Artist Interview: Blue Bonzai
Tori: The name "Blue Bonzai" is a fascinating contradiction. Can you elaborate on the philosophy behind combining the symbolism of harmony and control with the color blue, which often represents sadness or melancholy?
Blue Bonzai: Honestly, it comes from something I’ve felt my whole life, even before I could put words to it. I was always drawn to sad songs and emotional stuff—whether it was the Backstreet Boys, Blink-182, or the "ballads" from metal bands like Bullet for My Valentine or Bring Me The Horizon. And people gave me crap for it. They said I only liked "sad music" and some even called me a depressive kid just because of my taste.
Turns out, they weren't totally wrong. Years later, life hit hard, and I ended up in therapy. That's when I realized I’d been dealing with severe depression since I was a teen. But therapy helped me understand it, make peace with it, and stop being ashamed of it.
"Blue Bonzai" is me owning that paradox. People always expect you to be a certain way, to grow a certain way—like a bonsai tree, shaped and trimmed just right. But I’ve always had this layer of blue in me. I used to hide it; now I don’t.
Tori: You describe your music as "somewhere between punk grit and introspective alt rock." Who are some of your biggest musical influences from both of those genres, and how have they shaped your sound?
Blue Bonzai: My biggest influences are Green Day—especially the American Idiot era—and Blink-182. They’re the reason I got into punk rock in the first place. They made me want to write songs that could actually mean something to someone.
Alkaline Trio is another huge one for me. But what might surprise people is how much I’ve also been influenced by artists like Ed Sheeran, Taylor Swift, Deftones, Incendiary, and Knocked Loose. I know that sounds all over the place, but each of them gave me something unique.
I started in pop punk, then got deep into metal as a teen. If it didn’t have a filthy breakdown, I didn’t care. But over time, I realized it’s just as hard—maybe harder—to write a four-chord song that connects with the world. That’s what Ed and Taylor taught me: simplicity can still destroy you emotionally.
Deftones taught me about space, texture, and layering guitars. And bands like Incendiary and Knocked Loose remind me to stay raw, to stay real, and to not over-polish the ugly parts if they come from a true place.
Tori: You mention your music is for "all strays like yourself." What does it mean to be a "stray" in this context, and what message do you hope to convey to your listeners who identify with that feeling?
Blue Bonzai: Yeah, I figured someone would ask about that eventually, and it’s kind of hard to explain. When I say my music is for "all strays like me," I’m not trying to coin a cool name for fans or anything like that. I mean it literally.
I’m a huge animal advocate. I don’t talk about it all the time unless it comes up, because I never want to guilt people. But the truth is, I care deeply about animals. Strays, ferals, pigeons, toads, anything with a heartbeat. I’ve always felt this ache when I see how invisible they are to most people. That lack of compassion hits me hard, and I’ve written songs about it, like "Blind Eyes," which is a direct critique of how numb we’ve become to roadkill, to suffering, to anything that doesn’t fit neatly into our lives.
I see myself in those animals. That’s what being a "stray" means to me—feeling like you exist on the outskirts, misunderstood, dismissed, maybe even seen as a problem just for being who you are. So, yeah, the music is for people who feel that, too—the ones who’ve been labeled or ignored just for feeling too much.
And in some way, it’s for the voiceless, too. The ones that can’t speak but still suffer, still feel, still matter.
Tori: You mention that these songs are "snapshots of anxiety, guilt, grief, shame, and the quiet moments between." Was there a specific moment or experience that catalyzed this project and its focus on these raw emotions?
Blue Bonzai: Every song I write comes from a deeply personal place. I wish I could say otherwise—that I could write from someone else’s perspective or build a story out of fiction like some of my favorite artists do. But I’ve tried, and every time, I just stall out. If it’s not real, I feel like I’ve got nothing to say.
I live with severe depression and generalized anxiety disorder. Those two alone have taken me through hell and back. Add to that the weight of daily life, getting older, watching the people around you age or die... it starts to stack up. Grief, guilt, anxiety, shame—I’ve hit all those stops.
I think this project really started when I stopped trying to write "good songs" and just started telling the truth, no matter how uncomfortable or heavy it was. That’s when things finally clicked. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m just trying to survive the noise in my own head and turn it into something someone else might recognize in theirs.
Tori: Your process involves writing and recording everything yourself. How does that solitary creative process differ from working with other musicians, and what unique freedoms or challenges does it present?
Blue Bonzai: I’ve played in bands before. At one point, I even tried to make Blue Bonzai a full-band project—partly to record faster, partly to play live with the kind of full instrumentation you hear in the recordings. But after a couple of lineup attempts, I realized it just wasn’t going to work.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve played with some great musicians. But I started noticing a pattern: once instruments were in hand, a lot of people stopped listening to the song itself. They were focused on playing their part, not what the song needed.
