Solomon Cortes

Solomon Cortes is much shyer in person than I imagined him to be. On stage he was a demon, possessed by gigantic gestures and an energetic vigor that ebbed and flowed from hyper-aggressive to tranquil and inviting. Privy to the fact that Solomon writes, composes, produces, arranges, and performs nearly all of his material, I must admit that I was expecting him to be immediately eccentric and outgoing; brash, bold, definitely arrogant. But as is always the case with Solomon, the flesh is where the nutrients lie, and the shiny exterior is merely that.
Introverted and introspective initially, his conversation and his charming charisma grow like ivy on a wall. Slowly it covers you, until you are completely and utterly consumed, and you begin to realize that this ivy contains some sort of narcotic. You are intoxicated. Ultimately, addicted. Forever a fan. A believer. He makes people believe. In each other. In themselves. And it is in this reaction where Solomon's strength lies. It is the root and heart of his music and his person, but is probably not the obvious foundation. On purpose.
Solomon grew up in the North Texas suburbs. Multiracial, Solomon was rejected by mainstream society, and found his friendships in the outskirts and the outcasts. Thus, the large system of values he lays out for us in and through his music, Solomon claims, is a reflection of the perspectives he gained while observing from outside the circle. But outside was not his only experience. For Solomon was a naturally gifted athlete, courted by several major league scouts in high school prior to following his call to music. And there, in that athletic glory, he was embraced, on the fringe, by those who, in his younger years, denied and ridiculed him for his differences. 'It was only then that I learned that rich, poor, black, white, cool, or weird, everyone is given the opportunity to live with love or hate,' says Solomon, 'and even something as simple and unusual as that should reveal our connection with each other.'
I cover this history quickly and on purpose, as was requested by Solomon. 'The past is filled with gems and knives, and in dwelling there, you run the risk of knives,' Solomon states.
So I stick to Solomon the musician, the mad-scientist, the priest and the crusader (he is always speaking of the sanctity of music and taking arms against those who abuse it): good ol' genre-bending, ever defiant, womanizing Solomon. He is an enigma of beautiful ideas and melodies, wrapped in a ball of thorns, covered in honey. If you ever have the pleasure of painting the town with him, you would assume that he and his three to four comrades were gay, based on their attire and sometimes their makeup, until you realized that seemingly he was in some sort of current relationship with every girl at the table. Solomon claims that while he believes monogamy to be against the laws of nature, he would hold his lover on a pedestal so high and in a place so beautiful in his heart, he would never dare destroy it. It would be the light to which he opened his eyes every morning, and the dark to which he returned every night. Even still, the scandals always arise. And time and time again, there he is on the fringe. On the cusp. Teetering back and forth between what he believes and how he is perceived. Between what he does and what he says.
But O how romantic! How chivalrous! Knightly, I think, to know that at least someone is out there in the world right now with some passion, living hard, willing to pray and offer sacrifice to something greater than himself and his mortality. 'Its as though every single day the world and its experiences are one big cathedral,' he posits, 'and we are all in a ceremony together, learning, growing closer to each other, and closer to the truth.'
Without question Solomon is devout, strong as an oak in his devotion, yet ever willing to increase his perspective, ever dwelling on that cusp, always picking up and adding to his medley of ideas, like a nickel one picks up on a walk and places in his pocket. Solomon loves his 'perspectives', those building blocks he played with from the outskirts. And here, finally, in this chivalry and in these 'perspectives', the ivy ravages the wall like a fire, and Solomon has made you believe again. In anything. In whatever you want.
Definitely in his music. Solomon's pockets are full of golden coins from all over the universe and artistic spectrum, which he has collected during his own walk. 'I have extrapolated from each musical style my favorite elements and have created a chemical and natural bond between those elements, and I add to it words that I hope beg for attention, and beg the questions. The result is, I admit, hard to describe. However, it is exactly what I want it to be,' Solomon concludes.
Examples of his chemistry are to be found everywhere. Soon to be cult classics like 'We're Not Alone', an up-tempo, electronic jolt, and 'Queen of England', a clubby hum