Journalist-Turned-Musician Sam Macdonald on Finding His Voice at 40 And Redefining Late-Blooming Creativity
…Obsession with streaming numbers means nothing. A number next to your name doesn’t get you anywhere. I read that for an artist to earn minimum wage, they need something like 550,000 streams a month. Success in a commercial sense is a drop in the ocean. This obsession with numbers — likes, LinkedIn connections — is not an expression of anything useful….
I had the pleasure of talking with Sam Macdonald, a man whose path to the stage has been quite non-intuitive. In the high-gloss, youth-obsessed machinery of the modern music industry, Macdonald cuts a figure of refreshing, rugged normalcy. He isn’t a teenage prodigy engineered in a label boardroom, nor is he a TikTok star chasing a viral moment. He is a 40-year-old financial journalist from Carlisle who, just five years ago, decided it was finally time to stop writing about the world and start singing about it.
Macdonald’s story is one of delayed gratification and the sudden, sharp realization that time waits for no one. For 15 years, he lived in London, embedding himself in the rhythms of the city as a writer, all while harboring a secret, gnawing envy of the musicians he watched from the crowd.
“I felt I wasn’t ‘cool enough’ to play music because I was just this weird financial journalist,” Macdonald admits, reflecting on the imposter syndrome that kept his creativity dormant for decades. “We create boundaries for ourselves, telling ourselves we aren’t the ‘type of person’ to do something.”
The dam finally broke on July 5th, 2020. The setting was mundane — a walk down Holloway Road in North London — but the soundtrack was pivotal. He was listening to “Feel So Bad” by the Mississippi bluesman Junior Kimbrough. The raw, hypnotic drone of the blues sparked something violently urgent in him.
“I thought, ‘Man, why aren’t I playing guitar? All these bloody years I’ve been thinking about it and listening to music, and I never picked it up,’” Macdonald recalls. He walked into a shop called Music Box on Seven Sisters Road and bought an 80-pound acoustic guitar. He knew two chords — G and C — and that was enough to start a new life.
Musically, Macdonald is a student of the classics, but he isn’t interested in being a museum piece. His sound is a “rocky, poppy, crunchy” collision of influences that span the decades, from the 50s rock and roll tapes his father played in the car to the northern swagger of Oasis and The La’s. There are traces of Neil Young’s fragility and the avant-garde bite of Captain Beefheart. But because he came to the game later in life, he feels no pressure to chase trends.
“Given that I’m 40 years old, a lot of my influences are older than I am,” he says. “I’m not trying to keep up with anything specific, just making the music I want to make.”
That independence is the hallmark of his recent solo turn. After a stint in a band, Macdonald struck out on his own, embracing the terrifying freedom of total creative control. His solo work, including the tracks “Gone” and “Distant Light,” represents a shedding of skin. He operates with a DIY ethos that borders on punk, managing everything from the songwriting to the marketing.
“It sounds selfish, but that is what this project is to me,” he says of his solitary workflow. “With this, you take the success, but you also take the full responsibility.”
This philosophy extends to his view of success. In an era where artists are often judged by their data, Macdonald remains aggressively unimpressed by the metrics of the digital age. He isn’t refreshing his Spotify for artists page or counting likes.
“Nobody cares,” he says, framing the sentiment not as a complaint, but as a revelation. “I know that sounds negative, but it is liberating… Success in a commercial sense is a drop in the ocean. This obsession with numbers — likes, LinkedIn connections — is not an expression of anything useful.”
Despite the cynical edge — a trait he attributes to his years in journalism — Macdonald’s music is ultimately life-affirming. It’s the sound of a man who has found his voice after years of silence. This dichotomy was on full display during a recent, emotional return to his hometown of Carlisle. Playing his first gig there, in front of his parents and old friends, he felt the full weight of his journey from anxious child to performing artist.
“It was very special and poignant to me,” he says. “Growing up watching bands like Oasis, I thought you had to have a certain arrogance. But when I play, I feel a great sense of gratitude and happiness. It might not be trendy, but I can’t change the way I feel.”
Offstage, Macdonald has swapped the rock and roll clichés for a regimen of cold water swimming and boxing. He doesn’t drink or do drugs, preferring the natural high of plunging into freezing ponds to “lose myself to the cold.” It’s a discipline that mirrors his approach to music: strip away the excess, face the shock, and come out the other side clearer and stronger.
Sam Macdonald isn’t trying to be the next big thing. He’s trying to be the most authentic version of himself. He is a man who looked at the second half of his life and decided to rewrite the script.
“Complexity is rarely the answer,” Macdonald tells me, channeling the spirit of Dylan. “Success in its purest form is often very simple, though not easy.”
