It comes as little surprise that when Brian D’Addario joins me over Zoom, he does so perched on a leafy park bench with his headphones entangled in the lapels of a vintage coat. Aside from this image flouting the conventions of a typical scheduled cyber interview, I think that’s how most of us picture him anyway: a wispy waif floating around the most beautiful patches of our feted boho districts in delicate flares, making sweet, sweet music to match. That’s part of the appeal of The Lemon Twigs—beyond the boon of the songs, just knowing that they’re out there taking ‘er easy for the rest of us sinners is a winning reassurance.

This momentarily ground to a halt one idle day a few weeks back when an unexpected press release skidded into my inbox. At first, fears of a rift in The Lemon Twigs abounded when I heard the news of Brian D’Addario’s debut solo album, but a matter of seconds into our subsequent chat, and with a hearty smile, these fears were dispelled. “Yeah, well, it’s really just a way to get more music out, you know? I mean, I just had the songs for a solo record,” he says with the easy honesty of a man who hasn’t even considered anything other than the truth.

In short, the only reason Till the Morning has arisen is that the D’Addario brothers are so confident in their prolific form that when a few of Brian’s loose songs happened to fit together, it seemed only natural for him to release them. Hence, we now have a record that sounds remarkably close to how a crisp walk through a city park feels.

Is there a name for that style? Well, Brian muses, “I guess I’ve been saying ‘country baroque’. That’s the kind of vibe. There’s some pedal steel stuff, but that’s really just me playing the electric guitar in the style of a pedal steel. Then, there’s a lot of more overt classical influences on other songs. I don’t really know what unites the songs and what makes them feel like they fit together.”

“Half the songs are kind of more in this country style, and half the songs are more 1920s style,” he continues. “Maybe it’s just the instrumentation? It’s a little bit more stripped down, and you can hear everything that’s going on, whereas on some of our records, we kind of go crazy with the production.”

That was enough of a point of difference for it to be classified as a Brain D’Addario solo record. However, with some of the songs dating back to 2017, it’s certainly not an intensely studious passion project where he spears current events or tackles great social analogies. Much like when he is working with the band, he writes to the ways of his whims. That shines through in the beautifully unconceited, almost child-like earnestness of the music.

That same honesty is reflected in the way that Brian views his songwriting craft, too. As he explains: “I got really deeply into Phil Ochs around five years ago. And I just really loved his songs that had really clear targets. And I love this Allen Ginsberg song called ‘CIA Dope Calypso’, that was just about a very specific thing where the CIA was peddling dope in Vietnam. And I loved these things, and I tried to write a couple songs like that, but they just turned out horrible—they were just awful. So it’s really, I don’t think it’s important, that I write in a more specific, targeted way if it’s going to turn out bad.”

That’s the only motivation for the D’Addario brothers: to write songs that turn out good. And seemingly plenty of them. In an age where a world of culture is at our fingertips and you can add to it in a heartbeat, rather than being daunted by that proposition and desperately, futilely thinking about trying to throw something new into the mix while fussing over how to throw it—these happy-go-lucky artists, who spend their days flitting between studios and park benches, just want to create great music that oils the gears to a good day.

With a wintery New York wind wafting his locks, Brian almost looks down the lens with a sympathetic smile that implies, ‘What can I tell you, Tom? There’s no great story here other than I’ve written a little record that I’m really happy with’. While a CIA angle or some gobsmacking spacious hook never goes amiss, in a time teeming with bawdy bullshit and repugnant pretence, I’m more than happy to take that frank admission on the chin. In fact, after countless interviews where that selfsame truth has been wilfully obscured by flimsy falsehoods, D’Addario’s humble concession in itself is a very original hook. On this happy occasion, Till the Morning does the talking.

But perhaps most importantly, it achieves a timelessness that will see its easy appeal sustain. I’m quite certain that should I ever reach retirement, all those years down the line, I’ll treat myself to a little wander around a park that has been dramatically altered by climate change and give Till the Morning a heartening listen. In an age of fast fashion, where everything seems increasingly disposable, that imagined future where this humble record still warrants happy attention is about as mighty a triumph as any artist can muster.

Without tearing into the industry or any bold claim, Brian simply concludes, “I’m just really excited to make music.” Then he jaunts back from the park to the studio, spurred on by his latest pretty chord change.