Life & Work with Edward Crowther of Charlotte, NC

Today we’d like to introduce you to Edward Crowther

Hi Edward, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.
It was the summer of 2016 when the switch flipped, and the old me just… disappeared. Growing up in Raleigh, North Carolina, I was raised in a pretty conventional household—traditional, steady, the whole nine yards. I wasn’t what you’d call “musical,” at least not at first. Sure, I heard tunes here and there, but they didn’t really do anything for me. That is, until fate threw me a curveball.

It happened by accident, like all the best stories. I was slogging through some homework, listening to Apple Radio in the background, when Portugal. The Man’s Modern Jesus off of their album Evil Friends dropped into my ears like a bolt of lightning. That song hit me so hard, I stopped in my tracks. Suddenly, I was hooked— really hooked. That was the moment music went from background noise to my lifeblood.

Fast forward a few months to summer break, and I was off to my grandparents’ place in Davis, NC—this tiny little coastal town that had more character than most cities. It was there, buried in the back of their church, that I found the old Epiphone guitar. It was beat to hell, a sunken tobacco burst that looked like it had seen more years of neglect than any guitar should. But damn it, it was free, and it had the potential to change my world. So I grabbed it.

That summer, I became a guitar machine. I’m talking 8 hours a day—sun up to sundown—learning anything and everything I could. Even though that thing was a nightmare to play (poor setup, strings that were practically paper thin), I didn’t care. Every note, every chord, felt like a revelation. And by the end of that summer, I had discovered something that would change my entire direction in life—Slash. I stumbled across Guns N’ Roses playing Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door at the Tokyo Dome in 1992, and I watched Slash walk on stage, cigarette dangling from his mouth, with a double-neck Gibson like it was no big deal. And when he ripped into that solo? Man, it felt like the heavens opened. That was the moment I knew—this was it. This was my path. I had to do music.

When I got back to Raleigh, I didn’t waste any time. I gathered some friends, and we started a band—Burban. We hit the Raleigh scene hard, playing at places like Imurj, Deep South the Bar, The Pour House, Black Flower, and all across North Carolina. We lived and breathed those dive bars and venues, playing loud, wild, and free. It was everything I ever dreamed of. We even recorded an EP, dropped a bunch of singles, and while the band eventually dissolved around the time Covid hit, it was everything to me. Burban was my identity, and through three lineups and countless shows, I learned what it meant to be a musician.

But then, the dream seemed to die. The band was over, and I was stuck in a bit of an existential crisis. So, I did what any rational person would do—I shifted gears and dove headfirst into studying investment banking at Appalachian State to prepare to get the so called “job.” Music was done. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

But you can’t kill the fire that easily. In 2020, the music still burned inside me, and I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I picked up the guitar again, started posting videos online, and re-launched my solo career. Fast forward a couple of years, and now I’ve released six singles, met some of the most incredible people in the music industry, and I’m on my way to making that childhood dream of being a professional rock guitarist a reality.

So yeah, the dream never really went away. It just needed time, grit, and a little bit of rock ’n’ roll rebellion to make it real again.

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Music, man—it’s a hell of a ride. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It’s like the universe throws everything it can at you to see if you’ve got the guts to stick with it. Booking agents who promise the world and then screw you over. Musicians who can’t seem to show up on time, no matter how many times you remind them. Contracts that feel more like traps than opportunities. And don’t even get me started on trying to scrape together enough cash for marketing. It’s a constant grind, an uphill battle that never seems to end. But here’s the thing—when you step onto that stage, and those bright lights hit you, with a Les Paul slung low and the crowd there, it all makes sense. Every bit of the struggle is worth it. It’s pure magic.

But if I’m being real, the biggest struggle for me has been finding people who are as obsessed as I am. Music isn’t just what I do—it’s who I am. It’s my blood, my heart, my soul. Without it, I’m nothing. And sometimes, you work with other musicians who, yeah, they love the music, but they’re not obsessed like I am. Music to me is 24/7. It’s songwriting, it’s recording, it’s PR, it’s marketing, it’s negotiating contracts, it’s everything. I want the full career, the whole damn thing. But not everyone has that same drive, that same hunger. Some people give up too easily, or they just don’t put in the work the way I do. And that’s tough, because it’s hard to build something massive when you’re the only one pushing the boulder up the mountain.

