There is an inherent melancholy in Frank Viele’s gorgeous new EP, The Silo. It permeates the almost-title-track, “Silo,” and laps at the edges and sometimes washes over the other four songs on the collection. You can practically hear the rain that saturated the days that Viele spent alone and writing in a hotel room on these songs; gray, stormy, maudlin. But you can also hear the heart, the soul, and glimpses of hope within the tracks. The gift that Viele has for storytelling is fiercely evident on this acoustic-driven outing. A multiple-award-winning artist, Viele impresses and delights on The Silo. It’s an early contender for “best of 2026.” We sat down to chat with him recently about the EP and his music.
Hi, Frank! You have a terrific new EP out in February called The Silo. How did these songs come together, and what broad strokes can you tell us about the collection?
These songs came together as cell phone demos while I was stuck in a Portland, Oregon motel for a few days in the middle of a Pacific Northwest tour. I was opening for Lee DeWyze at the time, and we were sharing the tour vehicle. Lee was in charge of the music in the car and was listening to a lot of ambient, modern folk and Americana—Iron & Wine and artists in that vein.
I was super homesick after a long year on the road, and when I finally made it all the way from Connecticut to Oregon, I was excited because my older brother lives out there. Unfortunately, he was traveling for work when I arrived, so I ended up spending three days alone in a motel room with pouring rain outside. You can actually hear the rain on the original cell phone demos.
About six months later, I was given the opportunity to record with Lee, and I dug through my phone and found those demos. It just made sense to record those songs with him because they definitely carried elements of the stuff we were listening to while driving thousands of miles together.
One of the songs on your new EP, “Silo,” really stood out to me. What can you tell us about that song? What inspired it?
It started while I was driving through Washington State on that run. I saw this massive concrete silo in the middle of nowhere—no people, no buildings, just this strong structure standing alone in a huge field. It felt like something that would outlast us all.
A couple of days later, I was alone in that motel room, and my brain started connecting the dots. There was a symmetry there—the juxtaposition of strength and endurance versus loneliness. That contrast became the heart of “Silo.”

What was it like recording this EP? What was the vibe in the studio overall, and how did this song in particular come together?
Recording with Lee DeWyze and his longtime producer, Nico Grossfeld, was incredibly easy. It felt like breathing. I’d toured so much with Lee that being in the studio together just felt natural and comfortable.
“Silo” came together pretty organically. We built it from the ground up, starting with my acoustic guitar. Before I knew it, I had a slide in my hand, I was holding my resonator, and the track just came alive.
What do you hope this EP conveys to listeners?
A lot of people know me as an artist who can go a hundred miles an hour—rip guitar solos, belt songs live, and try to make the floor shake. This EP shows a different side of me as a writer—someone who can create a mood.
I wanted this EP to feel like a movie, and I think I hit that mark.
The EP title is interesting. How did you choose it, and what does it mean to you?
We already talked about “Silo” the song, and the EP is really an extension of that idea. The whole record takes place in the cobwebs of the mind of a man coming to terms with the fact that he can’t have it all, and he can’t live forever.
“Silo” introduces the lonely side of strength and opens the door to the idea of subconscious sacrifices made to achieve goals. The rest of the songs explore that world, with a common thread of a strained romantic relationship and the mental health struggles that often come with a touring life in the arts.
Looking back over your career, you probably feel like quite a different performer now than when you began. How do you feel you’ve changed as an artist and creative person over the years?
Being an artist today means never resting on your laurels. I have to grow and learn almost daily, and that pushes me as both an artist and a human being.
The interesting line for me is the one between my humanity and my art. I think the biggest change is that the piping between the two is stronger and more direct now. That comes from playing more shows, performing in bigger rooms, and collaborating with incredible artists who bring different experiences and skills to the table.
All of that helped me build a better mechanism for delivering my authentic self. What you get from me now is still pure and honest—but refined enough to be more easily palatable at times.

Where do you find your biggest inspiration these days?
These days, a lot of my inspiration comes from the artist community around me. I run an independent record label called Bigger Beast Records, along with a community outreach arm called All Boats Rise Entertainment, which puts on over 200 songwriter concerts a year.
One example is an event we host called Paws & Listen. Each year, 11 other songwriters and I partner with a rescue organization in Rhode Island and “musically adopt” a dog looking for a home. I get to meet the pup, learn their story, and then use songwriting to give that animal a voice.
It’s one of my favorite things we do. Last year, it inspired one of the most gut-wrenching but authentically sweet songs I’ve ever written, “Move Over,” which was written for a homeless six-year-old American bulldog named Moo Moo who looked like a cow.
Songwriting can be deeply personal, but once you release music, it belongs to the world. How does that feel? Is it difficult to share songs so widely?
I had to come to terms with the fact that once a song is released, it’s no longer mine. That took some time. Sometimes when I listen back, I still feel a little awkward about how vulnerable certain tracks are.
But that’s part of the human-versus-artist balance I’ve been growing into over the last decade. My music has become more vulnerable as my songwriting has improved, pretty much in parallel with my comfort level in my own humanity.

What has been the most exciting thing to happen in the past year, and what are you looking forward to in 2026?
2025 was the first year of Bigger Beast Records and All Boats Rise Entertainment. I also became the first artist in 20 years to win New England’s Album of the Year award twice, and that same record landed me coverage in Billboard and The Boston Globe.
But honestly, the most exciting part was seeing ideas that lived in my head—like Paws & Listen, our 21 Songwriters Festival, and our Tip of the Hat themed songwriter rounds—come to life and grow so quickly under All Boats Rise Entertainment and Bigger Beast. The team and I raised tens of thousands of dollars for charities that matter deeply to us and helped a lot of artists find their audience.
That’s what excites me most: turning my artistic journey into a journey of we, instead of just me.
Any tour plans? Where can fans see you on the road?
The Silo tour kicked off on February 6th with the Bigger Beast Records Annual Shelter From the Storm concert. Fourteen of my favorite artists from the Northeast and I performed our own songs alongside selections from the Bob Dylan songbook to raise money for homeless families in my home state of Connecticut.
After that, I’ll be heading everywhere from Maine to Austin, Texas to Chicago. It’s going to be a great year on the road. I’m bringing a setlist that includes the new EP, my back catalog, and I’ve already written the next full-length album—so I’ll definitely be testing out new songs along the way.
Website & social media links:
Website: www.frankviele.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/FrankViele/
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@frankviele
Instragram: https://www.instagram.com/frankviele/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@frankviele
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/0DbaOeckPBUSrSnDjClpKM