For Danny VanZandt, distinctive smells, tastes, and sounds trigger vivid memories.

The Detroit singer-songwriter explores those sensory experiences and the powerful recollections associated with them on his new album, Proust in the Kitchen With the Wooden Spoon!.

“It’s that concept of the Proustian memory that’s in one of his books where the character eats a cookie and has a flashback to a memory,” said VanZandt about his indie-rock release. “That—I think—is such a real thing and such a weird phenomenon that happens.”

As part of that phenomenon, he reflects on a gamut of emotions, ranging from gratitude to longing to anticipation, that arises when cooking and eating his late mother’s spaghetti and listening to music with friends.

“For me, my mom passing [away] was when I started thinking about that kind of stuff,” said VanZandt, who lost his mother in 2020.

“When she first passed away, the emotions wouldn’t come up on their own when just dealing with that, but then it would get reflected through a movie or a song. Then, I could process it and see the totality of it and that’s the way that I would deal with it.”

VanZandt processes everything through 11 emotive tracks on Proust in the Kitchen With the Wooden Spoon!. His sentimental lyrics and evocative instrumentation transport listeners to a special time, place, or feeling.

Each track feels like a magical short story soundtracked with elements of Americana, folk, rock ‘n’ roll, and alt-country.

“I remember listening to Spotify on shuffle and ‘Freak Scene’ by Dinosaur Jr. came on, and I had forgotten that song existed. I also had forgotten that Bug as an album existed and it reminded me of a CD a friend had burned for me in high school,” he said.

“It was such a faraway memory that I had not thought of in years, and I could see the color of the CD. When that stuff happens, that’s so crazy to me and so is the idea of how music can be a vessel that holds memories.”

I recently spoke with VanZandt about the album and the inspiration behind it.

Q: The creative process for Proust in the Kitchen With the Wooden Spoon! started with writing lyrics first. Why did you decide to take that approach for this album?

A: I made a playlist of artists that have the vibe I wanted. It was mostly Bill Callahan, Leonard Cohen, Silver Jews, and artists who I felt were mainly lyricists first. People who do music to get the lyrics out. I’ve never written music that way where it’s lyrics first. I’ve always written music first and this was the first time that almost all the songs were written as lyrics first. That was the only thing at the beginning that I knew I wanted to do differently.

It was a fresh way to do it. In the past, the primary thing I was thinking about was the chord progression. That gets tough because I start thinking, “Oh, I can’t do that chord progression because I did it already.” It becomes a way where I block myself out just thinking about it from that one angle. It was also helpful because I could be working my pizza job and singing a song in my head during an eight-hour shift. Then, I could come home and think, “What were those chords that would sit under that melody?”

It also became a way to use that part of my brain and sing them almost like children’s songs and say, “Does this have a good rhyme to it? Can you sing this on its own like a nursery rhyme?” The first song started that way and a lot of them headed that way, or they were me trying to follow a set rhyme scheme the way Bob Dylan does—where it just follows a meter.

Q: “Heirlooms” is a heartwarming and sentimental ode to your late mom’s spaghetti and your childhood. How does this track serve as a metaphor for love, family, and remembrance?

A: It started at work and I was making pizza. I feel like every friend of mine, and anyone from a post-World War II American family, that spaghetti is such a standard meal. It’s such a comforting meal, and it’s a meal that everyone thinks their mom makes the best version of. With music, too, it’s not about the actual song that much, but it’s about the person who gives it to you. The way that it’s presented to me makes me love it and the memories that are attached to it.

George, who plays bass in the band, gave me that title. It was just called “My Mom’s Spaghetti,” and we didn’t want to do that. On one hand, I love it because it’s a silly reference to Eminem, but it felt like it was going to be too packed with that connotation. He came up with that one day at practice and said, “We need a different name.” The new title, [“Heirlooms”], worked both as a family passing down a [tradition] reference, but also a [type of] tomato.

Q: “Waiting in the Waiting Room” explores health anxiety and the impact waiting has on everyday life. How did writing this track help you confront those challenges?

