In an apartment in New York, Brian D'Addario is doing what musicians have done for generations — sitting, listening to music, and answering correspondence. It's a charmingly ordinary scene for an artist whose work consistently demonstrates an extraordinary ability to fold time, bending musical epochs into fresh configurations that are both nostalgic and boldly contemporary.

As the elder half of The Lemon Twigs, D'Addario has already proven himself a master of musical metamorphosis. Now, with his debut solo album 'Till the Morning', he's crafted what might be his most intriguing transformation yet — a collection that his brother Michael aptly dubbed "country baroque," though even that evocative compound barely captures the full scope of this fascinating musical hybrid.

"It's fusion," Brian explains with characteristic straightforwardness. "My style of acoustic guitar playing is influenced by my classical guitar background, but I love folk and country singers and songwriters, as well as old Irving Berlin and Hoagy Carmichael songs." This melding of influences creates something akin to a musical möbius strip, where classical precision curves seamlessly into country warmth and back again.

The album itself represents a different kind of time-bending exercise, collecting songs written across a span of years, from 2017 to 2023. "It's like any of The Lemon Twigs records, really," D'Addario reflects. "A compilation of songs from over the last few years that felt like they belonged together." Yet the way these disparate pieces found their way to each other reveals something about D'Addario's creative process — less a deliberate curation than an organic convergence of compatible musical DNA.

"I think the tunes just belonged together," he notes. "Michael and I both tend to cycle between different styles of writing in one period of time just out of boredom. I'm more likely to write a country song followed by a power pop song or a classically influenced song than a bunch of country-influenced songs in a row."

This creative restlessness might explain why 'Till the Morning' feels less like a conventional solo debut and more like a carefully assembled musical cabinet of curiosities. Take 'Flash In The Pan', which D'Addario points to as an exemplar of the album's aesthetic, "with the slide guitars and the baroque bridge." It's the kind of song that could only emerge from a mind equally at home with Maybelle Carter and Johann Sebastian Bach.

The album's creation story is equally rich in these moments of serendipitous fusion. 'This Summer', one of the record's standout tracks, came together in a burst of spontaneous creativity. "We were with our friend Daryl Johns, and we all wanted to record a song but didn't have anything to record," D'Addario recounts. "So I wrote the music in about 10 minutes, and Michael made up some words. Daryl recorded it and played some great drums on it. I overdubbed some cellos and some electric guitar mimicking pedal steel later on, and it was done!"

This collaborative spirit runs deep throughout the album, particularly in D'Addario's continued creative partnership with his brother Michael, who co-produced the record. "All of these were essentially worked on as if they would become Lemon Twigs songs," Brian explains. "So there really isn't any difference." The brotherhood between them allows for a unique creative dynamic where songs can flow freely between their individual and collective projects.

The album also features an intriguing collaboration with LA poet Stephen Kalinich, known for his work with The Beach Boys. "He's a really positive guy and a true artist," D'Addario says. "Reading the words to those songs just gave me a great feeling, and the music instantly came. It helped my creativity a ton! His dedication to art and consistency over the years is really admirable."

'Till the Morning' marks another significant milestone as the first release on Headstack Records, the D'Addario brothers' own label. "We just wanted to put this record out fast without the usual rigmarole of working with an established label," Brian explains. "So we decided to get some records pressed ourselves." It's a move that speaks to the growing desire among artists to maintain control over their work.

Yet despite this new venture, D'Addario remains firmly committed to The Lemon Twigs. "I'm mostly just planning on doing more Lemon Twigs stuff," he affirms. "I think solo albums are a good way for me to get rid of stuff I've had hanging around for a while that I think is good." This perspective frames 'Till the Morning' not as a departure but as a complementary outlet, another facet of an already multifaceted musical practice.

The recording process exemplified this fluid approach. While some tracks, like 'Till The Morning' and 'Song Of Everyone', were worked on solo using an 8-track, others evolved through collaboration. 'Company', for example, began with Michael recording piano and vocals, before Brian added his own layers. It's this mix of solitary and shared moments that gives the album its distinct texture.

Currently, the brothers are keeping busy in the studio, producing the second album for a band called Tchotchke. "We worked on their first record and this second one is turning out even better," Brian enthuses, before noting their plans to record a new Lemon Twigs album before returning to touring in May.

In many ways, 'Till the Morning' feels less like a time capsule and more like a time machine — one that moves freely between eras and influences with the grace of a practised temporal navigator. It's a record that demonstrates how the boundaries between past and present are permeable, especially in the hands of someone who understands that tradition isn't a destination but a launching pad.

The album stands as a testament to D'Addario's unique ability to find the common thread between seemingly disparate musical languages — where baroque arrangements and country twang aren't opposing forces but complementary colours in an expanded palette. In doing so, he's created something that transcends mere pastiche or homage, instead offering a glimpse of what happens when musical history becomes a conversation rather than a timeline. It's the sound of someone who knows exactly where they've come from yet remains thrillingly uncertain about where they might go next.