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Raised by wolves in a fiberglass shack outside of Nashville, Aleander didn’t speak human until age 9, but he could harmonize with a dying crow by 7. Discovered in a Bass Pro parking lot by a recently divorced heiress named Barbara (who claimed he reminded her of her third husband and also Jesus), he was offered a vintage Epiphone and a line of credit with no expiration date.
Aleander writes songs that sound like your uncle’s funeral felt. His debut concept album, Monsters Using Rosy Disguises to Escape Reality, explores the inner lives of serial killers, cult prophets, and accidentally lovable maniacs, all with a surprisingly upbeat twang.
Currently working on a suite of tracks rumored to manipulate spacetime, Aleander is fueled by diner coffee, visions of his own funeral, and the belief that death is not an ending — just a backstage pass.
He does not tour. He wanders.
He is not haunted. He invites the ghosts.
And he will see you on the other side.
Aleander writes songs that sound like your uncle’s funeral felt. His debut concept album, Monsters Using Rosy Disguises to Escape Reality, explores the inner lives of serial killers, cult prophets, and accidentally lovable maniacs, all with a surprisingly upbeat twang.
Currently working on a suite of tracks rumored to manipulate spacetime, Aleander is fueled by diner coffee, visions of his own funeral, and the belief that death is not an ending — just a backstage pass.
He does not tour. He wanders.
He is not haunted. He invites the ghosts.
And he will see you on the other side.
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