Austin Expats: Alex Wolffe

GREAT ARTISTS OFTEN CONVERGE in particular places, drawn together by timing and circumstances and some inexplicable energy that finds somewhere to take root. Shakespeare and Company was a bookstore in Paris where big names like Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, James Joyce, and F. Scott Fitzgerald all convened. Vesuvio in San Francisco brought together the likes of Jack Keroac and Allen Ginsberg. The cafes and bars and bookstores where art is inspired or created—and the cities where they’re located—can arguably be as significant as the art itself, especially when those places allow people who are on similar creative wavelengths to congregate, supporting one another in ways that, without those places, they couldn’t. 

I met Alex Wolffe in the summer of 2021 through a similarly magical concoction of timing and circumstances and energy, at another venue named after a great artist: Mozart’s Coffee Roasters. It was there I first witnessed his unique, earnest brand of songwriting. A skinny, unassuming kid who looked like he’d just graduated college and was still trying to grow a beard nonetheless had a voice, a lyricism, and an overall craftsmanship and wisdom well beyond his years. He sounded like a classic 1970s songwriter, someone you’d imagine drifting over the airwaves of California. There was a strong folk undercurrent to his music, but the more I listened, I could pick out a contemporary side as well—snippets of Fleet Foxes or M. Ward. It was clear from the first time I heard Alex that he was something special, even among the other incredible talent I was witnessing at Mozart’s at the time.

That’s why it’s so unfortunate, but perhaps also inevitable, that the communities that form in these creative spaces inevitably drift apart. It’s unrealistic to expect that so much talent concentrated in one place will continue: artists need to grow and change if they want to continue being artists. Several people I’ve known in the Austin music scene have emigrated to other parts of the US, and now I’m interested in talking to these Austin expats, so to speak, to get some perspective on how the Live Music Capital of the World influenced them. As a musician living in Austin, I know how this city has impacted me, but people who have moved away likely have a new perspective that can help those of us still here better appreciate and understand what role Austin plays in our lives.

The California vibe I originally detected from Alex was right: originally born and raised in southern California, he recently moved back, but has settled this time in the Bay Area. I caught up with Alex to discuss his time in Texas, his reflections on the Great Austin Renaissance of 2021, and what new experiences he’s soaking up in the Golden State.

* * *

AUSTIN BLUEBONNET: Let’s talk about location. You were born and raised in California, you went to school at UCLA, and then you moved to Texas. What brought you to Austin? 

ALEX WOLFFE: I was involved with someone that I had met in college at UCLA and over the pandemic, we became long distance. She was originally from Texas and she had to go back to live with her family in San Antonio. And basically, we were just trying to find a way to bridge that gap and the long distance. She suggested Austin to me, and originally, I never expected that I would live in Texas. It just wasn't necessarily on my radar.

But, I went out and I visited, and immediately I had  the best impression. I just loved it. And so that was an easy choice for me to make. Some people are very attached to where they grew up, but I was like, “Well, I've never lived outside of California. I wanna try something new.” 

Austin has this reputation as a music city, and I just thought that was great and that it would be a place where I could further my music. And it really did turn out to be true: I accomplished so much as a musician in Austin.

Talk to me about your entry point into the Austin music scene.

When I first moved in December 2020, things were still very uncertain pandemic-wise. I would say for three or four months, I stayed a little bit isolated—I didn't go out much, I didn't do much. I was just trying to be careful. But I started opening up and going out and doing things in general, including music and open mics, around April of 2021.

The first place that I went was actually Opa, and pretty shortly after that, I think just a week later, maybe I went to Mozart's for the first time. And then I also probably went to House Wine for the first time within a month or two after that. Just gradually exploring all of the different places.

It definitely became like a home for me and a community that summer. Absolutely, I found that in Austin, and I do think that over time it changed a lot because, well, nothing stays the same. People move on. They do different things. Nothing is ever going to stay the same.

But at the very least I would say through the summer of 2021, it was just a musical explosion in Austin. And I think if you were there, you definitely know exactly what I'm talking about. It almost felt like the Austin Renaissance in a way.

