Scott Helman is a jittery, brilliant ball of nervous energy. Talking to the Toronto-born Warner Music Canada darling feels less like a standard press junket and more like catching a friend in the middle of a manic creative breakthrough. He is disarmingly honest. He does not hide behind the polished PR veneer that usually coats artists of his stature. If you ask him a question, he is going to give you the raw, unvarnished truth, even if it’s messy.
And that same DNA is woven into the fabric of his discography. You can hear the sweat and the overthinking in every note. His latest offering, *Nonsuch Park*, is a sprawling look at a young man trying to find his footing while the world literally and figuratively burns. He moves from the existential dread of the climate crisis to the crushing weight of grief without missing a beat.
I caught up with Helman recently. He was at home, navigating the domestic surrealism of a global pandemic while trying to maintain his status as one of Canada’s premier pop architects. The conversation was heavy, moving from the lightheartedness of a new pet to the visceral, tear-streaked memories of his grandfather.
The call starts with a brief delay. Helman is multitasking, a trait that seems to define his current era. "Good. Sorry, I’m just putting my puppy to bed," he says, his voice carrying that familiar, youthful rasp.
It turns out the new addition is a Miniature Pinscher. It is a tiny, high-energy breed that seems to mirror Helman’s own frequency. I ask if this was a classic quarantine impulse buy or a long-gestating plan.
"Well, my mom had a dog, I grew up with a dog," Helman explains. "I asked my girlfriend four months ago if she would be into it. She did not sound enthralled, so I kind of let it go. Then two months ago she was like, 'No, I think I actually really want one.' So we’ve been looking at it and we just decided. But I think it’s a great time to get a puppy."
But the domestic bliss of a puppy in Toronto was never the original plan for 2020. Like most artists, Helman’s year was supposed to look very different. There was talk of a major move to the West Coast, a transition to the neon-soaked industry hub of Los Angeles.
"I’m in Toronto," he confirms, though the ghost of a different life in California clearly lingers. "Well, me and my girlfriend actually were planning to move. In March, we signed a lease to a place in LA. I was actually in LA writing and looking at different places and then got on a plane to come home, maybe a week later. And we found a place, I signed a lease, got on the plane, and this is when COVID just started, seeming really serious. I remember there were five people on my flight. Everybody was wearing masks. There was hand sanitizer everywhere. And I was like, 'Oh man, this is not good.' Then within five days, the borders closed. So yeah, pretty crazy. But I mean, it is what it is, you know?"
Eight months into the pandemic, the reality of the "new normal" has settled in. The puppy provides a necessary distraction, but the itch to perform—to feel the sub-bass rattling a theatre floor—is clearly becoming a phantom limb for Helman. He is a creature of the stage, and the transition to digital intimacy has been a jarring one.
"Well, the puppy helps for sure. I’m still making music and art and just kind of keeping busy with that," Helman says. "And we have some stuff coming up, figuring out how to do some live stuff, but virtually, and make it seem cool. I appreciate all the live stream opportunities that come my way, but at the end of the day I’m a performer and I love to put a show together and usually with these things it’s like, 'Record this on your iPhone,' or 'Let’s do an Instagram live,' and that stuff’s great. But I mean, I’m used to loading in gear on stage and putting on a show in front of 2,000 people. So, I feel like I’ve really been itching for that. So we’ve got some cool stuff coming up where we’re going to do a proper show and have some really awesome stuff around it. So, that should be really cool."
The release of *Nonsuch Park* occurred in the middle of this cultural vacuum. Releasing an album when you cannot tour it is a bit like throwing a party in a soundproof room. But Helman, ever the optimist, found a way to compartmentalize the frustration.
"Definitely very weird. I guess I do try to look on the bright side and I feel very lucky that I’m a songwriter and at the end of the day my passion is twofold. I love to perform and go on tour and meet fans and play music, but I also love to just create music," he says. "So, when this pandemic really took off I was like, 'Okay, well, one half of what I do is kind of on hold. So I’m just going to put all my focus into making this music and putting it out.' I feel lucky that I still able to work and do those things and I think also very lucky that this whole side, A side B thing was really just like a trial."
