Meet Adam Roye | Musician & Producer

We had the good fortune of connecting with Adam Roye and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Adam, where are your from? We’d love to hear about how your background has played a role in who you are today?
Cleburne, Texas is a small town south of Fort Worth with several honorable mentions to it’s semi-quiet history. Cleburne is known for opening one of the first Coca-Cola bottling plants in the Southwest; a historic section of the Chisholm Trail; an early Santa Fe railroad hub, the first in Texas connecting to Dallas; home of the first airplane built in Texas, and last but not least, my hometown. My name is Adam Thomas Roye and I am the owner of Pragmatic Sound Co. and the one-man band, Daphne Blues. My creative passion originated at a very young age as an extension of the church we attended. My family had a southern gospel group with a record and some local notoriety under their belt, my grandfather was the Worship Leader directing the band and choir, and for the most part the majority of the musicians and vocalists on stage each week were my family members. My uncle had a recording studio at his house and he, among others, played a large part in shaping my journey and love of creating and recording music.

My upbringing in a small town seems like a dream when I look back now. This is probably because I was so young but already immersed in the arts pursuing my passion of music without really knowing it. I started playing the drums when I was four. First on the backs of church pews with pencils, and only a few years later was the drummer not only for our church but for our family’s group. My feet couldn’t touch the pedals and with cymbals out of reach, the kit had to be rearranged for my size or I would have to sit on someone’s lap. True story. It was around this time where I was introduced to other instruments along the way via my uncle or others and would later become a multi-instrumentalist almost by accident. I completely lacked any awareness of what I was doing or that music potentially could be a job or something I could do long-term. Of course, when you’re a kid nothing seems real but everything feels like a possibility. There are several light bulb discovery moments I can look back on. The ones that maybe in the moment aren’t that revealing, but the zoom out brings clarity later down the line. One that comes to mind is spending quite a bit of time with my Uncle Carl in his studio. It was in a converted garage with various booths and spaces behind plexi with egg crate foam and who knows what else on the walls and ceiling. He truly was ahead of his time with the home studio when I look back. He had equipment everywhere I can remember, including the red light when we were rolling. I was in heaven. His space was all analog with racks of fragile and expensive outboard gear, but very rarely was there a time when I wasn’t allowed to explore. Even at a young age if I wanted to pick up one of his guitars, I could. He would sit me up at a piano, let me mash the pedals and levers on his pedal steel. He would encourage me to move faders and twist knobs on the console, pull tape on the Studer or mess with the patchbay. He would show me how to do it but more importantly tell me the “what and why” behind every piece of gear. He was patient with me and shared everything he knew. He didn’t hold any secrets or discourage me from trying things even at my young age. Like most engineers and musicians back then he was self-taught, he rolled up his sleeves and figured it out. This was pre-internet if you can imagine that. He wasn’t big on manuals, he would take something apart if he wanted to learn how it worked. It might not go back together sometimes but the point he was trying to make, although maybe unintentionally, was to not be afraid to try something new or learn something that is possibly out of your wheelhouse. When you figure it out, teach someone else who shows interest, encourage them, and make each other better. Thirty-something years later and I still find myself doing post work, tracking a session, or mixing down a song where I’m not completely sure where I’m going or maybe trying a new approach with a new piece of gear, but it’s okay and it usually works out…and if it doesn’t that’s okay, too. It’s a trait I’ve attempted to keep a pulse on with my children when they are with me in the studio. It comes down to these principles: be open-handed with your knowledge, gracious with your gifts, and kind with your time. This is how my uncle treated me, and how I hope I treat others in the industry and beyond.

