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Photo by AJ Woomer

Rushing, or exiting quickly from Miami, into the unknown in a truck with an Airstream in tow, the origins of Jonah Kegan's album Sunflowers and Leather, had romantic threads right from the beginning. That cross-Americana journey was abruptly paused with an accident, and born of that tumble of steel and glass was a pivot into creation, rebirth and renewal. Cleverly adapting a studio within the Airstream, Jonah compiled his on-the-road experiences, and has delivered an absolute album of the year contender. Wanting to know so much more about this ardent humanist and burgeoning talent, we caught with Jonah in his newly minted home studio to learn about life, love, and what this album has in store for us:

OnesToWatch: Why are you an artist? 

Jonah Kagen: Man, honestly, I feel like I need to be in service of people, and I find that I say this and people don't understand. It's a little jarring to hear at first, because I'm not particularly passionate about music and making a career in it. For me, it's about the service, and the best way that I can create a community and provide something for somebody and give back, is through music. But, in other ways, I am passionate about music in the sense that it's an expression of my soul, it's my thumbprint. To me, music has been the easiest way for me to communicate my soul and by doing that, I can serve more people. And so I think that is the reason why I choose to be in this industry in service of art, however it ends up taking form. 

That presents a beautiful pivot question, which is, if it wasn't in music, how would you imagine yourself spending your life?

Before I went to college, I found this study that psychologists had done basically saying that people derive much greater actual utility from spending money on experiences and unique experiences. And that they were more altruistic after experiencing awe of some kind. For example, once you cross the Grand Canyon, if there was somebody asking for money, most people would generally be more altruistic. It's a digression, however, my point is, I was obsessed with this idea of bringing somebody something that they couldn't get anywhere else. So, when I was first starting, it's very random, but I was studying a lot of horror related stuff. It's very niche but I studied horror sound, and I was big into puzzles and escape rooms and things like that. If I wasn't doing this, I would be designing very experienced, specific escape rooms and horror excursions. But the short answer to your question is, I would be doing the same exact thing that I feel like I'm doing now, just via different modems. 

How long have you been writing music? I'm especially curious given that you don't claim music to be a "calling," but were you dabbling in it? 

I was a jazz guitarist, so I started when I was little. I was playing guitar, but it was always a hobby. It was the same with production and literature and poetry and things like that. I was a soccer player above anything else, actually. I played soccer in college. But I had all of these very specific, heady interests also. And it was in the middle of college, when COVID happened, that my mindset started to shift towards not doing soccer for the rest of my life. I'd like for it to be dedicated towards the pursuit of this thing that I'm obsessed with. Originally it was going to be escape rooms and experience based games, then I started posting my music and it was like, here's an opportunity. It is way more meaningful than I ever even thought that it could be. I'm going to be here for as long as people will have me, but if it stops tomorrow, I will never stop being in service of people, and I will never stop trying to give somebody that experience, whatever it is. Removing myself from the pressure makes it easier, I don't get caught up in the numbers or how things are moving. And I do have a weird sense of guilt saying that because I know that there are people who have spent their whole lives chasing, trying to do this one specific thing. The way that I've come to curb that guilt, is that whatever I do, I'll die before I don't give it absolutely everything. And so I recognize that there's so much luck in this, but I will defend the fact that I will forever work my ass off. 

Diving into the music a little bit, do you have a songwriting process? 

I can't do sessions for myself. I can't sit down with the intention of writing a song and everybody comes over and they write stuff. I can do it for other people. I love doing that because I can come into their environment. For me, I have to do it myself. I spend a lot of time in my head, so I think my songwriting process is situational – like if I spend a lot of time on an idea, it will stick, or if something happens to me, it'll feel like I have to write about it. This whole album is basically just a collection of stories that I accrued over the year that I was out on the road in my Airstream. Each one of those things was something I felt I had to tell. But I cannot write about things when I'm in them. If I'm sad, no shot, I can't write. I don't know how people do that, some people, it's their therapy. But for me, it doesn't heal the feelings to write it down. The thing that does it for me is the thought of making something to give away. So, when I have a thought that's like, "I wonder if other people have thought about this," or "People need to know that this is a big question that doesn't have an answer," that's the thing I'll write about. And there's no shortage of those things when you spend 90% of your time in your head. So I'll just pick up a guitar and mutter words and eventually it turns into something. That's my general process. It's a bit all over the place, and definitely not the Nashville way. I'm not coming in with the title "Circus Animal" and having everyone write to that. 

It sounds like self-editing and tracklisting would be hard for you. How do you go about that? 

My voice memos are filled up with musical ideas and melodies, and if a thought happens to come, I always write it down. Not a lyric or song idea, but a thought, something I want to talk about. More often than not, the songs that end up actually getting written are the songs that don't go away, so that's my criteria for making an album – I have a billion thoughts a day, but which ones can I just not shake. I know in my bones that I'll write something about it, and when I do, it sticks. My family's very type A, but I don't like to plan, and my music follows suit with that. When I have something to say, I just have to write, even if it's the middle of the night, I just have to follow the instinct. 

That's a great way to pivot to the album, Sunflowers and Leather. You said you took a year to travel, is that when the album was written? 

Yes, I had written and produced the entire album from a mobile studio on the road. Some of the songs are actual stories that happened on the road. Like if I got into an accident or saw a cow or something. But it's all very contained within this one year time period – sonically and from a songwriting perspective – so it's very cohesive. The last song ends with the door closing on my Airstream. Now, I work out of my studio in Nashville, and honestly, I don't think I'll go back to making music from the road. The album lives in the airstream, and I want to leave it there. 