The strategy of splitting the work into two halves allowed him to stay agile. It gave the music room to breathe in a world that felt increasingly claustrophobic.
"I wanted to see what that would be like, everything you do when you make art- But I’m kind of glad I did because like I said, the only thing I really can do is put out music. So it’s nice that I still have this, the other half of this body of work to work on," Helman notes. "And like I said as well, I’m really putting in a lot of time and energy into just improving my skills as a producer and a songwriter and a creator. So I think side B is probably going to be better than side A."
The visual language of the album has been heavily dictated by the lockdown. The music videos for "Papa" and "Wait No More" feel tactile and personal, stripped of the glossy artifice of high-budget pop clips. They are artifacts of a specific moment in time.
"I think they were inspired by the quarantine. I think that the Papa video was always in the back of my mind," Helman admits. "When my papa passed away, I flew to England to help my mom deal with everything and you know how it is when people pass away. Family and people come out of the woodwork and you got to organize stuff and deal with the house. So I just went there to help her out and we found this stack of old VHS tapes. I don’t think I’d ever seen. I probably had seen some of the footage, because I know my Papa transferred a bit of it to disk, but there was so much that we had never watched. Because who watches VHS tapes?"
The technical hurdle of accessing those memories became part of the creative process.
"I had to get them rendered by some dude, but I remember finding them and thinking, 'I’m going to use this at some point, I want to use this. I want to make something out of these. I’m sure there’s so much great stuff on them,'" he says. "So I think that idea really was just, I was like, 'Okay, well what’s the realist thing?' The idea is to get the most emotion out of me and for me to really watch these for the first time, where would I be most comfortable and what would be the most real to me? And it would just be in my living room and that’s just what we did."
While "Papa" was an emotional excavation, "Wait No More" was a logistical puzzle. Working with longtime collaborator Ben Knechtel, Helman had to navigate the strictures of early-pandemic safety protocols.
"So, I’d say it’s probably more inspired by quarantine than a necessity, but I would say the Wait No More video was more, it was sort of both, because I was talking to Ben, I had all these crazy ideas about what I wanted to do," Helman says. "And he was like, 'Okay well, we do we have to do it at your house because of COVID.' And this is when it was locked down. You couldn’t go to a store. Way back in April it was mayhem. So, we were figuring out how we were going to do it. And if he had to get tested and how do we wear masks? And he had to be outside while I’m inside, that whole thing."
The chemistry between Helman and Knechtel is built on a decade of trial and error. They are used to making something out of nothing.
"But I’ve worked with Ben through almost every juncture of my career and way back when I was 17 and getting hardly any budget to make videos, Ben was there to go, 'Okay, we’ve got this much money, but I have an idea of how we can stretch that and make it look really cool.' So I think Ben and I really worked well under limitations and we actually sort of egg them on because the more limitations, the more we get to figure out really cool and interesting ways to overcome them," Helman adds.
We eventually circle back to "Papa." It is the emotional anchor of the record. The song deals with the death of his grandfather, a loss that occurred while Helman was on the road, separated by an ocean and a demanding tour schedule.
"Well, it’s a funny thing because when my Papa passed away I was on tour. I was actually on the West Coast somewhere. My mom and my brother were both in England with him at the hospital, he had lung cancer," he recalls. "They were just sort of taking care of him and keeping watch and just making sure he was okay. And I would call every day, maybe three times a day and just be like, 'What’s up, what’s going on?' And I kept saying, 'If you say the word, I will cancel this tour I will get on a flight and I will be there.' And you know, my mom just kept saying, 'Don’t worry, he’s got lots of time. It’s going to be okay.'"
But the call every touring artist dreads finally came during a routine drive to a venue.
