A midwesterner who finds himself living off of Central Park West in New York City, his debut album, To Whom It May Concern,, is set for release on May 19th, 2023. Now 26, he remarks: 

"I’m beginning to recognize my differences as an artist and even accept them as my strong-suit. I admittedly don’t know too much about the state of modern music, but I do know that many people can out-sing and out-play me. And a lot of young artists make pumping out ultra cool tracks look seemingly effortless. But when you start to strip away all of these embellishments you are simply left with a song. And this is my specialty.”

Addressed to a God, a woman, and an audience largely unbeknownst to him, Alexander views, To Whom It May Concern,, as an opportunity to formally introduce himself. It was produced by Micah Tawlks (COIN, Usher, Hayley Williams) who chose to employ more peculiar instruments - ones stumbled upon within the dusty corners of the musical attic: vibraphones and theremins to name a few; Alexander’s old soul emanates. Resulting is a lush soundscape that feels timeless yet somehow nostalgic, as if it were made of an entirely unplaceable era. 

The full-length resembles an artistic Frankenstein - a mosaic of songs plucked from the New Yorker’s obsessive catalog. And Alexander feels as if the amalgamation represents some of the most memorable and meaningful of the lot - the 500+ songs that accredit over eight years towards his 10,000 hour quota. 

Though, To Whom It May Concern’s,, essence quite possibly lies within understated B-side, Barely. After experiencing an acute panic attack, Alexander wrote the song, his prayer, from a hospital bed. The lyric explores a near decade long struggle with anxiety disorder. This was not the only challenge Wren faced while making his debut. Unable to find any industry interest after exhaustive research, he took it upon himself to fully fund the creation and marketing efforts independently. For years nearly every morning before sunrise he could be seen riding the subway to work to clean toilets and hose trash off of the city sidewalk. 

And this is exactly what is so exciting to Alexander. “The songs, the productions, the photo and design,’ he says, ‘it's all intentional. Everything about this project tells a story. I’ve lived all of it.”

In a world dominated by numbers and instant gratification, Alexander is searching for something of meaning - something that does not rust. He remarks that the less he sees music as a vehicle for popularity in the 21st century, rather, a rich sociological tradition we get the privilege of participating in. These days he mostly wanders the Upper West Side and thinks at the Hungarian Pastry Shop; he also chats with his 93 year old friend, Wayne. 

So who are you? Where are you? This record, this letter, is addressed to you. Please don’t keep him waiting.