Noah Levine has already helped craft one of the biggest songs of the last few years. You’ve heard his guitar work and co-writing chops on Noah Kahan’s Stick Season (We’ll All Be Here Forever) — most notably on the chart-smashing, Post Malone-assisted “Dial Drunk,” which shot straight to #1 on Spotify’s US Top Songs and earned Levine a BMI Pop Award. You might even have seen him onstage as Kahan’s lead guitarist, keeping stadium crowds in the palm of his hand.
But today, the Austin native steps firmly into his own spotlight with Deceiver, a debut EP that feels as personal as it is powerful.
“Putting out Deceiver feels like I’m finally sharing the truest parts of myself — the vulnerabilities and the strengths — in a way I never have before,” Levine says. “This project is a journey through what it means to grapple with self-doubt and ultimately find your own voice. I’m incredibly excited for people to hear it and hopefully find a piece of their own story within mine.”
The six-track collection finds Levine channeling his songwriter instincts into his most intimate work yet — weaving lush arrangements, incisive lyrics, and understated hooks into something that feels like a quiet catharsis. Deceiver is less about flashy production than it is about laying it all bare: a coming-of-age document for an artist who has spent years behind the curtain and is finally ready to tell his own story.
From the stark honesty of early singles like “Bacteria” and “Don’t Know Why” to the haunting centerpiece “Vegetable Garden,” Levine’s songwriting here is raw and self-aware, drawing comparisons to indie-folk storytellers like Phoebe Bridgers and Sufjan Stevens but always filtered through his own melodic sensibilities. Ones To Watch, Darkus Magazine, Unclear Mag, and Holler. have all taken notice already, praising Levine for his unflinching vulnerability and cinematic sound.
And while Deceiver makes it clear that Levine has more than enough to say as a solo artist, his collaborative resume speaks volumes about his range. In addition to co-writing two songs on Stick Season (We’ll All Be Here Forever), he’s toured extensively with Kahan, signed a publishing deal with Gabe Simon’s (Dua Lipa, Lana Del Rey) joint venture with Pulse Music Group, and recently landed at #2 on Billboard’s Alternative Songwriters chart.
This fall, Levine will hit the road again — this time under his own name — joining The 502’s for a string of Texas dates in San Antonio, Houston, Austin, and Dallas.
If Deceiver is any indication, these shows will reveal an artist at his most confident — and most himself — yet.
“Some projects are about hiding behind cleverness or production,” Levine tells us. “But this one’s about not hiding at all.”
And for an artist who’s already had his fingerprints all over the zeitgeist, stepping out from the shadows has never sounded more compelling.
Let’s start with the obvious—“Deceiver” feels like a pretty heavy word for a debut. Who or what’s being deceived here? You? Us? The whole damn world?
I feel like the name, “Deceiver,” is a reflective voice given to my own insecurities. Every time someone has shown their belief in me in the past, my immediate thought is that I’ve somehow “deceived” them into thinking I’m something better than I am. I almost find it funny to put out a bundle of some of my favorite songs that I’ve written and give it a name like that, but I’m trying to be more honest with how I feel rather than put on a confident face and pretend I’m Harry Styles or something.
You said this EP is about sharing “the truest parts” of yourself. What was the hardest truth to actually say out loud in these songs?
I think the biggest shift for me when writing these songs was to stop trying to write about how I ‘think’ I should feel about situations, and write how I actually feel. This sounds simple and redundant in theory, but I find myself feeling ashamed of my own emotions sometimes. Relief when ties are broken, anger when someone is trying to tell me how they feel, jealousy over attention, you get the idea… My goal from here on out has been to just write exactly how I feel, and get rid of whatever projections I have about what I “should” be feeling. These are the first songs where I feel like I’ve done exactly that.
“Vegetable Garden” is such an evocative title for a focus single—what’s the weirdest metaphor you buried in that song? And is there a real garden somewhere?