I feel very lucky that I’m a songwriter... I love to perform and go on tour and meet fans and play music, but I also love to just create music. So, when this pandemic really took off I was like, “Okay, well, one half of what I do is kind of on hold. So I’m just going to put all my focus into making this music and putting it out.”
"And I was like, 'Okay, cool.' And then I remember I was driving, I was in the passenger seat, we’re in the car, driving to a sound check and my mom called and it’s so weird. I’ve had a couple bad calls in my life and every time I feel like the second my phone buzzes, I just know, it’s like this weird thing, but I just knew and I picked up the phone and he was gone," Helman says. "And I was like, 'Wow.' I just instantly knew there was so much to unpack. Because I felt really sad that I couldn’t be with him and all that. So after that it was really, really, really consuming me and artistically I had lots of sessions after that tour, because I went straight from that tour to writing. And every session, even if I wasn’t writing about it, in the back of my mind, I was like, 'I need to write a song. I need to get this out.'"
The pressure to translate that grief into art was overwhelming. Helman describes it as a physical blockage, a creative dam that refused to break until he was in the right company.
"This feeling was stuck to me. I need to release that artistically. And I actually wrote two or three songs about it that but they weren’t right. And they felt, I don’t know. It’s funny when people say that your music sounds like you because they obviously don’t see the hundreds of songs that you write that sound like somebody else," he says. "So they just weren’t right. And then I kind of put it aside, I compartmentalize it. And then a couple of weeks later I was with my usual team who I know so deeply like Simon Wilcox and Tawgs and Gordie Sampson, and we just got into a room and we started writing something, like some pop song with a really fun beat."
It was Simon Wilcox who provided the metaphor that finally allowed the song to surface.
"And I kind of just looked at them and I was like, 'Guys, I feel I really need to get this song out.' And Simon said, 'Sometimes some writing is like you have a pipe and you have all these songs that are just coming down the pipe.' And she’s like, 'Sometimes there’s just like a song that’s stuck. And you have to get it out of the pipe so that the other songs can start flowing.' And that was that song for me. I think I just felt comfortable around them and I had sort of come around to a lot of resolutions. I guess I unlocked it. I mean, that’s the funny thing about song writing is it takes, for me at least I really have to be with the right people that I have to feel comfortable. I have to feel heard and seen and understood and that’s what that group makes me feel. So, I only have them to thank."
The song is technically simple but emotionally devastating. The "cello swoops" Helman mentions provide a haunting, elegiac quality that elevates the track beyond standard pop fare.
"Definitely from the emotional side. It's funny, because technically speaking, it was like once Gordie played those chords on the piano and then Tawgs put those cello swoops at the beginning of the loop, he used some program to do that," Helman says. "And I just remember thinking, 'Wow that is exactly how I feel. These people understand me so intimately that they can look at me, hear me talk about this thing for a minute and a half. And then they can play the exact chords that are in my heart.' And I just remember feeling very blown away by that. And from that point on, it was musically and melodically was very easy. It was lyrically, emotionally taxing, but it's weird. I wouldn't call it hard. It was the work I had to do before writing the song that was hard, the getting to that song. But sometimes it's like that, you know?"
*Nonsuch Park* wasn't built overnight. It was a two-year process of discovery. Helman, now 25, is starting to shed the skin of his younger self. He is looking at the world with a more sober, analytical eye.
"No, I think the thing is, because I work within the confines of pop music, which I choose to do and love to do, when I sit ... Once I finished Hotel de Ville I wasn’t thinking about what is the theme of this body of work? I was just like, 'Let’s write some songs, great songs, and just have fun and explore.' And I would say that’s sort of true from all my records," he explains. "The beginning of the process is really just a matter of starting up again and plugging in your gear and just writing tunes. And then, once I wrote Wait No More, I was like, 'Oh, this is like a part of my life. This is a part of my life with a theme to it or at least it has some greater meaning.'"
He speaks about beauty as an external force, something to be observed rather than manufactured.