I say this to a few people and it sounds a little bit exaggerated, but I had a very similar experience where that summer of 2021 was just so formative for me. I think about it like the community that was Hemingway and all these great writers in France back in the early to mid-1900s. Paris was so creative and so formative for so many artists at that time. And that's definitely how I feel about Austin. 

There was a lot of connection. If there was one word, I would say connection. But I also think that it really made me more confident as a performer because when you feel like you're surrounded by talent, you want to embody that yourself. It pushed me to be better as an artist and to grow and learn, and it really helped me a lot, I think, confidence and ability wise. 

I don't know what it was—maybe it was coming from out of COVID and the pandemic. The world felt empty during COVID, and then all of a sudden the world was wide again. Everything was opening up and I think maybe that could have been part of it. Everybody coming out of their shell and going back into the world. Also, at that time, Austin was probably growing at its fastest rate, I would imagine. So all of this new talent coming in as well as existing talent that was coming out of the woodwork just led to that explosion.

I think what was magical about it was that combination of talent and community: that just created this really special, welcoming feeling. It was just a good time.

I always love the idea of iron sharpens iron—being around people who are talented or doing the things that you want to do makes you better. Besides more confidence, did you see any other tangible effects come out of this time, in terms of your songwriting?

My output increased, and also some of my best songs were written during that time. On my album Patterns that I released last spring, all of those songs were written during that time. 

I've always had this folky kind of a style, and I broadened my horizons after moving to Austin and picked up on some other genres and influences, both from what I was hearing around me and just personal exploration on my own. It felt immersive, the music scene at that time. I was inspired to be more prolific because that was just the energy.

Were there any artists or people in the music scene that you felt like maybe you drew particular inspiration from or saw as a kindred spirit?

Definitely. Yeah. I would say a lot of the people that I became friends with. The artist formerly known as Shadow Band, right? [laughs] But, yeah, definitely.

There were my friends Grant McMahan and Stewart Cowan (who's now in Amarillo). Poet Hawkins. John from Austin Music Love, who does so much to foster the local music community. Matt McDonald. The band je’Texas—those guys are incredible. Definitely also Riley Ann. And lots of friends who weren’t as involved in the scene but who made an impact on my life, or were significant in my overall Austin experience, like my old roommate Roly.

There were a lot of people like that, and there's probably some that I haven't listed. For example, I’ll always remember how kind Jeremy Hunt was to me the first time I met him. But beyond specific names, there were so many people that I just thought were amazing but ultimately were like passing ships in the night. Too many people to count, really.

But another instance I wanted to mention, one example of something that was pretty formative to me in Austin. On my song from Patterns, “When You're Far Away,” I have a pedal steel on that. That's not necessarily something that I would have done in the past. It's not something I would have thought of doing if I had never moved to Austin or to Texas generally. I got more exposed to country music throughout my time in Austin. Like with Feels So Good Records actually, off of Congress—it's kind of like a two-step hotspot. You can see bands there and there's always people dancing, and I just remember seeing that and being amazed because there's nothing like that in California. These people are experts at two-step. And it was just cool to see that. They had a pedal steel and they were more country and [. . .] being immersed in that broadened my horizons a little bit. 

I would say that if there was one change in genre that I had in Austin, maybe I did become a little more countrified.

I think that's one of the beauties of travel and living in different environments. Sometimes you don't even know what might speak to you because you just haven't been exposed to it yet.

Let’s stay in Austin for a bit longer. Was there a memory from your time here that really stands out?

For the Patterns album release last spring, I had a house concert in the backyard of the townhouse that I was sharing with my roommate at the time. And I'll just always remember that night because it was so special. I brought two friends, Grant McMahan and Stewart Cowan, and they played before me, and it was just touching because I had so many people show up to that. I probably got like 20 people to show up. 

I don't remember exactly how long my set was—it might have been 45 minutes—but that wasn't necessarily the point. Obviously I loved performing, but it was really just that sense of community [. . .] bringing it full circle, which I hadn't necessarily felt in a while. I kind of ended up feeling [for a while after 2021] slightly disconnected from that community because it changed, and people moved on, and that energy was lost even though Austin still is, and probably will continue to be, music mecca. So to feel that community again brought me one of my best memories in Austin as my time there drew to a close. I can look back on that and be content.

