Good Life Project - Jake Wesley Rogers | Embracing What Makes You Different

Episode Date: June 30, 2022

Vogue Magazine named today’s guest, Jake Wesley Rogers, Gen Z's Elton John, but truth is, he is a wildly-talented, 25-year-old singer, songwriter and performer not only dazzles audiences but also stands powerfully in an identity that belongs to no one other than himself. How a queer kid from Springfield, Missouri, went from growing up in the deep South, then studying songwriting in Nashville, TN, to eventually gracing the stages of music festivals like Lollapalooza, headlining for artists like Panic At The Disco! and Ben Platt isn't all that of a mystery once you hear his music—and his story. Jake has this unique way of creating bold, emotional music that tells the stories of his life, yet feels universal at the same time. He invites us all to feel and sing and move and, in no small way, reclaim the parts and stories in our own lives that we’ve left behind. Elton John, himself, sang Jake’s praises while he was a guest on the 300th episode of Elton's Apple Music radio show Rocket Hour, saying Rogers reminded him of himself when he started out. And, all the while, what you’ll experience in this conversation, is how deeply grounded, loving, and intentional he is with everything he does.In today's conversation, we dive into Jake's journey in music and life and explore some of the lyrics of his recently released six-song EP Pluto, which has been long-awaited since his signing to hit songwriter Justin Tranter's imprint of Warner Records, Facet Records, in 2020. We unpack the art of songwriting and storytelling and its ability to help us process difficult experiences and explore some interesting asides on identity, finding inspiration, his connection and love for his family, and how important it is for Rogers to keep himself centered and present as the rocket ship that has become his career as an artist takes off. His EP “Pluto” is filled with passionate ballads and poetic lyrics that tell the stories of his most formative years and dealings with love of all forms—from romantic to familial to self-love. And though Jake is early in the years, he’s deeply wise, we can all learn something from his outlook not just on storytelling but on gratitude, joy, and taking life in stride. You can find Jake at: Website | Instagram | SpotifyIf you LOVED this episode you’ll also love the conversations we had with Justin Tranter about their life in music and creativity and really finding a place of power and beauty and creative expression.Check out our offerings & partners: My New Book Sparked | My New Podcast SPARKEDVisit Our Sponsor Page For a Complete List of Vanity URLs & Discount Codes. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

There's two words I'm obsessed with lately, delusion and inspiration. Because I think when you sort of exist in a delusional state, you're saying to yourself, this isn't the world I live in, but it's the world I dream of. And maybe those two things can meet one day. And when I sort of believe in that, for whatever reason, I get inspired. And I think my muse likes when I'm a little delusional and very inspired. So Vogue magazine named today's guest Jake Wesley Rogers, Gen Z's Elton John. But truth is, he is a wildly talented 25-year-old singer, songwriter, and performer who not only dazzles audiences, but also stands powerfully and beautifully in an identity

that belongs to no one other than himself. How a queer kid from Springfield, Missouri went from growing up in the Deep South and studying songwriting in Nashville to eventually gracing the stages of music festivals like Lollapalooza, headlining for artists like Panic! at the Disco and Ben Platt isn't all that much of a mystery once you hear his music and his story. Jake has this unique way of creating bold, emotional music that tells the stories of his life yet feels universal at the same time. He invites us all to feel and sing and move in a no small way, reclaim the parts and stories of our own lives that we've left behind. Elton John himself sang

Jake's praises while he was a guest on Elton's Apple Music Radio show, Rocket Hour, saying that he reminded him of himself when he started out. And all the while, what you'll experience in this conversation is how deeply grounded, loving, and intentional Jake is with everything he does. In today's conversation, we dive into Jake's journey in music and life and explore some of asides on identity, finding inspiration, his connection and love for his family, and how important it is for Jake to keep himself centered and present as the rocket ship that has become his career as an artist takes off.

His EP Pluto is filled with passionate ballads and poetic lyrics that tell the stories of his most formative years and dealings with love of all forms from romantic to familial to self-love. And though Jake is early in the years, he is deeply wise. We can all learn something from his outlook, not just on storytelling, but on gratitude, joy, and taking life in stride. I am so excited to share this conversation with you. I'm Jonathan Fields, and this is Good Life Project. Mayday, mayday, we've been compromised.

The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were gonna be fun. January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot him! We need him!

Y'all need a pilot? Flight Risk. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest

charging Apple Watch, getting you 8 hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS are later required. Charge time and actual results will vary.

