In honor of Pride Month, Atwood Magazine has invited artists to participate in a series of essays reflecting on identity, music, culture, inclusion, and more.

•• •• •• ••

Today, Shamir shares his essay, “‘Neverwannago’ a Day Without Like St. Joan,” about a dear musical and personal friendship, for Atwood Magazine’s Pride Month series! 

Shapeshifting Philly-via-Vegas artist Shamir (he/she/they) released his final solo album, ‘Ten,’ on May 19 via Kill Rock Stars – fittingly, on the 10th anniversary of his debut, ‘Ratchet’. After a tumultuous decade in the music industry, ‘Ten’ is a love letter to the friends who shaped his life – ten songs written by those closest to him, made from unused demos and discarded ideas given new life. It’s a reclamation of music as a shared language, rather than a performance of self. The single “Neverwannago” was written by Shamir’s close friend, Like St. Joan (aka Drew Harmon), and channels a ‘90s alt-girl nostalgia wonderland. This is the story of their musical and personal friendship, for Pride Month.

Performing and collaborating with everyone from Le Tigre and Courtney Barnett to Troye Sivan, Rina Sawayama, and Mac DeMarco, Shamir’s career has been one of constant evolution – from the dancefloor irreverence of 2015’s ‘Ratchet’ on XL Recordingsto the lo-fi catharsis of his self-titled 2020 album. ‘Heterosexuality‘ followed in 2022, a searingly confessional record that wove together industrial flourishes and razor-edged vulnerability.

Over the past decade, Shamir has navigated a music industry that has never quite known what to do with him — fluctuating success, industry indifference, and, at times, outright hostility. ‘Ten’ is, in contrast, an exercise in love. It is a reclamation of music as a shared language, rather than a performance of self. If there is any lingering question about whether this truly marks the end of Shamir as a solo entity, he leaves little room for ambiguity. “I’ve done and said all I wanted to say,” he states plainly. “I never want to feel like I’m forcing my art.” He has spent the last ten years running through the storm, and now, surveying the wreckage, he has chosen to walk away. ‘Ten’ is not the sound of an artist burning out. It is the sound of an artist setting himself free.

•• ••

‘NEVERWANNAGO’ A DAY WITHOUT LIKE ST. JOAN

by Shamir

I met Drew Harmon (aka Like St. Joan) 10 years ago when I was 20 years old.

We had been talking online for a few months prior to meeting. Drew found my music pretty early on and was one of the first people outside of my home state of Nevada to reach out to me. We bonded on our love for music and songwriting.

Drew is a Texas boy through and through. Born and raised in Texarkana, he moved to Austin for college. We finally met irl at SXSW 2015. It was not my first SXSW by any means, in fact it was my third. However, SXSW 2015 was my first SXSW performing as “Shamir,” the shiny new critically acclaimed pop star everyone wanted a piece of. I was absolutely overwhelmed and overstimulated by any and everything going on in my life at that time.

I invited Drew to meet me at one of my many showcases for that day. The plan was to link up and take it from there. Considering it was our first time meeting in person, we intended to spend a substantial amount of time together, but my schedule was too hectic to thoroughly connect. I remember feeling so embarrassed because I had to move over to the next obligation, causing him to walk and talk to me whilst being surrounded by my pack of handlers. Eventually it became painfully clear to the both of us that my attention was much too monopolized. I don’t remember how or when we eventually parted ways. I just know that by the end of the day I barely had time with the only person I intended to see, and I felt awful about it.

The next day I apologized and tried to concoct a plan for Drew and I to meet up away from the madness. He recommended Torchy’s Tacos away from downtown. I snuck out without letting my managers know, and Drew I hung out until my managers started to frantically summon me. Talking to Drew immediately felt like catching up with an old friend. I instantly felt kinship, and I also felt instantly safe with him. He was the first person I met post fame that felt like a genuine connection, and not someone investing in a percentage of my attention.

Flash forward 10 years later, I live in Philadelphia. Drew now lives in Portland. I’ve lost my mind multiple times and frequented a psych ward or two, with a bipolar diagnosis to boot. Drew lost his father and became sober after an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. Through it all Drew and I talk nearly every day, and he wrote the first two tracks on my final album Ten.

My relationship with Drew is a representation of my album’s theme.

Ten is a love letter to my tribe, my chosen family.

The world is filled with so much loneliness and isolation. I feel incredibly blessed to not only have a group of friends who have stood beside me in my highest highs, and lowest lows, but also is talented enough to write me an incredible album. This is my legacy. I can’t control how my career will be perceived retrospectively, and frankly I don’t care.

I’m just happy I can say I ended it more fulfilled than I was when I began. – Shamir

•• ••

:: read more about Shamir here ::

:: connect with Shamir here ::

:: stream/purchase Ten here ::

•• ••

•• •• •• ••

Connect to Shamir on
Instagram, X, TikTok, Facebook

Discover new music on Atwood Magazine

📸 © Jason Rodgers

Ten

an album by Shamir