What was your recording setup in the Airstream? Why did you decide to use that space instead of where you were working before? 

So the chronology was: I signed a record deal in college, graduated early, moved to L.A, went on tour immediately, the first time I sang in front of anybody was on tour. I didn't make it very long in L.A., I lasted nine months. I moved to Nashville into an apartment and I was learning how to really produce when I was in Nashville. I lived alone there. And then my college girlfriend didn't want to take a job in Nashville and she took a job in Miami. That was when I got way more committed to production because I was like, if I'm moving to Miami, this place that I don't want to be in where there is no industry that has anything to do with me, I got to figure out how to do this stuff myself. In that process, it took like six months of me just going dark, and just really, really working. I discovered the real value of writing stuff that's scary and honest and the benefit of doing the production yourself. My head was just down, I was working, but I started to feel really cooped up. I felt like I had done everything I could there. That relationship ended, I bought the Airstream, went out on the road and did the thing. 

It felt like it was the right time to commit to the thing. I had this severe itch to go see stuff. And I know now with the amount of work I've invested in the production and the writing, whatever comes out of me, I have the tools now.
I know it's going to be honest. 

But as far as technical setup goes, I really took a chance on the Airstream. Ironically, the floors are exposed vinyl, which is really good for sound absorption. And it's kind of an abnormal shape, so there's not a lot of room for reflection. So it ended up being fine... even if it sounded bad though, I wanted it to sound human. There are a lot of really weird little things that made their way into the recordings. 

There's a long understood romance of travel and being a classic troubadour with their guitar slung across their back and going from town to town. Did you have any of that feeling? 

Yes, but also I'm pretty self-aware, and there would be times, parked on the side of a mountain eating almonds, and it's like, "What am I doing?" I'm feeding peanut butter to a cow, and it's just so cartoonish. I was hit with this understanding of the stark difference of the glamour and aesthetic of these experiences, and the reality of them. You watch a movie or a travel vlog and it looks amazing, but they don't show the times you're cleaning out your poop tank or desperately trying to find an outlet or sleeping in a Cracker Barrel parking lot. I had to embrace those moments too, not just the ones where I was walking down the street with my guitar strapped to my back. The struggle became a part of it. 

If everything goes well for this album and your ambitions are met, what does that look like? Is it successful just from the effect it has on people? 

I mean, I'm already satiated when it comes to that. I'm going to do it forever. But the pursuit is what is really satiating. I've always said, from the very beginning, that if one person is there or one person is impacted by what you're doing, then it's enough to keep doing it. So to me, if the album doesn't do well, my ego's going to hurt for a second, but I think I'd take it on the chin and keep moving, because somebody will like it. And I'm lucky enough now, at this point in my career, where at least one of these songs will be somebody's favorite song, and that's enough. 

I think the way it's streaming, you've avoided that fate. I'm going to pivot to some fun questions. What do you do to relax and clear your mind? 

I'm outside 90% of the time. Moving my body is so important to me. I was a soccer player in college, but I also love doing random active stuff. My roommate and I just started going to the batting cages. We don't know how to do it, really, but we both have a baseline level of athleticism where it doesn't look insane. 

How fast are you setting it to? 

This place that we've been going to goes up to 70. And we were hitting 70. 

Dude, that's like minor league stuff. 

It's so fast. It's scary. I'm not going to pretend like I know what I'm doing, but I definitely have this really deep appreciation for life beyond music. And so while I have a crippling productivity complex, I like things like my dog and soccer and I have a pickup league here in Nashville and I play golf, I go to batting cages, I run, I climb. It's just being out and about. Granted, that's also the opposite of relaxation if you think about it. But I have trouble sitting still in general. 

I totally empathize, I have a lot going on in my head, so I always have a lot of projects, side quests. If you could curate your dream show, where would you perform, and with who? 

Obviously Red Rocks. I'm sure everybody says Red Rocks. That's just an unreal place. A dream would be something like Red Rocks that's outside, maybe out in Montana. There are a few Montana venues that are just unbelievable. I just played at the Old Saloon, and it was so beautiful. So I would say my dream venue would probably be like a field in Montana somewhere, not necessarily a specific thing, but somewhere out there where everybody's outside on a lawn and I can have all of the people that inspired me musically come and play and be a part of it. I would love to have an orchestra behind me.

Amazing. Last couple of questions. I'd love a non-music recommendation: something you've read, an activity, something to watch, etc. 

I have a million little little tidbits. The first that immediately came to mind is: go to the dog park more often. I think everybody would be happier if they went to the dog park more often. And the other is to read Green lights. It’s a Matthew McConaughey autobiography, and it really was my final straw for going and getting the Airstream. Those would be my recommendations for sure. Oh, and also go to Montana, but don't stay there because it's cold? 

Good to know. Finally, we love when artists put us on to other artists. Are there any music recommendations you can give us of artists on the rise?

First of all, my best friend of all time, Vincent Leba, who I live with. We met, actually, because he opened up for me two years ago, something like that. And now we live together and we just became good buddies. But other than that, I recently met this girl, Clover County. She's so dang good. I got two more. Ethan Regan and Amble. Adrienne Lenker is probably my favorite artist right now, but she has gotten some critical acclaim. 

Jonah, this was so lovely getting to speak with you. Hope our paths cross in L.A. Anything you want to sign off with, some wisdom, advice? 

My album comes out September 5th. There's also a documentary that comes out with the album. I took a film crew with me on the route that I made the album on, and filmed a bunch of stuff in the spots where I actually made the music. There's new merch. There's a new newsletter. Come to a show. The show's getting better and better.