For Macdonald, the success is in the doing. It’s in the 80-pound guitar, the cold water, and the courage to finally stand in the light.
Yitzi: Sam Macdonald, it’s so delightful to meet you. Before we dive in deep, I would love to learn about Sam Macdonald’s personal origin story. Can you share the story of your childhood, how you grew up, and the seeds for all the amazing work that has come since then?
Sam Macdonald: Of course. I’m not sure about “amazing work,” but I can give you a bit of background. I was born in a city called Carlisle in the Northwest of England. I had a fairly normal childhood. I developed a love for music early on. My dad used to play a lot of old 60s and 50s rock and roll hits on cassette tapes in the car. My dad was a secondary school teacher when I was younger.
I’ve always been heavily interested in music, football, and culture from a working-class perspective. As a child, I was anxious, nervous, and quite reserved, but as life has gone on, I’ve become a bit more extroverted. We lived in Carlisle for all of my childhood. I never learned to play an instrument when I was younger. A lot of my friends were in bands, and I looked up to them. I was jealous of their ability because they made it look accessible, but I never felt I had the capability, time, or willingness to learn. I knew I could sing, but I never really did it outside of my own home.
As time went on, I became more confident presenting that image to the world. After secondary school, I went to college and did a journalism course. I moved to London around the start of 2011, so I’ve been here for about 15 years now. I became a financial journalist, and I always felt that didn’t fit with the music thing. I felt I wasn’t “cool enough” to play music because I was just this weird financial journalist. However, in the last few years, I’ve learned to care less about what people think. There is a real need for me to express myself through music. We create boundaries for ourselves, telling ourselves we aren’t the “type of person” to do something. Once I became less affected by outside forces, it enabled me to become cool with making the music I want to make. Given that I’m 40 years old, a lot of my influences are older than I am — sometimes 50 or 60 years old — which is interesting. I’m not trying to keep up with anything specific, just making the music I want to make.
Yitzi: Can you tell us the story of how you started as a musician? Tell us the story of Sam Macdonald.
Sam Macdonald: I bought my first acoustic guitar on July 5th, 2020. I was walking down Holloway Road in North London listening to a blues song called “Feel So Bad” by Junior Kimbrough. I thought, “Man, why aren’t I playing guitar? All these bloody years I’ve been thinking about it and listening to music, and I never picked it up.” I had only played for two weeks in year four at school before giving up.
I made a decision right then to go to the shop around the corner, Music Box on Seven Sisters Road. I bought an 80-pound acoustic guitar. I was lodging with a guy in the midst of the lockdown era. I started trying to play songs, learning through YouTube. Once you know two chords, G and C, you can play a few songs. That was the genesis of it. There was no real goal beyond picking up the guitar and trying to learn a few songs.
That morphed into writing. Within 18 months, I had written a few of my own tracks. I started playing in a band called Mellow Mate with a guy I met on a music app. We played a few gigs as a three-piece band for a couple of years. When that came to an end, I started doing my own thing. Because of my job as a journalist, I like to think I know what constitutes good wordplay, which ties in well with writing lyrics.
Yitzi: You probably have some stories from different parts of your career as a music artist. Can you share one or two stories that stand out in your mind?
Sam Macdonald: One that comes to mind is recent. I’ve had a few gigs affected by the industrial rail strikes in Britain, which is frustrating, though I support the cause. Interestingly, I just played the first gig I’ve ever done in my hometown of Carlisle this past Saturday. There were about 30 people I knew from years ago there — old friends, my mom, my dad, and my uncle.
I was actually a bit nervous because of the symbolism of doing that back home. I moved to London, learned to play down here, and then went back up there to play. It was very special and poignant to me. It’s hard to get gigs, especially in London where it is so competitive, but the space is very rich in diversity. At the last gig I did, there was an African singer singing in her mother tongue and a Mexican flamenco guitarist. What strikes me is that most people are genuine and friendly. Growing up watching bands like Oasis, I thought you had to have a certain arrogance. But when I play, I feel a great sense of gratitude and happiness. It might not be trendy, but I can’t change the way I feel.
Yitzi: It’s been said that sometimes our mistakes can be our greatest teachers. Do you have a story about a funny mistake you made when you were first starting and the lesson you learned?
Sam Macdonald: Yes. Nowadays, you get instant feedback because everything is filmed. The mistake I made early on was playing too hard — hitting the guitar and singing as loud and hard as I possibly could because I thought that was how it should be done. I didn’t want to shirk anything. But listening back, I realized I was just roaring. As time has gone on, I’ve learned to be more nuanced in my delivery. You have to allow yourself to make those mistakes in order to learn.
