The Sound Was Always There: Ashton York on Songs That Started in Silence and Grew into a Voice

Editorial Board
13 minutes ago
4 min read

From pink iPods to street corners, Ashton opens up about faith, fear, songwriting, and the long road to something real

Today we have the pleasure to have Ashton Whittaker here on Goathead.

Bold, raw, and endlessly reflective, Ashton speaks not like someone who chose music, but like someone chosen by it. Below, he tells us how it all began, where it’s headed, and what stays sacred along the way.

GHR: Great to have you here, Ashton.What inspired you to start writing music?

Ashton: My pleasure, The short answer is I don’t know. The long answer is a lot of things. The interesting answer is that it never felt like a choice or a decision. I was probably 3 or 4 when my oldest sister noticed how obsessed I was with drumming on pots, pans, tables — basically anything. I was around 6 or 7 when I started reacting emotionally to music. Songs would make me want to cry, or I’d feel sick to my stomach. I remember stealing my sister’s pink iPod nano and listening to Coldplay, The Beatles, Death Cab for Cutie, and Modest Mouse on repeat. It crushed me when she took it back.

By junior high, I was deep into Sublime, Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and The Smashing Pumpkins. That’s when I started bringing my guitar to school and writing a lot. I wrote my first song in 4th grade about my crush, Melissa. Then “Library Song” in 6th, and by 7th grade I performed an original at the school talent show. Someone recorded it and apparently it spread. I didn’t realize that writing songs wasn’t something every kid wanted to do.

Later, my neighbor Rob taught me how to play Radiohead and Zeppelin and Chili Peppers tunes. I thought he was basically John Lennon. My parents used to take me to Uva, a jazz spot back in Napa, and I’d sit there in awe imagining myself on stage. Nobody else in my family was musical, but somehow I got caught in it early and never left.

GHR: Can you tell us about your experience performing live, and what’s been your most memorable gig so far?

Ashton: My first real band was called Betty Luma. We played around Napa at venues that don’t exist anymore. I also played at a bar with a local guy named Brian Klein, but where I really learned to perform was at an evangelical Christian church. I was deep into worship music for a while, and in hindsight I think I just liked being on stage, being seen. But it gave me space to develop my voice and confidence.

In my twenties, I started busking in Santa Barbara and Orange County. Some days I made a hundred bucks. Other days nothing. I’d throw public tantrums wondering how I was gonna pay rent. I met a lot of people on those streets, and some of them still follow my music to this day. I’ve played so many shows — some packed, some nearly empty. A few months ago I performed for four people and a bartender in SF, and honestly it felt like my best show yet.

The most memorable one was an open mic in LA, early twenties, Sunday night. The place was packed. I couldn’t see anyone because of the lights, but I felt the room go completely quiet. I gave everything I had. The MC said something kind and wondered why I was even playing an open mic. After the set I called my girlfriend and told her I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

GHR: How does your songwriting process typically unfold?

Ashton: It usually starts with one instrument and one voice. That’s my test for whether something is worth finishing. I’ve written most of my best songs just sitting on my bed with a guitar. Some of them, like “Beach Song” or “Karen St” or “Awful Time,” came out fast and I honestly don’t know how. Lately I’ve started recording loose guitar parts first, then singing over them line by line, letting the song reveal itself. That’s how I wrote Eight Seven Five. I didn’t think too hard. I let the melody lead. But I still believe in writing songs that work live, stripped down. I think of Neil Young’s Live at Massey Hall a lot. I saw Andy Shauf live and acoustic last year and he blew me away. No production tricks, just pure songcraft. That’s what I aim for, even when I play with modern tools.

GHR: What drives you to create music and raise awareness about various topics through your work?

Ashton: I don’t go in with an agenda. Music is just the place I go when I need to feel. It’s like being a kid again, where I’m fully present. I never write with a specific topic in mind. It’s not methodical. One time a guy introduced a song by saying it was about climate change, and I hated that. Not because of the topic, but because it felt hollow.

I want honesty. I want vulnerability. I want someone to tell me who they are. If that leads into social or political ground, fine. But don’t lead with a message. Lead with your story. That’s what I try to do. I write what’s true for me, and I hope it resonates with whoever hears it.

GHR: Can you share any insights into what’s coming next after Two Chords?

Ashton: A lot, actually. I’m working on my third album with Brian Bond. We’re releasing it one track at a time, every month through the year. We just put out “Faith,” the fourth single, and I’m really proud of what we’re building. At the end of the year we’ll master the full record and release it in full. On May 6, I’ve also dropped my Eight Seven Five mixtape EP. It includes “Two Chords” and it’s rough, raw, and homemade. One mic, one laptop, no overthinking. Just what I felt like making this year.And then there’s Our Time Together is a Gift, a spoken word project I did with Danny Corbo. That one’s probably my boldest and most vulnerable work. It was spiritual to make. Danny is a great friend, and I’m grateful we captured something honest together. I really hope people give it a listen.