John Common wishes he were a filmmaker or a painter, but due to a run-in with his older brother's record collection at an impressionable age, he ended up with an obsession for making music instead. He's constantly writing songs... they range from raucous and snarly, to experimental and introspective, and lately, grooved, layered and darkly beautiful.
At his core, he’s a writer.
But you know how it goes. You get an idea, you write a song, you write 20 more, you make a record…
Next thing you know you’re on tour with a bunch of friends wondering why you’re standing in a parking lot at load-in somewhere in Ohio drinking warm vodka out of a bottle you hid next to the spare tire in the back of the van. You play the show totally housed and start making up new lyrics on the spot because why the fuck not. Your band stares blankly at you. The audience stares blankly at you. Later that night in the pungent motel room that smells like bad decisions and cheap shampoo, you stare blankly at yourself.
Then it hits you: this is stupid. You vow to quit this music thing, grow up, and go do whatever people do when they grow up or whatever.
But you know how it goes. You get an idea, you write a song…