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John Maus is not only a musician, but a larger-than-life force—a Viking-sized enigma who destroys himself in order to articulate his truth. And when he delivers himself back into the public eye every few years, it is never an attempt to remain relevant or hip. It is always in service of necessary purpose.
“Later Than You Think” is no exception, and feels like the most spiritual album in Maus’ twenty-year career. It is a companion for reflection, for reckoning, for coming to terms with the self. Even the track titles alone feel confrontational and devotional: “Because We Built It,” “Disappears,” “Reconstruct Your Life.”
The album’s title refers to the quote: “It’s later than you think, hasten therefore to do the work of God.” That urgency permeates the record. Maus’ lyrics feel timeless — his meaning speaks across all of time. Though Maus is known for retro-futurist synth-pop sounds, the emotions he channels are those that have existed since the beginning of mankind and will be felt until the last human stands alone on Earth. His words feel biblical. I like to imagine someone roaming the land in A.D. 30, screaming the lyrics to “Believer” from “We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves (2011),” guided by the same call toward epic transcendence.
“Turn us into something light.” An angelic light shines down on John and lifts him upward into the night sky as he disappears — an image I carried with me while directing the “Disappears” music video, and one that aligns perfectly with the glowing light on the “Later Than You Think” album cover. John is saved by a higher power each day only to begin again the next day, constantly giving himself over to the music and to those around him — doing the work of God through total exposure, always appearing and being seen.
Maus’ level of commitment sees no bounds. He is an ON or OFF switch — and there is a rare beauty in that. He can only be genuine. During the “Disappears” shoot his wife, Kika, politely asked if John could not hit himself in the head for the next take. I said “of course” and told John, “we’ve got plenty of takes of you hitting yourself in the head and it looks great. In the next take, don’t worry, you don’t need to hit yourself anymore.” John looks at me and says, “OK.” I call “action.” John immediately hits himself in the head. ON or OFF.
In the end, with “Adorabo,” this album becomes more than music. John uplifts the soul, the reverb echoing and ricocheting off the stone walls of an ancient cathedral. He blesses us. All that will listen.
P.S. The best party song on the album is “Tonight.” Is there a better way to live in the power of now than repeating the word “tonight” seventy-three times over a bouncy, uptempo rhythm?
“Later Than You Think” is no exception, and feels like the most spiritual album in Maus’ twenty-year career. It is a companion for reflection, for reckoning, for coming to terms with the self. Even the track titles alone feel confrontational and devotional: “Because We Built It,” “Disappears,” “Reconstruct Your Life.”
The album’s title refers to the quote: “It’s later than you think, hasten therefore to do the work of God.” That urgency permeates the record. Maus’ lyrics feel timeless — his meaning speaks across all of time. Though Maus is known for retro-futurist synth-pop sounds, the emotions he channels are those that have existed since the beginning of mankind and will be felt until the last human stands alone on Earth. His words feel biblical. I like to imagine someone roaming the land in A.D. 30, screaming the lyrics to “Believer” from “We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves (2011),” guided by the same call toward epic transcendence.
“Turn us into something light.” An angelic light shines down on John and lifts him upward into the night sky as he disappears — an image I carried with me while directing the “Disappears” music video, and one that aligns perfectly with the glowing light on the “Later Than You Think” album cover. John is saved by a higher power each day only to begin again the next day, constantly giving himself over to the music and to those around him — doing the work of God through total exposure, always appearing and being seen.
Maus’ level of commitment sees no bounds. He is an ON or OFF switch — and there is a rare beauty in that. He can only be genuine. During the “Disappears” shoot his wife, Kika, politely asked if John could not hit himself in the head for the next take. I said “of course” and told John, “we’ve got plenty of takes of you hitting yourself in the head and it looks great. In the next take, don’t worry, you don’t need to hit yourself anymore.” John looks at me and says, “OK.” I call “action.” John immediately hits himself in the head. ON or OFF.
In the end, with “Adorabo,” this album becomes more than music. John uplifts the soul, the reverb echoing and ricocheting off the stone walls of an ancient cathedral. He blesses us. All that will listen.
P.S. The best party song on the album is “Tonight.” Is there a better way to live in the power of now than repeating the word “tonight” seventy-three times over a bouncy, uptempo rhythm?
Dec 31, 2025