“The blues isn’t just a genre of music; it is a collaboration of a variety of cultures and lived experiences, including, but not limited to, moments of trauma and celebration. Preserving and spreading this music is essential in preserving American history, acknowledging and giving a voice to the stories and lives of those before us, who were often silenced.”

Kyle Rowland: Breathing With The Blues

Kyle Rowland powers through the reeds of a Harmonica, honoring the rich traditions of American rhythm & blues, soul, and gospel. Rowland quickly and naturally developed his own sound, with help from a few of his heroes such as James Cotton, Lazy Lester, Hubert Sumlin, Billy “Boy” Arnold, Matt “Guitar” Murphy, Henry Gray, Charlie Musselwhite,  and many others. Through these pioneers, Rowland learned specific techniques of stage presence, the music business, and several highly revered harmonica secrets, evident in his performances. In August of 2022, Rowland signed an endorsement deal with Hohner harmonica company, which he has proudly used for his 20+ year career. Recently with the help of Hohner, Rowland has had the opportunity to teach the harmonica to hundreds of children across the United States, Mexico, and Cuba. In 2024, he was inducted as the youngest member into the Sacramento Blues Hall of Fame, where he began his musical journey at the age of 10.

(Kyle Rowland / Photos L-R © by Lacey Nelson, Stephen Kimball, and Bob Hakins)

In both 2024 and 2025, Rowland placed as a simi-finalist in the International Blues Challenge, in Memphis Tennessee. The young West Coast harp ace and outstanding vocalist and songwriter released his 15-tracks album “Not Holding Back” (2025 / Little Village), produced by Rick Estrin and Kid Andersen, recorded at Kid's magical Greaseland studio, with Johnny Burgin, Anson Funderburgh, Bob Welsh, Jim Pugh, June Core and more!

Interview by Michael Limnios                           Special Thanks: Kevin Johnson

How has the music influenced your views of the world and the journeys you’ve taken?

Music allows you to see the beauty of a person's soul. What they might be celebrating or traversing through in that moment, or what they have overcome. In my travels, I have found that some of the best songs have not necessarily come from the person with several Grammy awards or those who sell out theaters, but from the unhoused man playing for spare change in the rain. Everyone has a song to sing, even those who aren't musicians.

How do you describe your sound, music philosophy, and songbook? What touched you from the sound of the harmonica?

My sound, music philosophy, and songbook consist of staying true to my influences and mentors while also delivering relatable and thought-provoking music. I want people to really feel what I’m singing about and playing. Each note and word carries meaning and weight; they aren't just notes and words, they are emotions.

As a truck driver, my father played the harmonica to keep himself awake while driving over the snow-covered Sierra Nevada mountains. When I came home from the hospital, he threw an old harmonica in my crib. Some of my early memories include hearing Cotton, Oscher, and Portnoy on a few Muddy Waters cassettes my father owned, and I remember being captivated by the fierce, boisterous, and edgy sound that they put out. I remember later in childhood hearing Sonny Boy Williamson make the harmonica cry and speak coherent words. You just can’t get sounds like that out of any other instrument.

“Music is one language. I’ve found that music brings people from across all political affiliations, races, religions, and socioeconomic classes to one equal level of understanding and joy. Where two people from opposite ends of the street can meet in the middle despite their differences and enjoy something that makes them feel good, quite possibly changing and transforming their preconceived ideas of each other.” (Kyle Rowland / Photo © by Bob Hakins)

Are there any memories from gigs, jams, open acts and studio sessions which you’d like to share with us?

The first time I met James Cotton, I was 13. He had heard me play harp earlier in the day, and during his final song, “Got My Mojo Working,” he called me up to the bandstand. After I played a solo or two, an African American gentleman from the crowd shouted, “Not bad for a white boy.” Cotton brought the band down to a whisper and nearly scolded that man from the stage, “I ran away home at the age of 9 to live with Sonny Boy Williamson. I learned quick that the blues ain't black, white, green, or purple, it's a feeling, and this boy’s got it!” This was one of the happiest moments of my life, and it began a lasting friendship and mentorship between Cotton and me. 

Playing music alongside the heroes I grew up listening to is, of course, a highlight in my career, but the friendships that extend beyond the bandstand are what I am truly grateful for. Drinking beer and listening to baseball games on the radio with Lazy Lester, hours of conversation in James Cotton’s kitchen, and traversing the streets of San Francisco with Paul Oscher are just a few memories I will hold close to my heart. In these moments, we of course talked about music, but we also talked about other aspects of life that contributed positively to the man I am today.  

What do you miss most nowadays from the blues of the past? What are your hopes and fears for the future of?

I miss how raw and unfiltered the blues used to be. Some folks seem to overthink it too much, and end up only playing to show off, which I was sure guilty of in my teens. I can only hope that the future of the blues can understand that the importance of feeling what you're playing is more important than showing off how talented you may be. 

What is the impact of music on the socio-cultural implications? How do you want the music to affect people?

Music is one language. I’ve found that music brings people from across all political affiliations, races, religions, and socioeconomic classes to one equal level of understanding and joy. Where two people from opposite ends of the street can meet in the middle despite their differences and enjoy something that makes them feel good, quite possibly changing and transforming their preconceived ideas of each other. 

“Music allows you to see the beauty of a person's soul. What they might be celebrating or traversing through in that moment, or what they have overcome. In my travels, I have found that some of the best songs have not necessarily come from the person with several Grammy awards or those who sell out theaters, but from the unhoused man playing for spare change in the rain. Everyone has a song to sing, even those who aren't musicians.” (Kyle Rowland / Photo © by Bob Hakins)

What are some of the most important lessons you have learned from your experience in the music paths?

The one and only time I met and sat in with Hubert Sumlin, he motioned for me to sit next to him as he took time to meet each person in the audience. As each person exited the small trailer, he would tap me on the leg, point to the person leaving, and say, “See that? That’s what it's all about” or “Without them, you ain't got nothing.” 

It's important to take the time to talk to folks who come to see you, listening to their stories, and engaging in genuine conversation. I’ve been taught to treat the janitor with the same respect and love as the person who’s paying you. Humility is the key to success in all things. As musicians, we are the court jesters, pleasing the Kings and Queens of our extremely small community. Knowing our place is important in staying level-headed.

What are you doing to keep your music relevant today, to develop it and present it to the new generation?

To the common person in their early 20s who didn’t grow up around the blues, the term “blues” carries the connotation of sadness and despair. Generally, this false notion pushes folks away. Recently, instead of calling the music I play “blues,” I have been telling folks I play “rhythm and blues,” (not “R&B”, that’s a whole other genre, where I’ve also found that many people do not know what the “R” and “B” stand for). I've noticed that when younger folks hear the word “rhythm” alongside “blues,” they seem to become more interested. The term “rhythm” seems to carry the connotation of fun and feeling good.

Why is it important to preserve and spread the blues? What keeps a musician passionate over the years in blues?

The blues isn’t just a genre of music; it is a collaboration of a variety of cultures and lived experiences, including, but not limited to, moments of trauma and celebration. Preserving and spreading this music is essential in preserving American history, acknowledging and giving a voice to the stories and lives of those before us, who were often silenced. As musicians, we become part of this history. It is our responsibility to carry the stories from the past, as well as our own, to keep this original American art form alive.  

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(Kyle Rowland / Photo © by Bob Hakins)