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An Inspired Chat with Brad Wallace of Long Beach

We recently had the chance to connect with Brad Wallace and have shared our conversation below.

Brad, really appreciate you sharing your stories and insights with us. The world would have so much more understanding and empathy if we all were a bit more open about our stories and how they have helped shaped our journey and worldview. Let’s jump in with a fun one: What makes you lose track of time—and find yourself again?
For me, it’s the moment a story or a song starts taking shape. Whether that’s worldbuilding, finding a character’s voice, or finally getting that mix to sit just right, time stops being linear. Hours disappear, but in the best way possible. It’s that rare space where intuition takes over and the technical and the emotional meet in perfect harmony.

I also find myself again in the collaborative moments: when a writer pitches an idea that unlocks a new part of my brain, when a voice actor surprises me with a read that shifts the character in a way I wasn’t imagining, or when a new melody just clicks and the song’s canvas suddenly fills with color. Those sparks reconnect me to why I fell in love with audio in the first place.

Whether it’s crafting stories for children or mixing a track for one of my own projects, that flow state is where I feel most aligned creatively, personally, and professionally. That’s where I disappear and show up fully at the same time.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Absolutely! My name is Brad Wallace, I’m a Senior Audio Producer and storyteller helping shape the soundscape of Tonies, a children’s media company dedicated to sparking imagination through screen-free audio. I oversee the development and production of our original stories and music.

My background is a mix of studio craft, production, and a lifelong love of music. Like many in our industry, early in my career I was saying yes to everything. I ran a record label for a few years out of college, then moved into the live event space. All the while, I continued freelancing, which eventually led me back to the studio world. Over the last 10 years, I’ve produced audio for and with a variety of major brands including Spotify, Wondery, and Delta Air Lines. Most recently, that focus has shifted to children’s media, an incredible and rewarding space that I’m so grateful to be a part of. What makes my work unique is that it sits at the intersection of all those experiences, and at the end of the day, I’m looking to spark imaginations and take listeners on an audio journey. I couldn’t ask for a better job to provide that. For my first few years at Tonies, I developed and produced much of our licensed content, so working with PBS Kids, Paramount, and NBCUniversal on many of their major children’s IPs. In 2023, I transitioned to our Originals & Music development team, and that shift has been a deeply rewarding experience.

Beyond Tonies, I’m constantly cultivating new ideas, whether it’s producing music for myself and friends, doing a variety of mix work, or occasionally still DJing or performing live.

Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What did you believe about yourself as a child that you no longer believe?
What a great question! The best part about producing stories and music for kids is that I’m able to not only pull from my experiences as a child but can focus on creating content that fills some of those gaps, places where it didn’t always feel like I had the support needed.

As a kid, I genuinely believed that I had to figure everything out on my own. I thought being “independent” meant not asking for help, not showing uncertainty, and definitely not admitting when something felt too big for me. I carried this idea that leaning on others somehow made me less capable.

I don’t believe that anymore. Collaboration, guidance, mentorship, and community have become the backbone of my career, and honestly, my life. The best ideas I’ve ever been part of came from shared creativity, shared curiosity, and shared vulnerability. I’ve learned that asking for help doesn’t weaken you; it opens doors you didn’t even know existed.

Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
There were definitely a few moments early in my career where the uncertainty hit hard. I felt like I was constantly just staying afloat, especially in those first few years after college. After graduating, I moved from Wisconsin, the place I’d grown up my whole life, down to Phoenix, AZ. I had no real plan outside of my gut instinct telling me to chase something bigger.

Within a few months, I’d met a handful of like-minded creatives, and together we started a record label. Around that same time, one of them introduced me to Erik Johnson, the owner of Desert Vista Studios, and only a few short weeks later I was working for him as their Studio Manager. Both opportunities were incredibly rewarding, but they came with a grind that was intense.

A normal day looked like this: wake up at 6 a.m., handle label tasks and emails, head to the studio for a full workday, duck out at lunch to pick up flyers for an event, drop them at a venue, race back to the studio, finish my shift around 4 p.m., then hold meetings or take calls for the label for another few hours. Our label quickly became a hub for live event production and promotion, so most nights I’d be at venues from 7 p.m. until midnight running sound, working the door, paying out bands, wherever I could help. Then I’d grab a few hours of sleep and do it all again.

I was hungry. I was driven. But after a few years of that pace, it took its toll. When the label folded after four years, it felt like failure, even though we accomplished so much. At the time, I wasn’t so sure.

But here’s what I couldn’t see yet: even at my lowest, the studio was still the place I felt grounded. Shortly after the label disbanded, I ended up starting a podcast, this was around 2010, and it gained a bit of traction online. That opened the door for me to produce a similar show for a local college radio station. Those little sparks were enough to pull me back in to where I knew I belonged. It was only a few short years later I was fully back in the studio, more focused on the production side and my path since that has sort of naturally unfolded.

Looking back now, that “almost” moment didn’t break me, it refocused me. It pushed me to get intentional about who I wanted to be and the kind of work I wanted to create. And it ultimately led me to what I’m doing today, which is hands down the most fulfilling chapter of my career.

I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. Whom do you admire for their character, not their power?
Wow, so many I could mention here but the first that came to mind is Jeff Rosenstock. Not because of his fame or influence, but because of his character. Rosenstock is one of those rare artists who has built a career rooted in not chasing commercial success, but in doing things the right way authentically and with real-world impact.

Jeff’s work in the DIY world is legendary. Early in his career, he formed projects like Bomb the Music Industry!, which became synonymous with an intensely inclusive, community-first approach to music favoring accessible all-ages shows, affordable touring, and a spirit of mutual support. Beyond the music, he founded Quote Unquote Records, the first donation-based record label, a model built around the idea that art should be available to everyone, and people should contribute what they can, not what they’re forced to pay. That commitment to access over profit, and values over revenue, says a lot about who he is.

What really stands out to me is that despite wider recognition and critical acclaim in more recent years, he hasn’t abandoned those values. He’s stayed true: accessibility, honesty, collaboration, and community. He is proof you can have a long, meaningful creative career without selling out your principles.

Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: If you laid down your name, role, and possessions—what would remain?
Another great question… I think what would remain is the art. That’s the part of me that isn’t tied to titles, achievements, or recognition. It’s the stories, the sounds, the little creative choices that ripple outward in ways I may never fully see.

At the end of the day, impact doesn’t have to be massive to matter. If something I made helped even one person feel understood, comforted, inspired, or a little less alone, even for a moment, that’s enough for me. Changing one person’s life, even in the smallest way, feels like the purest version of success. Everything else is just the packaging around it.

What remains is the intention, the empathy, and the desire to make the world a bit brighter through sound. That’s the part that lasts, long after the job titles or possessions fade.

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