Rufus Joseph on Writing Through Darkness and Dancing With It
Rufus Joseph is of the songwriting school where they make songs by metabolizing experience into sound. His music feels like late-night confessions broadcast through cathedral speakers: intimate, cinematic, and uncomfortably honest. Rufus spent his twenties in a room, his mind expanding to fill the space his body couldn’t. He got sober at 25 and now writes like someone who knows what it costs to stay alive.
In this interview, Joseph talks about the tension between legacy and identity, the therapeutic chaos of posting unfinished demos, and why structure might be the most rebellious thing he’s ever embraced. It’s a conversation about art, yes, but also about choosing to live when every part of you wants out. If you’ve ever felt like your life was happening in the margins, this one’s for you.
You just turned thirty. A lot of people call that the start of “real life.” Do you feel like you’re finally living it, or still breaking through the noise of your own head?
For me, turning 30 was a special moment. It’s just a number, of course. But my teens and especially my 20s were extremely difficult mentally. I managed to get sober at 25, and that was the beginning of a long, terrifying, wonderful recovery. The end of my 20s was about finding the balance between happiness with the current situation against the grief of what most of my life has been. Active healing will always be required, but I am so much more equipped for life than I ever have been. The 20s feel like the decade I survived. My 30s will be the decade I thrive.
Your dad built an empire. You’re building songs. Do you ever feel like your art is a rebellion against the world you were born into?
My therapist once told me: Kids avoid the spaces where their parents excel. My dad built an empire, and I ended up in music - a space where he’s utterly hopeless. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.
Strip away money, last names, all of it. Why do you actually sit down and write?
I write because I need to. Even if no one ever heard a note, I’d still be doing it. It’s how I process life, how I make sense of all the chaos in my head. It’s not optional - it’s therapy, it’s survival. I also have a deep story of resilience that I am desperate to impart. A survival and recovery that seems inconceivable to me. I will always do what I can to try to translate that journey in a way that might move the needle in someone’s life.
Creativity and Process
Your tracks sound like late-night diary entries produced for a cinema screen. Where does that tension between tiny and huge come from?
I LOVE this question: I love contrast, I love the micro and the macro. The tension of opposites. The seemingly increasingly disrespected existence of nuance and the dialectic. The tiny exists in part to represent most of my existence. 20 years of agoraphobia that has seen most of my life relegated to a single room. My body being confined created a need for my mind to expand. I’ve always loved big philosophical and existential questions. I believe existence needs balance. And being at one extreme requires the need to explore the other. That is always reflected in my writing.
You post demos and half-finished sketches on Instagram when most artists hide the mess. What does exposing the process give you that a polished rollout never could?
I would be lying if I said it’s anything less than 90% validation-seeking. I do NOT have the patience to be a traditional musician who hides stuff for a year for a big release. I’m sure there are some pros and cons to the process from a tactical standpoint, but I won’t obfuscate the only real reason!
If you had to tattoo one sentence that sums up your creative philosophy, what would it say?
I’ve already thought about this! Otherwise, I’d be here for hours! ‘Perfection is the enemy of pulse’
Lifestyle and Perspective
The Hollywood Hills can feel like heaven and hell on the same day. What has that landscape done to your writing?
This is a question that is more interesting than the answer, I think. Although there is so much to speculate about what might be happening subconsciously in a life that’s been lived inside 4 walls and having such a wonderful view. I know a lot of artists allow their surroundings to play a big role in their process. I think I am so lost in my head when writing that, at least consciously, my physical environment doesn’t make a difference in a way I can understand.
London sharpened your edges, LA pulls you toward spectacle. How do you stop one city from swallowing the other?
My 5 years in London were spent in a single room. With a small balcony that was blocked off for my safety. My time in LA started with a year-long stint in rehab, followed by a recovery so profound that it is my first realization every morning. The cities themselves? I can’t speak to them with any confidence. But what do they represent? One is death, and the other is life.
Deep Dive: The Songs
Lift Off: Why keep it at two minutes when it feels like it could run forever?
I had a lot of fun making Lift Off, especially the production elements. And although it is a song I am proud of in its execution, it doesn’t feel like the most sincere expression of who I am as an artist. This is a balance I pay obsessive attention to. And in the pursuit of music that is perhaps more ‘palatable’ than what resonates with me most, I don’t think it was crying out to be any longer.
