It began with the music. The stage lights cutting through the dark, the noise of the crowd rising and falling, the unspoken connection between the band and everyone packed shoulder to shoulder. At first it was just about being there, but soon I found myself reaching for a camera—not to freeze time, but to hold on to the feeling of it all.

The shows led me deeper, past the spotlight and into the quieter spaces. Backstage conversations, long hours on the road, moments of exhaustion and laughter that never make it onto the setlist. Just as much life exists in those in-between spaces as it does under the glare of the stage, and I wanted to capture that too.

As the work grew, I found myself drawn to other sides of the story—the portraits musicians use to define themselves, the imagery that helps tell who they are before anyone hears a single note. There’s a different kind of honesty in a face, in the way someone carries themselves when the focus is entirely on them.

And beyond the individuals, there’s the bigger picture: the stories that need to be told for albums, tours, and projects to live on. Creating those visuals—the ones that move between art and commerce—has become another part of how I document this world. Whether it’s a performance, a rehearsal, a campaign, or a fleeting moment on the road, the goal is always the same: to capture the truth of it.

Photography has become my way of threading all these pieces together: the chaos, the calm, the seen and unseen. It’s not about chasing perfection, but about giving shape to the fleeting moments that remind us why music matters in the first place.

— Stephen Brownlee