What others are saying ABOUT GARRETT...  

NPR - "Garrett Owen is a consummate artist, with lyricism beyond his years and an inimitable playing style that has him earning new fans left and right."

American Songwriter - “With a sound akin to the more melancholy side of Jesse Malin, Owen brims with a mixture of mourning and understanding in his new single “No One To Save You,” which American Songwriter is proud to premiere right here. Lyrically the award-winning songwriter cuts a swath a mile wide as he tells the all too familiar tale of love lost on a six stringed road.”

Dallas Observer - “'These Modern Times' begins with a folksy, acoustic vibe before giving way to a sweeping, pastoral arrangement that will delight fans of Fleet Foxes and Denton’s own Midlake"

Alt77 - "Like listening to Brian Wilson, or Jeff Buckley, hearing Garrett Owen’s very personal music for the first time feels almost like an intrusion. This Texas-born singer-songwriter is into world-building. Here’s album oriented indie rock worth your time."

Underground Music Collective - "Garrett’s unusual upbringing sparked a curiosity; one that has carried into his adult life, and is presented through the lens of musical experimentation...consider us intrigued"

Glide Magazine - "Owen often turns to sadder subject matter for his songs. But though there is melancholy laced throughout much of his songwriting, there is also something sweet and comforting about Owen’s voice that lets you know things just may work out alright. The ability to strike this balance is front and center on Owen’s new EP Sad Eyed Son, which comes out on February 17th. The album finds Owen embracing the rich tradition of Texas songwriters while forging his own path with poignant emotional narratives."

Popdose "Popdose is pleased to exclusively present to you the title track video from singer-songwriter Garrett Owen’s new E.P., Sad Eyed Son.  The song is one dynamic performance of stripped-down, low-key, gut emotion in the vocals and some of the finest fingerpicking I’ve heard in a while.  This is definitely a lyric that makes you think, which is always appreciated, but Mr. Owen has the right timbre in his voice to give the song a far more powerful impact and that guitar playing is stellar."

Mother Church Pew "In “Sad Eyed Son,” Owen’s fluidly mellow vocals are beautifully contrasted with the quickly-woven lyrical tapestry and crisp guitar finger-picking of “Sad Eyed Son.” “Everybody’s got a story to tell,” he sings. “I’m no different.“"

Dallas Observer “He’s an agile, intricate, accomplished guitar player who sings honey-dipped melodies about devastating turns of events. His pain soothes listeners, his performances leave audiences paralyzed." 

KKXT (Dallas) "He’s got the kind of stories worthy of a best-selling memoir – and when your ears latch onto Garrett Owen‘s “Sad Eyed Son” for the first time, you’ll notice a definite difference, right off the bat. Garrett Owen is the consummate artist – a poet’s poet and a player with a style all his own. His love-at-first-listen new record arrives in February –  each song conveying an astute wisdom and vision beyond his years."

AND In Garrett's OWN words.....

My name is David Nathan Garrett Owen although I was called Garrett from birth.  My parents liked the meaning of David Nathan (“Blessed Gift”) but preferred the sound of Garrett (which, by the way, means “powerful with spear”). Although born in San Antonio, Texas, I spent less than three of my first 20 years in the United States.  In turn, my folks were pastors, missionaries and church builders.  Eventually, they earned doctorates in psychology and became regional therapists for a large network of missionaries in Latin America.  Their vocation resulted in unique childhoods for my younger sister, Claire, and me.

My earliest memories are set in Tanzania (largest of the East African countries) but when I turned 8, mission work took us to Kenya.  At 10, we left Kenya and returned stateside to Mandeville, Louisiana, so my parents could complete their graduate studies. Three years later, with fresh certification as psychologists, they were called to Quito, Ecuador which became home for the next six years.  With that background, it shouldn’t be a mystery why my first music EP is titled, “Slightly Foreign.”  I didn’t retire my “preacher’s kid” credential until I was 19 and returned to Texas to find my own way.  Ten years later, I’m still scuffling and working to make music full-time while my sister Claire is a missionary with a husband and raising her baby in East Africa, not far from where we were children together.

As kids, we crossed the Serengeti Plain probably 30 times traveling between Tanzania and Kenya.  I have an early memory of riding on the luggage rack of our Nissan Patrol, vast clear skies above me and antelope running to my right and left.  When I was 4 or 5, I remember Dad yelling from the front seat to roll up my window, the one I’d lowered to examine more closely the lion standing next to our car.

Not all areas were primitive.  Nairobi, Kenya, for instance, isn’t the mud huts that many people imagine. Although not slick and modern by American standards, it was a thriving, densely populated city with its own identity.  On the other hand, Tanzania was rural and our house in the middle of nowhere. In many ways, these preschool days in Tanzania were the most idyllic time with my sister – lots of climbing and hiking, picking mangos from trees. 

Slivers of African memories often wedge their way into my lyrics, albeit often softened or exaggerated for dramatic effect. Consider “Sad Eyed Son” -- yes, I really did (accidentally) drive my bike off a (six foot) cliff and break my nose (in one place) and an arm.  At its core, all art is based on a “true story.” And by true, I mean the version we carry in our head and heart.  The one that can lift or crush your spirit with equal capacity.

Some suggest that your upbringing explains quirks of personality like my shyness, a tendency for introspection and streaks of perfectionism.  Maybe.  I’m not so fatalistic as to believe our earliest experiences necessarily determine the arc of adult life, but my slightly foreign childhood never leaves my music or me.