The inside scoop from the Songwriter’s point of view; a long-form article by Wesley Luttrell of Wally Opus expressing his connection with artist and co-writer, Jax Fleming (signed to Wally Opus Records).

The connection between a writer and a song is a mysterious thing. Like Alan Watts describes consciousness, I’ve always thought of it as a signal and antenna relationship; the song in its raw unwritten form is the signal and the writer with pen to paper (or text to notes or mumble to voice memo) is the antenna receiving the signal making it somehow tangible for others to experience. This whole thing gets even more mysterious when two people are writing together; where two people are tuned into the same signal and sharing the experience of receiving it in the same room at the same time. This is what has become of my collaboration with Jax Fleming, an artist I first met in spring of 2022 when his band Atlas of the Dogs opened for a band I was managing at the time, The Strangers. When he went on stage, he went all out like his life depended on it, and when we talked after the show, we agreed to grab coffee and figure out how to work together. We just knew. 

Our first endeavor making music together resulted in a few singles for Atlas, but it wasn’t until August of 2023, when Jax decided to go solo and focus on making something new that things really clicked. We met every Tuesday afternoon for nearly eight months, writing songs and making whatever music came to us, before my label, Wally Opus Records, signed him to a development deal. That time was formative; we tried everything, hip-hop, punk, arena rock, pop, edm, and even went a little country, which is far out if you know Jax. But the most formative aspect of this time was the bond it created between him and I as co-writers. 

I do a lot of things in music and have never landed on one expertise in craft; a jack of all trades, master of none. Which is fine. It’s made me diverse in experience and able to relate with artists on multiple levels. That said, writing has been something I’ve done my whole life. Journaling, making notes, writing letters, writing to prepare for talks I’ve given at events, funerals, and weddings, and, in my work, marketing plans, contract drafts, and songwriting. An ability to write well has served useful in my life and has become fundamental in my musical collaboration with Jax. He’s a conduit for guitar riffs, baselines, drum programming, and overall, coming up with the music; and I’ve become his top-liner and lyrics guy. Through missing the mark hundreds of times, I’ve come into alignment with some sort of shared life perspective with Jax. He brings me music, and I can put myself in his shoes to come up with the story of the song. At this point, it’s become second nature. 

All of Jax’s newest releases have been made in this fashion. Take “Superficial”,  his first solo release and his biggest song to date. He brought me a looped instrumental in pretty basic form; sounded like Cage the Elephant, but felt more Tame Impala. At that time, we were both listening to the Glass Animals’, How to Be A Human Being, and so some vision was forming through the lens of those three influences. With the beat playing in the background, Jax started talking about what he was going through at that time: feelings of imposter syndrome as he moves away from front man of a rock band to a solo artist making music closer to his heart. He knew he’d be judged by those who knew him in a rock band and he felt his closest family and friends don’t understand why he’s going in a new direction when things appeared to be going so well as an arena rocker. He explained how he wanted to be different, artsy; something new, exciting, flamboyant, and experimental. And wherever that takes him, wherever he lands - fuck it. 

In these moments, Jax isn’t really talking to me, but more so, like therapy, talking to the moment. And I’m sort of listening / sort of thinking, but I’m picking up what he’s laying down. For “Superficial”, the idea of ‘owning it completely’ - the place he was in right then and there felt right. By saying, “we’re going super official go and blow the whistle you can call me out the fool sitting safe inside the middle was saying I’m going for something big and you can judge me for it while you sit comfortably in what’s known. For Jax, a statement like this was personal permission to embrace himself. Then comes the chorus; a realization that nothing’s lost and what’s now is building the future. So refreshing yet so unknown as to how it would be received by anyone who knew him, past or present. But on release day, the risk was rewarded as we’d never received so much positive (and negative!) feedback on a single song. This one also set in motion almost a nearly identical process for his next two singles, “3am” and “Twilight”. But “I’ll Be Fine”, Jax’s newest release, happened a bit differently. 

The first version of “I’ll Be Fine” came more than a year ago when Jax was talking about his childhood upbringing and his complicated relationship with his parents. This was one of the first times we channeled a shared signal. I can vividly remember lying on the green carpet on the studio floor with a notebook and pen while Jax walked around the room telling of his past. How even thinking of it could put him in a place of stress. I lied there, sort of listening, sort of thinking, just writing. I said, “It sounds like you’re having a panic attack. Explain to me what it’s like to have a panic attack.” He wasn’t having a panic attack, by the way, but I could feel a sense of being in a manic state: back and forth, all over the fucking place, and then stepping outside to come to some sort of groundedness. Having grown up with a father and two siblings who both had high anxiety and took medication for it but still had occasional panic attacks, and having had two panic attacks of my own in my mid 20’s, I can relate. In that session, we couldn’t land on any verse lyrics but we’d locked in an exciting chorus, which is the same lyrics and melody heard in the released version.

The song lay dormant for about six months before Aaron and Wyatt Mones of Spillway (another group on Wally’s roster) came to Indiana for a ten-day studio stint. Not only are they great songwriters and producers in their own write, they are a completely complimentary pair of studio musicians with Wyatt playing drums, laying down vocals, and working the gear while Aaron wields all things stringed (lead guitar, bass, pedal steel, etc). One of those Indiana studio days was spent with Jax. When he arrived, we listened through several of his demos, but nothing was resonating until I suggested playing the chorus of “I’ll Be Fine” over some simple acoustic guitar. They perked up and agreed, let’s poke around at that one (a small clip of this session can be seen on Wally’s instagram). The fellas began by replacing my shitty guitar strumming with clean chords moving from the verse through a chorus and steadily building out a drum track consisting of a mono overhead, a kick mic, and a snare mic with an overdubbed high hat track added later on. Then came electric guitars and a rough bass track. Within a couple of hours, a new structure of a fuller version of the song was laid out complete with a ripping lead guitar solo by Aaron Mones, which you can hear at the end of the finished song. Jax laid down some chorus vocals and that was it. We wrapped for the day and wouldn’t touch the track again for another six weeks. 

A month and a half later, Wyatt sent me the “I’ll Be Fine” session and Jax took the tracks home to mess with the arrangement while I worked through verse ideas. When we came back together the following week, Jax had filled out the track with a new bass part and additional guitar and vocal ideas that took things to a new place. He encouraged me to sift through all the shit and find the gold. Lyrically, I kept this idea of a panic attack in mind when approaching the writing of the verses. I was imagining Jax in a manic state opening the door to his (fictitious) messy house and inviting us in while at the same time having no trust for us as he’s completely off his rocker but trying to keep it together. Then comes the chorus, a total release. Over the next month or so, Jax and I retracked vocals, added elements and took them away, played with differing arrangements of the sections, and I mixed the song probably twenty different ways. What you hear in the finished piece is what felt best.

Per my third-paragraph confession above, I realize we’re not the most incredible producers, mixers, performers, and songwriters, but the raw material we’re creating is rooted in authenticity and truth. That’s the through line we’re committed to. That’s the irreplaceable aspect of our work. Those other components can be improved upon by outsiders, and I’m sure they will be, but a connection between collaborators is a one-off happening. Here now. Gone tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ll always be able to tune into a shared signal with Jax, and I’m not sure we’ll still be writing together down the road, but I’ll never forget these times spent receiving signals together. I’m forever grateful for the insight and creative possibility my collaborating with him has shown me. And finally, if you’ve read up to now, I’m grateful you tuned in to read as I attempt to articulate the co-writing phenomenon. A very mysterious thing, indeed.

Listen to Jax here and check out more from our label at wallyopus.com.