Josie Langhorst: Diary of a Minnesota Musician, Chapter 1
This is a year-long series following Josie Langhorst, a Minnesota artist new to the Twin Cities, as she shares her experiences entering the scene and making music in a new environment.
August 2025: The Move
The day the boxes were loaded and her Mazda named Mosey pulled out of Barnum Minnesota, Josie Langhorst felt a familiar tug, the mix of excitement and fear that comes when a chapter ends before the next one fully begins.
From performing her first time in a church in Mahtowa to joining The Holy Hootenanners at the age of 9, Josie grew up surrounded by music. Musical projects have continued to spring forth with The Langertsons—a band that combines two sets of siblings, Josie and Audrey Langhorst and Amri and Eli Gilbertson. Josie is also a member of Duluth postmodern prog group Moxen, as well as branching out with longtime collaborator Amri Gilbertson for a folky project called Beaten Horse.
Newly moved into a high-rise apartment in Prospect Park near the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, Josie welcomes us into the building, where all the floors are laid out in an E shape and collegiate young adults come and go at all times of the day. Her apartment itself is shaped like a U, with four bedrooms and a thin kitchen/living room in the middle. The high concrete ceilings and oversized windows give the apartment a loftiness, especially being 15 floors up. It’s lined with artwork, pictures of musicians, and clocks from a collection that started years ago.
“I hate feeling stagnant,” she confesses during our conversation, her voice as steady as her conviction. “I wrote a whole song about it called ‘Lucky 7’ because I knew I needed to branch out, meet new people, and find new places. Duluth gave me so many experiences, but I could feel it inside me that it was time to go.”
Leaving home meant leaving behind more than just her family. “My dogs,” she admits, pausing, as if even saying it out loud made her miss them more. “That’s the hardest part. I used to have this daily rhythm, this schedule, and now everything’s mixed up. I’m trying to figure everything out all over again.”
As we chat and the sun starts to set, the skyline feels like both a new hope and a challenge for Josie. The building is tall enough to see the expanse of downtown Minneapolis in the distance, yet close enough to catch the chaos of tailgaters for Huntington Bank Stadium in the U of M campus parking lot below.
Her walls are slowly filling with thrifted frames, posters from beloved shows, and tapestries that carry a sense of warmth into this new space. “I’ve been channeling my nerves into decorating,” she says with a grin. Recently back from discovering Hunt & Gather and leaving with a variety of frames, Josie admits she’s nesting a bit.
Her Betty Boop, apple, and cat clocks all provide a foundation from her Barnum past, while a set list from Odie Leigh from the Fine Line last October and a Radiohead poster from the U of M store are reminders of the opportunities of being in a larger city.
Her three roommates have been both anchors and collaborators in Josie’s life. Amri has been wheeling her piano down the hallway to write together on her bed, while her girlfriend Lily occupies the other side of the U with her friend Danica.
At night, Josie often finds herself at the window, staring out across the city. “Some mornings I wake up and think, wait, this isn’t my room. It still feels like a vacation,” she says. “But then I look at the skyline and say to myself, this is my life now.” From her perch, she counts water towers, traces the traffic moving along University Avenue, and imagines the stories of the people below, students walking home, workers finishing late shifts, strangers living lives she might one day write songs about.
“I love that it feels endless,” she says. “Like there’s so much out there waiting. I want to put it all into music.”
Refinding her voice
For a while Josie was nervous to sing in the apartment, scared that the sound would travel through the floors. “I was scared of belting too loud,” she admits, lowering her voice as if the neighbors might still overhear. “We’re going to get a noise complaint and our neighbors are going to hate us.” But Amri urged her on, stating that more than likely they would knock on the door, wanting to come in and listen. She let herself open up, voice stretching into the high notes, and within moments her other two roommates came rushing in from the hallway, laughing, “Bro, we heard you.” Instead of embarrassment, Josie felt a thrill. This was going to work.
Josie admits she hasn’t been writing as much due to the newness and nesting, but there are already nascent signs of a more collaborative style of creation. The other evening her friend Lenora and Amri lounged in her bedroom and tossed out ideas and lyric fragments as Josie strummed her guitar. The themes of change and adjusting to feeling alone are taking form in her new songwriting.
That night they talked about all the picture frames they thrifted and where they’d come from, imagining they were passed down from somebody’s grandma. They are now in their possession, guarding their hallways and helping them transition into a new place. That idea evolved into lyric fragments like “passed down from your grandma / your gentle hands to play the keys” that are finding their way into the new song.
The fear of not belonging is something Josie is learning to let go of. Moving to the Twin Cities is forcing her to believe that she belongs in the community even though it’s all still so new to her.
Dreaming forward
Josie’s ambitions in the Twin Cities are still rooted in community. She’s already reaching out to venues, hoping to break into the local circuit, and one stage in particular shines in her mind: 7th Street Entry.
“It’s such a cozy little venue,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re right there with the musicians. I’ve seen shows there and every time it’s been magic. I want to be on that stage, to feel what it’s like.”
Josie has also been venturing out to see music. August 28th at the Minneapolis Institute of Art was one of those perfect intersections of music, community, and atmosphere. Anna Devine and her band put on a strong set at the museum, where the vibe was relaxed and inviting. An ice cream truck was parked nearby, adding to the casual mood as people grabbed cones, snapped photos, and settled into the music. After the show, Josie had the chance to wander through the museum’s galleries and it made the night feel even richer to experience both live performance and visual art. It was a reminder of how many different types of shows are popping up in the Twin Cities, and how refreshing it is to find live music in unexpected spaces.
When asked if she’s the type to approach artists after a set, Josie Langhorst admitted it depends on the night. “It’s 50-50,” she says with a smile. “Sometimes I’ll go up and introduce myself, talk about music, but other times I’ll hang back. If there’s already a crowd, I’ll just let them do their thing.” It’s a balance between seizing the moment and respecting the space. It’s clear she’s paying attention not just to the music itself, but to the ways artists and audiences connect.
Her debut album, recorded earlier this year, is nearly ready to meet the world. The artwork, tracklist, and final touches are all coming together. “It’s funny that sometimes I feel impatient, like I want everything to happen right now. But then I remind myself that it’s okay to take your time. Just … don’t take all the time in the world.”
Belonging in change
Josie’s current days are filled with little “side quests,” as she calls them, like exploring new coffee shops, pickleball courts, and thrift stores. This has grown her sense of independence in a life that continues to be filled with anticipation of the opportunities in front of her. And always, there’s her bedroom window. The place where she returns every day. “Excitement,” she whispers. “That’s what I feel most. Sometimes I just stare out and think, oh my gosh, this is my life.”
So begins Josie Langhorst’s year in the Twin Cities, as a diary written in thrifted frames, bedroom songwriting, and lyrics waiting to be observed from the 15th floor above. It’s a story about independence and about stepping into a skyline both intimidating and inspiring.
It’s also a defining moment that will determine if the musician Josie was in northern Minnesota will be introduced to everyone or if a new musical direction will emerge. Where will she land? What will she uncover? That’s the journey we’ll follow in the months ahead.
“I think I have to find my niche, my vibe and how I present myself. I want to find people that fuck with that. So I’m definitely still searching.”
Stay tuned for the next chapter in October!
About the Author & Photographer
Tom Smouse. Photo Credit: Chris Taylor.
Tom Smouse is an innovative collaborator with 20 years of experience in the Minnesota music industry. As a professional photographer, podcaster, and music journalist, sharing stories from the community remains his core passion. When not at a show you can find him at a record store.