"And I think that that is really a matter of, I’m 25 now, and I think I see things really differently than I may be used to. I think I started to look at life in a little bit more on life’s terms, rather than on my own," Helman says. "And I think that’s probably just a matter of growing older and I don’t know, when you come in contact with beauty enough times, you realize that it’s not something that you created, it’s something that exists outside of you. And that happens and that you’re just sort of randomly a part of at whatever chance you can be. So, that’s what Nonsuch Park was for me. I wrote Wait No More. I wrote Afraid of America. I wrote Evergreen and those songs came later and that’s when I sort of realized that I was in this thing and then Papa happened. And then once Papa was written and I kind of put those five songs together, I saw those and I was like, 'Okay, here it is. Here is the album or at least the theme.' And then the Nonsuch Park concept just came to me as well as the string that could bind them together. But that’s a fun thing for me. Because I think that’s how life works. I don’t think anybody wakes up and goes, 'Okay, today’s going to be about starting anew or setting my goals.'"
He is dismissive of the "hustle culture" and motivational rhetoric that dominates social media. For Helman, the creative process is about pattern recognition.
"I don’t think that’s real. I think that’s what motivational speakers will tell you on YouTube, but that’s nonsense. I think people wake up and they go, 'I can’t believe I’m alive. What do I do? Where am I, who am I?' And then the day happens and reveals those answers to you," he says. "And I think that’s how my albums work is, I just make stuff and then I look back and I go, 'Wow, look at all those patterns, look at all those connections.' And then I just try to name that."
One of those patterns is a deep-seated concern for the environment. The track "Evergreen" tackles climate change, a topic that has been pushed to the periphery by the immediate crisis of the pandemic. Helman believes the two are inextricably linked.
"Hmm, that’s a really good question. Well, for one, I think we have to continue to re-investigate the system that we live in and question if that system is working to our benefit," Helman muses. "And I have a close friend of mine who I recently spoke to and he’s in labor law and he’s just a really brilliant person. And he kind of said to me something that a lot of people would disagree with, but that made me think a lot. And he said that, 'There’s no value in solving the climate crisis if we don’t also solve the human crisis.' Because if we try to solve climate change without conceiving of a solution that involves dignity for all people, then we’re sort of keeping alive a world that isn’t worth it."
It is a radical perspective for a pop star, but Helman isn't interested in safe platitudes. He sees the intersectionality of Black Lives Matter, frontline labour rights, and environmental justice.
"I mean that that’s a tough thing to say, but I also think that is really true. And I think what we’re seeing with the Black Lives Matter movement and with the focus on frontline workers and with the November election in the U.S. is that we have a lot of work to do to make the system fair and equitable and beautiful too," he says. "And I think something that everybody can do is just have those conversations and really think about alternative ways of organizing."
He argues that the climate conversation has become too sterile, too bogged down in data and policy to move the average person. He wants to bring beauty back into the equation.
"And I’d also say, and I wrote about this in a publication called Beaver. But I really believe in my heart is that there’s no solution to the climate crisis without beauty," Helman asserts. "And I think the problem up until this point is that we haven't been able to talk about the climate crisis in a personal way. Every time I have a conversation about the climate crisis with people that are a little older than me, because I think at least for my friends and for my generation and the younger generation, I think we really understand this deeply. A lot of the times when I'm having conversations about climate change, it's all conceptual and math-based and policy-based. And while those things are extremely important, we kind of forget about the fact that we're all responsible for our own garden and that there are beautiful ways of solving this crisis."
He advocates for small, localized acts of rebellion against the status quo—gardening, mending plants, eating socially consciously.
"Like instead of catastrophizing, we can think about our impact on our communities, ways that we can eat more equitably and more socially consciously. From being a vegetarian to watering your garden outside, to teaching a friend how to mend their plants," he says. "As silly as those things may sound, I think that they situate the individual ecologically and they make a person feel beautifully a part of the ecosystem. And I think that's just a really important thing too. So it's really hard because obviously we're all inside and it's COVID, and it's a very stressful time, but I think that those things are important. I'm rambling today because I'm on three hours sleep since I have a puppy, but that's my take today."
