Rising Stars: Meet Ron Blakely of Los Angeles

Today we’d like to introduce you to Ron Blakely.

Hi Ron, we’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
Sure thing! My name is Ron Blakely. I’m a musical artist and singer-songwriter born and raised in Southern California. I’ve been singing for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories is being 7 years old, belting the chorus of “You Can’t Hurry Love” by The Supremes alone in my room — over and over, because it was the only part I remembered — until my sister walked in on me and I stopped immediately out of embarrassment. I was incredibly shy as a kid, so looking back, I think singing was a therapeutic outlet for me, a way to express emotions I didn’t yet have the language for.

I didn’t come from a professional musical family, but I was raised around a lot of music. I grew up in a Black and Filipino household, so culturally, music was everywhere: karaoke, Motown, R&B, classic soul, gospel, big voices, big feelings. Both of my parents sang, and several aunts and uncles on both sides either sang or played instruments. My mom used to hum and sing me to sleep as a baby, so music was brewing in me from birth. I joined choir in middle school, eventually led worship in high school, and around 15, I picked up a guitar and started writing my own songs.

I studied English and Theatre Arts at the University of Redlands, and gained additional musical training through summer programs at Berklee College of Music in Boston. From 2014–2016, I independently released music and performed in a vocal/guitar duo called Blakely & Haklitch. A lot of the songs we wrote together I still perform today. After we parted ways, I continued performing in local theater and intimate venues sporadically for the next few years.

In early 2020, my life changed. I lost my mother to heart complications related to chronic kidney disease, right at the start of the COVID-19 lockdown. Barely a year later, COVID took my father. So while the world was experiencing a global pandemic, I was also grieving the loss of both of my parents, my foundation. Not only was I isolated in my grief, but the world itself was physically isolated. That’s when I returned to songwriting. It became a lifeline — a way to cope with the heartbreak and massive shifts happening inside and around me.

In 2023, I started sharing and performing some of those songs live. That’s when I realized the power of them: shared grief, shared humanity. After shows, people would come up to me and tell me about their loved ones, their own losses, and how the music comforted them. That response is what ultimately led to the project I’m currently working on, my EP BLUE — a body of work about survival, grief, letting go of what no longer serves you, and reclaiming joy after pain.

Today, I perform my original music and covers both as a solo artist and with my band, The Playlist Band. I’ve played at venues like Morongo Casino, Downtown Disney, The Hotel Café, and The Troubadour. Ultimately, my goal is to keep singing, sharing, and creating spaces of connection for anyone who resonates with what I do.

Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
The road definitely hasn’t been smooth. Outside of losing my parents, I’ve struggled most of my life with self-worth, mental health, and all the challenges that come with being a creative in a world that often feels like it wasn’t designed for us. I talked myself out of opportunities because I didn’t feel ready or deserving. I would shrink instead of show up. I’d write songs and tell myself, “This is just for me,” as a way of protecting myself.

But then I started sharing — and it changed everything. I realized that sometimes the things we think are “just for us” are actually meant to be offered to others. You never know who needs to hear your story, or who your art might comfort. Whether it’s something big or something small, you never truly understand your own impact until you stop hiding. I don’t want to stay hidden anymore. I want to share fully. In a way, it’s healing — connection is healing — and I choose it every day. Some days it’s harder than others, but I’m learning to catch myself when I start to shrink or disappear.

A big part of this work has been learning how to take up space confidently; not apologizing, not making myself small, but owning my place in the room. I grew up believing that being passive, quiet, and non-confrontational made me “good.” Those are deep-seated ideas I’m still unlearning, but I’m doing my best.

Honestly, community has carried me more than anything. My sisters, my nieces, my nephews, my friends; they’ve held me up in ways I can never repay. They’ve laughed with me, sat through the heavy moments, and reminded me over and over that I’m not alone. They helped me find my voice again at a time when I truly thought I had lost it. There’s a heaviness that comes with grief that I think I’ll always carry, but I also know I don’t have to carry it alone.

Losing both of my parents is ultimately what shifted my perspective the most. It made life feel so precious, so short, so urgent in a way I never felt before. I don’t want to move through life half-heartedly. I’m learning to trust that my art and passion aren’t accidents; they’re connected to my purpose. I honestly believe I’m here for a reason. Life has shown me evidence of that through the people I’ve met, the moments I’ve lived through, and the ways music has opened doors for me.

So now, I’m choosing to show up. I’m choosing to share my art with intention. Still cautiously — I’m a Taurus, I love stability — but even with the fear, I’m moving forward.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I’m an artist, singer, songwriter, and performer. I make music that’s rooted in vulnerability, healing, and joy. Some days that looks like sharing my original songs in intimate venues, and other days it’s performing with my band, The Playlist Band, at weddings, private events, or casinos. As long as I’m singing, and I’m with people I love or feel connected to, I’m happy.

People usually tell me they connect to my voice first — the raspy-yet-sweet texture, the emotional warmth in it, the way it makes them feel safe or seen. I think that comes from me writing and singing from a very real place. Everything I do is for the 7-year-old shy kid who had to sing just to let it all out. I’m not afraid to talk about grief, heartbreak, resilience, or the parts of life that aren’t picture-perfect. Honestly, I feel like that’s the only way I can make art without it feeling forced.

My goal isn’t just to perform, it’s to connect. I want people to leave my shows feeling lighter, comforted, or understood. I didn’t grow up seeing many people who looked like me or sounded like me in these spaces, so part of my mission is to show up fully as myself and create room for others to do the same — even when fear or shame tries to creep in.

What I’m most proud of is that I didn’t give up, especially in moments where that felt like the easy option. I kept going through grief, doubt, and all the reasons to stay small or disappear. Life is precious, and I’d rather live it doing what I love than spend another minute living half a life. Now I’m stepping into my purpose: using my voice to help people feel a little less alone, whether they’re standing in a crowd at a show or listening quietly through headphones.

Can you share something surprising about yourself?
Something surprising about me is that, despite being a performer, I’m still incredibly shy and a heavy introvert. I told that to an acquaintance once and they laughed in my face — but it’s true! Because I connect with so many people and have a lot of beautiful friends in my life, people assume I have this endless capacity for social energy. The reality is… after a gig or social gathering, I go straight to my car and sit in complete silence. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve driven home with nothing playing — no music, no podcast — just silence. And honestly, I love that feeling.

As a kid, I was very soft-spoken, and performing is still the thing that helps me open up. Onstage is where I feel the most free, the most able to take up space. Offstage, I’m pretty reserved.

I’m learning to balance my capacity for interaction at a pace that feels good, but my social battery drains quickly. I love people and I love connecting deeply, but afterward I usually need time alone — binging a tv show, listening to music, or just turning my brain off to recharge. Performing may look bold, but most of my free time (which isn’t much) is spent being quiet, cozy, and recharging my spirit.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.ronblakely.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ronblakely
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ronblakelymusic
• Youtube: http://youtube.com/@ronblakely
• Other: https://open.spotify.com/artist/2WBdFlBNRyHHqtI0M3IO8K?si=EoVfz4IhSea1Indh-OeLWQ

Image Credits
Bailey Drew Michael Wolfe Carleigh Hyser Molly Hudelson Sarah Rain