Few musicians navigate genres with the fluidity of Rene Lopez. From Americana and Latin Soul to Outlaw Country, Funk, and Rock n’ Roll, Lopez is a musical chameleon. His latest solo album, A New York Lie, showcases this mastery so effectively you might mistake it for a mixtape of various artists rather than a single cohesive vision. For this lifelong NYC musician, blending styles isn’t just a gimmick, it’s what keeps the work vital. While it would be easy to pick a lane and stay in it, Lopez clearly prefers the scenic route.
Lopez’s musical education began at home; his father, Rene Lopez Sr., was a prominent trumpet player in the Latin music scene. After high school, Lopez formalized his craft at the New School of Jazz and Contemporary Music in Manhattan. His career took flight in the early ’90s with the jam-funk-rock outfit The Authority, and he hasn’t slowed down since. Whether as a solo artist, a collaborator with Joseph Arthur, or a long-time creative partner to Blind Melon’s Rogers Stevens, his resume is vast. That partnership with Stevens has yielded multiple projects, including the early-2000s supergroup Sparticle, fronted by Spacehog’s Royston Langdon. Yet, beneath the collaborations, Lopez remains a prolific singer-songwriter with a deep catalog of solo work.
It was through his work with Stevens, specifically around the formation of their band Extra Virgin, that Lopez first landed on my radar. Before diving into the new album, we discussed the origins of that partnership and how he first met Stevens.
I first heard your name when you did the Extra Virgin project with Blind Melon guitarist Rogers Stevens. How did you meet him?
RENE: It was ’98 when we all first met. The guys in Blind Melon wanted to start a new band with a new singer. They heard about me in New York and they all flew out. I was playing a gig at CBGB’s under my name. This is when I first went solo and I left my band called The Authority. They all came and they brought Nappy (Mike Napolitano). He came and brought ten people to the gig. Then I flew out to Seattle because Brad (Smith) and Christopher (Thorn) had a studio. We wrote a few songs and recorded them. I ended up playing drums and singing on those songs.
It just worked out better for myself and Rogers, we were brothers right away. He stayed in New York and we ended up making music in Extra Virgin. And we still make music, to this day. I help him with his project (Towne and Stevens) and he played on my new record. I always want him to be a part of what I do.
How did they end up coming to you?
RENE: At the time, my group, The Authority, had a thing going for an underground band. We headlined Wetlands and we had a really good following. When I started playing solo shows, I played this place called Spy. Kelly, who ran Spy, was good friends with Rogers. He told Rogers about me, so Rogers came to see me first. He talked to me about starting a band right away.
When you hung out with them, did you do Blind Melon songs or were you starting from scratch?
RENE: I didn’t even know the band, to tell you the truth. I only knew “No Rain.” When I listened to it, I knew that Shannon (Hoon) and I were completely different as musicians. Completely different voices, and I wasn’t about to try to step in those shoes. I would have to change who I was, and that wasn’t gonna happen. That’s why we just started something completely fresh.
So, let’s talk about your new album, A New York Lie. Every artist says, “My most recent record is my best record.” Sell me on why the new record is the best record you’ve done.
RENE: I don’t want to say it’s my best record because I feel like I just keep exploring and digging in, trying to make better music every time. It’s a different record from my last one. Much different. I think it’s more organic; it has more of a band feel. I think I’ve written some good songs on this. I’ve been extremely honest with myself. Digging into more of the country sound felt very natural to me, and I never thought that before. One night, I ended up singing a Waylon Jennings song at a club here in Brooklyn and I connected with it. As soon as I connected with it, I went home and I started writing. That’s how all these songs were born. It’s a sound that resonates with me. I feel natural singing it. Now, some of the lyrics are painful, but musically, I feel at home with it. Hopefully people hear that.
I was curious how a lifelong New Yorker ends up singing country music. Was it Waylon Jennings, or did you grow up with that influence?
