that’s not me. I’m all or nothing, so it’s got to be
nothing. When things were really picking up for us
during the rise of Bleed American [in 2001], there’s a
lot that turns off, like a self-preservation thing. When
you don’t feel anything, you can’t get hurt. The
fact that everything might go away at any moment
is something that I dealt with in unhealthy ways.
Everything is better now, no question.
How does it feel to create, write and perform
music while sober?
Completely and wholly satisfying in a way that I wasn’t
really tuned in to before. You can look at [success]
in two ways: not taking any of it seriously, or being
willing to be present and grateful. I was just going
along and not really letting it [soak] in out of fear of
rejection or maybe a lack of self-worth — whatever.
Now I realize it’s way better just to enjoy it. I can see
the appeal of [being a monk], devoting your entire
existence to negating your ego. If you can really let go
of expectation, then you can do this forever.
How has the songwriting process evolved
for you?
When you’re younger, you just go — you don’t
know why. Over time, you want more out of the
process. We have nine albums; at this point in our
career, why are we making something else? I’ll
always do something with music, but if we’re going
to put something up against everything we’ve ever
done, you have to have a reason. That’s the main
difference now.
AFI frontman Davey Havok sings backing vocals
on “Surviving.” How did that happen?
We have been friends with AFI since we did the
Warped Tour in 2001. I sent him the song, and he
was stressing about getting to a studio. And I said,
“No, put your headphones on, set your phone down
and just sing it.” That’s the version on the record. I
can totally see how SoundCloud rappers who have
never seen an XLR cable are pumping out platinum
hits right now.
Adkins (center) and
Jimmy Eat World
onstage in February.
In the summer of 2014, after Conor
Matthews’ freshman year at Belmont
University — where he was enrolled in the
songwriting program — he took a job at the
Nashville Nordstrom. He had no idea it would
lead to a future career as a songwriter.
That same summer, Matthews, now 24, at-
tended a writers’ round and recognized someone
to whom he had sold a shirt three days earlier:
Universal Music Group Nashville senior director
of A&R Joe Fisher. “I told him I wanted to be a
songwriter, and he said, ‘That’s crazy, dude. I work
at Universal. Come by and play me some songs
sometime,’ ” recalls Matthews.
Three months later, Fisher contacted Matthews
to tell him he had forwarded a few of his songs to
Keith Urban, who was instantly sold. By February
2015, Matthews signed a publishing deal with
Warner Chappell, joining writing sessions with
Sugarland and Sam Hunt.
Nearly three years later, Matthews became the
first artist to join Altadena, the music company
launched by hit songwriter-producer busbee —
who died unexpectedly on Sept. 29 — through a
joint venture with Warner Records. Busbee and
Warner co-chairman/CEO Aaron Bay-Schuck of-
fered the pop/R&B artist a recording contract last
December; in May, he signed to Altadena/Warner,
which the company announced in September.
“Conor represents the kind of high-level,
credible pop artist with whom Bay-Schuck has
had massive success,” says Altadena GM Daniel
Lee, adding that Matthews has delivered almost
20 masters since signing his deal. “He drips
with charisma.”
Now, after busbee’s death, Matthews is more
determined than ever to make him proud, working
on an upcoming debut EP and putting together a
live show that will incorporate choreography. “I’m
really excited to just work as hard as I can and try
and live up to all the things that [busbee] saw in
me from such an early stage. To be able to do that
is very rewarding.” —GAB GINSBERG
SIGNED
Conor Matthews
LABEL ALTADENA/WARNER RECORDS
OCTOBER 12, 2019 • WWW.BILLBOARD.COM 4 1
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