Official Premiere: Henry J. Star Debuts “Greenway,” First Single from His Upcoming Album

Devin Badgett, Knoxville’s own misfit pop architect, producer, songwriter, alias Henry J. Star is the kind of artist you want to brag about catching early, not because it makes you cool (though it does), but because he makes the act of discovery feel electric again. Today, we have the privilege of premiering his music video for, “Greenway,” a lush, slow-burning, dreamy and emotionally charged coming-of-age anthem upon its official release. It’s the first single from The Soft Apocalypse, his debut LP out October 17 via Acrophase Records, and a compelling entry point into Star’s idiosyncratic universe of grief, growth, and pixelated wonder.

Written as an offering to his younger self, “Greenway” feels suspended between time zones, emotionally adrift in the best way, grounded only by the soft pull of nostalgia and Devin’s unmistakable vocal presence. It’s the kind of song that takes place in the corner of your mind where old summers live: half-lit, golden, haunted. The track, like the rest of the album, was crafted across bedrooms and basements in Tennessee, a fitting origin for music that feels intimate yet expansive, like it was meant for one person but might just hit thousands. There are shades of early Youth Lagoon, a bit of Alex G’s quiet inventiveness lurking at the edges. But Star’s vision is entirely his own. Earlier this year, he opened for The All-American Rejects at a secret Nashville house show, a surreal footnote that earned him a Rolling Stone nod and a pretty perfect origin myth.

Credit: Tyler Kripphaene

Can you walk me through your recording and ideation process for “Greenway”?

“Greenway” is the narrative centerpiece of this record.  I started it on an acoustic guitar and wrote the first verse and chorus. Then, I got it into Ableton with my friend Caleb to build out the remainder of the track. Over the next few years I really dug into the minutiae of the track. I worked obsessively on the second verse in particular. It took me a long time to get it “right”. This feels like the sonic middle ground of the entire project, so it was important to me that everything in the production was communicated in an intentional way. 

You’ve described it as an offering to your younger self. What did that version of you need to hear, and how did writing this song give it to him?

It is less about what he needed to hear and more about what I needed to tell him. It is an expression of gratitude, a call for help, and, in some ways, an admission of jealousy. I was really wise as a kid, and I abandoned a lot of that wisdom in order to build protective walls around my identity. “Greenway” is about acknowledging that I had betrayed him and that I desperately need his perspective if I’m ever going to embody any kind of wholeness. 

There’s a quiet, emotional gravity in your music. Do you write from memory, or do you imagine a version of the past that’s more symbolic than literal?

In this case, I did write from lived experience. It can be really scary to see things in retrospect, so I treat memories with a lot of reverence. “Greenway” was an attempt at processing events in my life that were catalysts for a period of intense emotional pain. Looking back, I recognized that there were fractures that I would have to work diligently to heal if I ever wanted to feel whole again. I know a lot of people can relate.

The album title The Soft Apocalypse is evocative and paradoxical. What’s ‘apocalyptic’ to you, and what makes it soft?

Modernity is apocalyptic. It feels as though every day we are staring down the threat of annihilation. These existential crises often overwhelm me, spiraling me into a state of paralysis. My hope is that these threats could soften us. That we could all choose to live beautiful lives in spite of the horrors at hand. The Soft Apocalypse is my best attempt at detailing what it means to choose life and fight for contentment in the face of things that frighten us. I did my best to communicate that dynamic in the music. In order to be a “soft apocalypse”, it needed to be as delicate and beautiful as it was grandiose and tinged with tension.