Today we’d like to introduce you to Jack-Henry Day.
Thanks for sharing your story with us Jack-Henry. So, let’s start at the beginning and we can move on from there.
Although I wouldn’t categorize it as a “start” per se, it’s difficult upon reflecting not to begin with my sisters and the afternoons I would spend at five years old singing and dancing along to Avril Lavigne and Kelly Clarkson. An immediacy between myself and the music I consumed formed and I began crafting personal narratives influenced and inspired by the artists I cherished. Soon others’ words weren’t enough, I had to rely on my own devices, my own feelings, and my own words to articulate my experiences just right. Naturally, most of my introduction to songwriting came with melodies I’d hum or sing to myself with loose lyrics attached typically inspired by the tribulations every middle-schooler faces. It wasn’t until two years after I picked up a guitar that I started putting the pieces of a song together. Chord progressions, vocal melodies, and my favorite part the lyrics. Suddenly I had an entire medium that I was ready to explore and vice versa.
My second year at USC, I took a class that would change the path of my life monumentally. Andrea Stolpe’s songwriting course in which performances for fellow classmates were mandatory. This private art form in which I would express my even more private thoughts was going to be willingly exposed. Since that semester I’ve written upwards of fifty songs. Most bewilderingly and at times deliberately awful. Some, however, I think just might actually be pretty good. With so much content and the resources of some truly magical students I decided my junior year to put together a handful of songs that I thought stood out. The ones that were unapologetically queer, visceral, vulnerable, and hopefully to some degree infectious. Since that decision, I’ve been recording with Charlie Brite and my co-writer Harrison Poe at Seahorse Sound Studio in downtown Los Angeles. I released my debut single “Blush” this past June and have a second single dropping later next month “In the Morning”. Two music videos shot, three songs left to record before the album is done, and a newfound confidence within my relationship to music.
We’re always bombarded by how great it is to pursue your passion, etc – but we’ve spoken with enough people to know that it’s not always easy. Overall, would you say things have been easy for you?
Blessedly not. I’ve always loved the journeys more than the destinations, or at least the ones I’ve actually fulfilled. If the road was smooth, I’d only have contentment and consistency to write about. Two things I only want to fully understand later on in my life. The first struggle was an internal one. Should I use male pronouns when describing same sex experiences in my songs? I’ve been fully out of the closet as a bisexual man for over two years now but there seemed to be a plethora of reasons to replace every “he” lyric with a “she”. There are some truly amazing queer pop-stars like Halsey, Troye Sivan, and Sam Smith but even they are a small voice in a much larger landscape. It’s scary to be completely honest with yourself and your art. It’s even scarier to offer the fruits of those internal conversations to anyone with a Spotify or iTunes account.
However, if there’s one thing I’ve heard again and again from the artists I look up to and my loved ones it’s that being true to yourself won’t always be easy but it will always be right. So, some of my songs are about boys and some are about girls and I’m lucky to have the privilege of not having to hide any part of my identity in my music. Not every artist or human can say that, and if anyone who has felt stifled can find just a piece of comfort or solace through hearing my songs then that’s worth more than any amount of animosity or judgement thrown my way.
The second major obstacle was more external. I had just started working with a new producer and was slowly but surely establishing a strong professional relationship. For a moment, I was under the impression that they would produce my entire record. We ultimately only completed one song together before they decided they no longer had time to work with me. This realization coming a week after promising to see the whole project through. No conversation, no warning, just a text message containing an apology. It donned on me that making music, unless you’re a prodigy, is and always has been a collaboration. I can write the base of all of my songs, but until I learn how to record them, produce them, and compose a myriad of other instrumental parts, I will always be somewhat reliant on others.
