Artist: The Naked Sun
Hometown: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Latest Album: Mirror in the Hallway (set for release January 30, 2026)
Personal nicknames (or rejected band names): “Fully Clothed Moon”; “Naked! Son.”; “The Naked Sons”
(Editor’s Note: Responses provided by The Naked Sun guitarist and singer-songwriter Drew Harris.)
What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?
I have a very vivid memory from when I was maybe four years old. My mom wasn’t home from work yet, so I was being watched at someone’s house – some kid I barely knew. I was only there once in my life, a strange one-off moment that almost feels like fate. They had one of those old Casio-style keyboards with preset drum loops and out of pure boredom I started messing with it.
To this day, I can remember the feeling of a sort of flow state and being sucked into the music I was making. It’s really that exact feeling that keeps me coming back to the profound play that is making music. Something clicked. When my mom came to pick me up, I didn’t want to let the keyboard go. Something in her must’ve recognized that spark, because not long after we were driving around to strangers’ houses looking for a used piano that we could afford. I started lessons soon after and kept at them for the next six or seven years.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do they impact your work?
We all spend a lot of time in nature. Tom, Dylan, and I are pretty avid cyclists. We have some incredible trails in and around Philadelphia that we spend a lot of time riding. Tim’s a trail runner and very recently took up bow hunting. James loves hiking the Wissahickon.
For me, the place that shapes my writing the most is the Delaware Bay. I walk those beaches for hours – staring at the tide, the sky, the sand shifting beneath me. I started doing it out of boredom, stuck at the shore when everyone else was gone, needing some way to fill the time. (Turns out: boredom = creativity.)
One night I walked all the way toward the Cape May–Lewes Ferry and watched a storm crawl across the bay – lightning slowly getting closer. It was beautiful and terrifying and overwhelming. I think that was the first moment I felt truly connected to nature, and something inside me clicked open. I’ve been returning to that shoreline ever since.
I think the ever-changing shoreline informs my music in a deep way. The beach is never the same twice – shaped daily by tides, wind, and waves, scattered with shells, rocks, horseshoe crabs, footprints, and whatever people leave behind. Every sunset lands at a slightly different angle, filtered through a new cloud formation or dropping into a clear sky without interruption.
Change.
Like the shore, our lives are constantly shifting – subtle in some seasons, dramatic in others. Music is how I process that movement. It lets me catalog who I was and who I’m becoming. When change feels heavy or uncertain, music is the valve that releases that pressure. Because the music will always be there, I know I can change.
How often do you hide behind a character in a song or use “you” when it’s actually “me”?
This is a really interesting question, because I think that, at least in my music, every song is about me in some way, shape, or form. Even when I’m writing from someone else’s perspective, when I pull the thread it always comes back to me. Even if it’s years and years after I’ve written a song I’ll look again with a fresh set of eyes and be like, “I thought that was about my mother, but damn, that was really about me.”
I remember writing in a journal years ago that all of my songs are really just letters to myself. And how could they not be? Even when I think I’m writing about someone else, I usually circle back later and realize it was me the whole time. It’s not that I’m hiding behind “you” – it’s that sometimes I don’t yet recognize the reflection I’m writing from.
But I’m increasingly drawn to exploring the true “you” in a song. The songwriters I admire most are shapeshifters – they step into other lives completely, almost like actors. They embody characters, perspectives, flaws, desires. They can disappear into someone else and still reveal something human and true.
That kind of writing fascinates me. It’s difficult – maybe the hardest thing to do, honestly – but I feel like it’s where I’m headed next. If writing has been a mirror, maybe now it becomes a window too.
What is a genre, album, artist, musician, or song that you adore that would surprise people?
Most people don’t expect this, but my all-time favorite band is the Canadian punk group Propagandhi. I first heard them at 14 or 15, walking into a head shop on the Wildwood boardwalk. It was angrier, smarter, sharper than anything I’d heard – political, passionate, direct. Perfect for a rebellious Catholic school kid
I’ve been listening to Propagandhi since their very first record. I’ve even been up to Canada to see them play and met Chris, Todd, and Jord. This style of music is so different from the music I make. I tried, believe me, I tried to write fast punk-metal riffs, I just wasn’t very good at it. (Propagandhi shreds.) I found Bob Dylan at the right age, taught myself how to play guitar and harmonica at the same time, and adopted a more folky sound.
But I think Propagandhi and folk share a similar ethos: anti-corporate, pro-people. I like to think that I’ve combined the two genres at times in my own abstract and artistic way.
Since food and music go so well together, what is your dream pairing of a meal and a musician?
I love to cook and have spent time working in kitchens as a line chef, and I even taught cooking for several years, so cooking, food, and of course music are always paired together. I have a little tradition when I go down the shore in the summer; the first summer meal that I prepare, which is almost always shrimp, scallops, and Jersey corn, I turn on “Mississippi” by Bob Dylan off of The Bootleg Series, Vol. 8: Tell Tale Signs. I just absolutely love this version of this song and it transports me back to making meals at my Mom Mom’s house down the shore.
Sorry, Bob, but since this is a dream meal, my dream meal is with Bob’s friend, Tom. My dream meal would be picking blue crabs, sipping beers (and probably a couple joints), listening to music, and chatting with Tom Petty. Tom’s a southern guy, so I think he’d appreciate some blue crab, corn, shrimp, potatoes, and of course a joint or two.
We’d sit outside down at the Jersey Shore and I’d let Tom control the aux and just shoot the shit while we imbibed. A crab feast is always really long, too, so I’d get some extra time to spend with my hero. Not sure I’d ask Tom any specific questions, I’d just want to listen to his tunes and listen to him tell me why he chose them, what he liked about them, what they remind him of, etc., while we sweat out light beer and fill up on blue crab.
Photo Credit: Bob Sweeney