I'm just excited to spend some time with you. You first came to my attention, you may or may not know this, through Justin, actually. Really? Yeah. So a couple of years back, I got connected to them and then we just had this fantastic conversation on the podcast. And I can't remember whether it was on tape or just in a side conversation we were having they mentioned you and just reaved and raved and raved and like you have to keep your eyes on this person who's coming up just mind-blowing talent so I started paying attention I was like wow Justin is right and that was probably a couple of like two, three years ago. And man, from the outside looking in,

it feels like the last two or three years had been sort of like this stunning experience. Does it feel like that from the inside out as well? Oh yeah, stunning in all facets of the word because on one hand, there's this like global nightmarish episode. And on the other hand, I was this global nightmarish episode. And on the other hand, I was just going through so much change. And looking back, it's terrible and beautiful.

And it led me here. And it's interesting as a performer and musician to not be able to perform during any of that time. But now getting to, it all seems like in some way for me, it's been worth the hermit time to come into this next time. It's so interesting to hear you say that. It occurred to me, listening to a whole bunch of past interviews and seeing you on your frequent Sunday TikToks and then also watch a whole bunch of footage of you on stage. And there's this really interesting thing.

I was wondering about it and it feels like you're kind of alluding to it. It almost feels like there are two Jakes. There's this quiet, maybe even somewhat introverted, sort of like loving the creative cave and just being like in solitude Jake. And then there's the Jake that steps on stage and it's like, wow. There's again, wow. Again, from the outside looking in, but from the inside looking out, tell me about this. There's a Whitman line, probably one of his most famous, but I think about it a lot because of how deeply it resonates.

It's, do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes. I had that on my wall for years. And I do. And we all do. We literally all do. And for me, performing is so different than talking here one-on-one. Performing is this one of, I think, the primal needs in me for whatever reason. People ask me about stage fright, but I have stage eagerness for whatever reason. If I'm at a concert, I'm mad

that I'm not on stage, which is something I'm working on. And it's just, it's different. But I think for me as an artist, 80% of my life is quiet and reflective and just trying to keep my senses open to everything in order to maybe one day put it in a song, put it in a poem. And that's why it makes sense. It's like one feeds the other, you know? The soft times, the days where I just sort of meander around L.A. and write down what people say in a cafe. And then the walking on stage and expressing it. It's funny because it looks like two different versions of me,

but actually it just seems like one conversation with myself. Does that make sense? Yeah, no, it does. As you were saying, something that a friend of mine who's a writer, has been writing for decades and has shared with me, he literally sets aside, he's busy in the middle years of his life. He's married. He has a whole bunch of kids, but he sets aside two to three days a week to literally just walk around the city with nothing on his agenda, nothing scheduled.

And similar to you, it's like, he feels like part of the work of being a writer, maybe the larger part is you've got to be an observer. You've got to be a participant in life and an observer too, because that's where the raw material comes from. You have to live. I did the artist's way at the beginning of the lockdown, because people had told me about it forever. And I'm sure you know it. I'm sure a lot of people are listening. Yeah, we've had Julia Cameron on the podcast.

You know, and it is life-changing. It's gentle, but it's just intense enough to shift the way you view creation. And I think the most important part of that, of the artist's way, is the weekly artist date, which I've turned into an artist day. It's kind of like your friend. I do like one day a week. It's like nothing on the schedule. I could just go do something that sounds fun, anything. Like it's not even amazing sometimes, you know,

sometimes it's literally just reading in a new spot, but it's important to feed that part of me. And I go through phases. I'm trying to trust because like, you know, I'm in this huge writing phase right now but it's important to feed that part of me. And I go through phases I'm trying to trust because like, you know, I'm in this huge writing phase right now and it's flowing, but leading up to that was two years of sort of living and not really writing a song that I love a lot. And now it's coming out and it's just a balance. Is there fear attached to that process, especially when you're in a space where you're sort of like, you know, like you're two years in,

something that just feels really deep and real and that you love isn't quite there yet? Or do you just kind of trust it? I think that's the feeling though. That's the feeling that keeps you coming back. Yes, it's fear. I think it feels like fear sometimes, but I think it's that urge of whatever you're longing for, whatever you desire more than anything. And what I desire more than anything is to tell the truth, is to create something that teaches me something about myself. I am longing for that. And leading up to that, I'm going a little insane because I'm like, why can't I tell the truth? And then it's funny because the truth is usually pretty quiet and requires patience and space. And then it comes out and you remember, oh, like for instance, this week I wrote this song and it's a melody I've had for,

I think, almost four years. And that is just so mysterious to me. I've tried to put it in countless songs. And then you sit down in one instant and the words come with it. And you realize, oh, that's exactly how long it needed to take. And now it's here and you're glad. And I can't explain it. No one can explain that. Yeah. I've had conversations over the years with folks who have tried to sort of locate the source of the muse. Is it inside? Is it outside? Does it come from some etheric place and just channel through? Can you prove your worthiness by showing up every day?