Up until this point in my recording career I never had a reason to resent this fact. I love working with other artists, it can be one of the most rewarding and satiating experiences. It can also be disheartening. Recording this album has meant the world to me but at the end of the day what it means to me is not and should not mean the same to others. People should have their own opinions, relations, and understandings of the art we release. And if someone, particularly a collaborator, lets you down, it’s up to you to keep going and to find another way to accomplish your vision. When this experience occurred, hard feelings were in abundance, but as the distance increased and time went on, I realized that everyone’s priorities are different and sometimes life happens unexpectedly. Empathy is invaluable, a lesson I had forgotten in the heat of a negative moment.
The last major struggle is both internal and external. Songwriting is therapeutic to me, but when exploring some of the most vulnerable places of my mind the traumatic, the forgotten, and the anxious can arise. Songwriting became a necessary crutch to me during a frenzied time in my life. I’m eternally thankful it entered my life in part because it elicited my mental health journey. Who knew I could have depression, anxiety, and borderline personality disorder without even knowing? My songs did. They are an extension of me, intentionally or not, it’s unavoidable. If I didn’t have a metaphorical mirror staring at me through lined journals and guitar strings I have no idea where I’d be today.
We’d love to hear more about your work and what you are currently focused on. What else should we know?
I’ve never been the best when it comes to compromising and artistically this couldn’t be truer. Right now, the primary focus is on music. I am writing pop melodies with lyrics that contemplate the complexities of my identity paired with nostalgic eighties synths and seventies funk-inspired bass guitar lines. The goal with this album, “Safety Pin” is to offer pop music that thrives because of the dichotomy it possesses between its instrumentation and lyricism. The lead single, “Blush” has been downloaded over a million times and its accompanying music video is coming out within a matter of days directed by the incomparable Hampus Wahlin and shot by Brandon Le. Earlier this summer I signed with my acting manager Jodi Schoenbrun Carter of 1022 management focusing on television and film. I’ve also been helping produce some short films and advertisements with Alec Veznedaroglu of ASCNSN Studio.
On top of music, acting, and producing I’ve been editing my first novel, Borderline and beginning the process of self-publishing. I think I will always be a storyteller and part of my personal relationship to narrative is using as many forms as I know how to. I love fiction, playwriting, screenwriting, and songwriting. I’ve been lucky enough to not have to choose just one and I sincerely hope I never have to. Each medium possesses a unique set of iconographies, limitations and exceptions. Finding the best way to tell a story based on the form one is using is one of my favorite parts of creating a narrative. I think we have an obligation to the “how” of the story we’re telling, and identifying why we choose to tell something a certain way is a big part of fulfilling that responsibility.
Has luck played a meaningful role in your life and business?
I wish I had a better belief system when it comes to luck, fate, or a general indifference. The truth is sometimes I feel as though luck has to be real. How else could I still be on this earth, at the current time, getting the opportunity to do what I love. That can’t just be a coincidence, right? The romantic in me says that luck has followed me through every major life decision. Sometimes it might take a while to manifest and showcase its intention but somehow is always right in the end. Then the pragmatist in me says I’m just looking for ways to either make sense of this sequence of variables or discredit what I deserve.
What I do know, however, is that songwriting saved my life. It opened up a dialogue between parts of myself that I never offered the time of day. Without those conversations I wouldn’t have been able to remove the stigma of mental health and not feeling okay all the time. Without the people in my life, I wouldn’t still be facing every day upright with a hesitant smile. Maybe fate had something to do with all of this, maybe luck, maybe both or neither but whatever the objective truth is, if it even exists, I get to sing songs, love people, and accept help. At the end of the day, that has to be more important than trying to understand exactly why things are the way they are.
Contact Info:
- Website: jackhenryday.com
- Email: [email protected]
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jackhenryday/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JHSD13/
- Other: https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiG-on_zqfkAhVLJzQIHamwBkAQFjAAegQIARAB&url=https%3A%2F%2Fopen.spotify.com%2Falbum%2F1bCGf9s9lFuKvvzU4IhzEW&usg=AOvVaw39AuVDEpewRcXeNXNkCccL
Image Credit:
Emily Jade Visual, Brandon Le, Elisabeth Day, Joy Cheever
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