Creating With Authenticity | In Conversation with Gethin Pearson

When it comes to creating something of real value, Gethin Pearson understands collaboration and community more than most. A champion of the welsh music industry, he is step by step turning his adopted home town into a global force of music production. In the pursuit of his own art, he has supported the discovery and creative process of countless people along the way. 

While you would naturally imagine a songwriter, producer and mixer has a good ear, Gethin lends his to more than just great sound. Reflected in his rich and diverse portfolio, he is a true listener who has deep appreciation for the ideas of his collaborators, approaching work with empathy, respect and mutual understanding.

Gethin Photographed by Ian Wallman at the Legendary Rockfield Studios, Monmouth.

His vast cultural awareness and natural intuition give him an unstoppable energy, working to bring the very best out of everyone and everything he interacts with. Even his personal commando boots are adorned with his own wide, flat laces. His care and commitment to authenticity, craft and self expression really resonated with us in our conversation, and we realised very quickly that we he was the perfect fit for an editorial feature. After all, some things just feel right!

Who are you and what do you do? Can you tell us a little bit about your journey in music?

I'm Gethin Pearson, a song-writer, producer and mixer. I was surrounded by music growing up — my dad was obsessed with a pretty niche area of bluegrass, and if he ever sat down, a guitar would be in his lap. I found my own taste in my early teens, which quickly grew into playing in bands and landing a Saturday job at the local record shop. I loved prepping the new releases — the thrill of seeing the artwork and hearing something before it was released into the world felt quite special.

I started recording my own demos and very quickly found myself recording other people's music more than my own. I balanced that for years alongside working part-time as a primary school teacher. Our first studio was a converted coal shed in the South Wales Valleys — proper DIY, but it had its charm. It gave me a space to develop and work with a huge range of artists, some making their first ever demo, others with plenty of previous success and used to far more "upmarket" surroundings.

What is the importance of place and community within the work that you do? How does this align with your decision to open a studio in Ceredigion?

Place and community are extremely important. So many people travel to us from all manner of places — in the UK and from further afield — and genuinely fall in love with the area. I don't think it's a coincidence that so many say it felt like a holiday but they left with a record. We work hard and with real intention, but there's something about having a window out to green fields and being close to the beaches that has a positive effect.

There are so many creative, interesting people in the surrounding area, all working with pure intention. There's a great grassroots music venue with a community studio nearby, as well as a university town close by, so we collaborate on shows and skill-sharing where we can. When the local school dropped its GCSE music course, we started inviting anyone interested to sit in on sessions and see that there's a pathway to being creative. We try to live by the motto "be the person you needed when you were younger”.

The portfolio of artists you work with appears to be very sonically diverse. How would you describe your creative process when producing a record, and how do you ensure you get authentic results out of each session?

I'm glad the diversity comes through. It can be intense — earning an artist's or band's trust, learning their taste and understanding what they want to say, often very quickly, means going in with everything: heart and mind both. I want to know as much as possible — what they love about music, their creative DNA, where they're coming from, what's inspiring them to create.

The best, most authentic results come when an artist or band is willing to "go there" — being honest about where they're at in that moment, and giving themselves permission to be uncomfortable. That means not playing it safe, pushing past what they already know they can do. If we're not collectively challenged, we're not pushing ourselves to make something different or new.

Craft for us means a lot of problem solving and making iterative changes within our process and the things we make. How does that work in your creative context?

When creating, in any medium here, it's a similar way of working. We try to capture a spark and get to a finish line — a "shape" — as quickly as possible, so as not to lose the energy and excitement. It's the light-bulb moment, the seed of the idea: keep the momentum, even if verse one and two are the same, or it's the same groove or progression throughout. Just get to the end — then we can go back and refine, add detail, clarify intention. From there it's a case of going over the sections, adding, subtracting, carving, sanding and so on. The route to the "finish" can change and develop, but the outcome — is this serving the song? is it moving me in some way? — is the guiding light and the one non-negotiable.

Curation and cultural awareness are incredibly important when working in the music industry. How would you say your taste has developed over your career, not just in music but within all your creative interests? Does this help you with your craft?

I go through seasons of obsession with artists, musical or otherwise. There's always a common thread between them — something I genuinely believe in and react to when I encounter their work, whatever the medium. I go on deep dives and down rabbit holes, needing to know everything about them. I also ask the artists I work with to bring as many multimedia references as possible — mood boards, film scenes, fashion looks — anything that helps me understand the intent and fully immerse myself in the sonic world we're trying to build. 

It’s also important to me that whatever the sonic world we are working on building sounds authentic and not a pastiche version of something, not using the lowest common denominator elements of a particular genre but it coming from the heart and a pure representation. This is where the curation and cultural awareness work hand in hand. 

