Liam Horne: “A Hit Song Is a Moment, Not a Destination”
 He wrote for everyone else, then disappeared. Now the Scottish songwriter is back in front of the microphone, and he has stopped asking permission.
Songwriter Liam Horne photographed by Pat Clark for LEWIS Magazine
Liam Horne had his first major hit in 2012. Then, for several years, he had nothing at all, and that was the point.
Raised within the Traveller community and long since resident in Los Angeles, Horne built a career behind other people’s voices, including a Justin Bieber cut that changed the shape of his life overnight. What followed was a quieter decision: he stopped releasing music altogether. He came back almost by accident, rediscovered at a Christmas party with a karaoke microphone in his hand.
A new album is on the way. He spoke to LEWIS about roots that refuse to travel, the difference between writing for someone and writing as yourself, and why a second chance is the rarest thing this industry offers.
Early life and career
You have been part of the music industry for many years, with your first major hit arriving in 2012. In what ways did growing up within the Traveller community shape you, personally and creatively?
It gave me my entire foundation, honestly. Growing up in the Traveller community, music isn’t a hobby or something you put on in the background. It’s how we communicate, how we celebrate, and how we pass down history. It taught me how to tell a story before I even knew how to structure a song. Personally, it gave me a thick skin and a tight-knit sense of creativity. It taught me that a good song should make you feel like you’re sitting right next to the person singing it.
You have spent a long stretch of time in Los Angeles, yet people still hear a distinct UK twang in your music. Does that connection to home still live in your sound?
Oh, absolutely. Ya can take the boy oota Scotland, but ya cannae take the Scotland oot of the vocal cords. LA is great for the sunshine, but my roots are stubborn. I think that blend of classic Scottish storytelling grit with polished LA production is exactly what makes my sound mine. It’s like a Sunday roast with a side of avocados. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does.
Thinking back to the moment you learned Justin Bieber was going to record one of your songs, with hindsight, what would you say to the younger version of yourself?
I’d probably tell him to take a deep breath, don’t buy that nice watch, and don’t order the most expensive thing on the menu just because you can. But seriously, I’d tell myself to enjoy the ride and remember that a hit song is a moment, not a final destination. I’d tell younger Liam to keep his head down, keep writing, and realise that the industry has massive highs and massive lows, so you’d better love the actual craft more than the hype.
You stepped away from releasing music for several years. In what ways do you feel more prepared to navigate the industry now?
Stepping away was the hardest and best decision I ever made. The industry can eat you alive if you let it, and I needed to figure out who I was without a microphone in front of me. Prioritising my mental health wasn’t just important, it was essential. Coming back now, I feel like a completely different person. I’m not desperate for approval anymore. I know who I am, I know what I want to say, and that makes navigating the world so much easier, because I’m doing it on my own terms this time.
New music and the album
With new songs out and an album on the horizon, what does this era represent for you?
This era is pure, unfiltered honesty. If my earlier stuff was about proving what I could do, these songs are about showing who I am. I want my audience to feel like they’re getting the real, unvarnished version of me. It represents a second chance, and those are rare in this business.
Are there overarching themes running through the recent releases? Is maintaining a recognisable Liam Horne sound something you actively think about?
The main themes are resilience, love in all its messy forms, and reclamation. As for a cohesive Liam Horne sound, I don’t sit down and stress over a formula. As long as the emotion is real and the storytelling is front and centre, the sound naturally holds together. My voice has aged, it’s got a bit more life experience in it now, and that’s the thread that ties everything together.
Can you walk us through your creative process? “Paradise” was inspired by a friend’s relationship. Do your songs come more often from your own life, from the people around you, or from fiction?
It’s a mix. “Paradise” came from watching a friend go through it, and sometimes it’s easier to be objective when you’re looking at someone else’s life. But everything I write has a piece of me in it. Even if I’m writing a fictional story or a song about a friend, the feeling behind it has to be something I’ve personally felt, otherwise people can spot the fake from a mile away. I’m a bit of an emotional parasite like that. I steal people’s feelings and put them to a melody.
Your return began almost by accident, rediscovered at a Christmas party doing karaoke. For anyone hoping to restart their own creative career, what would you say?
First of all, never underestimate the power of a Christmas party and a bit of karaoke. But seriously, never buy into the idea that there’s an expiration date on your passion. If you have a creative itch, scratch it. The universe has a funny way of opening doors when you stop overthinking and just start doing what you love again, even if it’s only singing a cover in front of a few tipsy friends and family.
Songwriting and collaboration
As someone who started primarily as a songwriter, do you approach writing differently when the song is for you rather than for another artist?
When you’re writing for someone else, you’re a tailor. You’re trying to build a suit that fits their shape, their life, and their voice. When I’m writing for myself, I don’t have to worry about whether someone else will like it or whether it fits their brand. It’s much more liberating, but it’s also scarier, because there’s nowhere to hide.
When collaborating, how do you balance protecting your original vision with what producers or vocalists want? Has that changed now you’re the one at the microphone?
It’s a delicate dance. You have to be strong enough to protect the soul of the song, but humble enough to let other talented people make it better. Now that I’m the one standing in front of the mic, the dynamic has definitely shifted. I have the final say on how it feels when it leaves my mouth. It’s made me much more protective of the emotion, because if I don’t believe it when I’m singing it, no one else will.
Storytelling and what comes next
You have spoken about your love for other forms of storytelling, films and short stories. Are there projects outside music on the horizon?
I’m obsessed with storytelling in all forms. I’m always scribbling down concepts that feel too big for a three-minute song. I’d love to dive into filmmaking or writing short stories more seriously down the line. Acting has always been a huge interest too. For now, the album is taking up all my brain space, but don’t be surprised if you see my name attached to something on a screen in the future.
Is there a message you’d like to share with the fans who have been listening, supporting, and reconnecting with your music?
Just a massive thank you. To the people who remembered me, and to the new people finding me now, it means the world. I don’t take a single listener for granted. Thank you for the patience, thank you for listening, and I promise the new music is going to be worth the wait.
Anything else you would like to share with LEWIS readers?
Drink your water, be kind to yourself, and keep an eye out for more songs. And if you see me performing anywhere, come and say hello.
CREDITS
Photographer: Pat Clark
