Words by Sara Cederberg
On his latest album, Autofiction Far Caspian’s Joel Johnston finds beauty in life’s messy in-between moments—the kind that quietly reshape us. Living with Crohn’s disease and the anxieties it brought, Johnston dropped his guard, trading poetic metaphors for lyrics that speak directly about learning to let go, forgive, and accept uncertainty.
Entirely self-produced in his Leeds studio, the album also marks Johnston’s return to music after nearly quitting his own project altogether. The result is his most genuine work yet, a collection of songs that embrace vulnerability as a strength, reminding the listener and himself that even the smallest moments hold meaning.
Off Shelf: Autofiction feels like a turning point in your catalog — more open, more immediate, and more personal – even though I would have argued the same of The Last Remaining Light. What pushed you to let the guard down this time around and make an album that leans so heavily into diary-like honesty?
Joel Johnston: I think that style of writing started coming about on The Last Remaining Light, and now this record is a more fleshed-out version of it. There wasn’t much of a conscious choice to let the guard down, now that I’m looking back, I think it was more a result of maturing a bit and not being so concerned about how others would view the songs. When I was at the beginning of my career, I definitely thought I had to write really poetically with metaphors and imagery for the lyrics to be deemed “well-written,” and so a lot of my earlier work is deep rooted in genuine emotion but masked to create a more aesthetic scene—which at this point I’m quite bored of doing!
Around the time I was writing this record, I went on tour, and 22º Halo opened for me for a few shows. Getting to listen to Will’s music every night was such an inspiration to write on a more personal level. I ended up putting out his amazing new record, Lily of the Valley, on my label, and within that record are so many short stories that make up a broader universe filled with so many different emotions. I loved how he crafted that world and let us in to view it. That really inspired me to be more literal.
OS: You’ve spoken about how your Crohn’s diagnosis and the mental health struggles that followed shaped the emotional weight of this album. There’s a line on “Lough” that really stayed with me, “your mind changed from a fear to a song.” As someone also mourning the loss of a life I lived before an early-stage breast cancer diagnosis, that hit hard. How did writing Autofiction help you process the loss and move toward something more hopeful?
JJ: As I’m sure you know, it’s a constant journey coming to grips with a new reality. When I write music, I rarely get that hit of emotion in the moment that makes the process feel healing; however, the act of writing about it in these songs has really empowered me and has given me a sense of ownership over the disease, as opposed to it owning me. Crohn’s is on my mind about 80% of the time since being diagnosed, whether it’s planning my diet and what I’ll eat that day – or worrying about something I have eaten that I shouldn’t, booking a doctors appointment, remembering when my next infusion is, trying to get a nap in because of the chronic fatigue but feeling lazy for doing so… these are all things that on a day-to-day cycle make me feel so controlled. My first album Ways to Get Out was written as I was being diagnosed and really leans into the desperation of it all and I think that was necessary at the time but choosing to write about the situation now in a more positive way makes me feel more hopeful as I learn that I can decide to be happy regardless of the disease.
OS: You recorded, produced, mixed, and played every instrument on this record – again! But you’ve also been producing for other artists recently. Did working on albums for folks like Ellur or Green Gardens change how you approached your material?
JJ: Absolutely. I’ve been producing my friends’ projects for years, but usually out of my bedroom or basement. I moved into a permanent studio space in Leeds a year and a half ago and, since then, I’ve been producing people I haven’t met before and pursuing production and mixing as more of my full-time job. The fact that I have a space that I can grow in and get used to has helped so much in shaping the sound of this record. Producing albums for other bands and artists has massively improved my workflow and how I approach my own music. I was really close to giving up on Far Caspian as a project because I felt quite exhausted by the whole thing and wasn’t coming up with song ideas I thought were good enough. Then I produced a couple of records for Ellur and Green Gardens and was filled with so much interest in writing again and producing myself more how I produce other people.
Previously, when I recorded my own work, it would feel like a race to get it done before I hated it and gave up on it, which resulted in choices I now hear as unfinished or rushed/not well thought out. Producing those albums for others and having that experience of grinding through until the song felt right helped me understand that it’s alright if I hate my song in that moment, but it doesn’t necessarily mean it needs to be thrown in the bin.
OS: You mentioned being close to quitting, can you talk more about that? Was there a specific moment when things clicked again, or was it more of a slow rekindling?
JJ: It was definitely a slow rekindling. Even when I was producing those other records, I wasn’t thinking at that point about my own work. I was absolutely loving the freedom of working on other people’s music without the pressure to write anything. I took some time off from trying to write whilst I was producing those, and then, when I finished up, I wrote “Lough.” At that point, I got really excited about writing again. I had a good chunk of the album at the rough mix stage by then, and after writing “Lough,” went back and rewrote a lot of it and re-recorded drums and guitars with a much more positive viewpoint on the whole thing.
OS: In some ways, Autofiction feels like an album that lives in the in-between moments — sitting in a hospital parking lot, riding through a storm with old friends, dropping a partner off at a new job. Do you think your songwriting is drawn to those quieter, transitional places on purpose?
JJ: I don’t think it was on purpose, but that sort of feels like my life these days—a lot of small things happening and waiting around for the next. Outside of touring, I have a pretty quiet life – which I love – and I think the music I’m writing at the moment is a reflection of that.
OS: There’s a sense of unlearning and relearning throughout the record, about how to live, how to make music, how to let go of perfectionism. Were there any rituals or practices that helped you get there, or was it mostly trial by fire?
JJ: Really, it mostly boils down to where I am in life–I’m learning to be much less hard on myself with a lot of things, one of which is my music. When I was writing the songs for this album, I said to myself that I was turning off my inner cringe-meter and that I wasn’t allowed to judge myself until I had finished the song. That really helped me get back to a sense of play, free of self-criticism and fear of outside opinions. I remember writing the guitar line for “Here is Now” and thinking that’s cheesy. In the past, it would’ve been scrapped immediately, but after essentially telling myself to shut up and wait for the song to be finished, I ended up with something that made the cut!
OS: Now that Autofiction is finished and about to be out in the world, what’s something you’re hoping listeners take away from it, especially those who might be struggling with their own health or sense of identity?
JJ: I really hope that it can validate some people who may be struggling in some way. There are words of encouragement sprinkled throughout, and I hope at least one of them will catch the ear of someone who needs to hear it at the right time. I hope it can be the background music in those transitional periods. Not taking up too much space but filling the gap between the silence.
OS: Finally, my last – and probably cliche – question, what are you listening to and/or reading currently, new or old, that is bringing you joy and inspiration?
JJ: I’d feel wrong not mentioning the albums that inspired this record
Clue to Kalo – Come Here When You Sleepwalk
Komëit – Falling Into Place
Guther – I Know You Know
Pasteboard – Glitter
Hydroplane – The Sound of Changing Places
I actually wrote the song of the same name after listening to that last album. Some new music that I’m currently listening to:
Tomb Land’s self-titled EP
Quickly Quickly – I Heard That Noise
Deathcrash – Less
Kean Kavanagh – The County Star