TUESDAY MARCH 17th 2026

I’ve been simultaneously listening to the audiobook (listening, not reading) of Geddy Lee’s “My Effin’ Life” and reading Mike Campbell’s book (reading… a tangible book) “Heartbreaker.”

I’m at a point in both stories where the bands (Tom Petty and The Heartbreaker’s and Rush), have signed to small labels, are at a crossroads with performing - aspiring to perform they’re original compositions, realizing it’s the only way to really get anywhere - and burnt out/exhausted of playing gigs on the local circuit that requires them to play multiple sets and cover songs, but had to do so in order to make some money.

I’m here thinking to myself that I’ve been feeling that way for the past 25 years. I’ve been REALLY feeling this way for the past 10 years, and I’ve been REALLY, REALLY, REALLY feeling that way for the past year (basically since opening for the great Willie Nile at FTC Stage One in September 2025).

I’ve mostly been keeping these feelings inside, or at least within my “circle of trust” (hello Meet the Fockers). I never, ever want to come across as ungrateful, so I don’t say anything. I am EXTREMELY grateful. I get to do what some folks only dream of doing. I’m really good at what I do. I’ve managed to set my own terms on the 3-hour/3-set shows I play, performing 50% originals and 50% covers (and I’m not doing covers like ‘Sweet Caroline’ or any other other typical shit covers that are relentlessly played too many times by too many bands). I get to woodshed my chops at these long stretches which has made me a better player and performer. I get to meet people and “campaign” for my original music.

Still, I want more. By more I mean more ticketed, all-original shows and less of the 3-hour/3-set performances I do. In the books I’m reading/listening to, I can totally identify with where each band is in their career - hustling, grinding, fighting against the world, trying to convince people to listen, trying to find that wider audience for their heartfelt original songs, all the while still slogging away at those multi-set/multi-hour performances and all the covers they did to keep people interested.

Now that I’m 50 with a beautiful family, wanting to be the best father, husband, and musician I can be, with all the real-world responsibilities that comes with each, it seems more selfish and outright daunting to want more. But I’m still trying, often feeling like I’m just getting started. I really don’t want to do anything else but music, to be honest.

And in these 50 years, I have a lot of history to look back at. I stuck with and listened to people that perhaps I shouldn’t have. I dropped and didn’t listen to people that perhaps I should have. I’ve seen (and continue to see) SO much bullshit that makes me think, “Why am I even trying?” I also see a TON of amazing artists that should be getting the spotlight and thinking, “If they’re not gaining ground, what chances do I have?” I’m also highly opinionated, somewhat overly-independent to a fault, and skeptical of a lot. I wonder if these traits help or hinder me. I also feel like I don’t fit neatly in a box… too rough around the edges to fit in the modern singer-songwriter category (which tends to be too poppy), not hard enough for whatever other category (while I’m on the subject, remind me to tell you about the Rock Boat world sometime). It could also be that I’m too self aware.

But I love the songs, man, and I just don’t want to quit.

I read a passage last night about Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers playing at CBGB’s for the first time on their first tour. Their van, containing Benmont Tench’s keyboard gear, was stolen while they played to 12 people inside the club. Little did they know they’d be performing at Madison Square Garden years later. But I can imagine it was majorly disheartening, and perhaps left them feeling that they should pack it in. Not sure what happens next, I’ll probably read that tonight.

I’ve been lost a lot lately, yet somehow more determined than ever. I feel lost because I’m burnt out on the 3-hour/3-set shows and don’t know what else to do. After all, it IS how I earn a living. I’m lost because there are a lot of decisions to make in this business of music, to try to advance, and I could easily waste time on one option when I should’ve taken the other. And strangely enough, I’m still so determined because I don’t think the world has seen the best of me. I think I have a lot more art to do and more mileage to go. Weird diametric, eh? And just like what happened with Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers after their van was stolen, who knows what the years ahead hold for me?

I’ve been wanting to write a post like this for quite some time, but worry about coming across as unhappy or complaining. I am neither. And to be honest, the older I get, the less of a fuck I give about what other people think. I guess that’s something good about getting older.

So, in summary, I want more… and I’m working on it. Time to get un-lost. I think I just needed to write this out.

THURSDAY OCT. 23rd 2025

Photo by Stockcake

A while back, a musician friend of mine noticed how I navigate the music business and referred to me as a “lone wolf.” I suppose I am, in a way. I mean, I do virtually everything myself… from writing the songs, booking the shows, doing the graphic design work for merchandise and advertising, recording myself (playing all the instruments most times), making the phone calls, driving the van… I am kind of a one person operation. Obviously, I have a great support system in place from my wife and family, as well as the people that come to the shows, buy t-shirts, records, etc. I wholeheartedly appreciate and am grateful for the support, and simply wouldn’t be able to do what I do without these people. But when it comes to the nitty-gritty, behind the scenes stuff, I am a lone wolf.