Ghost Eyes: Who are those eyes staring back?
Those are the eyes of the people who kept me alive: my family.
I can’t quantify their suffering. They sacrificed their lives and sanity just to give me the chance to keep mine. The fact I’m here today - engaged to a person (Scarlett) beyond wildest imagination, with two animals I adore, and a life where I get to dream - is proof of a war fought behind closed doors.
Shaped By Light: What is the light you’re actually chasing?
There’s a line I sing about hating the darkness but also admitting it gave me something I couldn’t have found without it. The light isn’t about ignoring the monster - it’s about realizing I was shaped by what I survived, and that I’m stronger and happier than I ever could have been without it
Home: Does that word even mean anything to you when you’re split between continents?
I’ve never felt tied to one place. London was survival, LA has been rebirth. So when I write about ‘home,’ I’m really writing about a state of being. In the song, it’s a place where grief and growth live together, where I can stand in both pain and beauty without trying to erase either. Home is less geography, more reconciliation.
Dance With Darkness: What did the darkness teach you that comfort never could?
Darkness taught me that every emotion deserves a seat at the table.
The biggest key to peace, at least in my life, has been learning to balance all emotions equally. Darkness isn’t the enemy, just as light isn’t the prize. Like the movie ‘Inside Out’ shows so beautifully, every feeling exists to deliver truth. We’re biased toward chasing pleasure and avoiding pain, but that bias blinds us. When I stopped judging emotions by how they felt, I finally started hearing what they had to say. That’s when transformation became possible
This Is Your Life: Who were you daring—yourself or your audience?
I was daring us both.
The verses remember pain; lost years, last nights, all the times I wanted out. But the chorus refuses to stay there. This Is Your Life is me telling myself not to give up, but it’s also for anyone listening in that same space. It’s me saying: I know you’re tired, I know you’ve said your goodbyes, but you’re still here. Don’t let that slip away.
Breaking Stereotypes
People assume money makes it easy. What’s the hardest thing you’ve had to prove to yourself in the studio?
The verses remember pain; lost years, last nights, all the times I wanted out. But the chorus refuses to stay there. This Is Your Life is me telling myself not to give up, but it’s also for anyone listening in that same space. It’s me saying: I know you’re tired, I know you’ve said your goodbyes, but you’re still here. Don’t let that slip away.
Do you ever feel like every note you write is being measured against your last name instead of your craft?
No. I write music that is supposed to inspire deep feelings. I think the demographic of people who are likely to enjoy my music is less likely to judge me by that sort of happenstance and more by what the song is telling them and making them feel. I recognize my privilege to the best of my ability. I do not carry that with me when I’m writing.
You’re working with Jeffery David, who has credits with Seal, Zedd, Mat Kearney, and Echosmith. What has he forced you to confront about yourself that you might have avoided on your own?
Structure. Structure in music and Structure in life. I live a lot of my life according to what you may stereotype me with. Whimsical, disorganized, deeply feeling, and impulse-driven. I’ve found that my creativity is enhanced by limits and structure as opposed to being restricted.
Impact and Future
If someone hits play in the middle of their worst night, what do you want your song to do for them?
That time functions as an exponentially increasing variable. That I was 100% convinced that I would either find the ‘courage’ to end it all or that I’d live as a vessel for pure suffering. That I would punch you if you dared to try and tell me that this is how I’d feel in 10 years because of how inconceivable and painful it would be just to imagine. That ALWAYS choosing to live EVERY DAMN TIME you consider otherwise is building the very muscle that will give you a life you cannot believe.
Fast forward ten years—how do you want people to talk about Rufus Joseph when they look back on this moment?
‘People’ is too broad for me. I don’t care what most people have to say. Truly. I care about those whom I can impact. I want them to say I was right. That they survived. I will not allow humility to get in the way of doing as much good as I possibly can. Or maybe being the needle that keeps even one person alive.
What’s the first ten seconds of your album supposed to feel like in someone’s chest?
Honestly, before this, I didn’t have much of an idea. But I think this interview has helped guide me to the answer.