Matt Lorenz of the Suitcase Junket Is Feeling It All

Matt Lorenz has always had a knack for rescuing broken and discarded things from the junk heap. The Cavendish native, who started playing piano at age 5 and later picked up guitar, saxophone and violin, specializes in salvaging damaged instruments and building his own from scratch. Onstage, playing under the moniker the Suitcase Junket, Lorenz surrounds himself with his creations and rescues, producing a wall of sounds and melodies that make the label “one-man band” seem like an understatement. It’s more like a junkyard symphony with Lorenz as the conductor, effortlessly multitasking as he plays a heart-on-sleeve, foot-stomping brand of doom folk.

On his last album, 2020’s The End Is New, Lorenz added big-studio production to his busker-on-steroids sound, partnering with producer Steve Berlin of the band Los Lobos to make his most sonically sophisticated record to date. As the album was released early in the pandemic, Lorenz wasn’t able to tour with it. In the intervening years, he’s had to turn his natural inclination to repair on himself: His sister, Kate Lorenz, with whom he performed as the band Rusty Belle, died unexpectedly at age 42 in July 2022.

“It’s been a really crazy couple of years for me, both good and bad,” Lorenz said in a phone call from his home in western Massachusetts. “A lot of death as well as having two kids. Sometimes you just have those years where life really kicks the shit out of you.”

Like a discarded gas canister he’s turned into a rototom drum, Lorenz has refurbished himself and written a heap of new music he’s ready to record. He’s also getting back onstage. He performs on Saturday, February 1, at the Higher Ground Showcase Lounge in South Burlington before heading south for a Saturday, February 15, show at the Stone Church in Brattleboro, both with indie-folk act Cloudbelly.

Lorenz hopped on the phone with Seven Days to talk about writing through grief, the smell of the woods outside his house and the role of music in dark times.

It’s good to hear from you again. It’s been a little while.

I know! I have a 2-year-old and a 4-year-old now, and the day-to-day realities of caring for my kids has really slowed everything down, both in a joyful and maddening way. I keep telling my friends I’m experiencing slow-motion ego death and that you have to get Zen about it — or else.

“Zen or else” sounds like a solid mantra in 2025.

[Laughs.] Seriously! Maybe that’s the ticket. “Get Zen — or else!”

It’s been five years since The End Is New. Has it all been changing diapers, or have you been able to keep writing?

I have a solid two hours a day to do some writing when one is napping and the other is at daycare. I actually have two records ready to go. One is a kind of dance party record that I was working on before my sister passed, and the other is much more lo-fi, full of sad songs, kind of a Basement Tapes-style record. Almost like a demo.

You’re playing a lot of the new material on this tour. Does playing the songs you wrote after your sister died bring a sort of catharsis, or is it more like picking a scab every night?

Kate and I used to play together all the time, whether it was when we played in Rusty Belle or when she would sit in on Suitcase Junket shows. So I always feel super connected to her when I’m playing. And I started playing again pretty soon after she died because I was worried that if I didn’t, I might never. It’ll still surprise me sometimes and sneak up on me … but I learned that if you need to cry onstage, go ahead and cry. You have to control your breath — no sobbing! But honestly, you’re supposed to feel the big, hard feelings. It’s worse if you don’t.

Your last album was by far your most topical and political. As an artist, do you feel an obligation to reflect on tumultuous times?

It’s funny, but I used to avoid it. The ability to pull off the folk thing where you talk about society and tell the hard truths — it’s much harder than people realize. A lot of artists do it in an overly preachy way, really heavy-handed in a way that always feels unpleasant to me. But yeah, I do feel an obligation to reflect on what’s happening right now. It’s similar to writing about grief — it’s so all-encompassing that I have to write about it before I can move on as an artist.

What makes writing a protest song — or even just a topical song — such a difficult task? Is it the danger of being overly earnest? Is it a fear of alienating some listeners?

I’m much more comfortable with it now. I could see joining the new school of saying what needs to be said. How could I not? I have a 2-year old daughter, and there are people like [President Donald] Trump in power, so I’m worried about the next 40 years as much as these next four.

The other tough part is … Trump is so good at making you angry. It’s really all he knows how to do. He can piss you off so much, your tongue gets tied and you have to take a deep breath and interact with it as an artist. But it’s not easy.

So, what can fans expect to see first: the big dance record or the introspective one? Any thoughts of releasing a double album, a sort of Use Your Illusion with intense mood swings?

Oh, man … I think I’ll have to do the sad record first before we drop the dance record. Who knows, though? Putting records out these days is sort of … Um, how are people doing this now? But once I’ve worked them out live on this tour, I’ll get back in the studio with Steve. And even with the sadder record, it’s mostly positive feelings, you know? Even if music is making you feel sad in the moment, it’s helping: It’s moving you through bad feelings and towards something new.

This interview was edited and condensed for clarity and length.

This article appears in Jan 29 – Feb 4, 2025.

Got something to say?

Send a letter to the editor and we'll publish your feedback in print!