Building Songs Like Memories: Inside David Cloyd’s Emotional Blueprint

There’s something quietly radical about the way David Cloyd approaches music with the precision of a craftsman and the soul of a confessor. His latest album, “Red Sky Warning,“ doesn’t just ask to be heard; it asks to be felt, absorbed, and lived with. In a world obsessed with immediacy and distraction, Cloyd offers resistance through intentional sound, an emotional architecture built from memory, patience, and that elusive, aching thing called truth.

We sat down with the artist to unravel the thoughts behind the music, his creative rituals, and the winding path that led him to his most intimate work yet.

Hello! Thanks for sitting down with us to talk about music, inspiration, and more! To start, when did you catch the music bug? Can you recall your first-ever musical experience?

I’ve been listening to records and staring at liner notes since I was two or three. I remember being spooked by “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers for some unknown reason. I think it was something about the lyrics, particularly the line “In his final words I found an ace that I could keep,” that planted some strange early thoughts about death.

I remember playing the Star Wars Imperial March on piano at a school talent show when I was in third grade, and subsequently being told by a sixth-grade girl that it was really cool. My mom made me practice every day, so I have a lot of memories of either sneaking into the kitchen when she wasn’t looking to manipulate the timer and be done faster, or getting so lost in playing that I didn’t know the timer had gone off. I consider both to be valid reactions to practicing as a kid.

Given the state of mainstream culture that permeates how we consume media, how would you introduce your music to a stranger?

Might I suggest a comfortable chair, phone turned off, soft hygge-inspired lighting, and an old pair of AR-5 speakers, or even really good headphones if you prefer. Sit back, kick up your feet, turn it up, and let it roll. Listen to the whole album in track order, no interruptions.

My music is meant to be listened to with your whole focus—mind, body, and spirit. The difference between “experiencing art” and “consuming media” is totally in the hands of the listener, and sadly the platforms we get our music through seem to encourage people to treat it as something that you add to the background of everything else you’re doing at the moment.

Art deserves attention, and if music doesn’t keep your attention, then either you don’t care for it, it’s not very good art, or perhaps it’s both of those things. But you, as the listener, have to decide to give music your full attention, or you’ll entirely miss the point of it.

And if you had to pick one track that shows people who you are as an artist, which one would it be?

I believe I would pick “Ocean Of Hours,” the first track on Red Sky Warning. It’s the absolute spine of the story. It sets the stage for all of the other songs, but it also somehow connects back to my other releases. I didn’t consciously try to make it serve that many masters, but it does.

What do you hope listeners take away from “Red Sky Warning”?

What a wonderful question. I really hope that listeners are reminded to give themselves some grace during life’s more difficult phases, and to not lose heart when things get tough.

Every once in a while, I imagine traveling back in time to tell my younger self how long it would take to release this album, and maybe I’m just a bit older and wiser, but it doesn’t seem to matter to any version of me anymore, it wouldn’t have changed my mind. It only matters that the album is exactly what I dreamed it would be, and it was worth all of the hard work, time, and sacrifice to get to where I am right now.

Take me through your sound design process. Does the conception come first, or do the songs evolve naturally? Do you have a clear idea of what it will be before you start to make it?

Songs usually start as a sound in my mind that evokes a very physical feeling within me. This is often true even if the seed of a song comes out of just poking around on the piano or mindlessly plucking away on a guitar.

No matter what, pulling that sound into real life almost never makes me feel the same way right out of the box, so most of my work is figuring out how to get all of the notes and lyrics to evoke that feeling.

We also worked very hard at defining the instrumentation for the album before I went into the studio, but I know I could make those elements “sound” however I needed them to. It’s fascinating to watch a song evolve over time, but no matter how much it changes, I make sure it connects directly back to that mysterious first seed.

There are many descriptions of the ideal state of mind for being creative. What is it like for you? What supports this ideal state of mind, and what are distractions? Are there strategies to enter into this state more easily?

Over the years, I’ve developed a relatively steady state of creativity, much like zen mindfulness. Living a creative life is a constant practice. I’m always open to ideas, I’m always working on something, and I’m always close to an instrument.

I push myself when it feels right, but I don’t force anything, and I don’t try to limit distractions, it’s an impossibility. I don’t think about being creative as entering an ideal state, because then it’s possible to leave it. That’s probably where creative block comes from, which is something I don’t ever concern myself with.

How do you know when a track is ready? Does it ever become difficult to refine ideas or stop perfecting?

I can feel the tumblers fall into place on each element as I’m recording. I’m not sure I could strictly define it, but it lies somewhere between “it just feels right” and “I couldn’t do that any better if I tried.” I’ve learned to really trust my instincts. Beyond that, when my producer Blake Morgan and I agree it’s done, it’s done, and otherwise it’s not. Being confident in your craft and having someone else involved that you can trust are both crucial to knowing when to stop working.

Do you have certain rituals to get you into the right mindset for creating? What role do certain foods or stimulants like coffee, lighting, scents, exercise, or reading poetry play?

Well, coffee and exercise are life necessities for me. I have a minimum of two cups of coffee a day, and I exercise regularly. Making things deliberately difficult for 30 minutes seems to make the other 23 hours and 30 minutes much easier.

Other than that, I don’t require much in the way of setup. I read once that Shostakovich could write under nearly any conditions, and I took that to heart. I even scored the vocal parts for the song “Unhand Me, You Fiend!” while I was at jury duty.

What other creative outputs do you engage in that we may not suspect?

Oh, I’m a pure breed, all in on the music thing. If it’s not making music, it’s something necessary, like fixing something in our house or cooking. Even then, my mind, body, and soul are constantly orbiting the planet of songs.

What music have you been listening to recently?

I’ve been listening to Elbow’s new album, Audio Vertigo, which I think is great. I’ve also been listening to some fantastic albums that my label ECR Music Group and our imprint Meridian have put out this year—Mad Equation by Janita, the deluxe editions of albums by Block and Patti Zlaket, Illuminate by The Heroic Enthusiasts. Other than that, I’ve been writing a lot, so it’s pretty crowded in here.

Looking to the future, what’s next for you?

My Buffalo concert series MIXTAPES starts up again in September, and I can’t wait to hit the stage with other local and national songwriters backed by a string quartet. I love to write for strings, and if I had my druthers, I would perform like this forever.

I’ve got a growing pile of songs that are pointing me in the direction of the next album, but for right now, I’m choosing to enjoy the release of “Red Sky Warning.” It took me a little while to get here, so I’m going to give this album my full attention.