Will Von Bolton
It’s been well over a year since I last sat down with Fort Worth musician Henry O — the main creative force behind the band Henry The Archer. Back in May of 2024, he was in full swing promoting his album The Garden, an eclectic, freeform collection of original tunes that made one thing clear: he was back in Fort Worth, and he wasn’t here to mess around. Fast forward to December 2025, and Henry is a little quieter, a little more reflective, as he talks about the genesis of his upcoming single, “Okami,” Japanese for wolf, set to drop Jan. 2. It’s a song born from heartbreak, layered with catharsis, and carrying a subtle, respectful nod to the early 80s post-punk and progressive sounds.
The fact of the matter is, “Okami” almost didn’t exist. Written nearly two years ago between Colorado and Fort Worth, the song emerged from the rubble of a relationship that ended with betrayal, dishonesty, and emotional gaslighting. “I literally saw the evidence with my eyes,” Henry recounts, “and then she would manipulate me out of believing the things I was seeing.” The relationship imploded, leaving Henry devastated, alone, and back in Texas, emotions that would eventually crystallize into music.
The spark came unexpectedly during band practice. Elliot, Henry’s bass player, at the time, was idly playing three notes after tuning up that seemed insignificant. But for Henry, it was ignition. He quickly asked Elliot what he just played; Elliot replied, "I don't know."
“I hit record on my phone, and had Elliot fish around until those 3 notes reappeared, and they did. A couple days later, I’m sitting at a construction site in the middle of a rainstorm, crying, listening to that little bass ditty on repeat,” he recalls. In that flood of emotion, he began to write the first verse.
The lyrics came first, infused with the wolf motif that had personal significance. Wolves, Henry explains, bond for life, a stark contrast to the betrayal he experienced. “I’m a wolf. I thought you were the same. Now I’m howling all alone in an unfamiliar place,” he sings, capturing both vulnerability and outrage.
Henry then shaped the song’s sound around his connection to 80s-era post-punk and synth-infused grooves, without overproducing it. “I wanted to honor that vibe without it taking over,” he says. “It’s got the feeling of that era, minimal, moody, and evocative, but it’s still my song.”
Stephen Montoya
Henry mixed most of the track himself before sending it to trusted engineers, eventually landing on Peter Wierenga for the final polish and Todd Pipes of the Denton-based band Deep Blue Something fame for mastering. The result, he says, is exactly what the song was meant to be — raw, precise, and emotionally resonant.
Even the cover art tells part of the story. Henry appears in a pink suit surrounded by flamingos, a nod to the 80s aesthetic and his meticulously planned photoshoot. Hidden within the image is a numeric cipher, a secret translation of the chorus, “I thought you were the same.”
Vocally, Henry’s performance on “Okami” is distinct. He doesn’t just sing; he guides the listener through his world, an intimate portrait of the emotions that sparked the song to begin with. “Every phrase in every song means something special,” he says. "To express each line's meaning through feeling, each shouldn't be vocally delivered like the line before it. It’s a song, not a book.”
Above all, “Okami” is a testament to vulnerability and perseverance. Henry admits that creating the song required forgiveness, for both him and the person who hurt him. “In order to love somebody, you need to be vulnerable and trust them,” he reflects. “This song came out of that, learning to be heard again, even after betrayal.”
As 2026 approaches, Fort Worth is set to hear Henry O’s latest evolution — a wolf’s cry and early 80s echoes linger beneath the surface, transforming heartbreak into something raw and resonant. “This song is the bridge between what hurt me and what inspires me now,” he says.
