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If you looked to the skies in the UK on 12 May, you’d have seen the flower moon, the name given to that month’s full moon. Also known in agricultural circles as the hare moon or the corn planting moon, it’s closely associated with new life and new beginnings.
“Happy flower moon day!” beams Durand Jones, leader of soul outfit Durand Jones and the Indications, whose forthcoming album Flowers – led by the single Flower Moon – also deals with the theme of fresh starts. We’re serendipitously speaking on 12 May, along with his bandmates Aaron Frazer and Blake Rhein.
Jones is at home in New Orleans, and dressed rather fabulously in a kimono and a battered old baseball cap. Frazer, the band’s falsetto-singing drummer, is in Los Angeles, where he moved in 2024 after 10 years or so in New York, while Rhein, in Chicago, doesn’t turn his camera on throughout our interview and – despite being the band’s guitarist and core producer – interjects only once or twice over the course of our hour-long conversation.
Fittingly, there’s been a great deal of growth and maturation since Durand Jones and the Indications’ 2021 album Private Space. We’re still in the world of retro soul with modern, hip-hop-tinged production, but the disco and funk influences of that third album have given way to gentler, altogether more romantic moods; the O’Jays, William DeVaughn and other Philadelphia soul heavyweights; the Chi-Lites and even Barry White.
Their popularity is certainly blooming: they’re gearing up for a long US tour, followed by European shows in early 2026, and have just got off the road supporting Lenny Kravitz in arenas. Frazer says the experience was “absolutely sick” and, pleasingly, they never once saw him not wearing sunglasses. “Whether it’s on stage or in the hallways, no cameras or crowds, his default is strut,” Frazer says. “That brand of rock’n’roll, with the tight leather pants and the swagger, has been mimicked so much, but when you see an original version of it, it’s super cool.”
On the personal side, meanwhile, the past couple of years have also been transformative. Jones used his 2023 solo album Wait Til I Get Over to open up about being queer, something he tells me has set him free in every aspect of his life. “The biggest thing I realised was that I had spent most of my life trying to make people around me feel comfortable, and I hadn’t realised I wasn’t comfortable myself,” he says. “Now, I feel like a whole different person. I feel settled. With my solo album, my intent was to put out art, but it was also a chance to reflect on the things that I felt most insecure about. Coming back to the Indications, I felt ready to be vulnerable with my art in a way that I wasn’t before.”
Frazer also got candid for his second solo album, last year’s Into the Blue, mining heartbreak, grief and loneliness in the aftermath of a breakup and relocation to LA. There is a worry that a group with two vocalists, both of whom release solo material, could have an inherent tension, perhaps exacerbated by the trio living in three separate corners of the US.
But Flowers could not sound more harmonious, and Frazer says “the emotional health of this unit has never been better”. Their extracurricular activities only serve to enhance the spirit of collaboration once the band reconvenes, he argues, and “having other avenues for expression only helps longevity”.
The band (which features two further auxiliary members) formed after Jones, a virtuoso saxophonist, met Frazer and Rhein in 2012 at Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music. They released their self-titled debut album in 2016, a collection of gloriously retro gems rooted in 50s doo-wop and early 60s vocal harmony groups. Their music caught the ear of the Chicano lowrider community, who became fierce champions of the band, and the album was rereleased to wide acclaim in 2018.
Second album American Love Call took the Indications further towards the mainstream. Released in 2019, a year before George Floyd’s murder and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement, it was prescient and politically charged, examining the fractures in American society and the crisis in racial equality.
But no matter how despairing (“It’s morning in America / but I can’t see the dawn”), the band’s music is underpinned by the idea that love will always win. Flowers is no different, although Jones and Frazer say it can be hard to remain positive in the face of such dire politics.
“It’s so scary to see what’s going down here in the US. It feels like the start of a dictatorship,” says Jones. “To see this administration literally disregard the orders of the supreme court is insane. Fascism starts with silencing folks, and we’re seeing that. After you’ve silenced the news media, you go after the arts. We’re starting to see that and it’s alarming. I am afraid, and that’s crazy to say out loud. It’s only been a little over 100 days, but there’s a lot of … what’s the word … evil happening in America. And I feel as if I’m idly standing by.”
One song on Flowers, I Need the Answer, Jones’s favourite, takes a softer, conciliatory approach. “We’ve been out on the streets protesting, and we’ve been trying to talk to our fellow man in many ways, about the injustices that we feel. I Need the Answer is about just stopping and saying: ‘I disagree with you, you disagree with me, but let’s sit down and talk about this.’ I think we can find some ground that we can walk on together. We have to.”
A source of power for him and Frazer in the face of such polarised times is the number of fans who have approached them to tell him how the Indications’ music has changed their lives. “I’ve lost count of the number of grown-ass men who have cried in my arms,” says Jones. “People on the brink of suicide who say our music has saved them.”
“These interactions mean more than any interview, radio play, TV appearance or whatever,” continues Frazer. “Getting to hear from someone about how your music is in their life, or seeing a video of a marriage proposal and your song is playing in the background is just incredible,” he says. “It doesn’t even faze me any more when someone says we’re on their sex playlist. I say: ‘Great, very happy you invited us into your space, glad we could help.’
“I heard from a janitor who told me our music helps them get through a shift, someone who was locked up in a state penitentiary who told me our music was played by people waiting out their sentences. Hearing that our music has a very concrete role in someone’s life, that, to me, feels like making it.
“And to take a song like I Need the Answer, that’s a salve. We can be a soundtrack to someone’s lovemaking or their work or their cooking or whatever. We have the opportunity to speak to people with an open mind.”
