GUS ENGLEHORN ANNOUNCES NEW ALBUM THE BROKEN BALLADEERO

Less than a year after the release of his critically acclaimed album The Hornbook, psych-pop storyteller Gus Englehorn returns with a brand new record. The Broken Balladeer, his fourth album, arrives 27 February 2026 and marks a deepened collaboration with Paul Leary of Butthole Surfers, who this time steps in as producer.

Recorded in Austin, Texas alongside longtime collaborator Estée Preda, the album was largely captured live in just six days — a fast, focused process that gives the record what Preda calls a “very real and unified sound.” The sessions also brought together a formidable cast of studio veterans including Stuart Sullivan (Sublime, Meat Puppets, Willie Nelson), mastering engineer Howie Weinberg (Nirvana, Beastie Boys, Smashing Pumpkins), and cult producer Kramer (Daniel Johnston, Ween, Galaxy 500). Leary even contributed the album artwork himself.

To coincide with the announcement, Englehorn has shared the album’s first taste: “Pepperina,” a strutting disco-punk revenge tale that he imagines as a Western villain singing to two captured lovers. It’s a fitting preview of a record built around the wandering figure of the “Broken Balladeer” — a character drifting between cities, identities and stories.

Across twelve songs, Englehorn continues his singular blend of surreal storytelling, lo-fi invention and warped rock history. From the jangle-punk beginnings of Death & Transfiguration to the adventurous worlds of Dungeon Master and The Hornbook, his music has increasingly blurred time periods and genres, transforming the DNA of 20th-century rock into something stranger and more cinematic.

On The Broken Balladeer, that vision expands further — bigger, more textural and more theatrical, yet still driven by Englehorn’s off-kilter imagination and emotional core. Below, Gus talks about the new record, working with Paul Leary, recording live in Austin, and the character at the centre of the album.

1. The Broken Balladeer follows so soon after The Hornbook — what creative thread connects the two records, and where do you feel this new album pushes your sound or storytelling further?

I’m always looking to surprise myself and the listener, so usually the thread between two records is that I’m reacting against the previous album in an attempt to not repeat myself. It’s like a pendulum, but really it all happens very subconsciously. I suppose there is a lot of stories on both of them. Stories are fun. Now I’ve opened the Pandora’s box that is guitar pedals. So now I think I’m able to illustrate the mood behind the story a little more accurately.

2. You reunited with Paul Leary not just as a collaborator but as producer this time — how did his role shape the sonic or emotional direction of the album compared to your previous work together?

I had only talked to Paul on the phone and through emails, so when I met him in Texas, I didn’t quite know what to expect but it became quickly apparent that we had a very similar way of seeing things. I felt so understood by the great man, it was a wonderful feeling that led to a wonderful collaboration. He always seemed to know what to do. Stuart Sullivan, who’s been working with Paul a long time, did a great job engineering. It was a good feeling knowing that if you did anything nice that it was going to get captured as good as can be. I felt in good hands. He also did things like getting Kramer to play the bass, he played some bass himself, he played a guitar solo. He was the boss from start to finish this time but it was all very unintimidating and democratic. When we got it all done, I baked a big cake for everybody in the studio.

3. Estée mentioned you recorded most of the album live in just six days in Austin. How did that intense, prepared approach affect the performances and the “real and unified” feel you were aiming for?

Six days is actually the longest we’ve ever spent in the studio. We usually would do 3 to 5 days. So it felt luxurious to have those 6 whole days. I thought I would end up doing some overdubs at home but it just didn’t feel like it needed any. If it does feel real and unified, that’s thanks to Paul. I’ve heard him say that his approach to producing is to take a snapshot of the band. Paul and Stuart set us up so we were facing each other and we played through all the songs back to back. We got through 11 on the first day. Then we spent the rest of the time like two kids in a candy store, overdubbing away. We ended up using all kind of stuff that was sitting around: marxophones, omnichords, B3 organ, grand pianos, bells, jaw harps. You name it.

4. The character of the “Broken Balladeer” seems almost like an alter ego moving through cities and identities — how much of this persona reflects your own sense of displacement or artistic journey?

100% reflects my own artistic journey. I’ve realized each song I write, I put through a careful scrutiny. Before I feel like it is finished it has to check certain boxes and one of the biggest boxes is that it must be personal in some way. If it’s not personal in some way, I don’t end up feeling strongly enough about it to feel as though it is complete. That’s not to say that it is accurate in any way. I feel the need to exaggerate and distort almost all the facts.

5. “Pepperina” is described as a revenge song sung by a Western-style villain — what draws you to theatrical or cinematic imagery in your songwriting, and how does it help you explore emotion or narrative?

I reckon, I just watch a lot of movies and a lot of those movies are westerns. I live in a very isolated place on Maui, Hawaii, so I’m very cut off from any sort of art scene. Existing in a vacuum in this way, most of my inspiration comes from things like movies, books, records and nature. I’m not sure what draws me to any particular aspect of songwriting, but any chance I have to paint a little picture, I take it.

I think if you start with a story, at least you have something. If you don’t have the best melody or the best chops, you got a story. And of course, storytelling holds an unlimited capacity for emotion that clings to narrative in any way you feel gets it across best. I think the right balance most of the time for me is to tell a story but to make sure there’s plenty of mystery left in there so it remains open to interpretation.