RENE: When you’re a New Yorker, there’s so much going on here musically. You could be walking down the street and hear salsa music, and then on the next street, you could hear country music. In Brooklyn now, just in this neighborhood, there’s two country bars: Desert 5 Spot and Skinny Dennis. I just take it all in. Whatever inspires me that year, that’s what I write. I’m not trying to follow any trends; whatever inspires me, that’s what I go with. If I fail, I fail, and I get back up.
Would you say each of your albums is a time period reflection? Can you go back and listen to earlier stuff from a life perspective?
RENE: Oh, yeah. The record you were holding up before, One Man’s Year, is about a year of debauchery, basically. It was also because I separated from my wife at the time. We had a year-long separation, and it was very hard for me. It was very painful. One Man’s Year goes through those twelve months of the good and the bad that came out of that. I grew a lot from that.
When you look back in five years, what is the theme of the new record?
RENE: Being a lifelong New Yorker, it is about my love-hate relationship with New York. I love it here so much, and every day I’m inspired by this city, but at the same time, it beats me up. I pay the price. All the beauty comes with some pain. Sometimes the songs sound like I’m talking about a woman, but I’m actually talking about the city. It’s a city that has given me so much, but at the same time, if I don’t get out and explore other places in the world, it starts to drive me a little crazy.
Would you say each song is a chapter of an overall book, or are they a collection of short stories?
RENE: I would say a collection of short stories. I have more songs in this world, too, so I want to do another record, the continuation of the New York life. A lot of my songs come from being a New Yorker. If you live here, it’s hard not to write about it. I grew up in the Bronx, and then we moved to Rockland County. I was there until I was eighteen. Then I moved into Manhattan to study music at the New School of Jazz and Contemporary Music, and I stayed.
New York is obviously a different place today. Is it still accommodating to musicians, or has it changed so much that you feel like an outsider?
RENE: All of the above. You have to find those new paths. I do feel like an outsider sometimes. Back in the day, it was easy for me. When I was in The Authority, we gigged three nights a week in New York City, and it was okay to do that at the time. There were a lot of venues to play. Now there aren’t as many venues. It’s harder to get the gigs; it’s harder to get people out. It’s tough. It’s not gonna stop me, but for me, it’s tougher. Maybe for a kid in their twenties, they don’t feel the same way. That hustle is not there as much. The hustle to make the music is there, 100%. The hustle for me to be on the phone trying to book gigs all the time is not there as much.
I imagine with technology, actually recording the music is easier than it was in The Authority days.
RENE: Oh, yeah. Now I can make records in my apartment. But I do enjoy going into a real studio with a band, like I did on this last album, and playing live. I went in with great musicians who are all my dear friends. We didn’t use a click track; I just counted the song off, and we played. I sang with the band. That’s how I want to make records. The record I made before that I didn’t do that way because it was right after COVID. I did it in a small little room and played drums first, then laid down a bass part, and just piece by piece. It’s cool doing it that way, too, but something different happens in that process. I’m not having a conversation with musicians.
You have a pretty eclectic group of people on the record. Did you know all of them going into the recording?
RENE: All of them. Pat Sansone (Wilco) produced the album. I met Pat in New Orleans when I went down with Rogers. Pat ended up helping with the Extra Virgin album. We’ve always stayed in contact, and Pat and I had a different band with Joseph Arthur called Holding the Void. Mike Napolitano engineered and mixed the album; he’s my best friend. Greg Weizorek played drums. Greg and I met in 1998 in New Orleans. When he came to New York, he ended up working with Norah Jones and toured with her for ten years. Jim Parker, who played guitar, is a new friend. I met him at Desert 5 Spot where he played in the house band. I remember thinking, “That’s the sound right there.” Brett Bass played bass. He’s played on most of my albums; we’ve been playing together for fifteen years.
And you’ve got pedal steel.
RENE: That’s Annie Taylor Sloan. She is fantastic. She plays piano, guitar, and pedal steel. I met her at Desert Five Spot, the night that I sat in and sang the Waylon Jennings song.
Was it important to have pedal steel to flesh out that country sound?
RENE: Absolutely. Once I heard her play—she brings something different to the instrument with the delay pedals she uses. Her approach is a little different.
