Introducing: John Witherspoon

A meditation on modern disconnection wrapped in sharp, soulful songwriting, Liverpool singer-songwriter John Witherspoon returns with his most thematically resonant work to date. His third album, One of Them—out October 31st—sees him grappling with the strange contradictions of contemporary life: the intimacy of constant connection contrasted with the emotional distance it creates.

Praised for having “a poet’s sense of lyric possibility” (Liverpool Acoustic) and lauded as “a craftsman… instilling heartfelt honesty” (Get Into This), Witherspoon meets and exceeds the high bar set by his previous records Showin’ Up, Startin’ Again and Heart In, Head Out.

On One of Them, he traces the impact of technology, phone addiction and shifting communication styles through eleven tracks that balance cynicism with compassion, and solitude with shared humanity. At its core is a writer navigating his own light and dark—torn between the instinct to retreat into the solitary life of an artist and the pull toward family, community and connection.

The record’s focus track, “All My Venom,” distills this tension into a single cutting hook—“I love you, but I could give you all my venom”—capturing the messy complexities of love, resentment and the emotional consequences of avoiding confrontation. Elsewhere, live-recorded sessions and a collaborative studio process bring a rawness and immediacy that contrast beautifully with the solitary writing that shaped the songs.

Influenced by everyone from Dylan, Cohen and Paul Simon to Blur, Radiohead and the storytelling traditions of Merseyside, Witherspoon has carved out his place as a thoughtful, honest voice in contemporary indie rock. And though One of Them isn’t afraid to acknowledge the bleakness of modern life, it ultimately lands somewhere hopeful—rooted in the belief that connection, however fragile, is still worth fighting for. Below, Witherspoon dives deeper into the themes, contradictions and creative processes that shaped One of Them.

You’ve described One of Them as “a meditation on disconnection in a seemingly connected world.” What first sparked your interest in exploring that idea, and how did it evolve during the writing process?

Exploring the idea was not a conscious decision. I go one song at a time and see what happens. When I’m 7 or 8 songs deep into the project I can look over my shoulder and make some connections, speculate on some overall themes. But at no point does one song influence the next, in terms of lyrics.

I don't know if I had a spark, but day to day I'm walking round despairing about the phones, despairing about how they've impacted our attention-spans and connections with each other.

Much of the album seems to balance light and dark — faith in humanity versus cynicism, love versus detachment. How do you find that equilibrium in your songwriting without it tipping too far one way or the other?

I think I’m probably similar to most people in that I often feel like a bag of contradictions, with no idea where I’m going wrong or right. Should I embrace my self-interested, isolated life as a songwriter, and indeed bring more ambition and discipline to it, if I’m serious about building an audience? or should I let it all go and think about who I’m helping. What is my place in my community, in my family, among my friends. Liberate myself and just focus on these things, being a nicer kinder person.

In terms of the writing, again, how I’m presenting myself overall is not at all calculated. I just let it out. In some songs I guess it does tip from one to the other. In some songs I hate myself, in some songs I am completely at peace with my life and truly grateful for it, like in ‘You’ll do for Me.’

The making of the album sounds like it had two distinct phases: solitude in writing and togetherness in recording. How did that contrast shape the final sound of One of Them?

Both parts of the journey were beautiful. Truthfully, I’m never happier than when I’m writing alone, but the more control I’m relinquishing and room I’m leaving for the brilliance of other people, the better the song tends to get. So yeah, contrasting phases, but I adore the entire process. I’m trying not to get too attached to my demoes, because I can end up regretting certain things like tempo. Its better to jam it out with people before you record. Make it live, make it real.

I feel like the title “One of Them” works on a few different levels and one is my tribute to the musical gang behind this record. It was the biggest team effort so far, and I’m proud to be on the team.

On “All My Venom,” you capture that fine line between love and resentment with real honesty. What’s your approach to turning something so emotionally raw into something that still feels musical and accessible?

I think you can strip the romance out of that a bit, because again, lyrics and themes aren’t that calculated or conscious in the moment. I had the hook melody before anything, and one day I sang “But I could give you all my venom,” and you go okay I guess that’s my hook, and I guess we’re writing that song. So I have the chords and structure, and then just this venom line, and I tried to unravel a song from it.The song is about what happens when you hold onto anger and avoid confrontation like the plague. Nice guy syndrome. If you don’t confront people (even about small things like kitchen mess, as described in verse one), you will turn into a monster of resentment and potentially ruin relationships. I felt highly qualified to get into that.

You’ve drawn influence from a huge range of artists — from Dylan and Cohen to Blur and Radiohead — yet your songs feel distinctly Liverpool in tone and storytelling. How does your Merseyside background continue to shape your creative identity?

I think The Beatles are pretty much in my DNA. When I think of Yellow Submarine it’s like recalling a nursery rhyme or earliest memory. But maybe The Beatles have that power in every city on the planet, not just Liverpool. A stronger influence on me was the song ‘Walkaway’ by the Liverpool band Cast. I was gifted the single on cassette and I was only eight years old. I still remember sitting in my Nana’s and playing it on repeat alone in her dining room. They had a great stereo and I was spellbound by that song. I think you could argue that I went on to try and build my sound from it for the next 30 years. Acoustic guitar-led indie that is hopefully pretty and moving.I’ve never left Merseyside, so whether I like it or not that has to shape me. Luckily like most scousers I do like it, I’m very proud of us. It feels probably too late for me to end up any where else, I’ve got too many good people around me.