I don’t consider myself a great guitarist, bassist, or singer. But I care deeply about what the song is asking for. If that means one chord strummed the whole way through or the simplest drumbeat possible, I’ll do it. The goal is always the same: let the message come through, no matter how stripped-down or small it has to get.
Tori: The description notes your music "bleeds with purpose." What is the ultimate purpose or goal you are trying to achieve with your art?
Blue Bonzai: Since my music comes from personal experiences—usually the raw, brutal kind—the main thing I want is for someone out there to feel less alone. If you're going through something dark and it feels weird or off or like no one would understand, I want you to hear one of my songs and feel a tiny bit of shelter in it.
Even if no one gets it. Even if people call you names for it. Even if you don’t fully understand it yourself, it’s okay. You’re not broken. You’re not alone. I’ve felt it, too.
Tori: Can you walk us through your songwriting and recording process? Do you start with a melody, a lyric, or a feeling?
Blue Bonzai: This one’s funny, because for the longest time I hated when artists gave vague answers to this question—and now here I am, about to do the same.
The truth is, inspiration is a wildcard. Especially when it comes from somewhere real. I’ve tried having a set process, and yeah, if I’m just trying to write a song, I’ll usually find a handful of chords that work together, build a melody, then write lyrics on top.
But when it’s one of those songs—the ones that hit deeper—there’s no formula. I’ve woken up at 3 a.m. with a melody in my head, recorded it on my phone, and forgotten about it... only to find the lyrics months later that suddenly made it all click. I’ve built entire songs from just a title that punched me in the gut. I’ve written whole lyrics because a six-second riff made me move a certain way, and from that, I knew what the drums should feel like.
So, yeah. The honest answer? When the song really matters, it writes me. It comes from somewhere I can’t tame, and I’ve stopped trying to.
Tori: You're based in Florida. How has the environment or culture of Florida influenced your sound and lyrics?
Blue Bonzai: Yeah, Florida’s definitely influenced my writing, even though I only moved here recently. I lived in Las Vegas for almost 14 years, so I’m still adjusting, but living here has exposed me to things I never really had to think about before.
One of the biggest things is the wildlife. There’s so much life here—birds, strays, wild animals—and with that comes a constant sense of worry. Like, what happens to all of them when the storms hit? What happens when no one’s watching?
Even something as simple as roadkill—which I mentioned earlier—hits me differently here. I see it constantly, and it messes with me. That kind of silent suffering, it’s everywhere if you really look. And, yeah, it’s made its way into my writing in a big way. I feel it more here. I carry it more.
Tori: Do your tattoos have a connection to your music or the stories you tell in your songs?
Blue Bonzai: Definitely. I always say I wear my heart on my sleeves—literally and musically. Some of my tattoos are pretty straightforward, like my Blink-182 and Green Day ones. But most of them carry deeper meaning, especially the animal tattoos. I love animals, but I also use their symbolism to tell stories. On my left arm, I have a blue whale. I’ve been drawn to them since I was a kid; their song always sounded so profound and melancholic. That connects directly to my music and how I’ve always felt pulled toward the "shades of blue" in life.
I have a tattoo of Melina, my Rottweiler, my daughter, my great love. I lost her not long ago, and I still mourn her every day. I also have a pair of cats that represent my late grandparents—it’s my way of keeping them close. And there’s an elephant, one of the most majestic animals on earth, often hunted for no reason. That tattoo reminds me to speak up for those who can’t, especially animals. I could go on, but yeah, almost every tattoo I have is tied to something I’ve lived, lost, or believed in. And it all shows up in my songwriting.
Tori: What advice would you give to other artists who are also "solo projects" and feel a similar sense of isolation or restlessness in their creative journey?
Blue Bonzai: Only work on the songs you fully believe in—the ones where you have something to say.
As a solo artist, you're carrying a massive weight. You have to write everything, play everything, record, produce, second-guess yourself at every step. It's overwhelming. So, don’t waste that energy on songs you’re not obsessed with. Only commit to this madness if the song is screaming to come out of you.
Don’t do it because you think it’ll reward you. Do it because you can’t not do it. Because something inside you is burning and won’t shut up. That’s when the isolation becomes worth it—not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary.
Tori: Your music is described as being "not polished on purpose." What is the benefit of this rawness, and what do you hope to capture that might be lost in a more polished production?
