Confessions From the Underground #16: Public Adoration

**This column originally appeared in our March 2026 issue**

Photo by Elissa Ebersold

There have been many moments lately where I’ve asked myself “What’s the point?” in regards to my own art. Or, more accurately, “Does anyone care?” Which yes, dear reader, is in fact a rather silly question to be asking. Because ultimately, that’s not what any of this is about. Musicians love to tell you they write because they have to. It’s a cathartic release akin to journaling, or perhaps screaming into a pillow. We are sensitive people, and we wear our hearts on our sleeves… or better yet, in our songs. But we also, like anybody else, want to succeed. We do want as many people as possible to enjoy what we’re making even if we’re doing it for ourselves — weird juxtaposition, right? That’s exactly what I get into below with Zan Strumfeld, whom you undoubtedly know as the singer/songwriter from the fabulous quintet, Zan & the Winter Folk. The million dollar question: would you still make music if you knew for a fact no one would ever listen to it? Although not overtly, I think she answers that question pretty eloquently here.

TJ Foster: What I wanted to speak with you about today is public adoration. I’ve been thinking a lot about this weird dichotomy we have as artists, where we’re writing music for ourselves, ideally not caring about what anyone else thinks. But at the same time, the goal is almost always to release that music to the public and of course we all want it to be loved and well-received. I don’t know if you’ve thought about this at all, but why do you think we spend so much time crafting these deeply personal songs to then seek approval or validation from the public? 

Zan Strumfeld: Oh, TJ, this couldn't have been a worse question to ask me, just because I think about it all the time. [laughs] I mean, that's never my intention [to seek outside approval]. The reality is, I'm not doing this for any other reason than I feel like I have to sing these songs. It can just be for me or no one or everyone. 

I started writing songs in my very early 20s. It was my way of processing. I've always been a writer, somebody that journals, and I’ve always been a musical person. But when I started actually writing songs and playing them for my roommates in college, they were like, “You should be performing this live.” There was never a moment where I was like, “Yeah, I definitely want to do that.” But it just sort of went from A to B to C.

But no, honestly, from my perspective, it makes zero sense why someone like me would write songs about a personal situation and then put them out in the world, because I do see myself as a very private person. Every single time, even after writing and performing for 15 years now, I am shocked when somebody is not only listening to my music, but that the music resonates with them, and that they want to spend money to hear the music. I'm sure it is a version of imposter syndrome, I don't know. But there's this pull inside me that just feels like I need to write music for myself. And that is where I could do a full-stop. But unfortunately, these people keep pulling me out and making me do it! 

TF: I think about that a lot too — I'm a pretty private person, more or less. But at the same time, we're making this music and then putting it out there for “judgment” for whatever reason. For you, it sounds like some good people are encouraging you to do it. 

ZS: Absolutely. I am definitely somebody who will push myself to do things that scare me or that I don't even like if I know it might be good for me. But I don't go where I'm not invited. I don't want to be somewhere that people don't want me. That's a hard thing about me. So, there's no way in hell if people were not showing up to our shows or buying the music or listening that I would be doing this. I would always be writing music for myself because I know it is healing for me. 

It's a really interesting process for me because I'm always writing to process something. At least half of my music is relationship-based. But as I've gotten older, it's also more about who I am and how I fit in the world. It’s not just my romantic relationships, but relationships with friends and work and family and all these different facets of me. It's really beautiful to see the growth in myself in this weirdly public way. It's a weird combination of this private and public version of myself. 

Luckily there's enough generality to the music where you wouldn't necessarily know who or what I'm talking about. The frustrating thing is I cannot write music if I'm in a good place in my life, which has this whole other world of frustration and depression because it’s an immensely important creative outlet, and I cannot do it right now because I'm feeling okay in my life. It's like, “Zan, are you ever going to be happy?”

TF: Do you ever have moments when you're writing a very personal song and you feel like you have to kind of draw a line somewhere because you don't want X or Y to be out in public? Or are you always putting it all out there?