Another example of how growing up in a small town has impacted who I am today is the importance of relational equity. I’m unsure what the Cleburne population was back in the mid 80’s or early 90’s but I do know my father or grandfather knew everyone by name. Not just that, but knew their life story, could tell you what school they went to, who their relatives are, what their dog’s name was, etc…no one was a stranger, and they still aren’t. I am a self-proclaimed introvert but I did, and do, understand it’s importance not for connection sake for prospective business, but for actual meaningful relationships. I’ve always had a notebook with me or near me for the majority of my adult life jotting down random things, doodles, quotes, small journal pieces, grocery lists, session notes, you name it. In most of them are two phrases I definitely did not come up with but couldn’t tell you where I had heard them. They are the cornerstone of the Pragmatic Sound Co. culture and the culmination of watching my father and grandfather interact with others my whole life. “People over Projects” and “Collaboration over Competition.” Both are pretty self explanatory and similar at a glance, but could be overlooked unless there was some intentionality or a practice in my opinion. When you make the conscious decision to put people over projects, not only is the work you’re doing more rewarding, but if your focus isn’t on the people around you, you may have missed the mark as a whole. It’s not forcing a meaningful relationship with a client for the purpose that yields a detailed scope of work, thus equaling a stellar job on my part and free fluid creativity. It’s not mystical or magical, greedy or needy. For me personally, I’ve learned that giving priority to people and the relationship does something good in my soul that allows me to create from a space that may have been previously occupied. I’m not a naturally competitive person. Not being competitive doesn’t mean I don’t want to be good or even at my best. For me it means, as opposed to competing with you, I’d rather collaborate with you and create something better together. I believe we are meant to create, purposed even, but not alone. The premise of this ideal for myself stemmed from watching a very talented group of musician friends of mine try and maneuver their way through record releases, booking shows, finding other musicians for their bands and hitting roadblock after roadblock. They weren’t competing against each other, they were trying to be kind and not book shows the same night as each other for worry of size of crowds for each band, or one guy used a specific bass player for the record but he’s booked with another friend’s band the same night…you see the dilemma, right? This was a cyclical occurrence. Again, they weren’t being overtly competitive against each other, but the propensity to be was present. I felt like erasing those lines was a better solution for all parties involved. I’d rather work with you than against you especially if we are working towards the same goal, which is simply to create.

Where we are from doesn’t always dictate our destination, but it can help shape and mold us back to those roots that got us started on this journey in the first place. The impact of my uncle’s encouragement combined with the importance of seeing my father and his fathers ability to connect with people I would say is the pinnacle of my “why” and paved the way for who I am today.

Can you open up a bit about your work and career? We’re big fans and we’d love for our community to learn more about your work.
No one’s journey is alike. Some instances may be similar but the paths typically look different for all of us. Although my journey started incredibly early with my family in the “music business” which provided me access to a studio and more at my disposal, it didn’t make things any easier, however. Looking back I thought it would give me a leg up, and it almost made it harder. Nothing is owed to any of us, no matter the vocation, there’s no substitute for hard work and putting in the time with your craft. There’s a reason they call it a journey because it really is.

My initial thought was to be a solo artist really early on. I was writing original music with really generic horrible lyrics and zero substance. I thought it wouldn’t matter what I said because people would be focused on how good the music was. The naivety and fearlessness of being a child musician. This didn’t stop me or discourage me because it wasn’t even a reality that it might not work out or not be worth listening to. Years into the pursuit I started writing with my best friend McCoy in his shed until the sun would come up. I don’t know if the material improved but I know that the collaboration aspect was introduced for the first time with someone whom I wasn’t related to, but trusted wholeheartedly. Connecting those dots was a game changer. We started a band with a few of our other pals, and started practicing the songs McCoy and I were writing while trying to salvage any material worth the effort from my earlier years, and of course covered anything from Dave Matthews to Creed, as one does. We played many school talent shows, church youth events. Started booking gigs in coffee shops, and various clubs in Deep Ellum that are now unfortunately parking lots. The shows eventually tapered off simply because of life. Most of our friends were headed off to college, including McCoy, so I resorted back to my bedroom with my uncle’s old acoustic and a notebook. Years would pass with the same efforts of being a solo artist, playing gigs as much as possible, open mics were my favorite because no one had expectations. I was now living in the metroplex working at a predominant music retailer where suddenly I was around musicians all day everyday. The flood gates opened as I was introduced to new music I’d never heard. I was able to play instruments I’d only seen in magazines. I met amazing local musicians and would join in on jam sessions that went well into the morning. I found myself standing in the home studio of a renowned gospel recording artist several times setting up gear and tuning drums for sessions. I was inspired for the first time in a long time.

