Twin Peaks' Clay Frankel Makes Chaos Feel Intentional in Debut Album, 'Old Friend'
Clay Frankel is one of those rare artists who makes chaos feel intentional. As a frontman and guitarist for Twin Peaks, his voice cuts through the noise, not polished, but raw in a way that tells you he means it. There’s a looseness to his delivery that feels lived-in, like songs written between shifts, over beers, in the mess of real life.
Coming up in Chicago’s DIY scene, Clay never lost that early urgency. He still plays like the stakes are high, like every show might be the last one in someone’s parents’ garage. His lyrics land somewhere between personal confession and late-night conversation—honest, a little messy, and always human.
There’s a rough charisma to him. He doesn’t posture or perform coolness; he just is. His presence is relaxed but restless, like someone who’s seen a lot and still wants to see more. Whether it’s in his solo work, a Twin Peaks set, or something off the cuff, there’s an ease and a charge to everything he does. Like he knows how to ride the line between not giving a fuck and caring too much.
Clay Frankel doesn’t chase trends or reinvent himself with every project. He just keeps showing up—honest, open, and rough around the edges in a way that feels real. And that’s exactly why people listen.
Hazel City’s Old Friend is a quiet reckoning with time, memory, and the emotional terrain of what feels familiar yet strangely distant. It resonates with your mythic and ritual work, echoing the cycles, clarity, and grounding you breathe into your practice.
The album doesn't headline with big gestures—it moves in small emissive pulses, precisely where you live: between the public and private self, between closure and open loops, between ritual and moment.