ZS: Oh, yeah. It’s like when people say, “If you're in a fight with somebody, write them a letter. Don't send them the first draft, but maybe send them the second.” I have a lot of the first drafts that no one will ever hear. And maybe it's because it says a very specific thing. At the end of the day, I'm processing my own thing that might be a specific situation that happened with somebody and that person is going to know it. In that moment, what I'm feeling as an initial emotion might be really negative or angry or hurtful. But that's not how I'm feeling all of the time. So I ideally don't always want that to be the final product.

I am also a very sensitive person. I don't want to be hurtful. I've had songs that we didn't perform for a very long time because I wasn't ready. I needed more time before it was heard and whether that was being protective over the person it was about or maybe even myself, I don’t know. But I have been nervous to reveal certain parts about myself, probably because everybody obviously knows my songs are stemming from personal experiences. I am so grateful for that appreciation. But also, many times someone will be like, “Who's this about? What's this about?” And it’s like, can you just listen to the song and maybe see how it feels and resonates in your life? You don’t have to know everything! It’s really weird. I still don’t know after all these years.

TF: I get that. Obviously step one when writing songs is releasing those inner emotions and processing whatever things you've experienced. But then once you put it out there, it can feel almost like you're making a personal connection with someone listening, right? Do you ever feel any sort of responsibility to serve that role of being a bridge between your song and a listener?

ZS: [pauses] No. I'm not thinking about anyone else except for myself and potentially who I'm writing about. At the end of the day, I do hope that the song hits them where it needs to but…

TF: It doesn't cross your mind.

ZS: Yeah. When I have done that in the past, it's been a huge block for me. I have tried to write before to please someone else or [felt] like, “I don't want to write about this thing anymore.” But I think I’ve accepted that, as a creative person, I just have to let whatever is going to happen come out. And if it's the same song 17 times, maybe with a different melody and lyrics but I'm singing about the same freaking thing, fine. If that's my way of having to process, I have to accept that. That doesn't mean the audience is hearing all of those songs — they might only hear one of them.

It's like the same thing when you're processing a situation with your friend and you've told that friend that you've talked about this one thing for months and months. And that friend is like, “You already know the answer, get it through your head. We've been talking about this for months and months.” My version of that is writing songs. And it's a very stupid thing. I don't recommend it for anybody, but I don't know any other way. 

TF: That's honestly so comforting to hear because I struggle with that all the time. I sit down to write a song and I feel like I've written about the same thing like 15 times already. Do I really have anything more interesting to say about it?

ZS: Totally. Yeah.

TF: It sounds very freeing that you're able to just be like, “Who gives a shit?” and let it happen. 

ZS: Believe me, I am battling with it all the time still. And obviously you get older and you stop caring as much about what other people think. But then here I am doing this very public thing! It's the juxtaposition of, this is about me, but then I obviously care what X, Y, Z thinks. And is anyone going to listen? I'm exhausted by that. 

Even having a band — I have this band of four people that I adore and care so much about on a friendship level, but also about what they feel about my music. And even before the audience gets to hear, I have to go through their process of, is this something that they want to play and arrange? That's a whole other level before it even touches the audience.

So I'm going through many phases of approval, which can be a really debilitating process. I can stop it at any time and for some reason I keep pushing through and it's so crazy.

TF: That’s a great point. I didn’t really think about the fact that you're going through a completely different kind of filter when you bring something to your bandmates. They're seeing the song in basically the roughest form that it will ever exist.

ZS: And they've said no. Many times. [laughs] Most of those I have agreed with and some of them I've had to push and some of them I've won. But, I'm not going to force them to play a song they don't want to play. I respect that and I respect them. But most* of the time they're right. Let's put an asterisk on that. 

TF: What about when it comes time to release something? I feel like I saw something around the time [of releasing New Morse Code, 2024] where you were talking about how you’ve already done all this work leading up to that. “I've already written the songs. I've recorded them. I've released them. And now I'm expected to do X, Y, and Z and watch the numbers and the likes and the comments.” And you made a conscious decision to just step away from it when you needed to, rather than engage with all that. So it sounds like you have a very healthy boundary there. How are you able to manage that?