Metaphors are what makes songwriting fun for me. I’m always using them in everyday life to try and make complicated feelings easier for me to grasp. The line, “pressing my ear down on an unmarked grave” speaks to my dread of something always going wrong. I feel like I’m hardwired to naturally prepare for the worst scenario, even when I can’t always articulate what the worst is. It’s such an exhausting way to live, and I’m working on it, but “Vegetable Garden” gives a voice to the paranoia and anxiety of preparing for the worst. Also yes I have a garden at home- currently growing tomatoes, swiss chard, garlic chives, jalepeños, serranos, oregano, cilantro, and parsley!
A lot of people know you as the guy behind some huge Noah Kahan moments. Was it hard to step into the spotlight with your own name on the cover? Be honest.
Not really! On stage, yes. I am 1000x more anxious before playing a solo show for 300 people, than I am before playing guitar for Noah Kahan in front of 30,000 people. Putting out my own music just feels natural, though. I’ve been writing my own songs since I was 12 and now I just feel like I’m giving people a window into that.
You’ve already got a BMI Pop Award and chart-topping credits under your belt. Did success on someone else’s record make it scarier or easier to release your own project?
A little of both, truthfully. Easier in the way that I have this supposed “credibility”- people are more willing to listen and give it a chance because there is evidence to back it up. But in all honesty, I’ve been the same kid making music before and after those first tastes of success. Growing and learning, yes, but it’s still me. The only way that it feels scarier is that now there seems to be expectation where there wasn’t before. I just try to combat that feeling by tuning it out and making music for me.
There’s something gritty but also really vulnerable about your sound—like a cracked foundation someone painted over. Was that intentional? Or is that just where you’re at as a person right now?
I guess it’s just where I’m at! Part of the journey of growing up is pulling the curtain back on childhood. I’ve had to come to a lot of hard truths in the last few years and it’s made me realize that I have a lot of internal work to be done that I didn’t know was ever there in the past- a “cracked foundation” if you will. It brings me comfort and reassurance to hear that this feeling comes across sonically in the music, because that’s just where I’m at right now.
You’ve worked with Gabe Simon and clearly know your way around a session room. But when you sit down to write just for you, what does that process look like? Silence? Chaos? Red wine?
It’s a lot more quiet. It helps to close my eyes and block out any other senses. I love writing just on an acoustic guitar or a piano- patience is a big part of the process. I think I just love writing when it’s quiet- allowing myself to just listen to the sound of me thinking. It’s hard to explain, but it’s therapeutic.
You’re hitting the road with The 502’s this fall—what’s your vibe on tour? The quiet guy writing lyrics in a notebook, or the last one to leave the afterparty?
Oh man I love games hahaha. When I’m on the road with NK, we’re always trying to find a basketball court, ping pong table, a place to play card games- our latest obsession is Monopoly Deal. It’s super nerdy… but we love it and I do try to take that energy with me wherever I tour.
Your credits already read like a veteran’s, but this is technically your “debut.” Do you still feel like a newcomer in any way? Where?
It’s definitely a vulnerable thing to have built a strong career in one way, and start from scratch in another simultaneously, but I feel a mix of both. I don’t know that my imposter syndrome will ever let me feel like a “veteran” in music, but I have a community in this industry that I love. I’m not sure when I’ll stop feeling like a new kid at school, but I’ve grown to be at peace with the feeling.
Finally—what’s one thing you hope people feel when they hear Deceiver all the way through? And what’s one thing you’d be okay with them completely misunderstanding?
I think for me, the bottom line with this EP is that I hope people can find a way to just feel at all. Part of what I love about music is the accessibility to connect to a song in a unique, personal way. It feels unreasonable to ask people to understand what I mean in every single line, and sometimes, as a listener, the ambiguity is nice. I honestly encourage the “misunderstanding” of the music if it means finding a way to make the songs yours. These songs served their purpose for me already while making and understanding my feelings through them, and now I hope they can do the same for anyone else,