Is New York the only place you play shows, or is there a desire to hop in a van?
RENE: I would love to tour again. It’s hard to keep a band out on tour, especially all these guys that I play with. It’s just hard financially. If that wasn’t an issue, I would be gone. I would lose a lot of money. Being an artist today, I’m wearing many different hats. I’m doing six different things. I’m my own PR, I’m the booking agent, I’m the songwriter, I’m the performer, I’m the merch guy. How am I gonna do all this? I try to stay focused on making music. I try not to let all the shit bring me down. I just try to stay positive and focused on becoming a better musician. All that stuff can knock you down, for sure. It’s just a matter of how much you love doing it. And I love doing it. Nothing has changed with that.
The album is very eclectic. If I heard “Feeling Right as Rain” followed by “Any Chance,” I’m not sure I would think it was the same artist. Does that variety open up opportunities for you, like being able to play a country bar or a rock club?
RENE: I think the variety of music I put out in general opens opportunities. I’ve made soul music, Latin soul, Latin disco, and then singer-songwriter Americana. Some people want you to be one thing. I’m too much of a chameleon; I can’t help but want to do everything because I love it all. I love listening to Brazilian music and old-school disco. I was a huge Prince fan growing up. Prince was the top. The lesson was that he could do everything. Whatever style of music it was, Prince could play it, and that’s what I wanted to be when I was a kid.
Prince is a good example of someone who kept what he was at his core but moved all around. I don’t remember him getting backlash; I feel like he was able to evolve, and fans and critics followed that path.
RENE: I think you’re right. He made eight great records. I’m the biggest Prince fan in the world, but I will say towards the end, I don’t think he wrote great songs. I think he relied on his genius too much and had too many “yes” people around him. A lot of the songs he was putting out just didn’t resonate with me.
On this album, you worked with a songwriting partner on two songs. How did that work?
RENE: I made friends down in Nashville, Golden West Productions (Guy Taylor Nash & Brittany Lin Knott), and they’re songwriters. We just became friends. I already had the songs, like the melody, but they helped me put them together. It was a supernatural experience. It’s the first time I’ve done that as a solo artist. I wrote with Rogers when we had our group, but as a solo artist, I really wasn’t doing much of that. I went down there wanting to write. I don’t know if I’m good at entering that world of writing with five people in a room; that never felt right to me. But hanging with them, I like to hang so much that it was just easy when I picked up the guitar. I had an idea that they were able to add to.
I listen to music top to bottom and I set scenes in my head. The song “We Can’t Ever Be Friends” feels like a travel song, like driving through the night as the sun is coming up. Do you picture scenes in your head when you’re writing?
RENE: Sometimes I do. There’s always a story, and I’m very visual. I definitely felt the desert vibes in that song—me going off on my own in the desert and having some separation from a certain person. Sonically, you feel like you’re on a road by yourself going through the desert.
When I was listening to the songs, I thought you were talking about a woman, but you’ve said it’s a relationship with the city. How much of it is true to your life and how much is weaving stories that are based in fact but you’ve taken liberty with?
RENE: I’ve definitely taken liberty, for sure. But it all comes from the truth. It all comes from something that happened in my life, but then I take it somewhere else.
I once talked to a songwriter who said he used names in songs to get feelings out, but really he was just setting a stage for an emotion like insecurity. He said his songwriting voice was the “unreliable narrator.” Do you relate to that?
RENE: Absolutely, a thousand percent. When you’re writing songs, I never want to feel too comfortable. If I start feeling too comfortable, then I’m done. Sometimes it’s hard to get some of the stuff out, but it’s about having no fear and just letting it out on the paper. It’s all real life, and hopefully, learning from all those experiences.
What comes first, the album title or the song?
RENE: That always is different. I usually write all the songs, and then sometimes, like with this album, A New York Lie just made sense to me. That song basically tells the story of the album.
You’ve released a couple of individual songs as singles, but “A New York Lie” isn’t one of them yet. Will it be?
RENE: I would love to put that one out as a single and make videos. I think that’s the one so far that people gravitate toward the most. Anyone who’s been writing about the record, they focus on “A New York Lie.”
