project, but it was like putting together songs from a back catalogue of songs that I thought that I wasn’t gonna do anything with. But it takes a couple years for me to know what a project, or even a song, is about; I always retrospectively realise a theme that I didn’t really intend [at the time].
“I didn’t think that I could be trans and also be a musician. It’s been cool to be proved wrong” – Searows
TS: Are there any lyrics on your new EP that you’re especially proud of?
S: I suppose, yes. I like the end half of martingale. I would quote the lyrics but I feel so cringe doing that. [Laughs].
The lyrics are as follows:
Say you learned the hard way
You don’t like to be alone
Preyed on by some new kind of paranoia
So you don't pick up the phone
When it all comеs down to it
You were right, I was wrong
But if I got my fishing lines all tiеd around your throat
And you died there in that pond
This is just a description
Of the daughter you made her into
You made her out of pieces of you
It’s the body’s affliction
It’s the pain making circles in you
Like dogs that just wanna get loose]
TS: Why are you proud of those lyrics in particular?
S: They were just satisfying to write. They work in the structure and I like when I can make something rhyme. And also, they mean something; they feel very true to what I was trying to say and are said in a way that is satisfying.
Flush by Searows is out now.