ZS: I mean, it comes in waves. That did happen. After we released the record, I actually took space, which is the opposite of what you're supposed to do. I also, at that point, had listened to [the record] so many times and got a little obsessive. I just really wanted to make sure it felt good to share. 

I think maybe I'm also just a busy person, so I can only give it so much energy. But I think that is going to suck the joy completely out. And it sucks because musicians now, unless you're really making money, you're not just the musician. You're the business person. You're the marketing manager. You're the booking agent. You're everything. And at the end of the day, most of that does fall on me. You really can only leave so much space for each thing. 

But yes, I try to take a healthy amount of space when I can. Even now it's kind of weird because we released this record. It took everything out of us. We played a lot of shows. We won these tremendous awards and all of these things. And all of a sudden, we haven’t released anything in a year and a half now. And I have this crazy pressure that I'm putting on myself. I mean, we have a new record ready to go, but what is that process going to look like? Do you guys still remember us? 

TF: Isn't that such a sign of the times that you're sitting here 18 months out from your last record, stressing about whether you’ve been releasing things fast enough? You think back before the music industry shifted into streaming and social media — artists were putting three or four years in between records. And that was a normal thing. But I'm the same way. My band put out a record in April and we don't have anything lined up so we must be squandering attention. Is anyone going to remember us? We're all putting so much pressure on ourselves to meet this weird expectation that we have to feed the public more content, more music, or we're going to disappear.

ZS: I keep using the word exhausting, but it really is. It sucks away a lot of the fun and joy. Like, we all have full-time jobs. This is something I'm doing for joy and fulfillment in my life and it’s a huge part of my identity. 

At the end of the day, in my mind, we can easily just be this band that hangs out every week and we never leave the garage. We're just together because we are creating this really special experience together. And it’s still crazy for me to write a song and then give it to the band and have it really come to life. That community and collaboration is where I'll get really emotional because I'm like, really? You want to work on this song? And you want to hang out with me? I don't know, maybe at the end of the day, I'm still just a kid in junior high school who doesn't know where to sit in the lunchroom.

TF: You mentioned briefly the awards that came along last year with New Morse Code. And that’s a whole other level of this public perception thing. And since we're once again here during awards season, both locally and nationally, what are your thoughts on events like that? Getting together and acknowledging artists in such a public arena?

ZS: I think it's special that any local area will recognize artistic talent. I do. And it's a weird mix because it felt really amazing to win those awards. We were honestly really surprised. We had been nominated many, many times and never won. And winning for [Album of the Year] specifically meant a lot because it was such a pain in the ass to put together. I think we did need a little bit of that confidence boost just to have our work really be recognized. 

I don't know how I feel about award ceremonies in general. I like the idea of people getting dressed up and going to a fancy thing — that is exciting to me. And we deserve it. I mean, the Capital Region gets a mix of being a great place to live and having a bad rep. Whatever we can do to boost it, I think is good.

TF: There’s another juxtaposition there, for sure. Getting recognized like that is a huge, welcome confidence boost. But then on the other side, it’s added pressure, right? “I have this ‘award-winning’ adjective next to my name now, and now I have to live up to that. What do I do next?” 

ZS: Yeah, everything is complicated. That can be just the title. [laughs]

TF: Lastly, in the spirit of ending with a nugget of advice, what would you say to the “next generation” of musicians as they navigate this artistic landscape of algorithms and validation and all that?

ZS: Don’t do it. [laughs] No, just kidding. I think… remember why you’re doing this. And that answer could be totally different for every person. For me, it’s processing. For someone else it could be, to get girls to like me, or to make money. Whatever it is, remember what your ultimate goal is and don’t lose sight of that. 

Remembering the goal is what keeps me able to do this. It’s writing for myself and sharing with whoever wants to listen and being okay if they don’t. I’m not saying it’s an easy thing to accept — I do have a healthy balance I think, but it’s taken a really long time [to get there]. It is hard. Just be as resilient as you can. I hope that makes sense. 

Listen to New Morse Code everywhere you enjoy music, and follow Zan and the Winter Folk on socials @zanandthewinterfolk