Blue Bonzai: After falling in love with punk and pop punk, I went deep into metal, and I’m still obsessed with some of its most extreme subgenres. Over time, I started noticing something: a lot of my favorite metal records are full of imperfections. Rawness. Flaws. And when those same bands try to recreate that energy later with cleaner, more polished recordings, something gets lost.
I’m not claiming I’m on the level of my metal heroes, especially when it comes to technicality. But what I did learn from them is this: emotion beats perfection every time. You can debate whether a performance is good or bad, but you feel it when it’s real.
That’s what I chase when I record. I constantly have to remind myself: don’t over-polish the soul out of it. Keep the mess. Keep the cracks. That’s where the connection lives.
Tori: You say you "mainly just existed" before this project. How has creating "Blue Bonzai" changed your life and your perception of yourself?
Blue Bonzai: Before Blue Bonzai, I was just a bedroom guitarist. I spent hours trying to beat the metronome, learning songs, only to scroll online and see a hundred people playing them better—cleaner, faster, more effortlessly. And it crushed me. It kept me stuck in this cycle of "I’m not enough, and never will be."
But now that I’m writing music I believe in, I exist in my own lane. I’m not competing with anyone, and I don’t need to. I can finally look around and appreciate other people’s talent without feeling like I’m losing something.
Because I have a purpose now. These songs—whether they’re good or not—are real. They exist to tell the truth that burns inside me. And that truth is mine to carry.
Tori: If you could have one dream collaboration with any artist, living or dead, who would it be and why?
Blue Bonzai: I’d summon a monster lineup: Travis Barker (Blink-182) on drums, Dan Andriano (Alkaline Trio) on bass, Tom DeLonge (Blink-182/Angels & Airwaves) on guitar, and Chester Bennington (Linkin Park) on vocals.
These are the artists who shaped how I think about emotion, energy, and songwriting—raw, real, and loud in their own ways.
And me? I’d play the shaker. Hell, I’d play the electric triangle if it meant being in the same room with them—writing songs, jamming, playing live. That’s all I’d need. Just being there, part of that creative energy, would be everything.
Tori: What's the biggest mistake you've learned from in your career?
Blue Bonzai: Re-recording a song I’d already released—that was the biggest mistake. I thought a cleaner, more polished version with better production would improve it. And technically, yeah, it sounded better to my ears. But it didn’t feel the same. It lost the grit. It lost the emotion.
That version didn’t match the spirit of the song, and it taught me something huge. Every track I record is a snapshot of who I was at that exact moment. And just like time, you can’t go back and rewrite it without losing something real. You can try, but you’ll probably miss the point.
Now I treat every song like a living document of that specific feeling. Messy, raw, imperfect, but true.
Tori: Beyond music, are there any other forms of art that inspire you, whether it's visual art, literature, or film?
Blue Bonzai: I’m a huge fan of comic books and graphic novels. I think a lot of people still see them as “kids’ stuff,” but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Some of the most powerful stories I’ve ever experienced have come from comics.
Modern graphic novels often dive into themes like mental health, grief, identity, and the state of the world, and they do it with a level of emotional precision that hurts. And because so many of them take place in fictional or heightened realities, the impact can sneak up on you. One panel, one line, and suddenly you feel like someone just punched you in the chest.
The freedom of the medium—both in storytelling and illustration—allows for some brutally honest, heart-shattering moments. That kind of emotional storytelling definitely inspires the way I approach my own music.
Tori: What message do you hope listeners take away from your music?
Blue Bonzai: Whatever you’re feeling, no matter how dark, weird, or heavy, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to be. Care for the animals around you. Not just the cute ones. All of them. Every size, every shape. That’s it. If those two things come across, then the songs did their job.
Tori: What can fans expect from "Blue Bonzai" in the near future? Are you working on an EP or a full-length album, and what themes will you be exploring?
Blue Bonzai: Yes! I’m currently working on an EP, but I also have several singles lined up. And I’ll let you in on a little secret I haven’t announced anywhere yet...
I just released a new track called "Return to Sender" on August 1st, but the next song coming out is called "Mea Culpa." And all I’ll say is: if "Blind Eyes" hit hard for you, this one goes even bolder. I didn’t hold back.
Now, here’s the dilemma: while I’m building toward an EP, I’ve realized I love releasing singles. Mostly because I get to create unique artwork for each one, and for me, that’s part of fully completing a song’s identity. Music, lyrics, visuals—all wrapped together. So right now, I’m still deciding whether to drop the EP all at once or continue crafting and releasing one song at a time.
Either way, more is coming, and I’m not slowing down.
Tori: Can you leave us with your favorite inspirational quote?
Blue Bonzai: "Finished is better than flawless."
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