New Haven folk artist Xavier Serrano, 32, seems to have time-traveled from another generation. Discussing his musical influences, names come up which haven’t been in the mainstream for decades, if at all: folk-jazz ensemble Pentangle, English folk singer Nick Drake, Canadian singer-songwriter Gordon Lightfoot, American country folkie John Denver and onetime reliable hitmaker Jim Croce, whose careers all peaked in the 1970s.
Serrano has absorbed the work of these pioneers and others and made something all his own. His music is a mélange of the sweet contemplation of folk, the sharp dissonance of jazz, the world-weariness of alternative rock and the lush orchestrations of classical chamber music. Some of the songs that hit me the hardest—“Darling, You Were in My Life,” from his first full album Bell Chimes of Yesteryear, and “Beloved Friends,” from his forthcoming Enantiodromia—struggle with themes of trust, disillusionment, interdependence and self-realization. On a Nirvana tribute recording, his gravity turns their seemingly emotionless song “Dumb” into a powerful statement of personal reckoning: “I’m not like them, but I can pretend / The sun is gone, but I have a light / The day is done, but I’m having fun / I think I’m dumb / Or maybe I’m just happy.”
Born into a Spanish and Puerto Rican family, Serrano says that most of his early musical heritage came from his mother’s relatives. “My uncle plays guitar as well as other instruments, and my aunt plays the mandolin and cuatro [a guitar-like Puerto Rican lute]. I saw more photos of them playing rather than actually hearing them, but my aunt Maribel always sang around me.” His interest in playing an instrument didn’t develop until middle school, when his Hispanic history teacher took the stage at an agricultural fair and ripped into a killer rendition of a Santana song. “I felt so proud watching him play. I felt a connection.”
Young Xavier started sneaking his older brother’s acoustic guitar out from under his bed and began noodling around. At first, he says, “I was particularly drawn to Green Day and started emulating their style. Power chords were doable. I started playing their songs, which opened my mind to the concept of song structure, how to mix chord progressions in with lyrics.” By high school, he was playing electric guitar in a hard rock band called White Walls.
Then his girlfriend’s uncle turned him on to something new—that is, new to him. “He knew that I wrote poetry and song lyrics, so one evening he shared Celtic poetry and music with me,” Serrano says. “The emotional poignancy of the Irish poets really spoke to me. They drove me to become more of an acoustic balladeer,” which, it turns out, “is my strength.” The British folk band Pentangle “was a particular obsession because of its contemporary blues-rock feel combined with a transcendental mysticism and psychedelicism.”
Nick Drake, cursed with a tragically short career, appealed to Serrano for “his earnest, transparent vulnerability. I loved the depth of what his songs were addressing, although elements of it were very ‘heavy’ for the folk music of his time.” Eager to capture those vibes in his own work, he assembled an acoustic “chamber folk” trio named Kindred Queer, which lasted from 2012 to 2016 and added members as other players became drawn to the music, incorporating cello, accordion and banjo.
In recent years, Serrano has concentrated on a solo career. His Bandcamp is a repository of homemade singles and mini-records and two full albums recorded at New Haven’s Sans Serif Recording: Bell Chimes of Yesteryear and 2020’s Beyond the Veil.
The newest additions are two tracks from his upcoming Enantiodromia, which is gradually being rolled out online (the full recording should be available in a couple of weeks). Featuring an ensemble of collaborators including Sean O’Reilly on piano and harp, Leo Melendez on guitar, Derrik Bosse on bass and pennywhistle and Dylan McDonnell on flute, the new album, Serrano thinks, is the most successful expression thus far of his eclectic influences. It helps that “all of these musicians have a background in classical music theory.”
Asked if there’s a song that best characterizes his work, Serrano cites a home recording called “Pathos (Vacuum),” which offers a dual warning: “No matter what you may reveal, be wary it’s not shrouded by a shadow from an unknown vacuous soul / No matter what you may conceal, your spirit lashes at the fortress you have built, seeking its heart, seeking a home.” It’s inspired, he says, by a series of personal betrayals he’s experienced. “That shifted my perspective about the outside world, how one can give their authentic self to another who may not have the best intentions. I’m always writing from personal experience, but I try to universalize my struggles.”
Beyond the Veil, released during the Covid-19 pandemic, came out of watching the causes and consequences of a mass panic, while also reflecting on the political fragmentation of the 2016 presidential election. Another inspiration was Plato’s “allegory of the cave,” eternally relevant for its recognition that we’re vulnerable to both interior and exterior deception. Enantiodromia reflects on a phenomenon Carl Jung invoked during his explorations of the unconscious mind.
Serrano notes that many of his ideas for songs bubble out of the inner recesses of his own subconscious when he’s simply riffing around. “There are times when I feel as though I’m just a vessel for an idea that comes through me because it needs expression.” He knows that sounds a bit self-important, but it’s a belief countless other songwriters have expressed. “I think it’s a true phenomenon, and I’m grateful to have experienced it.”
Though his Bandcamp has earned him some notice from listeners, Serrano is eager to kick his career into a higher gear. He can now be found on Instagram, and Enantiodromia’s songs are being posted on Spotify (with videos on YouTube). He’s also evaluating a management team. “I need to become more business-savvy, to learn to market myself,” he confesses. He’s fueled by the conviction that he’s offering something more original than the “carbon copy” nature of much contemporary—even contemporary folk—music.
He’s also put more emphasis on playing live—at Hartford’s Pratt Street Sounds series, the upcoming Glastonbury Apple Harvest & Music Festival and downtown’s Cafe Nine—and is heartened by the response. “The highest praise I ever get is when people tell me, ‘I needed that,’ because a song or performance has had a healing effect on them. That’s the best reward.”
Written by Patricia Grandjean. Image photographed by Ricardo Gutiérrez and provided courtesy of Xavier Serrano.
