SPOTLIGHT: ALEX WILLOW
Meet Alex Willow and tune into his brand new EP “Willow”
“Shin Splints” is such an evocative title. What made you choose it, and how does it tie into the emotional themes of your debut EP?
I’m glad you feel the emotion from the title! Shin Splints was never actually supposed to be the final title– the working title in my voice notes was “Shin Splints & Lovesickness.” I say neither of those things in the song itself, but those two maladies captured a sentiment I was finding at every turn at the time. I was running a lot, both literally and figuratively, and I was pushing myself in a way that was hurting my body. Hence, the constant shin splints. The lovesickness part came from feeling like I wasn’t capable of being desired, or of being attractive to someone; I felt like I had so much love to give, and nowhere to put it. I still find that a lot now. Thus, this “dream where I’m running all the time,” was an illusory reality in which I could feel running as freedom, not fear. The anxiety and self-worth crises permeate throughout the project, a constant push-and-pull of trying to feel enough.
Your writing feels deeply introspective, like entries from a journal. How do you decide which of those “blue-ink secrets” are ready to become songs?
Writing for me is hardly ever about choice. Whatever I’m feeling, I’ve fortunately cultivated a willingness to empty it out onto the page. The hardest part is rolling out of bed at night, turning on my reading light, and actually writing it down–that’s the real “work.” Yet, a large part of what I write doesn’t end up becoming a song, or at least not a long-lasting one, not because of any sense of reservation but just because sometimes the music doesn’t come through. It usually happens that some sort of feeling will be waiting at my door, and then it’ll come through the back window, and then through the shower drain, and all of the sudden I’ve got to write about this thing. Those are the best ones.
You’ve described Willow as exploring shame, loss, forgiveness, and love. Which of those emotions felt the hardest to write about, and which felt the most freeing?
Amazing question. I think I would have to say shame. I’m at a point in my life where I’ve never been so proud of the person I’m becoming, and yet I still feel shame in almost everything I do. The shame on this project comes in many forms: in being a dreamer, in being queer, in still being alone. The feeling that there was something wrong with me has long established this drive within my soul to keep improving, in a way motivating and restless. I once wrote a lyric (that will probably soon be repurposed into a new song) that “shame is in my shadow.” I surely feel that’s true, though each time I write about it and each time I realize what I’m capable of, a little more light comes overhead and the shadow shrinks.
At just 20, your music already carries a real sense of wisdom and reflection. Do you feel that comes from personal experience, or more from observation and empathy?
I’d like to say both. I’ve always been an observer, and I’ve always been deeply in touch with my emotions. At the same time, I’ve hidden things from myself in plain sight, and thus I feel as though I know a little bit about the unconscious and repression. A few events over the past five years have shifted me almost fully into what feels like adulthood. I felt something change in the air as these singular days or nights occurred, and I think it’s built into me an acceptance for people and things as they are, and in that way I’m able to think and forgive, to notice with a little less judgement.
The duality of “balancing the future and the past” runs throughout your work. How do you navigate that tension creatively when writing or producing?
God I’m such a sucker for nostalgia. We all are. But I think I’ve learned to let go of my view of the past a little bit, because of how painful and unrealistic it truly is. Now, when I realize I’m looking back on things with a greater admiration, I try to apply it to my present. I think, “wow I am so stressed right now, but in a couple months I’m gonna look back and say ‘that was one of my dreams coming true.’” And in that, I’m able to appreciate the present through the past, and in that way it helps me figure out the future. But, I’m still learning to actually do it and not just say it, so long way to go.
Your sound draws comparisons to Ryan Beatty and Conan Gray, both known for emotional honesty and strong vocal presence. What do you admire most about their artistry?
I just love them both so much! Conan was probably the most influential artist of my teens. I fell in love with him and his music in high school; his personality was so open, and he talked about things I resonated with in a way that revealed a sense of shame and hesitance. We felt so alike. I’d say he was probably the main reason I even decided to grow out my hair, which is basically my only personality trait now. Conan taught me how to come into my identity, and inspired me to start songwriting. Ryan is a newer influence for me; I only fully started listening to his albums from late 2024 until now. Calico absolutely changed me. No notes. A perfect album. His voice– gorgeous, his face– gorgeous, his songwriting– gorgeous. And introspective. He’s an idol of mine and I truly believe he’s only going to grow in influence and talent.
Can you tell us about a moment during the making of Willow when you realized this project was going to define a new chapter for you?
Recording Willow was one of the most uncomfortable and scary things I have EVER done. Not because there was anything wrong with the way that my producer and I went about it, but because it was so in the deep end for me. I didn’t grow up with a musical education, and started learning basic theory and guitar when I was 17. So at this point I’ve only been songwriting for three, almost four years. So imposter syndrome is putting it lightly. Even now I always feel like I’m not playing on time or as skillfully as others, and making Willow felt like the ultimate challenge of “do I have what it takes and can I mentally handle trying to realize a dream?” And the answer is lowkey yes, which is crazy to say!
There’s a mystical, almost cinematic quality in the way you describe your songs, like “sonic histories.” How intentional is that storytelling approach in your music?
The storytelling is everything to me; I’ve always considered myself a writer first, and a musician second. That’s why it’s crazy to me when I play shows or venues where people can hardly hear what I’m saying, but they still have a good time. Like.. you like it even if you can’t hear my little wordplays? Describing my music initially felt really hard for me, as if I couldn’t say good things about it that felt true. Yet, the exposure therapy of promoting myself forced me to not only get comfortable with doing so, but to actually start believing that there was something special here, especially when other people agreed.
As a debut artist, what’s one thing you hope listeners understand about you after hearing Willow for the first time?
If listeners are interested enough to fully and thoughtfully engage with the EP, I’d like to think that by the end, I’ll feel familiar to them. The title track, “Willow,” especially feels like my heart open on display. From the tongue in cheek self-deprecation to the extended metaphor of the bridge, the song fully captures who I am: I love literature, I love yearning, I’d like to think I’m kind of funny. Most of all, I take my work very seriously, but I move through life with a light heart. That song is so sentimental to me, and I’m so glad and shocked with how perfectly the self-titled debut thing happened.
You’ve said music is a world you “knew you’d never leave.” What’s been the most grounding or life-changing part of stepping into that world so fully?
I performed alone for the first time the month I graduated high school. Performance since then has become such an essential and regenerative part of my life. That was the first time I had ever been told I had a knack for music, and the massive support came at a time that would be followed by the most challenging era of my life. Now, I get to play every couple of weeks, to my amazing friends and new listeners, and each time I feel changed. Performing reveals to me what I’m capable of, that I can be social and charming, and that the words that I say do have impacts on people. It feels incredibly healing to say that I enjoy the spotlight and that I am a selfless person, and that those two things are not mutually exclusive. Stepping into the confidence to reach for my aspirations has been the most confirming and validating sensation that I could never forget.
Listen to “Willow” here.