And like, so that it will be more likely to come, you know, on demand way. And I feel like so many people have their quote methodology that built around that to try and make it more regular or more certain. And yet I don't know if it ever really works that way. There's two words I'm obsessed with lately, delusion and inspiration. I don't know. Because I've become obsessed with the word delusion. The word delusion has a lot of negative connotation to it for sure. I'm kind of reclaiming it as a delusional person. Because I think when you sort of exist in a delusional state, you're saying to yourself,

this isn't the world I live in, but it's the world I dream of. And maybe those two things can meet one day. And for me, when I'm delusional, I believe in my dreams. I believe in the songs I have yet to write. I believe I've already written them. That's'm delusional, I believe in my dreams. I believe in the songs I have yet to write. I believe I've already written them. That's the delusional part. This first album, it's written. Yes, that's delusional to say because it's practically not, but it is.

And when I sort of believe in that for whatever reason, I get inspired. And inspiration, I think, is what I love. And I just try to fill my life with things that really inspire me I try to make lists of things that I can think about if I'm not feeling inspired just like a scene from a movie or something that happened in my life and and those two things go together I think delusion inspiration this is a this is a working theory by the way it could all be disproved by someone, but there is something happening. I can't tell you what it is.

I think my muse likes when I'm a little delusional and very inspired and very open. Maybe that's the third word, open. How do you know when you're in those states or not? It's not necessarily a high feeling and it's not necessarily a low feeling. I just sort of feeling it as openness. I just feel it as, I usually get a little flutter in my heart, like something's about to happen maybe. Because that's, for me, the worst feeling is not feeling like anything's enough. It's like walking outside and everything is forsaking you. Like a bird sings and you're like, shut up, literally. I literally hate you and I want you to die.

And then the best feeling is you're walking and you see a bird and you almost start to cry because you just realize that like life is in this thing and life is in you and i know i'm sounding like a la microdosing hippie but those things are are hand in hand and i think i will never fully unpack what it means to channel or have the muse with you. But I think all I'm in charge of as an artist or a creator is just to try to stay inspired and to believe I'm capable of what I want to do. And it's always tested, always. But you just come back to it in whatever way you can. Yeah, that testing is always an interesting experience. As you were sort of like describing that story of walking down the street

and having, it's almost like the two lenses on the bird. One is a blessing and one is like the utter disaster. It's interesting because the thing that immediately came into my head was, so I have something called tinnitus. I had, there's a sound in my head 24 seven and it's been there for a dozen years. And in the beginning, it was devastating for me. And yeah, I've done a lot of work to habituate.

I'm completely fine with it now. But I remember in the early days, when I was talking to different people about the experience, one person said to me, who happened to be deeply spiritual from the yogic world, said, you know, like some

of the great sages believe that this is actually the sound of God coming alive within your head, within your soul, within your body, making itself known. And I completely didn't buy into that moment in time because I was miserable. But over time, it was an interesting invitation to reframe the exact same experience as something different, not as a source of profound alarm and suffering, but as, well, what if there is some form of gift in this? You know, like what if there's some grace buried in here somewhere? And part of the reason it's there is for me to work through a process of awakening to

it. Right. It's all, that's so powerful. It's so powerful. It's so powerful. And I think our physical ailments teach us so much. In 2020, I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease, and that was sort of my first pain. And I really felt in my body. And that season before I sort of figured it out. And, you know, now things are pretty okay, but, you know, that season where you're just in pain. And I just remember I was at my parents' house

last summer and I was having a really bad flare and I mustered up all the strength to go sit in the yard. And I sat in the yard and these people were just on a walk at like 3 p.m. And I just started crying because it's like, they have no idea how good it must be to walk. You know, every time I sort of started feeling better and I stood up and I was like, oh, that doesn't hurt. And there's just this deep sense of gratitude too that comes with pain or with discomfort or with the sound in your ear.

And it can become the most spiritual thing i don't understand it but maybe that's what every religion's been talking about forever and i'm just figuring it out potentially but it's all a gift right yeah but do you wonder if if sometimes that can be a slippery slope at the same time because i i agree with that and i've experienced that and at the same time like you can cross over into that trope that you sometimes hear in the world of art and creativity and performance that says that in order for you to create, quote, great art by whoever standard that might be, you have to go to that place of profound darkness. And I wonder how you feel about that. I mean, I've thought a lot about it because when I got to college, I had just broken up with sort of my first boyfriend in high school. And it was a really, it was a traumatic relationship and I had trauma and I didn't know what that was.

