Spontaneous production

Before the invasion of the formulaic pop artist and musicians marketing their work in pursuit of fame and fortune, bands formed with singular intents: to fulfill a persistent internal need to express a passion within them. These days, such artists are a rare breed.

Brenden John, a folk songwriter and quintessential tortured soul, recently to Portland from the East Coast. He is a modern throwback to those glory days of emotive musicianship sans agenda.

After disappointing attempts to work well with others, John followed his impulses to the City of Roses, this time flying solo. For the past six months he’s been crafting his self-proclaimed “other” music, inspired by those pieces of the world that haunt and engulf him. He’s inspired by the romance of film and the irony of an artist’s life. The resultant songs are dark, story-based compilations of extreme emotional context and minimal distraction. It becomes a chronological soundtrack to a life ridden with a certain frailty, sensitive to a clandestine vulnerability. Attentive listeners can feel the authenticity bleeding from his experience.

Despite having already secured a loyal Portland following, John and bassist Dan Stein focus their energies toward the communicative power of music, rather than aiming to please a target market or two. They refuse to compartmentalize, to produce or protect an image, or to work in accordance to anyone’s preferences but their own.

Indulging in a Brenden John song is embracing a window into the heartbeat of its author. Each song he writes may be the last or the first in an entirely new series. Those who appreciate his stripped-down pieces are surely of kindred madness and introspection, privy to that same burning need to express something intangible. His voice quivers as he sings, framing a sad poetry, claiming he knows no other way to speak.

Stein acts as a concerted backbone, offering support as needed and admiring John’s vagabond means of production. Modest by nature, Stein happily shadows John in the project, displaying his own talents through creative flier design and capable musical contribution.

The two act as compliments, creating a sound that is illusive yet coherent. Though the duo has not yet released a record, an EP is on the way and the music is available online.

This is not the sort of music you play on headphones while working out in the gym, or that you could see premiering at No. 1 on MTV. It will not lend a catchy phrase to repeat in your head for days, or showboat instrumental talents that leave you in awe. It ignores trends, bends styles and irreverently disobeys the laws of the modern music industry.

Instead, it is of a layered, intrinsic nature. This is the sort of music you sit with patiently, allowing yourself to connect, recognizing that another human being has translated some cobwebbed corner of your emotional health into a beat and melody.

John and Stein’s live performances are slowly taking over the city, welcomed by the herds of hapless romantics with a possible slight chemical imbalance. Through his enigmatic vocal offering and raw sentimental charge, John has mastered a strange ability to convince you he not only knows your darkest secret, but is performing it for all to hear.

One can’t help but listen.