Musician Sam Cormier Wants To Help Other Queer Artists Develop Their Sound

Many releases from local artists suck — at least in terms of production quality. Sadly, it’s just the name of the game; the budget or connections just aren’t there, so even if the band is phenomenal in person, their record can end up subpar or middling at best.

That’s why artists like Curl and Dev Wulf are invaluable to Dallas, because they kick ass live and their music can be shared online without embarrassment.

Newcomer Sam Cormier is another such gem who must be protected at all costs. His music hits the perfect spot between sincerity and all-vibes, with real, honest songs that aren’t too depressing.

The 25-year-old Cormier was born and raised in Dallas and started playing music in the third grade when his parents bought him a piano.

“I think the first song I learned was 'Firework' by Katy Perry,” he recalls with a chuckle. “That’s where my musical journey began, then I picked up guitar and started songwriting somewhere along the way.”

Music quickly became a cornerstone of Cormier’s life and an invaluable creative outlet.

“Growing up, music was my friend,” Cormier says. “It was an escape, in a way. It took me a long time to accept myself. I spent a lot of my time sitting alone with instruments. When I was in college, everyone was out on a Friday and I was sitting in the piano room, just writing or processing and thinking about things. It was very helpful to have that outlet, but I would’ve loved to discover who I was sooner.”

Growing up in Texas during the 2000s made it difficult for Cormier to explore and discover his identity — the South isn’t exactly known for its open-mindedness.

“I don’t think I came out until I was 21,” Cormier says. “Everyone’s on different journeys, right? But once it happened, I was like, ‘What was I doing all that time?’ Growing up here, I didn’t know any gay people or anyone that was kind of like me. If I’d seen a queer artist from Texas when I was a kid, I think it would’ve been really cool to know that there are people out there like me. That it’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Sometimes a change of scenery is the perfect opportunity to gain perspective. After leaving to study music theory and composition in Washington, D.C., Cormier learned a lot about himself and life outside the area where he’d grown up.

“It took me going away and leaving the state for a while to see queer people living their lives and that there’s this whole huge world out there,” he says. “I lived there for 5 years. I traveled around with my friends and lived out of a car and played music until I ran out of money, then I moved back here.”

When he returned to Dallas, Cormier continued writing and performing at open mics, which led him to meet a producer named John Lefler, who some may recognize as the guitarist from Dashboard Confessional. Lefler saw Cormier do a set at Opening Bell and offered to work with the young artist in the studio.

“I think that was the key for me,” Cormier says. “I had been just doing stuff on my laptop or on my phone for a long time. I think having a collaborator is really important to get to that next step.”
 
His first single, “american denim,” sounds great off the rip. The guitar comes through strong and crisp, and Cormier gives a spirited vocal performance with impressive range as he sings: “Do you have to look so good? With a gleam in your eye, like American denim / What was I supposed to do when you look at me like that?”

“That song started with me just traveling around after I finished school and not having to be anywhere and not really knowing where I was going,” Cormier says. “I play it and I’m taken back to just driving down a road for hours and having nothing to worry about.”

The rest of the 20-minute-long denim EP is just as solid as its lead single. “4321” is a faster-paced love song, and “mama” begins as an intimate moment focused on Cormier’s voice that builds into a more folk-ish section where Cormier adopts a more resolute, self-assured delivery.

“That song is really special to me,” Cormier says. “I have my mom’s voice from a home video in there. All of those songs deal with early 20s. You grow up and you see your relationship with your parents in a different way. That was a cool song about understanding my mom and her relationship with her parents and how it’s kind of like a trickledown effect.”

Since the EP’s release in February, Cormier has been working hard on new music. His latest single, “dirtyu,” was produced by Dan Smith and released under State Fair Records as a part of its Singles Club: Swipe Right series.

The song begins with Cormier talking far off behind a blend of acoustic guitar and keys. After a beat of silence, his voice bursts out singing about the bittersweet feelings behind a complex relationship: “I just wanna touch you / I just wanna hold you / Oh babe, I wanna kiss your face but my lips aren’t clean, and I don’t wanna dirty you.” His lyrics and delivery perfectly encapsulate the heartrending reluctance behind the song.

“It is the most honest I’ve been, which is a blessing and a curse — It’s quite scary to admit that you’ve made mistakes and done things you regret,” Cormier says. “That song is about a time when I was in a relationship, and I didn’t have a lot of good models for what a relationship or a gay relationship should be. I think that’s a common thing that people of the LGBTQ community go through — I have no idea what I’m doing. I was making a bunch of mistakes, and I felt like I’d put up a wall between me and this person I cared about because I was afraid of how connected we were.”

The guitar’s melancholic chords contrast nicely with the more upbeat samples that make up the background, and the effects applied to Cormier’s voice are used tastefully to garnish the song, not define its flavor. Compared to the tracks from denim, which mainly featured Cormier singing over an acoustic and drums, “dirtyu” is much more active and adventurous in its production. It shows how Cormier is constantly honing his craft.

“I think that’s kind of a new direction I’m wanting to go in,” he says. “I want honesty and soul to shine through my music, but I’ve also been having a lot of fun with electronic elements like building beats and more synthy stuff. I’m trying to do it in a way that’s fresh and exploratory.”

Through working on his music with various producers, Cormier discovered he has a passion for production. His EP’s bonus track, “i’m sorry i went quiet, i’m just feeling everything,” was entirely self-produced and would fit perfectly next to Teen Suicide’s “everything is going to hell” in a gen-z depression playlist. Cormier sounds defeated, his voice dry and at the front of the mix while acoustic strums and synths rise and fall underneath.

“I like to be in the room and watch what everyone’s doing,” Cormier says. “I probably annoy a lot of the people I work with.”

Cormier plans to use the skills he’s picking up to improve his music and support other LGBTQ artists around Dallas. As someone who’s been in their shoes, he believes he’s well-equipped to help new musicians fully express themselves.

“I’ve been lucky to work with really great producers, and I’ve been unlucky to work with others,” he says. “I think it’s really hard to trust someone with what feels like your soul. Like, ‘Here’s this piece of my soul,’ and they’re like, ‘Yeah, what if we put a guitar solo right over this part?’ I would love to create a safe space for queer artists and other artists that feel apprehensive or scared to trust part of their identity to someone. I would love to be a safe space for people to develop their art.”

Cormier plans to release an album split between two EPs next year. “dirtyu” will be on the record, as well as a song of life advice written for Cormier’s niece called “anything but perfect,” and “disco baby,” a fun dance pop song. He enjoys putting his music on wax because the tracks act as a time capsule of sorts for him, but Cormier’s real passion lies on stage.

Luckily, there are a few upcoming opportunities to see Cormier live. He’ll play in the JAMBALOO Festival Series that’s happening across North Texas, Feb. 2–8.

“I really love live performance because you can change stuff, and I hate being like, ‘This is the official version,’ because tomorrow I’ll want to do something completely different,” he says. “In college, I had a band, and we listened to the Grateful Dead a lot, so the idea of having like 13 different versions of a song is really cool to me.”