But I keep going. Because every time I walk off that stage, guitar in hand, knowing I gave everything to the crowd, every sacrifice feels a little more worth it. And when the world’s ready for it, I’ll be standing there, lights shining bright, doing what I was born to do.

Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
I specialize in creating a lost art—real rock ‘n’ roll. And as a guitarist, it’s not just about playing the notes; it’s about making people feel something deep down. My music, my brand, it’s all designed to take fans on a journey—straight into my mind. I want to make people think, question, and escape. If I can get someone to lose themselves in the music for just a few minutes, to help them power through the chaos of life, then my mission has been a success.

But there’s more to it. What I do fills a void that’s been missing for a long time. My generation doesn’t have a rock guitar hero. That’s the truth. Sure, there are great players out there, but they don’t have that larger-than-life presence that people can look up to, get lost in, and truly follow. My sound is heavily rooted in the past, but it’s not stuck there. I take those influences and inject fresh, new life into them, creating something that feels organic and real. I want new listeners to experience rock the way it was meant to be—raw, honest, and electric. When you come to one of my shows, it’s not just a gig—it’s an experience. A trip to a new dimension of good times and good music. It’s the kind of rock ‘n’ roll that makes you forget about everything else and just feel. And that’s what I’m here to give.

What I’m most proud of? Sticking to my guns, no matter how hard it gets. I’ve been chasing this dream since 2016, and I’m not giving up now. And what really sets me apart is the relentless work ethic and the fire that burns inside me for this music and this culture. I don’t just play guitar; I live it. I’ve got a passion for this style that’s borderline insane. At 25, you won’t find many people my age playing guitar the way I do, pouring everything they’ve got into this sound, this vibe. My passion isn’t something you can fake—it’s undeniable. And when people hear it, they know. I’m not just doing this for the crowd; I’m doing it for myself, for the music, for the culture. And when I hit that stage, it’s all or nothing.

Where do you see things going in the next 5-10 years?
I truly believe that independent artists are going to rise up and take control of the scene. I’ve seen it firsthand with my own journey. I can write my own music, market it, distribute it—hell, I can do everything on my own. But what’s even better? I can create my own shows, my own energy, and build a community around that through social media. It’s something the big labels can’t replicate. It’s the real, raw connection with the fans that no machine can manufacture. And I’m not the only one doing it—there’s a whole movement of independent artists carving out their own paths, and I think the labels are going to have no choice but to recognize that we’ve got something more tangible to offer. We’re not just part of the machine; we are the machine. And fans can feel that authenticity—it’s hard to fake, and it’s what keeps them coming back.

But beyond that, I think we’re seeing a resurgence in tangible music media. Vinyl is making a comeback, and it’s not just a trend—it’s a real love for it. Digital streaming is amazing for convenience, sure. You can listen on the go, and it’s easy to access everything you want with a couple taps. But sometimes, you just need to hit pause, step back, and really experience the music. That’s where vinyl comes in. It’s not just about the sound—it’s about the whole ritual: pulling out the record, dropping the needle, reading the liner notes, and letting yourself get lost in the album. There’s something irreplaceable about that. You can’t get that with a playlist or an algorithm. That’s why I think tangible music media, especially vinyl, is going to keep growing. It’s the real deal. It’s the way music was meant to be consumed—slow, deliberate, and meaningful.

Independent artists are shaping the future. We’re creating something fresh, raw, and real, and people are ready for it. The game is changing, and the rise of the independent artist isn’t just a trend—it’s the future of music.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.edwardcrowthermusic.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/edwardcrowthermusic/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/edwardcrowthermusic
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvX1DkRwggH1tI93B7s_GnQ
• Other: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5I1H55Z2ZN3Py8Xpk8Xe7H?si=fJ52t2l8RWCrdJVGtlc1eg