A: I was sitting in an actual waiting room, but I can’t remember why or where. I was thinking how funny those spaces are and they all have the same bad art and children’s toys. They also have old, outdated gold magazines, and it felt like it would be a good deadpan Larry David via David Berman sort of thing.

I also have had a lot of health anxiety since my mom passed away. Anytime something’s wrong with me, I think, “I gotta go to the doctor,” and it’s about that stress. And there’s that Samuel Beckett play, Waiting for Godot, and how it’s a metaphor about waiting for God. I was trying to tie those things together, and we all find ways to give our lives meaning. That what’s I try to do for myself, I don’t want to speak for other people.

Q: The title track examines how family keepsakes and stories conjure different memories. How did records, pictures, and tales inspire this song?

A: I was writing it as fiction. We had all the songs on the album and I had the album title for a while. I thought, “Well, what if we tried to have a title track?” I knew what the title meant to me and then it was trying to write a short story around that. If you put music on, it brings back a memory, it’s like a ghost showing up in the house. From there, the rest of it was plug and chug.

The matryoshka dolls are vessels and that to me is what songs are. It’s the way music and food work and they hold things within them and that’s where the actual power is. It’s also going back to previous traditions before recorded music … and [how] that’s anthropology.

There’s a lyric about James Joyce and his dad that [references] A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and I’ve always felt connected to him because he’s Irish Catholic and I’m Irish Catholic. My mom would sing me Irish lullabies as a kid, and that to me, was the connection there.

Q: Proust in the Kitchen With the Wooden Spoon! includes two different versions of the title track. Why did you decide to include both on the album?

A: The first one is more upbeat and that’s the version I wanted to make. We did the one that’s at the end—the slower one first—and then I wanted one that felt less dramatic. We did the sillier, goofier, bouncier Wildflowers version because it felt like Tom Petty. Austin [Stawowczyk] did banjo and mandolin, which sounded awesome. The one at the end, at first, I didn’t think was going to be on it at all. But then when they sent [the album] to me, they attached the version at the end as a bonus thing. It felt good when I heard it, and I thought, “Let’s just do it.”

Q: Several tracks—“Song for Teej,” “Jessie,” and “Ryan”—reference people’s names. What prompted you to write three tracks that function as character studies of three different people?

A: “Teej” is the only one that’s a real person, and the others are fiction. I wanted to write short-story-kind-of-songs, and I feel like Lou Reed is the king of songs where he sings, “Lisa Says,” or “Candy Says.” There’s something about a song when it’s just about a character … and so much of the rock ‘n’ roll-pop tradition is first-person, confessional [songs]. Lately, I’ve been preferring when it’s a third-person, short-story song.

I didn’t realize until later that so many of [the album’s] songs are about people showing you music or people showing you something. It’s like a friend showing you songs or poetry as a kid, and everyone has that relationship at some point where someone shows you stuff that you get into. “Teej” is a friend who introduced me to a bunch of stuff I didn’t know before … and that was one where I was doing a first-person song, but not [completely]. Music lets you share those [experiences] through a [another vessel] like a song or a movie, and it allows you to put this avatar out there that other people can step into.

Q: “Simple Pleasures” relishes everyday experiences and sharing them with people who matter the most to you. How does this track serve as an anthem for gratitude?

A: When I was writing it, I just wanted to have a song that was a list of things I like. And for the title, I was really into that Lou Reed song, “New Sensations.” The title, “Simple Pleasures,” felt like it was similar to the chorus of him singing, “Oh, new sensation.” I also listed off things I like that are very sensory-related, whether it’s food, music, or experiences. I feel like it’s about those moments that you get day-to-day that are really good and that allow you to be thankful.

Q: “On the Day When the Big Change Comes” acknowledges those times when major life shifts occur and signifies the start of a new era. How did the passage of time inspire this track for you?

A: It’s taking a certain meter from old folk music and plugging [it] in. It’s the same thing as “Peggy-O,” The Grateful Dead does it and Bob Dylan does “Pretty Peggy-O.” It kinda follows that. I’m always obsessed with time and the idea of wind blowing—it’s very Bob Dylan-y.

