Joshua Worden and the ATL sound

Yeah, I’m that guy who FB-befriends everyone with the same name as me. This is partially because I’m self-involved, and partially because I have a not-too-common last name. The upshot is that if your name is Worden, you’ll probably hear from me sooner or later.

Such was the case with Atlanta musician Joshua Worden. I first ran across this phenomenally talented artist and producer from his profile that recently ran on Huffington Post. I reached out, and to my eternal gratitude, he responded. He’s a great guy, engaging and personable; in short order we were able to settle that old controversy as to the proper pronunciation of our shared surname (same as “warden,” not like “wer-den”).

But music had to be the crux of the convo, and for that my timing couldn’t have been better. Joshua has just dropped a new disc, the haunting Always This, a follow-up to his 2012 debut EP, The Withered Tree.

Joshua Worden describes his music as “The slow burn,” or, (less obliquely), as a blend of R&B, jazz, and indie pop with electronic production. In true DIY spirit, he arranges, produces, and records his material from his home studio. Interestingly, although his songs tend to be steeped in emotion, he says that very little of his songwriting is autobiographical. As he told another recent interviewer, “To me, it’s more about a feeling — the way that the musical and lyrical elements blend to create a particular mood or image.”

Perhaps it’s that universality I find so appealing. Or maybe it’s his unique sound, something that probably could only have been born in the soulful melting-pot of urban/urbane ATL. All I know for sure is that it’s not just his name. Don’t get me wrong, that’s a great name he’s got (and there’s nothing wrong with “Joshua” either). But he’s got a prominent spot on my playlist for the music, and only for the music.

Don’t take my word for it, take a listen yourself, by way of his latest video, Midnight:

About editor, facilitator, decider

Doesn't know much about culture, but knows when it's going to hell in a handbasket.
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