I think I was 23 when McCoy and I drove out to Abilene in his old Mitsubishi Eclipse to record my first solo EP at the Glass Jar Studio. I had three songs, one weekend, and was hellbent on recording every instrument myself. The weekend flew by but I had accomplished a goal I had set for myself. The EP didn’t go very far but the gigs picked up both solo acoustic shows and I had a full band again which was a breath of fresh air. Fast-forwarding several years to when I received a call to come play guitar on a hip hop track for a producer friend of mine. He just needed 8 bars, but we got a lot more. A few of those songs landed in the mailboxes of some predominant Houston’s rappers of the time. This is where the journey switched lanes for me. Out of nowhere it seemed that session work started popping up a lot. Grateful for the work and eager, I showed up early and stayed late. I was either the loudest person in the room with ideas or I said very few words and just played guitar soaking it in. One time I was invited to a session that was being held at an artist’s private studio. I was listening back to a rough mix with the engineer after everyone had left when he casually mentioned he wanted to bring in another bass player for a pass or two but didn’t have time. I chimed in that I played bass and would give it a shot grinning behind him while he moved faders back and forth. I was mostly joking but he said sure let’s try it. Two takes, done. The track needed drums, so I volunteered. One take, now we’re making a song. I would stay much later than anticipated singing harmonies, playing lead guitar, tracking a few acoustic stacks when the engineer said something to the effect of “instead of hiring five musicians we just should’ve hired you.” From then on I was a studio musician. I played on so many songs in various genres on various instruments that I stopped counting. This was it, this was what I was supposed to be doing. By now I had a humble home recording setup and was able to do remote sessions which meant I was doing more takes, always experimenting, trying new things and shaping my sound which was basically just recorded practice. Those practice tracks weren’t for anyone specific, or anyone ever, they just lived on a hard drive. Many years later I would revisit those tracks accidentally while playing the familiar game of “what is on this hard drive we didn’t label but it’s in the bottom of this shoebox from when we moved 4 years ago so it must be important.” Producers know what I’m talking about. The mystery tracks had a certain appeal I didn’t catch years prior. There was a tone, a vibe, something that didn’t sound like me playing – but sounded like what I had been chasing for most of my life. What became of those tracks was the fruition of an idea I had kicked around for an instrumental record but without a band or face of the group. It was time I acted on my idea of taking on a one-man band scenario. So I did. I used a moniker I had thought of a decade prior, Daphne Blues.

I had the whole thing planned out. The logo would be a nod to my affinity for Pantone swatches, no pictures of myself or proper artist names. Originally a color only offered on the 1958 Cadillac, daphne blue found its way into the Fender guitars color scheme in 1960. I thought the name was ambiguous enough to fly under the radar to release music I was proud of without judgement, so that’s what I did. The first EP set on the Top 10 Regional Instrumental charts for a shocking amount of time. Several songs were used in the documentary Not in This Town: The Improbable Rise of The Old Grey Wolf, the story of 1310 The Ticket founder Mike Rhyner which premiered at the Granada Theater. It has landed on Spotify playlists for studying, chill, focus, coffee shops and more. The irony is that they were all one take far from perfect tracks, which make far from perfect songs, which makes for questionable mixes but I put it out anyway. I would go on to release several other tracks and collections of songs now utilizing the sounds of our son’s sonogram as the beat of the song and other elements of my personal life started to show up. Songs From Six Feet was my attempt at passing boredom during shelter in place. Seven From Thirteen is a record consisting of seven songs I recorded in 2013. I’m really flexing my creative muscles as you can tell. Either way, looking back those early tracks gave way to a musical space where the territory was unknown to me but I wasn’t afraid of what people thought for the first time in a long time. This was for me.