It wasn’t always this way. For years, I was in bands. From my earliest prog-rock/metal band - Misconception - to the Seth Adam Band - which would later become the successful Green Inside - to the earliest days of Seth Adam. I had people around me… band members, people that I could share the responsibilities with for booking, driving, advertising, songwriting, etc. But bands aren’t forever. If you’ve ever seen the Tom Hanks movie, That Thing You Do, there’s a scene where drummer Guy Patterson is getting advice from one of his heroes, Del Paxton. Del explains to him, “Man, there ain’t no way to keep a band together. Bands come and go. You gotta keep on playing, no matter with who.” For me, that means if you want to keep going in the music arena, you must learn to do things yourself - from the music and instruments to the business stuff - until you can relinquish those responsibilities to new band members and/or people willing to help out.

I’ve been fortunate enough to have some good people with good intentions in my corner. Managers, booking people, street team people… In my experiences though, they fizzle. A lot of people are excited at first - they see this vessel with a lot of potential to succeed, and they want to be a part of it. So they take on some responsibilities to become part of the crew and share in the glory. I take a lot of responsibility for some of those relationships fizzling out because the bands weren’t as successful as everyone had hoped. No one wants to go down with the proverbial ship. It’s understandable. So when the excitement ended, so did the help. As lucky as I was with the help of people I admired, I found myself alone with my songs again.

There have been some massively high and low times for me in the past 10-15 or so years. When my last band - Green Inside - ended, I was frustrated, but insanely motivated to start a new project. At one point I had a terrific band - a bass player, keyboard player, guitar player, mandolin player, drummer - and we all wanted to see the project go forward. We were super tight, and had the support of a small, independent label and studio. We put out my first record, Where You Come From, and supported it through a radio campaign and constant performances. It was exciting and people were noticing us. A music columnist for Fox News online (Roger Friedman) wrote about the band after seeing us in New York City, calling on big industry names like Jason Flom, Charlie Walk, and James Diener to come see us. I thought we were really making noise.

Then the time came to start working on a follow-up record. The producer/label and I were butting heads about the direction of the sound. I wanted something more raw, he wanted something more polished to compete on radio. Then, the keyboard player left, the mandolin player left, and the bass player left. I broke away from the label/studio, got a new bass player, and carried on to a new studio with a different producer. The four of us were an extremely tight unit, and we made one of my favorite albums, Amplify. At this point, I also signed with a management company, opening up new opportunities for the music. We released Amplify through the management imprint as a pseudo-label, and it was amazing. The record sounded amazing. I was so proud of it. The band was proud of it. The management, not so much. We weren’t as poppy as other artists on the roster, and I found myself not being the priority I had hoped to be. The band carried on performing to promote the record, and I started to take on more solo and duo shows with the guitar player to keep things moving along.

Eventually, the management dissipated, so those music business responsibilities fell on my shoulders again. By the time I started working on album number three, Steel Tempered Pride, there wasn’t really a band anymore. The drummer and bass player got busy with their main business. So I went through a string of bass players and drummers to fill in. I somehow managed to complete Steel Tempered Pride with the guitar player and a rolodex of other players, including another mandolin/violin player who would lift the project to new heights with his various connections. He hooked us up with David Immerglück from Counting Crows, who produced and played on two tracks on the album. Once again, I was riding high. Around this time, I even got a booking agent and was touring throughout the country. Riding even higher! I was really excited as things were once again falling into place. But it was short lived. By late 2013-2014-ish, the guitar player got married, the mandolin player was getting into bigger name projects, and I was once again left alone.

I don’t blame anyone but myself for these things. I have always been the leader. I’ve always steered the ship. And I can only imagine that I just didn’t do a good job of getting the project to the next levels. Whether it was sub-par performances on my end, or simply not being in the right places at the right times, I think whatever allure Seth Adam had at the time was gone. It wasn’t worth sticking around for, for anyone. Hell, even the booking agency folded and subsequently dropped me. I was literally on my own again.

I spent the next few years woodshedding… getting my guitar chops in line, learning to sing better, and learning to record myself. Having spent a lot of the time down in the dumps and drowning my sorrows in a lot of booze, I turned things around in an attempt to re-establish myself as the artist I always felt I was. Though, this time, I wasn’t going to depend on anyone. I developed a fierce sense of independence, probably to my detriment. I was (and still am) protective of myself. I didn’t really let anyone “in.” I performed a lot, incorporating looping into my performances and started to develop my own “thing.” I didn’t want to be pigeon-holed as a folk artist, singer-songwriter, or anything like that. Whatever came out of me was what came out of me - whether it was metal-ish (my roots), country, rock, or whatever.