Other disciplines, like painting and photography, have had a huge impact on my studio process — being deliberate, capturing with intent. In the studio it's easy to over-record, or simply hit undo; painting has taught me to have intention when leaving a mark on canvas, to know what I want to capture before I make it.

Rockwell is a historic place with lots of vintage equipment, but your own studio similarly mixes vintage and contemporary equipment. Is its inclusion due to demand, a nod to the heritage of music production, or is there another reason for it?

It's the combining of worlds. I love creating things that are informed by the past but couldn't have been made at any other time than now. The equipment I use lets me marry the best of the past with the advantages of the present — capturing the cleanest of signals through pristine converters, then slamming it to cassette or through an old compressor, gives such a range of tonal options. It all feeds into building a unique, authentic sonic world for everyone I work with.

What draws you to British-made fashion/footwear?

Although the impact of the combined force of British fashion and music across the decades can't be denied it's less about "British" as a category and more about the story, the lore, the history and tradition behind something. I go down deep dives wanting to know the timeline of things — be it loop-wheeled t-shirts from Germany, original workwear pants from America, certain guitar pedals, or specific label releases. That same instinct shapes how I listen to music too, and it's shaped by a lot of different places and times, not just one.

There is something in the culture that takes risks and innovates for sure, both musically and in fashion. The Cure is a huge reference point for me — not just the music, but the whole aesthetic world around it. No matter the creation you can feel it’s them before even hearing the vocals or seeing a face.  It feels unmistakably British but transcends it, yet it somehow pulls in the whole globe; people from completely different cultures feel part of that world instantly. It's the same lineage, in a way, as Vivienne Westwood and Alexander McQueen — British designers whose work was never just clothing, but a whole attitude and legacy that's still being felt and referenced globally. You don’t necessarily need to see their logo to have a sense that it has come from them.

Being Welsh plays into it massively too. There's an independent, small-country spirit here that I'm genuinely inspired by — we punch above our weight in all sorts of ways, and that scrappy, self-reliant D.I.Y streak feels like it's in the DNA. So when I land on something that happens to be British-made, footwear included, it's that same thread I'm chasing: something specific, something with a real point of view, made with intention and individuality rather than mass-produced anonymity.

How do you find wearing our boots? What drew you towards them, and how do they fit in with the rest of your style?

I found Solovair on a deep dive trying to track down a certain boot I had in my mind. I was drawn to the history, and I related to the craft behind them — the pursuit of traditional technique, staying true to core values while still existing and working within the challenges and opportunities of the present. Each pair feels special; it's like wearing a piece of cultural history. You can feel and see the hours of expertise and care that have gone into them. It reminds me of "your favourite band's favourite band" — anyone who spots the green tag gives you a knowing nod.

I love my Commando Derby Boots — the chunky soles and zip-along classic silhouette go with anything: jeans, workwear trousers, shorts, cargos. I like that I can wear them anywhere and they elevate any outfit, from a funeral to a club show, a music education panel to a studio session. I replaced the stock laces with flat cream ones which gives them a different look and brings out the stitching and the greasy finish. They were soft straight out of the box, and the smell was incredible, the artist I was working with at the time kept picking them up for a whiff. They probably wouldn't want to do that today!

You have recently launched your own record label, Cemetery Blonde Records — where did it come from, and what have been the most exciting moments/challenges in your journey with it so far?

Starting a label had been on our minds for a long time, but the timing was never quite right. Artists and bands are finding it harder to access the tools and collaborators their songs deserve. We live in an amazing time in one sense — everyone has access to a laptop and can create at home — but to be properly challenged and pushed, you sometimes need a different environment, or for someone to change the parameters you're working within. The label lets us collaborate with artists who may have incredible songs and talent but don't yet have the support or team around them to bounce ideas off and help take it to the world.

A lot of the artists I work with naturally come to me for thoughts on artwork, videos, and some of the day-to-day worries of the job, so formalising that into a label felt like a logical next step — alongside my wife's work with Stronger Minds in Music, a wellbeing support service for anyone in the music industry. Between the two, we can bring our years in these sometimes choppy waters, shoulder some of the risk, and share some of the reward.

That thinking has since extended into Cemetery Blonde Works, an artist development service built around individual mentorship — developing every part of the person within the music, both the creative side and their wellbeing. The idea is simple: we want to help people realise their potential without compromising who they are.

The most exciting moment so far has been opening the box of cassettes for our first release — seeing the label logo on there, hearing it play on the tape deck, was a real buzz. When everything is so digital, the thrill of holding something you've been part of making only gets stronger. It took me right back to those early days working in the record shop — holding a piece of art before it goes out into the world. It actually exists.

Links:
Commando Boots | https://uk.nps-solovair.com/collections/mens/products/s8-551-bg-zip-high-g
Gethin Pearson | https://www.gethin-pearson.com
Ian Wallman | Photographer | https://www.ianwallman.com