David Browning Perspective on Clay In Your Hands

Clay in Your Hands’ leans into that retro ‘80s pop world, with shimmering synth-pop influences running through it. It’s nostalgic but not stuck in the past—the production nods to the era of neon and big hooks while still feeling fresh and modern. If you’re a fan of emotive pop with 80's synth textures, this track will feel right at home.

I’d tour with Taylor Swift—she’s a legend, and I bet she’d share her 'roommate’s cheap-ass rosé' with me after the show.

Honestly, I can’t remember a time I wasn’t performing. My family loves to remind me of the moment it all began: when I was five years old on a boat cruise, they lost track of me—only to find me standing on the bar, performing for a raucous audience. From that point on, it was pretty clear this was who I was meant to be.

If I could be compared to anyone, I’d choose Billy Joel, Freddie Mercury, and Elton John. Billy Joel for his storytelling—he has this way of making everyday life cinematic through song. Freddie Mercury for his sheer power and presence; he showed that vulnerability and flamboyance could live side by side. And Elton John because he’s timeless—his melodies are unforgettable, and his partnership with Bernie Taupin proves how deep collaboration can go. Together, they embody the kind of artistry I aspire to: honest, bold, and unforgettable.

I keep making music because it’s inseparable from who I am. Songwriting isn’t just a craft for me—it’s how I process life, work through emotions, and make sense of the world. It’s as natural as breathing, and I don’t think I could stop even if I tried.

My overarching goal as an artist is simple but powerful: I want my music to connect with people and make them feel something real, perhaps something they hadn't allowed themselves to feel before. Whether it’s joy, nostalgia, heartbreak, or hope, I want listeners to see themselves in the songs. Beyond that, I care deeply about collaboration and supporting fellow musicians. Music has always been a community to me, and I want to be part of lifting up other artists and creating spaces where authentic voices can thrive.

At the heart of my music, I’m drawn to the spaces between longing and love, sadness and euphoria. A lot of my songs explore the ache of reaching for something just out of grasp, while also finding beauty in clarity and moments of stillness. I like writing about transitions—the blurring lines between past and present, heartbreak and healing, solitude and connection. Even when I touch on sadness, there’s usually a thread of hope or catharsis running through, because for me music is about transformation: taking heavy emotions and shaping them into something luminous. It’s that balance—melancholy and uplift—that I’m always chasing in my sound.

That’s almost impossible to narrow down! But if pressed, I’d say Tori Amos, Garbage, and Madonna—though Alanis and Radiohead would have to sneak in too. Tori’s music taught me that lyrics can be poetry, layered with mystery and vulnerability. Garbage showed me how grit and atmosphere can live inside pop. Madonna’s constant reinvention is endlessly inspiring—she made me realize that an artist can keep evolving without losing their core. Alanis was the raw honesty that cracked everything open for me, and Radiohead taught me about mood, space, and experimentation. Together, they shaped not just my taste but my belief in how music can move people in completely different ways.