🔥 Russell Bret 🔥

🟠 Where did you grow up?

I’m from Sayreville, New Jersey. When I was nine, my family moved to California. At first, it felt weird—my accent was totally different from the kids there, and I stood out right away. But over time, I settled in. I got into skateboarding, hit the beach whenever I could, and I still remember the apricot trees. California was a different world, but I loved it.

🟠 How did you wind up where you are?

My dad was this wild, free-spirited guy who always knew how to have a good time. He was the life of the party, and as a kid, I thought that was the way to live. My mom had a different idea—after a few years, she packed us up and moved us back to Jersey, hoping for a fresh start. She ended up divorcing him, but by that point, I’d already taken after his habits.


Without any real direction, I drifted. And drifting eventually landed me in prison. It was a wake-up call—one that forced me to face myself and figure out what the hell I was actually doing with my life.

🟠 What are your musical influences?

My parents were both into music. My dad played harmonica, and my mom was obsessed with Elvis. We had this huge furniture-style record player, and I’d spend hours going through their collection—Carly Simon, Neil Sedaka, Frank Sinatra, The Carpenters, and a bunch of others.


As I got older, I got hooked on Blue Öyster Cult and Pink Floyd. But I also loved Styx, War, The Delfonics, Black Sabbath, Santana, Iron Maiden, The Pretenders, Grateful Dead, and even classical stuff like Bach. I’ve never really been tied to one genre—I just love music that moves me.

🟠 What made you start writing music?

I’ve always loved singing. When I was a kid, my friends and I used to have these little singing battles in the park. Later, I joined a few cover bands, and that’s when I started writing my own songs.


At one point, I even wrote a jingle for a car dealership. That got me in touch with some bigger artists, and I ended up selling some of my songs. But no matter how many songs I wrote for others, I still had things I needed to say for myself.


Now, music is my lifeline. It’s the one thing that keeps me grounded. Writing songs lets me process things I don’t always know how to talk about. It’s not just creative—it’s survival.