For Hans Williams, songwriting is usually not a particularly calculated process. More often than not, a song begins as a fragment of a guitar part, a melody, or whatever happens to come to mind in the moment. And, most notably, the crux of the song tends to reveal itself somewhere along the way, rather than serving as the starting point. It’s an approach that has helped shape Songs for the Neighbors, his debut full-length album (out now), which moves between folk, soul, and psychedelia that manages to keep a tight and fluid cohesiveness while simultaneously maintaining the kind of looseness that makes it feel as though you’re listening in on something happening in real time.

“I start with the music, I start with a guitar part, and then we’ll generally sing whatever comes to mind,” Williams says of his process. “The phrasing and the melody always kind of direct me in a way. I like the broad strokes of maybe where personally I’m drawing from, and then I can go into how to contextualize it in a way that doesn’t feel like I’m sensationalizing it. A lot of what I was writing about was just sitting in a backyard.”

That last detail is particularly fitting, considering the circumstances surrounding the album’s creation. Recorded in the New Orleans home Williams shares with friends, Songs for the Neighbors was made largely with the same musicians who play alongside him live. Essentially, the entire record was tracked and recorded together in one room, with Williams and his bandmates figuring out the arrangements as they played rather than building each song piece by piece. It was a process that required a certain amount of trust, but one that ultimately served the record well, as it was also one that allowed the music to retain some of the spontaneity that can sometimes get lost in a more controlled recording environment.

“It’s just really playing with people that you trust and that you can learn from, and having some sort of openness to what it’s going to be,” he says. “I think it makes it easier on me because it’s just like a picture of whatever’s going on in the room at that time.”

Williams had recorded at home before, but this was his first time approaching an entire project this way. Working with longtime friend and collaborator Finn Choukas, who co-produced the album, the two decided to prioritize the feeling of the performances over the technical considerations that might typically come with recording a full band. There was plenty of microphone bleed and peaking, with the drums finding their way into the vocal mics and vice versa, but that was part of what gave the record its particularly lived-in sound.

“We were like, ‘Okay, we should just try this all in the same room and prioritize the performance and the feeling of the arrangement over everything else,’” Williams says. “If everyone being in the same room is going to make that easier, then that’s the way we should do it.”

Though, Williams is quick to point out that having Choukas there to help guide the process made that approach feel even more natural. The two have been making music together since high school, back when Choukas was experimenting with electronic music and Williams was writing singer-songwriter material. Over the years, they’ve developed alongside one another, learning how to work together while also figuring out their own creative identities. For Williams, having someone he trusts who can step outside the actual performance and listen to the bigger picture was particularly valuable.

“I really trust the way he feels,” Williams says of his collaborator. “He’s very good at just letting the music go wherever it needs to, while also hopefully steering us in the right direction. I think it’s pretty essential to have someone who can step back and take a listen to everything that’s going on, especially with a six-piece band, and tell us when it’s working and when it’s not.”

That sense of shared ownership has also carried over into the band’s live performances. Having already played much of the album on the road in recent months, Williams is looking forward to performing the songs in sequence on his upcoming 2027 tour and seeing how they continue to develop. Since his bandmates are the same people who helped record the album, there’s already a familiarity with the material that allows everyone to bring their own interpretation to it, which can keep the material fluid and fresh. And, as Williams points out, that’s important when it comes to keeping the songs interesting night after night.

“I’m curious how the songs evolve because I know they will, and they kind of have to in order to sustain a life on the road,” he says. “If they’re played the same way every night, they’ll grow stale.”

As for what comes after this particular era, Williams doesn’t seem exactly interested in trying to pin down a specific direction, because to do so would be a disservice to his creative process, as he’s adamant that his songwriting process tends to dictate the sound of a song before he has much say in it. Something that starts with one particular groove might eventually lean toward soul, while a guitar part could take him somewhere more delicate and introspective. He’s even working on writing a new song that, despite not even being finished, has made its way onto live setlists.

“I don’t know if I’m going to try and contain the style of music to the project,” he says. “What keeps it interesting for me is finding a way to blend those different styles.”

And perhaps that’s the best way to approach Songs for the Neighbors, too. Williams has an idea of the sounds and influences that interest him, but he seems perfectly fine with allowing the music to take shape without knowing exactly where it will land, and he invites the listener to do the same. For now, he’s more interested in continuing to write, finding new ways to bring those different sounds together, and seeing what happens along the way. Sometimes, it seems, that’s enough to get a song started.

Songs for the Neighbors is out now.