[Note for readers: I was at this house party.] That's amazing. It felt very much to me like how I sometimes hear people who have lived in Austin for a long time talk about the “old Austin” energy. There's a certain wistfulness that people have for “old Austin.” Something laid-back and communal. That's exactly what it felt like: a really good gathering of good people, just sharing music in a very simple but beautiful way that I think is unique to Austin.

I would agree. I would definitely agree.

So talk to me about the decision to move away from Austin back to California. You're from there and you have a certain attachment to California, I would imagine. But what made you move away from Austin and pick the Bay area specifically?

Last summer, after all the excitement and energy and wonderful times from that spring with the house concert and the album release and everything, I started focusing on the potential of moving.

I always knew even from the very start when I moved [to Austin], I knew that it wasn't going to be permanent. Growing up in California spoiled me on natural landscapes. I grew up within easy reach of mountains, deserts, ocean. I need to live somewhere that has mountains or the ocean (or ideally, both) because they bring me happiness and I missed them terribly when I was in Austin. I went to Big Bend and South Padre when I was in Texas, but they were so far.

Being close to family also made more sense to move to California. But I didn’t want to move back exactly to where I came from. I was always interested in the Bay Area, and my girlfriend lived there for college, so she was already familiar with it.

Plus, in Austin, we had four months of 100 degrees in 2022, and two months of cedar fever.

How are you finding the music scene in the Bay Area so far?

I have found several music opportunities here since moving. It's different in the sense that I don't really get that community feeling here necessarily, but I do think you have to nourish it. You have to put energy into it, you have to work on it.

I think it's possible that I can at least find a smaller version of what I had in Austin. I've been to two open mics here in the Bay Area since moving. And I've also been jamming with this band that's up in Marin County. I've been enjoying it. It’s nice to feel like I have a group of people that I can play with because that was something that I really have always wanted. In Austin, I was involved with a couple of groups, but it never really lasted more than a couple of months. Every time was different for why things didn't work out. But this time I feel like this group, they're super chill. I don't think that that's going to be an issue. I think basically as long as I wanna keep playing with them, I can, and I can hone my skills.

What are you hearing in the Bay Area? And, and how do you feel like your music fits into that?

I have been hearing some of the same stuff as Austin. But it is different. I do hear a little bit of that folk-rock/blues. But I definitely don't hear any country here. It's just not really a Bay Area thing. And I definitely hear a lot more hip hop or rap here. There's a lot more of that influence. 

Austin is sort of rooted in tradition. You don't really have as much of those more modern styles or genres. You have some of that, but the more traditional or older styles of music remain very popular because that community and scene is so well established. In the Bay Area I don’t detect as much of that influence.

You’ve been in the Bay Area a couple of months now. The typical narrative about San Francisco and some parts of the Bay Area, like Oakland, is that it’s this kind of dystopian failed city. People think it's just a nightmare to live there because it's too expensive and because of all the crime. But personally, I think San Francisco and that part of northern California is just so incredibly beautiful. I have to imagine your surroundings have had some sort of influence on you.

Yes. When I walk out of my apartment and I turn to my left, immediately I'm greeted by a view of Mount Diablo. I live in Walnut Creek and basically everywhere in that area, you can see Mount Diablo. It's just amazing. And I think being surrounded by that beauty definitely has an impact on your well-being. I greatly admired the scenery in Austin too but the topography isn’t so vast. I think that the only place in Austin that would necessarily bring a similar feeling to me is maybe the Hill Country or near downtown, like the Hike and Bike Trail area.

It's just really peaceful here and beautiful, and there's so much to explore. I went to Muir Woods a couple of weeks ago and that was stunning. And I've been to Santa Cruz since moving here, and I've gone on some local hikes near where I live in Walnut Creek, and it's just awesome.

I don't think you could really ask for a much more naturally beautiful place. Everybody has different priorities, right? But if you want natural beauty, the Bay area is pretty hard to beat, in my opinion.