And it was debilitating, you know. I remember during that time, I think I watched Elizabeth Gilbert's TED Talk when she had just released Big Magic. And she talks about that really, really beautifully. And that was actually one thing that was really scary for me at the end of this sort of first chapter of therapy I had, like at the end of the four years, you know, I was like, okay, I'm okay, but I'm holding on to this pain because I'm afraid that if I let it go, I won't be interesting. And that came in my mouth and I was like,

oh, that's a weird thought, you know? My therapist was like, what does that mean? Is there any part of you that doesn't feel true? You know, very therapist question. And I'm like, no, you know, I'm afraid that if I don't have pain, I won't be interesting. I'll never write a song again. And my dreams will come true and I will die alone in the field. Like that was, you know, like within 20 seconds, like that's the step I took.

And what I chose to do or what I guess I realized is I don't think pain really goes fully away. I think, like you said, you somehow start to feel it differently. And I think for me, that's where art comes in. You know, for me, I can't create when I'm in the thick of pain. It's not natural for me. My first instinct is to go figure it out. Either go to therapy or go to some Reiki healer or tarot card reader. Like that's my like, and sometimes I do that literally too much,

but it's this process. And for me, the art is the final step in transmuting this pain into something that I can look at and understand. And then perhaps someone else can look at and understand. And it's not healing. I don't think art is healing. I think it's cathartic. And the difference being it doesn't really do the work, but it makes you feel like

your experience is real, which is so important. So to answer your question, pain is inevitable, right? So I think saying to create without pain, it's not possible because we're humans and we suffer. And for whatever reason, my favorite art, the songs I write are when I'm able to look at something that was impossible and sing about it, you know, like, just like joyfully accept it. So my answer to you is yes and no. I think the myth is you need to go down this really dark path, this rock and roll, dead at 27 path. And that is a myth.

And I'm someone that most days, I'm in a good place because a lot of work I did, but I don't deny the pain and I don't deny what I've been through. And it all just comes together. I don't know if that makes I don't deny what I've been through and it all just comes together I don't know if that makes sense yeah no it does and I think it speaks to the notion that you don't have to proactively go in search of things that cause suffering in the name of generating more material to be a better artist or better writer expresser and whatever your thing is, life is going to deliver

it to your doorstep in various ways and waves and being present to it and allowing it in is organically going to give you what you need, whereas I think some people buy into that idea of like, I need to almost proactively

go into that dark space. Because if I don't, I'm not going to be able to create work at the level that will be satisfying to me or maybe to others whose validation I really seek or hold dear. And that I think is where it gets dangerous. I heard someone say, and I don't know who said it, but if you've survived childhood, you have enough material for the rest of your life. Have you heard that before? I've never heard that but it's probably true

you really don't need to go intentionally cause yourself any pain because at 18 and under I mean you definitely or whoever you are you had it Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised. The pilot's a hitman.

I knew you were going to be fun. On January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot him, we need him. Y'all need a pilot?

Flight risk. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you 8 hours of charge in just 15 minutes.

The Apple Watch Series 10. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. Susan Cain has a new book out called Bittersweet. And I won't exactly get her words right, but she's basically like whatever longing and sorrow you can't integrate, turn that into your art. And I think that's what we're talking about here. It's like do the work. Like you said, you try and figure it out into your art and i think that's what we're talking about here you know it's like do the work like you said you try and figure it out you try and process you try and integrate it but there's inevitably going to be something left over and maybe that can become

the source fuel for expression and art i hope it's what i know how to it's all it's really all i know how to do is to make something i think it's actually all we know how to do is to make something. I think it's actually all we know how to do as humans, whether you're creating art or whatever. We have this, yes, Susan Cain, the longing to make something that makes sense of it. And that's what I'm here for, I think, for whatever reason. And I love that interview you did with her.

