Andrew Spice Returns with ‘Gentle Sentinel’ and the Healing Power of Song

After two decades of silence, Canadian artist Andrew Spice returns with Gentle Sentinel – a poignant piano ballad that marks a deeply personal tribute to his late cat Bea. First known for his OutMusic Award-nominated debut Pretty Demons in 2003, Andrew’s re-emergence is as much about music as it is about healing, loss, and reconnection with creativity.

In conversation with FAULT Magazine, Andrew reflects on the emotional journey that led him back to songwriting after a 15-year hiatus, how his training as a clinical psychologist shaped his understanding of grief, and the courage it takes to be truly vulnerable. From his relationship with music to his love for his pets and his marriage to drag performer Miss Moço, this new chapter is filled with life, loss, and rediscovery.

To accompany Gentle Sentinel, Andrew has released a stirring visual and announced the track as the heart of his long-awaited second album. Tender, articulate, and raw, his voice has not only returned—it’s more powerful than ever.

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FAULT Magazine: ‘Gentle Sentinel’ marks your return to songwriting after a 15-year hiatus. Can you describe the emotional moment when that first lyric or melody finally came to you?

Andrew Spice: It was honestly like being made whole again. It never sat well with me that I was completely away from music during my hiatus, because being an artist was always a part of my sense of identity. And it wasn’t that I didn’t try: I made sporadic efforts over the years to write again, but frankly none of it was any good. When Gentle Sentinel started coming to me, and I knew that it was magical, the complete Andrew Spice had returned alongside the song.

FAULT Magazine: How did a challenge to write a one-minute song evolve into the full, deeply personal ballad we hear today?

Andrew Spice: The songs always tell me what they need to be, usually pretty early on in the process. As I started writing Gentle Sentinel, I knew with certainty that it would have to be a longer song with a classic ballad structure in order to tell the story properly. That story is about my connection with my beloved and now-departed cat Bea.

FAULT Magazine: Grief is often hard to articulate. Did your background as a clinical psychologist influence how you navigated those themes creatively?

Andrew Spice: I didn’t think that these songs would end up being about grief. Bea was very much alive when I wrote Gentle Sentinel, as was my dog Olive, who is the subject of another song called High Park. Last summer, Olive was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer after what seemed like a simple nosebleed, and she passed away in October. Then, only a week later, Bea also died. Losing my two girls was pure agony.

As a clinical psychologist, I knew what I “should” do to cope. And I did some of that, some of the time, but I also almost totally collapsed as a human being. I had crying fits out of nowhere. I would go days without taking proper care of myself. Eventually my husband would gently ask if I had thought about things like showering or changing my clothes. Those are just a couple of examples of my dysfunction at that time. Grief is debilitating, it works on its own timeline, and it is different for everyone. Sometimes pet grief in particular is not validated by the world.

In terms of navigating these themes creatively, I am aware that Gentle Sentinel and High Park have taken on different meanings from when I wrote them. They are still a celebration of my connections to Bea and Olive, as they were at the beginning, but now they are also part of my grief.

FAULT Magazine: As someone who released your debut album two decades ago, how has your relationship with songwriting changed both technically and emotionally in this new era of your music?

Andrew Spice: I think my songwriting has much more depth musically and thematically now, which has come with age and wisdom. Emotionally I’m still just as willing to be starkly vulnerable, because that’s at the essence of why I write songs. Technically I was probably a better pianist two decades ago, freshly off of intense classical training and a routine of practicing 3 hours a day, but I can still do what the songs call for. There is a lot more strength and range in my voice now, having shed the shame and timidity I had as a queer person from a rural town who had just moved to the big city to promote my debut album.

FAULT Magazine: You’ve described the return to music as a kind of floodgate. What was the most unexpected song or feeling to emerge during that period of intense writing?

Andrew Spice: There’s a song called No Justice on the album that is about surviving a particular kind of trauma. I did not expect it: it came to me all at once during a night-time dog walk. I sang quietly into my phone so I wouldn’t forget the lyrics or vocal melody, then when I got home, I immediately sat down at the piano to finish it. It is a very emotionally difficult song, and I had to decide if I would keep it to myself and stay “safe” or be courageous and plan to release it. I chose the latter. I thought about Tori Amos’s Me and a Gun, how much bravery that took and how it helped so many people. I hope No Justice can help people who went through something similar to me; I hope Gentle Sentinel helps people who love their pets. I really do want my songs to connect in meaningful ways with the listener.

FAULT Magazine: Your earlier career earned critical acclaim, but your journey took a different path. When you stepped away from music, did you ever think you’d come back?

Andrew Spice: I always wanted to come back to music. When I stepped away, it was because I couldn’t tolerate the day jobs I was doing to pay my bills. One example: a call centre at which I had to convince people not to cancel their internet, which meant getting yelled at all day. My goals were to find a more dignified way to support myself financially, and to challenge myself intellectually while I made my art. I didn’t know then that that would mean a Ph.D., a career in clinical psychology, and 20 years until my next album, but I have no regrets. Psychology and music are incredibly complementary and fulfilling, and this is the record of my dreams.

FAULT Magazine: What role does vulnerability play in your creative process today? Are you more or less afraid to be emotionally direct in your music now?

Andrew Spice: Vulnerability is essential to my creativity, and always has been. I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid to be emotionally direct when I write my music. I view it as a refuge where I can talk about things in a way that I wouldn’t in “real life.”

FAULT Magazine: Looking ahead to the full album, what do you hope listeners will carry with them after hearing your second chapter-especially those also grieving or reconnecting with their own creativity?

Andrew Spice: I’ll bring out two well-worn but very appropriate phrases here: that they are not alone and it’s never too late. For those who are grieving, I hope that my songs bring them some solace and a sense of connection. For those who are reconnecting with their own creativity, if I can do it in my 40s after a couple of decades, they surely can too.

FAULT Magazine: What is your FAULT?

Andrew Spice: Although I mentioned earlier about letting go of shame and timidity, I am still working on moving past fear that doesn’t serve me. Writing vulnerable songs at home can be cathartic and soothing, but releasing and performing them in public is a scary and different story. I’m finding all the bravery I can to put my music out there with the hope that it will find the people who need it.