You’ve got some “yee-haw twangers” on this record, but then there are jazz elements and tracks like “That’s the Truth” that sound perfect for Americana radio. Out of all these styles, which song feels the most “in your wheelhouse”?
RENE: “A New York Lie” is one of those songs I’m very comfortable with. “We Broke Night,” too, because I come from the groove—that’s my background. “We Broke Night” has that feel; it could have almost been a Prince song.
I first heard about you through your work with Rogers, but I eventually stumbled upon your old band, The Authority. I’ve only heard one song, but it sounded more funky than what you’re doing now.
RENE: It was a beast of a band. It had the energy of Fishbone back in the 90s—we actually opened for them. Our roots were funk; we were huge fans of Parliament, Sly Stone, and Prince. But our guitar player, Frank (Ocasio), had a Black Sabbath thing going on, so there were these heavy riffs. Our saxophone player, Dave (Masucci), was an incredible singer and a real rapper. Tony (Brito), the keyboardist, came from a jazz and Latin background. Since we all met at the New School, there was a heavy jazz element, and we improvised a lot. We were really at the beginning of the New York jam band scene.
So you were running in the same circles as the big names of that era?
RENE: Definitely. I went to school with John Popper from Blues Traveler and the guys from the Spin Doctors. We all started together. We played the circuit where we’d open for Phish in Vermont, or play shows with Parliament-Funkadelic and The Meters. We were a fantastic live band, but we never quite captured that magic in the studio. It never happened.
This was the early 90s? How close did you get to “the big time”?
RENE: Everybody thought we were going to be the next big thing. Record companies were coming out to see us—even Ice Cube wanted to sign us. I remember flying out to Compton to meet him. He got us on a Lollapalooza side stage for a show. But the labels wanted us to co-write with pop songwriters, and we were stubborn. We didn’t want to play the game. Between that and the internal fighting, we kind of sabotaged ourselves. It’s too bad because it was the best band I’ve ever had. We were young, fearless, and we were like a gang.
Was there any jealousy or FOMO watching Blues Traveler or the Spin Doctors break through while you stayed on the sidelines?
RENE: It was actually exciting. We were just bar bands, so seeing them break through gave us hope. It made us think, “Oh shit, we could actually make a record with a major label.” It didn’t happen for us that way, but that’s okay. Not everybody gets to do that. As long as I get to play music, I’m fine.
Have you ever done a reunion show with The Authority?
RENE: We did one right before the pandemic in a little bar in Brooklyn. We only played about five songs, but we had a blast. The place was packed with faces I hadn’t seen since the early 90s. The Spin Doctors actually asked recently if I could put the band back together to play a show with them, but it didn’t work out. I ended up just doing my own solo set.
We’ve touched on country and jazz, but you also mentioned the jam scene. Are you familiar with the band Goose?
RENE: Goose, yeah. Goose and Geese. I’m familiar with both. It’s funny, I don’t know too much about Goose’s records, but I’ve seen clips of them live. My song “Going Back to Lovin’” has that kind of pocket, but it was really inspired by singing Waylon Jennings’ “Ramblin’ Man.” That groove influenced me. I definitely need to listen to more Goose. Now, Geese… I love that album. They’re New York kids. My son grew up in the School of Rock program in Brooklyn, and those guys were part of that scene, too. I was actually walking down the street in Greenpoint and heard live music coming from Lot Radio. I got closer and realized, “These guys sound great.” I had to ask a kid who it was, and they said “Geese.” I went home and checked them out immediately. To me, they’re a true New York band. Their sound could only come from here.
Is your son still making music?
RENE: He’s actually an actor now; he’s in his third year at Tisch studying Shakespeare, and he’s incredible. But on the side, he composes instrumental music. He bought Logic and figured it out all on his own. About a year went by and I had no idea he was doing it until he asked me to listen. He has a real gift for film composition. It’s all influenced by the music he heard growing up and playing video games.
That’s a world where you can actually have a career these days—soundtracks, commercials, games.
