Zach Bolen knows Citizens doesn’t quite fit. They never really have.
The Seattle-born, now Nashville-based band has spent the last decade toeing the line between worship music and indie rock, releasing seven albums that sound more like Arcade Fire than anything you’d find on Christian radio. While the band’s lyrics are rooted in faith, their sound and sensibility have always pointed somewhere more expansive, more emotionally open, more artistically free.
Even after 10 years of quietly redefining what Christian music can be, Bolen still finds himself wrestling with the same tension that’s followed the band since the beginning: Citizens belongs to the Christian music industry—but just barely. “We’re in it, but we’ve never totally felt at home there,” he says.
That friction is central to their latest project, m us eum.
Stylized with intentional spacing to emphasize the word “us,” the album reflects a core belief for Bolen: we are the art. The project doesn’t offer polished conclusions or didactic statements. It asks listeners to slow down, to wonder.
“People are the museum,” Bolen explains. “It’s about welcoming all the complexities of humanity.”
That openness runs counter to much of the modern Christian art world, which often prioritizes clarity over ambiguity. Citizens flips that expectation. Bolen is less interested in meaning and more drawn to how a song lands with someone emotionally.
“There’s this tendency in Christian art to focus on ‘What does this mean?’ instead of ‘What does this make me feel?’ But when people interpret art for themselves, it frees them. The mystery is the point.”
That same intuition guided how the album was made. Rather than fine-tuning everything in post, Bolen trusted his gut. Most of the vocals on m us eum are from the original demos—quick takes that captured something honest in the moment. Some lyrics were left intentionally open-ended, some melodies imperfect. But each track was rooted in feeling rather than formula.
“Our first instincts are often our best ideas,” he says. “They’re just the hardest, most costly or most ridiculous. But we followed that feeling.”
Songs don’t always resolve or follow typical structures. Some end abruptly. Some are built on a single melodic idea. But nothing feels accidental. The band prioritized feeling over structure, intuition over industry rules. When a song moved them, they kept it—even if it sounded nothing like the one before it.
While the album may feel looser than past Citizens projects, it still holds together. Bolen credits that cohesion to the band’s unified gut instinct. “Sometimes the songs sound like two different bands, but they both moved us. So we kept them.”
That freedom came from the people listening.
Rather than using a traditional crowdfunding platform or subscription model, Citizens created a simple support page where fans could contribute whatever they wanted. No tiered perks. No merch bundles. Just early access to demos and the invitation to be part of the process.
“We’ve been a band for 14 years. We don’t need a lot,” Bolen says. “You became a fan of us because of the music. So if that still means something to you, we trust you’ll want to support it.”
Enough people said yes. And the ones who did brought their enthusiasm, not their expectations. They shared favorite songs, weighed in on arrangements and encouraged the band to keep going. Some offered notes on unreleased versions. Others simply sent messages to say how meaningful the music was to them. A few even asked why certain tracks didn’t make the final cut—not with frustration, but with curiosity and care.
“Our fans just incentivize us to keep being who we are,” Bolen says. “They give us the courage to keep trying new things.”
That kind of support matters. Especially for a band that never aimed to play the industry game. Citizens might have an easier time commercially if they stuck to what sells. But they don’t. And they won’t.
Because what Bolen is chasing isn’t success. It’s curiosity.
“I hope people are left with a bit of curiosity,” he says. “It’s in short supply right now. Especially in the middle of all these culture wars and constant division. We’re good at putting people in boxes and deciding who they are without ever getting to know them.”
He believes curiosity is where faith begins.
“Even someone might push back and say, well, what about faith? And it’s like, well, faith begins with curiosity. How can you believe in a God you don’t see without curiosity? Otherwise, it’s fear or control pulling you in.”
To him, curiosity shows up in the little things—asking better questions, making space for difference, not needing to win every conversation. He talks about getting to know his neighbors, most of whom aren’t part of the music world. Some have similar beliefs, others don’t. But there’s something valuable in that diversity.
“We tell our kids all the time—you’re too young to not be curious,” he says. “I think that’s something we should all remember.”
That willingness to sit with discomfort, to ask without needing to answer, has become a defining posture for Bolen. And it runs through the heart of m us eum.
“I have people in my life who believe things I am so against. But I’m in it for the long game. I’d rather have a relationship than be right.”
So Citizens isn’t here to convince you. They’re here to ask what moves you. And whether that starts with a guitar riff, a half-finished lyric or a strange demo vocal, they trust the connection will follow.
There’s no clever strategy, no grand architecture. Just music that invites you to pause, ask questions and maybe even change.