* * *

Talking with Alex was a great reminder of how physical surroundings are so important to art. Black Sabbath likely wouldn’t have sounded so heavy if they didn’t grow up in the industrial grit and clamor of Birmingham, and East and West Coast hip hop are, by their very names, distinguished by location. To be sure, Alex’s California upbringing is evident in his sound. But after only three years in Texas, some of the Lone Star state has seeped into his work as well.

Take “The Breath of Earth” from his album Patterns, which begins with a quintessentially Western-sounding minor chord strum, draped with a blanket of reverb. A song that Alex told me was inspired by a dream, it’s a tale of the West not unlike a Marty Robbins tune.

In it, a group of friends go to “see the red rocks of the canyonlands,” where they wander through a landscape “as surreal as it was stark.” As the narrator describes the hike through the Western landscape, though, a haunting, shimmering keyboard comes in, foreshadowing that this excursion won’t be as majestic as it seemed, as the canyons are “treacherous and immense.” One of the friends from the group, Jonny, encourages them to take a more scenic but difficult part of the trail, so they can “live before they die.” Despite some reservations, the group agrees, knowing that adventure and danger are intertwined. And even after a tragic mishap where Jonny stumbles off the trail and falls to his demise, the narrator, with an almost stoic determination, says that “we’ll always keep on trying, and we’ll never give it up,” because even Jonny would have “told us not to stop.” 

The setting of this song is more of an amalgamation of the Southwest than one specific place (though Alex did tell me he was trying to channel West Texas in some of the descriptions). Even so, it’s indicative of a certain outsized mythos that Texas and the Southwest in general can project. Despite the fantasies and hyperbole about the Texas landscape, there’s something undeniably grand about it, something that can inspire us to create legends of our own.

My favorite song on Patterns, though, is much different. “Loosen Up” is more personal, with Alex giving a deeply honest examination of the complicated feelings that a quarter-life crisis can bring: nostalgia, confusion, ambition, and a sense of having a whole life ahead of you as well as a whole life—your youth, your innocence—behind you. You have so much to do, so many ways to grow, but your teenage years morphed into your mid-twenties so quickly that you almost don’t know how it happened, and you need to take a moment to examine what’s going on.

“I danced my heart out back when I was fifteen, I didn’t keep it up, now I’m hardly a machine, get me to loosen up,” he sings. He’s yearning for something or someone that keeps liveliness alive, the natural optimism and enthusiasm we have that can fade when the weight of the world becomes more apparent as we age. When you can see the riskiness and uncertainty of life more clearly, it’s easier to retreat, to fall into patterns and habits that keep you isolated or seeking some kind of safety. And self-judgment can exacerbate that process: “We’re almost through the summer, haven’t done too many shows, I’ve been slacking in ambition so I choose to stay home, it’s a vicious cycle but it comes and goes, get me to loosen up.” 

Contrasting with the ruminating lyrics, though, is a grooving, open-tuned strum, an upbeat rhythm that keeps the spirit high. And among the somber reflections are moments of humor and determination. In “Loosen Up,” Alex reminds us how strange and yet wonderful it is to simply grow up. It’s a beautiful anthem for the confusing process of maturity, layered with sensitivity and a level of insight that only an old soul like Alex can pull off. 

As I'm writing this, I'm sitting at Mozart's, looking out over Lake Austin and the hills of Redbud Isle. The landscape surrounding Mozart's is a perfect example of that natural beauty that Alex loves, and maybe that's part of why it attracted so many people, including myself. I've been to many open mics in Austin, but few compare to the energy and connection I've felt at Mozart’s. I think its location has much to do with those feelings.

But as much as I’ve talked about the different ways environments affect art in this piece, I also think there’s a lot to be said for the opposite: the way we can associate certain artists with a particular time and place in our lives. Although Alex acknowledged the influence that Austin and Texas had on him in writing the songs for Patterns, the album is nonetheless indelibly his style, something that anyone who was lucky enough to experience while he was here will certainly always remember.

NOTE: Parts of this interview have been edited for brevity and clarity.