And I was in Buenos Aires listening to it. And I'm a bit, I think, for whatever reason. And I love that interview you did with her. And I was in Buenos Aires listening to it. And I'm a bittersweet person. I realized in that interview, I was like, yep, that's me. I love songs that at one hand make me want to throw up because I'm so sad and the other hand make me feel free. It sounds like most people are sort of like that. I mean, I think a lot of people sort of like that I mean too I think a lot of people surprise it does I mean and like as she was describing it to me I was really

remembering songs that I would just play over and over and over crying and I'm generally a pretty like you know okay person a pretty upbeat optimistic person and yet I was drawn to these things because it drew something out in me. There was a tuning fork inside of me that started to just vibrate and I didn't want it to stop,

even though tears were part of that process. Catharsis, baby. Yeah. So you mentioned earlier that the performance side of you has always been, you don't have stage fright. You have, you know, like you want to run to that. Did that show up really early for you in life? Yeah. I mean, probably about as early as it could have. My mom worked in radio my whole childhood and she was like, she was a rock DJ. So she's on air. She's on air, yeah. And one of the things she had to do is go to a lot of concerts. And she always took me with her.

And a lot of times she'd have to introduce the band. If the radio station is sponsoring the show, she'd go up. And I remember, I think I must have been four or five, and Nelly Furtado was playing. And my mom was about to go up, and I was like, can I go with you? And I, you know, I still, that was actually one of my earliest memories. We were like, it's like 10,000 people. And I was like, yep. And I sort of took the mic, and I introduced her.

And I really have no idea why. And my parents were very smart, and they put me in theater at an early age because that was a natural and healthy place to put a young person who has that inclination. And I was able to channel that in ways that sort of fed my soul and ego at the same time. It's interesting. I've heard you say some variation of the phrase,

theater saved my life, which is interesting also because Justin Trenter, who is the person who sort of was the original go-between for us, although I guess I probably knew that, but you didn't until today's conversation, they said a very similar thing to me, especially in the high school years, things were just brutal. And they ended up going to this performing arts high school that was like an hour, an hour and a half, you know, like commute in each direction and literally saved their life. And I'm curious when you share something like that, what's underneath that? Yeah, it's complicated because I was in Missouri. I was in middle school.

And every Thursday, I got to go to the theater from 4 to 6. And I would just look forward to that every week. Thursday was the best day of the week. And it was the best day of the week because I don't know why, but theater is this place where I feel like all of the strangest kids were sort of the most shy, but also sort of the most eager to perform and be on stage and contain multitudes, like we said, they go. And for me, I was 12 and I was around 16-year-olds and 18-year-olds that were openly gay and that was really new for me. And it wasn't, that was it. It was just, you come together, you sing together,

you play together, you dance together and whoever you are is okay. Which I wish every place was like that. But we know middle school is not like that at all. And so when I say it saved my life, it gave me a place to belong, which is really what everybody wants. And that's why it saved my life, because I didn't have that in school. I had friends that protected me.

But just to have a community like that is so important, especially if you're a young kid who feels different. But the secret is everybody's I think a lot of people focus in on the chorus. Hate on me, hate on me, hate on me. You might as well hate the sun for shining just a little too much. But there's another line in there that really just struck me where you write and you sing. I think of my mom. She loves me no matter what. That really fucks me up. Yeah, it does.

What's going on there? You just sound like my therapist. Tell me about this. Tell me more. That's interesting. That line, well, there's a person I knew in college who came out when we were in college. And they weren't a a close friend but they were sort of in our friend group and they came out and they were completely disowned their parents took back their car they stopped paying for their phone off the insurance you know we were 19 not paying for college anymore it was like it was completely like like nope you can come home if you're getting married to a woman.

And that was actually the first time I had seen that up close. When I say I think of my mom, she tells me no matter what, that really fucks me up. That's what it is. She does. She's sort of that. I do think that unconditional, like I could probably burn down a puppy shelter and she'd be really mad for sure. And she'd be like, why the hell did you do that?

And visit me in jail for sure. But I don't think the love would change, which is complicated, which is really, I don't understand that. And that's actually, that's what a lot about I'm writing is like that sort of unconditional love that I don't understand yet. And how can it be conditional for some people? How can it? I don't know. And so I don't underestimate the power of that in my life to have parents that accept me, especially from a place where that's

not common. And it does fuck me up. If I really think about it, it really does. It makes me cry. Probably about once a month, it'll hit me. Yeah. And you mentioned, especially from the place you come from, which is sort of like pretty deep into what would be considered Bible Belt. And growing up there, you know, it sounds like there was sort of like, you know, two communities. There was a community of your family and then there was a broader community. And the ethos was, it sounds like very different in each of those two communities. It was.

