Photo by Sandy Kim

Tobias Jesso Jr.

Alex Izenberg is a complete maniac. I first found that out when I met him in 2011 and he forced me to call him ‘Glóin’ (The Lord of the Rings, Gimli son of Glóin). Back then, Glóin had three different musical projects (all him), two separate record contracts (he signed two deals without anyone knowing until they both found out later), about a hundred email accounts, and, each year on his birthday, he would turn 19 again. He would often blur the line between con artist and artist, and for the most part it worked for him. He was also writing music beyond my comprehension (it still is beyond my comprehension). It seemed so simple to watch him play me his songs, but I could never quite understand them. A chord change that felt wrong at first, like he’d made a mistake, would upon repeat listens turn into my favorite part. His lyrics acted like a maze that never seemed to go anywhere until, like a maze, you figured it out.

Shortly after meeting him, he asked me—someone he barely knew—to produce and mix the entire album he was working on. I had never produced anything but also didn’t have much of an idea of what production even meant, so I said yes. It turned out to be a terrible choice for him because, along with being an unpayable illegal alien, I also had zero experience with computers and wasn’t a producer, so nothing ended up getting done besides roasting a lot of almonds. But during that time I learned a lot from Alex, his songwriting, his musical choices, his ideas. Alex is largely responsible for how my original demos sounded with the warble-y piano, a trick I learned from him. I’ve never met anyone quite as unique as Alex. His music today feels both as simple and complex as it always was, and his choices remain a mystery to me, but I will always love them.