The pandemic has forced people to look at their immediate surroundings. Helman has noticed a shift in his own neighbourhood, where front lawns have been transformed into vegetable patches.
"I think I have in the sense that I think that definitely when COVID started. I remember walking through my neighborhood, it's weird because I feel now like the new normal has sort of set in, but I remember walking through my neighborhood," Helman says. "And I live in a neighborhood where there's, it's sort of downtown, but there's houses and gardens and stuff like that. And I remember seeing a lot of people were turning their front yards into gardens. People were growing rhubarb and Thai squash and cucumbers in their front yard. And I remember thinking, 'That would be so revolutionary if people started considering where they lived as ecosystems instead of as houses or front yards or these sort of disjointed Oasis’ away from the world.'"
This shift represents a new kind of social trust.
"It's really inclusive to grow food in your front yard. The fruitfulness of going out and picking food and eating it, but also the trust involved and having growing food in your front garden and trusting that people won't steal it or that the neighborhood around you will nurture that and not litter on that because they know it's your food," he notes. "I thought that was very beautiful. I thought a lot about that, but I think also just in the conversations I've had with my friends and even with my dad, who's someone who has never really cooked, my dad worked early morning, late night job."
He laughs as he describes his father’s newfound interest in the kitchen.
"He was the classic. My dad went to work. My mom took care of us. She cooked and cleaned and that worked for them. And I'm not knocking that lifestyle at all, but my dad isn't a cook. And since COVID has happened, he's really interested in cooking. And he has sort of started talking about cooking to me more," Helman says. "And I think cooking is an extremely political thing. I think it's very tied to the climate crisis. And I think that ties into the beauty thing. Because it's like, 'If I can go to a farmer's market with my girlfriend, pick really beautiful food from the people who grew it, take it home, make a beautiful meal, eat, listen to beautiful music and feel really good about those choices. I think that is a lot more inspirational and pushes one to be more conscious about the climate crisis then watching the news and being told extremely horrifying numbers about floods and swamps and tornadoes and stuff. You know what I mean? I don't know if that makes sense, but yeah."
Helman’s activism isn't just a hobby; it’s rooted in his Jewish identity and the historical weight of systemic oppression. He feels a personal responsibility to act when he sees injustice.
"I feel very deeply, I think it's one of my faults, but also one of the things that obviously makes me who I am, but I just don't like to see people suffer in any way," he says. "And especially I really feel passionate about just oppression in general. And whenever I see or hear of a group of people that is being systematically oppressed, I feel very personally responsible to help and try to change that. Because, in these conversations we have, it's always like when we talk about systematic oppression or systemic oppression, we forget that a system is an organization of people and we're all buying into this system. It's not like there's three people that control the world. We all have a part in whatever is happening around us, even in sometimes extremely removed ways."
He credits his upbringing in Hebrew School with instilling this sense of duty.
"I just think that it's crucial as you become an adult to consider those systems and to consider ways of improving them. And I think a lot of it is for me personally tied to, I'm Jewish. I went to Hebrew School every Tuesday and Thursday, and was very often reminded of the terrible things that happened in the second World War," Helman explains. "And whenever those conversations would come up, very often they would be like, 'We as people have gone through one of it, if not the most horrific genocide that the world has ever seen.' And we made it out and we're still here and we're here to help in any way we can, if we ever see anything like that. So I was always sort of raised to think like, 'If you ever see oppression, if you ever see a group of people that is being singled out or is being scapegoated, it's your job to stop it because Jewish people understand that struggle very intimately.'"
He admits that his passions can be mercurial, shifting from one cause to another as the world changes.
"So I think that's also probably part of it. I feel it's different for me every day. And I'm sure if you asked my girlfriend, 'What is Scott passionate about?' She would be like, 'Are you talking about yesterday or the day before or last week? Because it changes,'" he says.
But that "naive" belief that one person can make a difference is exactly what makes Helman such a compelling figure.