Q: How did the 11 tracks for the album come together at Eureka Records?

A: The first [recording] session for this album was in February 2023. We did two of the songs—“Waiting in the Waiting Room” and “Tampa Bay.” We had all the songs for the album blocked out and knew what they all were going to be within a year of that. In the last year, we got them finished and recorded and did the last session in the fall of 2024.

Q: This is your second time working with producer Austin Stawowczyk. How did they help you shape the album’s overall sound?

A: I’m so lucky to have met Austin and to be able to work with them. Our [creative] processes work well together. In the past, I’ve been obsessed with arrangements and coming up with my own arrangements. But since meeting Austin, and they’re so good at that, I like that I can come in with chords and lyrics, and in a day, we can make a song happen—that’s a fun high. There’s nothing that feels better than making something that quick and getting lost in it.

Now, I’m thinking, “Why worry about doing that myself?”, when I can just bring in the chords, the melodies, and the words, and then Austin can help play a bunch of different instruments. Or we can take it to the band first and play it with the band … and then have the band come [into the studio] and we can record that and then Austin can add some overdubs on top.

I like how fast Austin moves—we don’t fret about stuff. In the past, I’ve spent years on an album making little moves and Austin forces me to be done. Across the whole album, Austin plays pedal steel, mandolin, banjo, bass, drums, and guitar and brings a lot of that country flavor to it. 

Q: You also collaborated with Andrew Benjamin (electric guitar), Randy Favot (organ, synth, keys), James Pyne (trombone), Anton Filyayev (drums, percussion), George Jr. (bass), and Kris Herrmann (drums, percussion) on the album. What’s it been like to work with them in the studio and perform with them on the stage?

A: Kris was in the band up through the [last] album release show and then left to work on other projects, and Anton came in and he also records at Eureka as a producer. It’s been nice to have a set band … where it’s me and the same guys and it feels like a band.

It’s Andrew on guitar; Randy on piano, keyboard, accordion, and saxophone; Anton on drums; and George on bass. Anton and I have been playing together for the last two years, and we’ve known each other for five years.

Andrew and I played our first show 10 years ago, and I went to high school with Randy, and we’ve been playing music together since then. I’ve been playing music with George for five years now. We’ve been playing together weekly now for the last two years, and it’s similar to how people have a bowling night each week. It’s a group of friends meeting up, drinking some beers, and playing the songs.

Q: You co-wrote “Jessie” with Andrew Benjamin and Austin Stawowczyk. How did they help elevate that track sonically?

A: I had the song and the chords, the melody, and the lyrics. Austin added in one line that I needed and that was helpful. That’s why Austin gets a credit. Andrew gets a credit because he wrote the main riff and that’s part of the song. Andrew also wrote this nice counterpoint melody that’s in the song. All those parts felt like they were central to the song.

Q: You recorded intriguing lyric videos for “Jessie,” “Simple Pleasures,” and “Waiting in the Waiting Room,” with Fadi P. Zoma of Studio Dreamfall. How did Fadi help you develop the concepts for those videos?

A: I’ve known Fadi for a while, and he’s always been interested in cinematography and directing. We started working together on the last album, [2023’s Music to Your Ears]. We did a video for “Wendy’s in the Digital Age,” and he also did a video for “Theme From the Stranger Zone.” We work well together, and it’s easy to hang out and do stuff. That’s the best part of all this is that everyone I work with is a friend.

Q: What plans do you have for live shows this spring?

A: We’re doing an album release show May 10 at New Dodge Lounge in Hamtramck. Novelty Songs, No Fun Club, and Stefanie Haapala are going to be there. The goal also is to get a magician and the dream would be to have a magician opening. That’s the only local show we’re doing, but then we’re going to Madison, Minneapolis, Toledo, and other parts of the Midwest.

Q: What’s on the horizon for you later this year?

A: I have a date on the books for May to write something. But at the moment, I don’t have any songs. … I’m hoping they come to me.