Yitzi: You have so much impressive work, Sam. Can you tell us about the exciting new initiatives or projects you’re working on now?
Sam Macdonald: I just released my second solo single called “Gone.” I’m very proud of it. It mashes together a lot of influences to create a sound representative of what I was listening to at the moment — like Captain Beefheart and the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. It’s a rocky, poppy, crunchy guitar sound, but the vocal delivery isn’t as booming as the music.
I’m also working on the business side. As a musician, you have to wear so many hats: musician, writer, marketer, visual artist, and social media manager. It’s difficult, but at least it is all yours. Sometimes when you get others to help, the vision becomes diluted. Any mistakes made here are ultimately mine. It sounds selfish, but that is what this project is to me.
Yitzi: If you could take all of your music, all the songs, melodies, and album covers, and put them in a blender, what would be the overall message from that mixture?
Sam Macdonald: The overall message would be colorful. I’d like to think it’s life-affirming, yet quite cynical at the same time — cynical of oneself and the world around us. Being a journalist, I think you have to be quite cynical.
Yitzi: Would you say as a stereotype that British music and art is often more satirical and biting towards culture than American art?
Sam Macdonald: I think so. Britain has to laugh at itself a bit more. We are a confused amalgamation of different things, and we do a lot of things without thinking. It’s easier to mock oneself because of that.
I think there’s a lot going on now that is beyond satire. A famous comedic writer in the UK, Armando Iannucci, said it’s impossible to write satire because the world is almost satirical in itself. The Death of Stalin is also an absolute masterpiece. He is a visionary and a forerunner to shows like The Office. His ability to mix comedy and tragedy in the same moment is unrivaled. Jason Isaacs’ performance as Zhukov in that is incredible. And after that, he did Veep, which is brilliant. That’s why it is so hard to write these things. You have a guy like Biden who seemingly can’t remember his own name leading the most powerful country in the world. It’s bipartisan cynicism. That’s where a lot of people find themselves now. You have to laugh at it, but you’re laughing because it’s incredibly scary at the same time. You feel unrepresented.
Yitzi: You’ve been blessed with a lot of success. Looking back to when you first started music five years ago, can you share five things you’ve learned that would have been nice to know when you started?
Sam Macdonald: Sure.
- Nobody cares. I know that sounds negative, but it is liberating. You can get wound up by what people think, but really, they aren’t going to give you the time of day. Most people won’t even do you the courtesy of disliking you; they will just ignore you.
- Complexity is rarely the answer. Think about artists like Dylan; the beauty is in the simplicity. Success in its purest form is often very simple, though not easy.
- Obsession with streaming numbers means nothing. A number next to your name doesn’t get you anywhere. I read that for an artist to earn minimum wage, they need something like 550,000 streams a month. Success in a commercial sense is a drop in the ocean. This obsession with numbers — likes, LinkedIn connections — is not an expression of anything useful.
- I prefer working alone. I don’t really seek other people’s input. It’s important for me to push my own thing. In life, there is so much you don’t have control over. With this, you take the success, but you also take the full responsibility.
- Allow things to breathe. Just because something seems good one day doesn’t mean it will be the next. You have to allow things to change and see what they mean over time.
Yitzi: Can you share some of the self-care routines you do to help your body, mind, and heart thrive?
Sam Macdonald: Stereotypically, I love cold water swimming. I lose myself to the cold in ponds and take cold showers. I also do a lot of boxing training. I love the intensity and being fit. I also enjoy eating well. I spent a lot of my life not eating well for various mental health reasons, but now I enjoy filling myself with food, like a nice steak or sticky toffee pudding. Also, I don’t drink or take drugs anymore, which is a big part of being present.
Yitzi: This is our final aspirational question. Because of your great work and platform, you are a person of influence. If you could spread an idea or inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be?
Sam Macdonald: I think as a society — including politicians — not enough people say “I don’t know” when they don’t know the answer. I would encourage people to voice that rather than forcing an opinion. We need to think about things more deeply.
Yitzi: That is an amazing answer. Sam, how can our readers continue to follow your work and support you?
Sam Macdonald: You can find me as Sam Macdonald on Spotify. On Instagram, I am @sammacsees, and on YouTube @sammacdonaldsees. Dropping a message or interacting on any of those platforms is more than welcome.
Yitzi: Sam, it’s been fascinating to meet you. I wish you safe travels and success.
Sam Macdonald: Thanks so much, I really appreciate your time. It’s been lovely.
Journalist-Turned-Musician Sam Macdonald on Finding His Voice at 40 And Redefining Late-Blooming… was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.