And this is actually something I realized later on that when you're entertaining, people don't care if you're different. And so I started performing when I was pretty young and I did American Scott Talent when I was like 14. And then you go back to Missouri and everyone's like, whoa, you were on, you know, and it's sort of like they see past maybe the thing that they hate you for. Because suddenly, you know, suddenly you've done something and we

see it all the time. I mean, we see gay artists now that are out, but they couldn't really come out until they were too big to fail. And I think that's sort of the next frontier is just being who we are from the beginning and not having that stop us because it has stopped artists many times, I believe. And that's why it's so important for me to be who I am openly and explicitly.

Because I would love for it to be a place where it's just fluid and no one has to come out. And you just do whatever you want to do. And you love who you love. And you dress like you want to dress. But we're not there yet. And there are literally 10-year-olds in Texas dying. And representation matters. And the theater saved me that way when I was a kid.

And so did just Lady Gaga having gay people in her music videos. That saved me when I was a kid. And now I'm like, okay, well, this is great because the next step is we're telling the stories now and we get to save kids' lives. And it's so important. It's really so important to my messaging to do that and to be myself. I mean, it's interesting as you're describing it, when you're on stage, when you're in front of a camera, especially, I don't follow you around in your personal life, so I have no idea. Anytime you want to. You're certainly like, you wear like these amazing outfits

that are like fun and outrageous and provocative and flamboyant and joyful and colorful. And I don't know whether you were doing that when you were younger, when you were in high school, but the way you're describing it, like when you have a certain talent, it's almost like people will sort of like look the other way to these other indicators that you might not quite fit in. But they have this, which makes me wonder how much of is joyful expression and creativity of essence of identity and how much of it is armor and how much of it is a token to belong? That's a really, it's a good question that I've been thinking a lot about, especially as I sort of go into this next phase and release more music. It's like, how do you remain authentic and accessible? That's another question that sort of freaks me out. I think you remain accessible by being authentic. But for me, the outfits and the costumes kind of just feel like me on the inside. And maybe that's the point of fashion. At least it is for me. Wearing something that when someone sees you, perhaps you're telling them something without having to tell them. And I love that. And it goes back to theater. Like when you're in a musical,

you're a role and you put on the costume and you go on stage and you become that role. And for me, when I go on stage, I just want to become for an hour, the elevated version of myself. And what does the elevated version of myself wear? Well, probably a gold suit with wings. Because that just, for me, that's fun.

And it is authentic. And the moment it's not authentic, I'll stop doing it. You know, I was in Nashville for five years. And Nashville is Nashville. And there's days where I just really didn't feel like I could be myself. And what I did on those days is I sort of went in my closet, my actual closet, not my metaphorical closet. I'm out of there. And I just sort of put on kind of the craziest outfit I could.

And not because it was armor, but because it brought me to that place of, oh, I'm actually amazing. Like, I can do whatever I want. I feel great. And that's just one of the tools I use. I don't know why. And I always have. It started with my mom. She went with me to a fitting recently and she was like,

wow, this is what you did when you were a little kid. You just dressed up. I understand it. I get it. I get why you do this. So I guess it's always sort of been part of me. And if you ever just see me in a black suit, then you might want to ask if something has happened.

Right, right. Even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you 8 hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required, charge time and actual results will vary. Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised. The pilot's a hitman i knew you were gonna be fun on january 24th tell me how to fly this thing mark walberg you know what the difference between me and you you're gonna die don't shoot him we need him y'all need a pilot flight risk so you you referenced uh the five years you spent in n. And I know, I guess you landed there right around 18-ish, from what I understand, and with a real commitment to studying songwriting.

Playing around Nashville, end up doing a showcase, get a publishing deal pretty quickly, from what I understand. I'm curious how that lands with you. So when you moved to this new place, you were saying, I'm all in on this devotion, like it's time. And I also understand that the craft of writing is a really big part of this. And there's a lot to learn. So let me go to this place. And it's a place where people from around, literally around the world go to try and quote, make it. So there's a lot of people there with a similar mindset and a limited number of stages, a limited number of opportunities. Did it feel like that to you when you were there? Yes and no. Because I was isolated in a college situation, it was maybe even more intense because

not only was it people from around the world, it was 18-year-olds from around the world that have these dreams. And we're all in class together and we're all writing songs together. And I think I had to make a choice pretty early on because I saw a few people shut down early on in freshman year. That they're from some town and they were the songwriter and then they come and suddenly there's 400 of them. And I felt a tinge of that for sure. I made a conscious choice to let the jealousy or whatever just inspire me. And I knew going to Nashville that I didn't fit in that mold, obviously. It's a country music infrastructure. I'm literally not that. But what I love about Nashville, it's one of the few music places where the emphasis is

so much so on the lyric. And I call it the stab and twist, the end of the chorus that you stab, and then they twist it. And I'm obsessed with that. And I think that will always influence my songwriting. And I'm so glad it will because lyrics for me are key. And when I think of that time in Nashville and I think of all every, when I think of actually any quote good thing that's happened along the way, it's just because I was delusional and I honored myself and what I needed to say. And when I was a freshman, yeah, I did the showcase for a publishing company and I literally didn't expect it. And I sat down and was wearing a little sweater and just sang my song about this boy I loved. And I never would have expected to go that way.

