About

Wandering the streets of New York City…

Surrounded by the hustle and bustle of a restless, modern society in flux, singer-songwriter Alwyn finds deep, genuine inspiration from the swirling emotions and actions of passerby faces — each in search of love and connection.

“I feel very clear for the first time in a long time,” Alwyn says. “I feel comfortable in myself. I feel comfortable with myself. And it’s leading me to being really inspired — it’s this new wave of inspiration.”

That new wave of self is at the heart of Alwyn’s latest album, Marshall. An ode to his Texas hometown, and also to the journey to the here and now, the melodies are a sonic collage of all the wide-ranging influences within his creative spirit — indie-folk, R&B, Americana, jazz, rock, and whatever else sparks his soul.

“Usually, a lot of my inspiration came through sadness,” Alwyn says. “But, this is the first time where happiness, curiosity and joy are my inspiration.”

At 36, Alwyn has been the acclaimed drummer for iconic Americana/bluegrass group Leftover Salmon for the last 12 years. That national notoriety of performance has lent itself to expand Alwyn’s musical palette and singing talents, one where Marshall is a snapshot of a young artist in pursuit of truths, onstage and off.

“With Leftover Salmon, I wanted to challenge myself to contribute more than just playing songs,” Alwyn says. “But, now is the first time I’ve really stepped out and tried to introduce myself as a vocalist.”

Recorded in a friend’s Brooklyn living room, Marshall was co-produced by Bridget Kearney and Andrew Ybanez, with Kearney being a founding/current member of Lake Street Dive.

“The instruments are all recorded at the same time in this little room, so we couldn’t play loud,” Alwyn recalls. “So, it’s interesting to hear how full the music sounds, but we were playing really soft.”

The album title itself pays tribute to Marshall, Texas, a place which remains the foundation of Alwyn’s musical tastes, whether it be country, blues, folk, gospel or classical.

“When I was growing up, that was all the music I was embodying, listening to, and participating in,” Alwyn says. “So, I wanted to find a way to condense that into an album, to pay tribute to a little bit of each and everything I partook in.”

Beyond reflecting on his past in the Lone Star State, Alwyn’s parents still call Texas home. Aside from sporadic visits back when he’s not on tour or recording, Marshall has also provoked (subconscious and conscious) this urge within him to dig deeper into his hometown — as a way to not only make peace, but also discover its intrinsic splendor.

“I love the place now and have an appreciation for [Marshall], but it wasn’t always that way,” Alwyn notes. “I was so eager to get out of Texas because of a lot of political issues, racial issues. But, as I’ve gotten older, I see the beauty of it that I couldn’t see growing up. I’m trying to go back more and see what I can do to build on that place.”

Nowadays, Alwyn finds his southern roots apply more and more to his current home in New York City and his work on the road.

“A lot of the ways I found to survive in New York come from what I learned in East Texas,” Alwyn chuckles. “How to relate to people, how to connect with people and communicate, and how to try to find my own space within this condensed area.”

Within the 13-song LP, Marshall, at its essence, is the musings and poetry Alwyn writes down in his journals as he wanders the backroads and highways of America. The epitome of that being the spoken word number “Hundred Year Plan,” poignant sentiments read aloud by famed fashion designer Ouigi Theodore.

“Americana, for me, is roots, it’s culture, it’s history, it’s also how we move that forward,” the words ripple out. “Because now, more so than ever, there’s a struggle for what’s American, and who’s American, and who can wave the American flag.”

“‘Hundred Year Plan’ is about thinking bigger than ourselves, and thinking generations down the line,” Alwyn says. “And how what we’re doing now impacts the future, how to give what we have now to the younger generation, how we keep feeding that to sustain growth.”

Beyond the original selections, Alwyn conjures such sorrowful and captivating takes on his renditions of Glen Campbell’s timeless 1967 hit “Gentle on My Mind” (written by John Hartford) and Tyler Childers 21st century anthem “Nose on the Grindstone.”

“I could feel that he was actually meaning every word — the way he sings it, his voice and the texture,” Alwyn says of Childers. “And with ‘Gentle on My Mind,’ I listen to it quite often when I’m traveling because it just brings me peace, makes me feel calm and grounded.”

That sense of calm and inner peace circles back to the idea of human connectivity in a modern world disconnected from one another. Hence, the catalyst for Marshall and Alwyn’s continued pursuit of balance and harmony between himself and the greater world.

“My job is to be an artist, which embodies more than just creating a sound,” Alwyn says. “And it means that you have to find connections [with others] in the same way that you collaborate. All of those things are important to the artistry itself. It feels good to be learning how I want to tailor my sound and my music — it’s fun, a lot of fun.”