RENE: Exactly. He doesn’t even talk about it; I’m the one who has to bring it up to people! He’s just got the gift.
Wilco posted their favorite albums of 2025 and A New York Lie made the list. Did that come through Pat Sansone, or is Jeff Tweedy familiar with your stuff?
RENE: I have no idea! Pat produced the album, so I’m sure everyone in the band shared their favorites. I assume Jeff has the final say on what goes on those lists, but it was just really nice to be mentioned. It’s led to a nice uptick in Spotify listeners coming from their playlists. Between that and the NPR Latin feature, it’s been great—especially since I don’t have a publicist. I’m just doing this myself and keeping it moving.
It really highlights how eclectic your music is—to be featured by both Wilco and NPR Latin. Those worlds don’t collide often.
RENE: Hey, it’s a different world now, right? Music is music. To me, a good song is a good song, whether it has a Latin rhythm, a funk rhythm, or a little twang.
Going back to Rogers, I forgot his second Towne & Stevens record came out in 2025. You played drums on both his records, right?
RENE: I did. I’m really proud of those records. It almost brings tears to my eyes because Rogers really dug in during the pandemic. When I played with him in the past, he never sang—not even background vocals. Then he tells me, “Ren, I’m singing,” and I’m thinking, “Okay, dude, whatever.” But he sounds great! They are real, honest songs.
Rogers has a brilliant mind. Who just decides they’re going to become a lawyer? When he focuses, he can do anything. He even taught himself how to engineer those records. I just saw him in Asbury Park—myself, Christopher (Thorn), Rogers, and Danny Clinch put a band together and played the Stone Pony. It was a blast. I don’t get to play drums as much anymore, but every time I get behind the kit, I feel like a kid again.
I am dying to go out to Christopher’s studio. Every time he posts a video of himself working there, it just looks like a magical place. I definitely want to record there someday.
Speaking of recording, are there physical releases for your new album?
RENE: Not right now. It doesn’t make much sense to press vinyl if I’m not on the road. Rogers mentioned that once Blind Melon goes back out, I might be able to open some shows. If I can land a tour like that, then I’ll press it so I can sell it at the merch table.
2025 just wrapped up. What are some of the things you’ll remember most from this past year—music, food, or life in general?
RENE: 2025 was a big year of growth and learning to let go. My son just moved out—we’ve lived together for the last seven years—so the last few days have been really emotional. I’ve been moving furniture and cleaning just to distract myself. Parenting has always been a huge part of who I am; it’s the reason I stayed home instead of touring for so long.
On the lighter side, I get to eat a lot of great food in New York. My favorite spot is The Four Horsemen in Brooklyn—owned by James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem. It has incredible food and one of the best wine lists in the city. And of course, getting to make another record this year was a blessing.
How do you usually consume music? Are you still a vinyl collector?
RENE: I do both. I try to listen to vinyl as much as possible, and I actually go out and DJ old-school Latin music—Latin Soul, Boogaloo, salsa, and 60s/70s Brazilian music.
What’s one record you love to play when you’re DJing that I should check out?
RENE: My father was a great Latin trumpet player and he played with Ray Barretto. If you listen to one record, put on Ray Barretto’s Acid. It’s the perfect combination of Latin clave and soul music. It’s a very New York sound. My dad also played in a band called Típica 73; they were the first US-based band allowed into Cuba in 20 years back then.
I’ll definitely give that a listen. To close out, I always ask: Is there a song or album that instantly transports you to a specific place and time?
RENE: There are so many, but one stands out. I was about five years old, over at a neighbor’s house in the Bronx. This family was huge into salsa—the father was one of the great club dancers—so the families were tight. I remember the older boy came home with a new record and put it on. It was “Rapper’s Delight.”
As a kid, I knew instantly it was something different. It was such a long track, and we played it for the rest of the night. It turned into a full apartment party—everybody was dancing, the room was full of smoke, and everyone was speaking Spanish, which I didn’t even speak. But hearing that “I said a hip-hop, the hippie, the hippie,” that moment stayed with me forever. It opened the doors to rap for me.