The backstory of the instrumental route is that my father has played trumpet long before I was born and we always listened to The Oasis radio station in his truck or my mom would have the television blasting The Weather Channel to wake us up for school. I knew more James Taylor and Chicago songs than probably anyone in my 4th grade class. I used to get in trouble for whistling Birdland and drumming on my desks in school so it just felt right to go back to the well and just play what I like. Also my self-titled EP didn’t go very far and it felt a little defeating as well as scary to put my name on something again and promote it to have no one listen to it. Daphne Blues was in a lot of ways the beginning of a career I had started 30 years earlier. The spark from Daphne Blues is why Pragmatic Sound Co. exists today. Looking through my producer lens I saw a need to bridge the gap between my professional side of the industry and my personal pursuits assisting others in what they are creating. Trying to make a name for yourself and carve out your own path takes grit to handle all the peaks and valleys and yet still press on. The times I slept in a van with just me and my equipment. The rejection letters, calls, and emails. The lost bids on gigs, selling equipment to pay bills for bills etc. Even at my lowest point I knew I had to keep pressing on. When I’m introduced to people and the question comes up “so what do you do?” I used to freeze up because the short answer is that I’m a musician and that felt safe for me to say. There’s rarely a follow up when talking to non-musicians that you’re a musician, it’s kind of just a period and we move on or that’s how I treated it. The reality is that it feels so much better to be honest. I own an audio production company that focuses on collaborating with creatives, bands, artists, videographers, and content creators to assist in telling people’s narratives whether it be by way of a song or dialogue. I took a chance with branching out on my own and being authentic to myself. I’m lucky to work with amazing musicians and travel with some incredibly talented people in the industry capturing stories and meeting the nicest people.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in this industry will continue to be a work in progress for me. I’d like to think that my personal talents and gifts make up about 40% of what I do or who I am as a person. What sets me apart in the other 60% is simply putting people first. That’s it. No secret sauce, just serving people has pushed my career over the many bumps and downfalls along the way. The general overarching world view is that success is measured by notoriety, money, or possessions. The culture and approach for anything Pragmatic Sound Co. touches is focused on honoring God, honoring people, and respecting the craft. When you are consistent in those things you will be amazed at how many of those other doors automatically open for you. Hopefully by then when you do get a taste of notoriety it drives you to serve more people and encourage others. When one of those doors open to monetary gain, you strive to serve even more people. It’s a revolving door of the perpetual reason of why we are made to create. I’ll rephrase it by saying it’s the perpetual reason why I am made to create. People over projects, always.

The Shoutout series is all about recognizing that our success and where we are in life is at least somewhat thanks to the efforts, support, mentorship, love and encouragement of others. So is there someone that you want to dedicate your shoutout to?
Showing love and giving credit to those who have been in my corner from day one is really important to me. I would love to be able to list all the people that have encouraged me and supported me, it’s an incredibly long list spanning decades of which I am grateful for so I’ll do my best. An all-encompassing shoutout definitely belongs to my family. They have been a consistent support system cheering me on through every crazy venture I thought would be “the one.” My parents are saints for letting me play drums in my room and storing half-stacks, drums, and countless guitars over the years at their house. Their ability to tolerate loud, and probably bad, guitar playing when I was a kid, coming to all the mini concerts my brother and I held in my room after dinner. They would later make the drive to every one of my shows they could attend. I still send them mixes of my music or a project when it’s complete. I get the same unconditional love from them just as much now as I did then and it means so much.

Massive shoutout to a list, in no particular order, of just a small batch of those who have played a part in shaping me as a musician as well as the person I am today. Some are mentors, others are musicians I’ve played with for years – all are some of the best people I’ve had the honor of knowing. Thank you isn’t enough. Rex Roye, Carl Roye, Steve Roye, Eddie Davis, Rick Douglas, Jerry Pace, Ben Miles, Austen Roye, Dustin McCoy, Keith Hanson, Sam Cross, Anique Fazal Din, Derek Milton, Dave Lux, Andrew Davies, Christian Ross, Thomas Lightfoot, Timmy Gautreaux, Macy Tiradoegas, Conner McKinzie, Eric Haley, Rachel Barnett, Ronnie Smith, Aaron Alexander, Zach Balch, Karyna Micaela, Dean Xu, Lacy Abercrombie, Aymi Lightfoot, Tyler Martin, Bert Willis, Alan Reed…and many many more amazing people. So much thanks goes to my wife, Kristi Roye. We met in a recording studio and she knew what she was getting into and yet still let me take her out on a date. Well, she took the struggling musician on a date and the rest is history as they say. Thank you for listening to me ramble and tolerate the crazy ideas I chase, or the late nights with me going on about how I should switch up my mic placement, Klon goop mysteries, and much more. Thank you for supporting me through tough times when things weren’t going the way I had planned or had hoped. Thank you for being who you are, and for the steady consistent grace and love you give as you continue to be the guiding light for myself and our two amazing children.

Website: www.pragmaticsoundco.com

Instagram: @pragmaticsoundco

Facebook: www.facebook.com/pragmaticsoundco

Other: Daphne Blues Spotify https://open.spotify.com/artist/51v4mfk72Jsn2yx3vzkRGU?si=Euk9tTHcR3Owj_uKiV9lTA

Image Credits
Dean Xu