And it carried on. The reason I met Justin Trancher was because they saw a video of my song, Jacob from the Bible, which is a gay love story through a biblical lens. Definitely on the surface, not very commercial, but it's sort of like these niche things that open the doors. And I really do believe that it's sort of like these niche things that open the doors. And I really do believe that it's that insecure part of us that is our superpower. And that's what I'm really trying to lean into lately, of the songs that no one else can write. And I don't say that in like a, no one else could write this. I mean, everyone has songs that only they could write.

I think that's what makes it work in the long run. And after I write a song, I'm like, oh, I am literally the only human on earth that could have written that song because I'm the only human on earth that has had this life. That's where I feel like I've done something correct. And going back to Nashville, I feel like learning how to write songs and being around people who are experts at writing songs got me there. So I'm not mad. Yeah. I mean, it's interesting because when you write that song where it is so close to the bone that literally you're the only person that could have written it. On the one hand, I have to imagine, you know, it just feels incredible to have that almost exercised out of you and expressed in a way that feels right. And you're like, this is true.

This is me. And this is what I want. This is how I want it to be out there. I wonder for you, when you move out of the process of extraction and creation and craft and skill, and then it's time to actually share this with the world, when something is that close to the bone for you, when it is so much a part of like your lived DNA, your truth? Does that make it harder or easier to share or nothing in the middle?

Both. Because I think if there's a real multitude of my life, it's the artist, songwriter, creator self and me. And then there's the one that has to go out there and promote it and make TikToks and be seen on a screen. And you know what? I think I've made peace with it because it's just different types of creating. And you can get heartbroken by numbers. And that's why I really try not to, I really do mean this. I try not to look at them because what we are is obviously way more than the number. And if something connects, something connects. And I don't think you can stop good things. I think when something is good, it is its own wild animal.

And I believe in that. Yeah, I'm kind of in that place now where I'm in this fertile, creative bed. And I know in a couple months, I will put my phone in my face and sing it. And it's very vulnerable. That's what it feels like. It feels like you're being naked. But I think that's another job of the artist. And it was around before TikTok. There's people that go see this painting you've been working on for three years. And they might look at it for three seconds and walk away. Or their lives are changed.

Or in between. And I've made somewhat peace with that. But as you know, as a creator, it's really hard to put yourself out there and not want everybody to stop in their tracks and notice you. But it's a longer game. For me, it's a longer game. I think it's always been a longer game.

To quote Casey Musgraves, I'm all right with a slow burn. I want to do this right. I want to tell my story in the way I want to tell my story. And if that takes longer okay because this isn't something i just want to go in flames and then die yeah yeah are you familiar with um the artist uh hill moff clint oh yes yeah right so like stunning stunning work and went with with my daughter a couple years back to this incredible show of her work in New York City at the Guggenheim

and learned during that show that a huge amount of her body of work, including much of what was in that show, these massive, massive paintings that were just like literally you walk in the room and you're vibrating along with them. She kept completely cloistered. She kept hidden. And her will, in fact, basically said like they couldn't be revealed in public

until I think it was like 60 years after her death or something like that. Because she had this just deep and profound sense that the public was not ready for that work. And she didn't want to share it until she felt like things had changed enough in culture and society that they would be. And it's such mixed emotions when I hear things like that, because how many decades, how many generations of people like then did not have the experience of interacting with this stunning body of work because of that decision. And yet on the other hand, I understand it too. I'm like, I'm on one hand just absolutely amazed by the power of her ego death. Right, right.

