“The Songs Never Left” — Janice Returns to the Road
A backstage conversation with Janice of Janice & Lost Horizons, on the current comeback tour
When Janice walks into the room, there’s no announcement. No entourage drama. Just a calm, warm presence — like someone who knows exactly who she is and no longer feels the need to defend it. The stage lights may still burn bright, but offstage she radiates something steadier: confidence without urgency.
We spoke with Janice backstage during her current tour, which has quietly become one of the most talked-about returns of the season.
Q: Janice, people keep calling this a “comeback.” Does that word sit right with you?
I understand it, but it’s funny. I never felt like I went anywhere. I wasn’t onstage, sure — but the songs never left. They were still working on me, probably more than I was working on them.
If this is a comeback, it’s not about reclaiming something. It’s about continuing something.
Q: The shows feel different from your earlier years — more spacious, more intentional. Was that deliberate?
Very. When you’re younger, you want to fill every second. You think intensity means volume. Now I’m more interested in listening — to the band, to the room, to myself.
Silence has a rhythm too. I learned that while I was away.
Q: You stepped out of the spotlight for quite a while. What did that time give you?
Perspective. And humility. And a chance to live without translating everything into performance. I gardened. I cooked. I watched seasons pass without trying to turn them into lyrics.
Ironically, that’s what brought the songs back stronger. They stopped being ideas and started being truths again.
Q: How did Lost Horizons respond when you called them about touring again?
They laughed — in that “we knew this day would come” way. We didn’t rehearse endlessly. We talked. We listened to old tapes. We let the music breathe.
We’re not trying to recreate who we were. We’re honoring it — and then moving forward.
Q: The audience reaction has been intense, sometimes emotional. What’s that like from the stage?
It’s overwhelming in the best way. You realize the songs didn’t belong to you alone — they lived whole lives with other people.
Someone came up to me and said, “That song carried me through a divorce.” Another said, “That one helped me forgive my father.” You don’t plan for that. You just hold it carefully.
Q: After the shows, you’ve been staying out to sign autographs, talk with fans. Why does that feel important now?
Because it’s real. Because it closes the loop. When someone hands you a worn album cover, you’re touching time. That record has fingerprints, scratches, memories baked into it.
Signing it isn’t nostalgia. It’s acknowledgment.
Q: Was there a single moment when you knew you wanted to return to the road?
Yes. I was singing alone one night — not practicing, not preparing — just singing. And I felt the song leave me. That’s when I knew.
Music doesn’t want to stay inside you forever. It wants witnesses.
Q: What do you hope people take away from this tour?
Permission.
Permission to change.
Permission to rest.
Permission to return without apology.
You don’t have to be the same person you were when the song first found you. The song can change too.
Q: And after the tour?
No declarations. No rush. I’ve learned to trust timing. Right now, the road feels right. Tonight feels right. That’s enough.
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For those who asked for it, here’s my workup prompt for “Rob Zillon” the folksinger.
Early ’60s folk singer style, Acoustic guitar, harmonica breaks, nasal storytelling vocals, raw coffeehouse sound, protest-song energy, simple chords, loose rhythmic feel.
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Oh, here’s the Bardo bus now, everyone on board fast before he drives away!
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See You At The Top!!!
gorby