My East Rock EP (2018), my last full-length record Fits and Starts and Stops (2022), and the various singles I've been releasing over the past few years, have embodied my “lone wolf,” independent spirit. I may not be Chris Lord Alge, but I've managed to record, produce, and mix my own songs. I've played virtually all instruments, with the exception of a few spots where I just wanted to have friends play on the song. Like I mentioned earlier, it may be to my detriment… perhaps these songs would shine brighter with star players, producers, and engineers. I just haven't developed the trust for that yet. So, I stick to my independent status and do things myself, my time, my dime, my way.

I’d say for the past 6-7 years, I have only let a few people into my musical world, literally a handful of people that I trust. It’s only these people I have collaborated with, either playing in bands with them, or having them play in my band, or adding their instruments to my recordings. I can’t help it. I am still overly-protective of what I have, fiercely independent, and not ashamed of it. Perhaps I have trust issues. I don’t care. I have curated and carved my own path and will continue to do so. Failure is a thing I can only blame myself for. Success - a definition which is constantly changing - I will share with fans that support the music. I am defensive, protective, perhaps a bit conservative because too many times I’ve relied on people and been let down. And that’s okay… sometimes that’s just the way things are. I’m doing what I need to do.

I’m okay with being a lone wolf until I don’t have to be.

TUESDAY, MAY 14, 2024

I hate cliché phrases, especially in songwriting. So using “Where has the time gone?” as a title for this post made me cringe. I suppose I could've gotten more creative, but as usual, I'm in a time crunch.

So, another cliché is applicable here: “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” That one I like, though. It doesn't get used a lot, at least not in my circles. As a matter of fact, other than my friend/sometimes guitar player Gerry, I think I'm the only one that says it.

My good intentions were to write a blog for every Friday. That's kind of a big ask for a guy that performs 3-5 times a week, is a dad of a 6-year-old and a 2-year-old, has the general family obligations of husband/partner, has aging parents, and a whole host of other weekly tasks. Sometimes my ambitions get ahead of my reality. I always think of it as a good thing, as I'm less apt to be lazy. But truthfully, I'm more apt to be tired as I'm virtually always doing something.

A lot has happened since my last entry in January. My dog of 12 years (who was 13 years old) was diagnosed with osteosarcoma (bone cancer) in February. It is an aggressive form of cancer, and unfortunately it brought him to the point where we had to help him out of this world and into the next on March 7th. I'm getting choked up as I type this. Then my mother, my father, and my wife all ran into some health issues, causing more stress and anxiety. And don't get me wrong… I'm FULLY aware that things could always be worse. It didn't minimize what I've been dealing with, however. The feelings of doom, unease, sadness, and more were very real. Often times I've had to “fake a smile” (to quote a line from my song ‘Everything Is Wrong’) over the past few months when dealing with the public. It's been a long time since I've felt so low. It's not a good place to be.

It's now mid-May, and things have improved. Chalk it up to another cliché: “Time heals all…” There's some truth to it. I'm not fully healed, but I'm feeling a lot better than I was in March. Time has certainly helped me gain perspective, move past a lot of crippling sadness, and given me space (in my head) to work. As crazy as it sounds - and perhaps you might agree - those painful, challenging times actually make us stronger. And for me, gives me some real-world experience to write about. I suppose you might say that sometimes it all comes full circle.

Just before Jasper got the osteosarcoma diagnosis, I was fiddling around with a song idea, beginning with the line: “Ain't it funny how we want to be left alone, then we cry for home when the loneliness sets in.” Going through the experience with Jasper helped me finish the song, and one of the most poignant lines in it (for me, anyway) is this line: “A season change is coming and I'm asking for more time.” When you know something is about to change, but you want just a few more moments in the environment you're in, so you can etch the emotions, the joy, the experience in your brain. That's what that line is for me. All the while, without even noticing, time has been moving along, even though it doesn't feel long enough.

Where has the time gone? Isn't it still here? It's like that joke… how does it go???… What stands still but keeps moving… a clock… time? Something like that. I'm going to try much harder now that a difficult season of life has passed. I have that new song, “We're Only” coming out May 24th, and I continue to write more songs. I have a lot more blog ideas, too. Of course shows, the podcast, yadda, yadda…

Enjoy your day! Enjoy your time!

Love, -Seth

Rest in peace, Jasper. I miss you and love you, buddy.