And the trust, you know, and her trust in the process because I always wonder what artists like that, what they would be like today. Because I had this moment a month or two ago that sort of like, it was one of my aha moments where I was writing a song and I wrote this verse and I liked it. And without even thinking, I pulled out my phone

and I recorded myself singing it. I posted on TikTok. And it wasn't until 30 minutes after I was like, whoa, that is not natural. That is, sure, maybe sometimes, I don't know. But like in that moment, that wasn't my truth. And why did I need people to get their eyes on this immediately? And I think that's one way where the story you just shared, like that's the opposite of that story, you know, that's the like, and farted out and put it on the internet. And I've kind of stopped doing that. And I don't think

I'm brave enough to not release any of my music until after I'm dead. But it does sort of, it sort of awakens a question in me, which is, you know, why, actually, why are you doing this? Right. It's like, what's the impulse? What is the impulse? Is it to be seen? Is it to know the recognition? Is it to, or do you believe that what you have to say right now is supposed to be heard right now? And I think it's a good question to ask. Probably a lot yeah especially now right because so many of the platforms that both allow us to you know used to have patrons that would take you through the early days for some like artists and the world has changed the business model has changed the landscape of how you would

quote succeed in this space has changed dramatically and you know and in ways that are almost like triple-edged swords. It's beyond double-edged at this point. It's like there's a lot to consider. But the fundamental nature of the business, of the industry, of technology, of the expectations around the creative process almost don't want you to take that time to consider. They're sort of like wrapped up in the speed and just the incredible acceleration of the process. And I wonder what

that does to you as an artist, as a creator, but also just as a human being who needs space to let things gestate. It does a lot. I think I'm learning the balance more. I don't complain about making TikToks anymore because Brene Brown found me on TikTok. I think that one reason alone pretty much like cements the value right there. Because if that can happen, Jake can never complain again. Exactly. That's funny. And I also can't complain because I was released my, you know, my first sort of music on my label. I released during heat of COVID. I couldn't play shows. I put it on the internet and coming out of that now I'm playing shows.

And honestly, I didn't think I could play these venues and there's people there. And I know that it's because of that. So on that hand, it's real. It's not just this thing you put out there and you never connect with it because I've seen the real effects of it. But I also, I have to be so conscious of breaks and just knowing that as humans, we can't like 365 days a year of output. You're going to be a freaking onion ring by the end, just crispy and dried up and terrible. I don't know why I said onion ring, but it felt right.

Maybe I was feeling like an onion ring. And now I know that like, yeah, there's times where you create and there's times where you pour out and it's really just, it's spring and it's winter and it's going back and forth and having peace with that. And just knowing that being perceived all the time isn't natural and your joy doesn't need to be perceived to be valid. My most joyful moments, I've told no one, or I've told a close friend. And I try not to forsake those moments by even telling them. And I think that's really true because I think the moment you start seeing yourself like the world sees you is when you lose yourself. I'm saying this because I need to hear it.

And when you go in and you recognize your soul and you see who you are and you ask who you are, you don't have to show all of it. I think that's what I've realized too. Showing just a little bit is enough. Showing just a little bit of enough, you know, my songs, I think they all have a piece of me in them. And that's enough.

It's like the elixir of life. You only need a taste of life to never forget it. And I think one of the biggest things we all have to do now is just protect our joy and protect our perception and protect who we let perceive us and what we let be perceived or else they're not our moments anymore. When I'm, I don't know, 94 years old and my life is flashing before my eyes, I hope I don't see the beautiful, simple moments of my life where I'm holding my phone, filming them.

You know, I hope I just see them. Right, exactly. The highlight reel does not have you in it like filming something on the phone. Yes. I love that. Feels like a good place for us to come full circle in our conversation as well. So sitting here in this container of a good life project, if I offer up the phrase to live a good life, what comes up?

To live a good life. Play. I think it all comes back to that, which I think is fun, which I think is joy, which I think is love. For me, the more I just realized that all of this is sort of play and all of this is dress up and all of this is really kind of funny, the more good life becomes. I start to laugh at the fact that we have to do funny things like get an oil change and do that. It just kind of becomes funny. It's like, yeah, I have to do that. Okay. So my life feels good when I am just sort of awkwardly smiling at it. Love that. Thank you. Yeah. Thank you.

Hey, before you leave, if you love this episode, you will also love the conversation we had with Justin Tranter about their life in music and creativity and really finding a place of power and beauty and creative expression. You'll find a link to Justin's episode in the show notes. And of course, if you haven't already done so, go ahead and follow Good Life Project in your favorite listening app. And if you appreciate the work that we've been doing here on Good Life Project, go check out my new book, Spark.

It will reveal some incredibly eye-opening things about maybe one of your favorite subjects, you, and then show you how to tap these insights to reimagine and reinvent work as a source of meaning, purpose, and joy. You'll find a link in the show notes, or you can also find it at your favorite bookseller now. Until next time, I'm Jonathan Fields, signing off for Good Life Project. We'll be right back. Flight risk. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes.

The Apple Watch Series 10, available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone Xs are later required. Charge time and actual results will vary.