Memories, like everything else, harden and decay, their edges softening over time, sometimes shapeshifting into something else entirely. We can try to preserve them, to wrap our past in plastic, clinging to the idea of accuracy—the hope that we can replicate a day in the precise way it was felt—but time is never so kind. But against all odds, see here, artist Cooper B. Handy—under the guise of Lucy—attempting, nevertheless, to capture something fleeting, with his latest offering: Cooper B. Handy, Volume 9.

An artist who’s been navigating the margins for over 15 years, Lucy’s work has always been a deliberate act of resistance against the industry's churn of formulaic hits. His 2018 album The Music Industry is Poisonous served as a stark critique of the commodification of sound, but Vol. 9 feels like a different kind of rebellion: more introspective, more patient in its execution. “I took my time with this album,” Lucy says. “It’s rough in lots of ways, but that’s how I like it. People are disjointed and confusing, so I want to make music like that.” In this collection, the risks, the stumbles, the moments of tension and release—each imperfection is laid bare as an invitation to see reality in its fragmented, nonlinear, and terrifying complexity.

And perhaps that’s the point: nothing is ever truly finished. Not in life. Not in art. Vol. 9 is a meditation on this very idea. It is an album about revisiting, about rewriting, and about accepting that there’s no final version of anything—not a song, not a memory, not a self. Layers shift. Sounds fragment. Interpolations fold in on themselves, creating both a nostalgic yet enigmatic sound, that demands presence rather than spectacle. Every track pulses with the recognition that creation is continuous—that nothing is ever truly complete, only in constant transformation.

Lucy’s off-kilter pop sound is a collision of discord and melody, where conventional structures dissolve into something more jagged and unpredictable. He plays with dissonance, leaving space for moments of clarity to emerge unexpectedly, crafting tracks that feel both alien and familiar. It’s pop that resists the easy hooks and polished perfection, opting instead for a more visceral, raw expression of emotion and chaos.

Like most of Lucy’s work, Vol. 9  exists in that uncomfortable space between catharsis and cool detachment, never overstaying its welcome but lingering just long enough to leave an imprint. And it seems that Cooper B. Handy is hard to pin as well with his Western Massachusetts dance duo Club Casualties with Nick Atkinson, a new album as Taxidermists with Salvadore McNamara, and a project with Boy Harsher’s Gus Miller as Safe Mind. 

But for now, we’ve managed to get Handy to stay still long enough to answer a few questions.

You’ve been putting out music for fifteen years, an impressive feat for someone who released an album titled The Music Industry is Poisonous. How did the making of this particular project shape the way you thought about music, or about putting it out? 

I took my time with this album. It’s a collection of songs that all could have sounded more sterilized if I had gone a traditional route, but I didn’t. I let the batch of songs grow and morph until it was dense enough to feel releasable for me. This project allowed me to do things fully on my own time with my own few resources. It’s definitely rough in lots of ways – but it’s the same with everything I make – this one is just longer. Some people don’t rock with my more disjointed-sounding music but I’d say it’s brought me more positivity than not. People are disjointed and confusing, so I wanna make music like that.

When you return to Cooper B. Handy’s Album, Vol. 9 in the future, what do you want it to mean to you?

When I return to listen to this album, I will be reminded of a period of time with many ups and downs through my late 20s. I believe I will like to listen back in the future. It’s not my most precise work, but I hope I’ll be able to understand why I made some of the more lighthearted choices upon returning. I like revisiting all my old work. It makes me feel good.

Your sound has a unique collector vibe, as if your songs are discrete auditory dioramas made from noises and sentiments from your own life. Would you describe your process of making music as a reach inwards, or more of an outward sweep?

To me the process feels like first there comes an outward sweep and then an inward reach, and then one more outward sweep. I have to collect things from outside and apply them to the inside before putting them out in the end. I definitely believe that my music sounds the way my life looks. This record is a good example of that for sure.

When people speak about your music, they often talk about its particular, earnest effect, the feeling it invokes within others, whether it be nostalgia or elation or sadness. When you’re experiencing intense emotion, how do you know when to let it be yours privately or interpolate it into art shared with an audience?

If anything, I feel like the more private or intense something is, the more I should push to express it to an audience. That is the goal for me. If something brings me big emotions up or down then that’s all I’ve got and that’s what I want to share/hope that people can feel something from it too.

On top of Cooper B. Handy’s Album, Vol. 9, you have two forthcoming collaboration projects this year. You frequently collaborate with a multitude of artists—what do you find yourself learning about your own music when you collaborate with others?

Being involved with all these collaborations, I’m learning what types of musical ideas to save for the different projects. I admire everyone I work with to the max and feel super lucky to have them. Super exciting records coming out this year. The more I work with other people, the more I feel that what I make alone can actually have zero rules. I can go make a song that’s just me singing with no beat and be satisfied if it sounds good. 

‍What’s the ideal time and place to listen to Cooper B. Handy’s Album, Vol. 9, and in whose company?

I’d say the ideal time and place to listen to this album would be while walking alone. Most of the time I spent listening to this album and making revisions was while walking. I associate this music with different places that I walk at night. The pace of the album seems to work with walking speed, for me at last. It sounds to me like the way it looks right now where I live in Massachusetts. Hopefully some of that will translate.

What is something strange you’ve felt compelled to explore lately?

I’m always exploring different parts of the woods in western Massachusetts where I live. Recently while with some friends, I came across a pile of rusted bed frames from like 100+ years ago. I find that when living in a rural place, there are tons of spots that have barely been checked out by people. I came across cow skulls in the woods recently too. It’s really cool to see nature. I like that nature can be good and bad and we’re all a part of it. 

When is it beneficial to relinquish control—of yourself, your music, your ideation?

As long as you’re respectful and somewhat responsible, I think it’s good to relinquish control as much as possible. Maybe I’ve become kind of a control freak about things being out of control. If people stop supporting me or stop liking what I make, I’ll reconsider. But for now fuck it, as long as you care about what you do and like it, it’s good. Good for you.

What excites you about the coming months? Is there anything that terrifies you?

I’m super excited to watch the winter happen. It’s already so cold here. After that I’m stoked for the spring to come. I’m excited about life in general, even the bad parts. It’s important to grow and learn. I’m excited to release the rest of the music I’m sitting on with other projects. The album coming out in March with my punk band ‘Taxidermists’ has some of my favorite songs I’ve been involved with on it. I’m excited for everything though. My good friend bout to have a baby, that will be sweet. My Mom just got her knee replaced, excited for her to be able to do more. I don’t know, I’m excited to be getting older, it’s the only option.