"You know what? I think everybody does in whatever way they can and for whatever personal reasons, I think most people are passionate and yearn for connection and yearn to be able to have an effect on the world around them," Helman says. "Maybe I never grew out of that naive, young idea that I could single-handedly change the world. But I think that that's ... It's just a very human thing. And I think I just love talking about activism and sharing about my personal activism, because I know that fire exists in every person and it really just takes a spark to make someone go, 'You know what, you're right. I don't have to think about every issue today. I can think about one and I can try to do my best at dealing with it in the way that I can go to bed and I can feel I've done something.' And I think that's just an amazing thing. I know there are so many people in my life that have done that for me. So, I just think it's my job to kind of pass that on."
On a lighter note, we discuss style. Helman has always been a bit of a fashion chameleon, but the pandemic has even challenged his sartorial choices.
"It's so weird because I think fashion is a really complicated art form. It's wrapped up in capitalism and it's wrapped up in vanity and to me often this art form that poses," Helman says. "And I'm not saying that this is the nature of fashion, but I think often it almost poses as art when it so often has a hidden agenda to it. And especially in a commerce way or in a corporate way. But I think the thing for me is, I've always tried to just wear what I think I feel and express myself in a way that makes me feel fun and comfortable, or I'm expressing my art through my fashion."
In the age of Zoom calls and isolation, the "function" of fashion has shifted.
"And it's hard, because you wake up in the morning and it's, 'Okay, what do I have to do there?' I got to take my puppy out to make sure he goes to the bathroom. And then I got to work on a song in my bedroom, then I'm going to cook some food for dinner, and I'm going to see my girlfriend to have dinner, and then I'm going to go to bed," he says. "And it's like, 'Who am I dressing up for? It's not like I'm going to an event or playing a show or, you know what I mean? So I definitely feel like less inspired for dress up in that way, but yeah, definitely has taken a back seat, I guess it's just like fashion serves a function."
But even without a red carpet, Helman can't help but experiment. He recently shaved his head and dyed his hair blue.
"And those functions are just even far between right now, because like I said, I don't have a reason to, dress up in any way, but then again, I did shave my head and dye my hair blue. That's a hard question. I'm probably coming around to a different answer now, but I guess it's more just fun now because there is no expectation. So my stylist, Katie will come over and she'll be like, 'Dude, check out all this stuff I just found.' And I'm like, 'Oh, let's have a dress up.' There's no expectations. There's no pressure. You can just be yourself."
As for the future, Helman is sitting on a mountain of unreleased material. He is co-directing his own videos and finding new ways to connect with his audience.
"Oh man. Well, I have a music video coming out really soon, which I’d actually co-directed, this is my first co-directed video, which is really exciting," he says. "Because it really feels like my artistic expression, which is really cool. You know, there’s a whole other half of this album that’s still sitting on my computer. So I’m just getting stuff wrapped up and it’ll probably be a little while, but I’m still working on it. But, I think the songs are just really exciting and probably the best I’ve ever written. We have a show, I can’t say too much about the show yet, but that show’s going to be bananas. I’m so, so excited to get together with my band and really put on a proper show. So, that’ll be really fun."
He is also planning to peel back the curtain on his production process for his fans.
"What else? Just so much, can I do some more live stuff? Like some more live stream stuff? I had a Zoom with my fans not long ago. And one of the things that they said they'd love is for me to go on Zoom and open up a session and actually show them how I created some of these songs. Get down into the tracks and show them what plugins I use and how I stitched everything together. So I think that'd be really fun. I’m writing some poetry, trying to write some pros. I have so much going on, but those are probably the main things. The video is what's coming up really close. So I'm so excited for people to see that."
The upcoming video is for "Lois," a track that has been reimagined for the screen.
"It's for Lois. We really re-thought that song and tried to think of a way to really create a story around it. And I think it's the best video that I've done," Helman concludes. "Actually Papa is pretty good too though. I love that video.
