How Producing Music Helped Me Overcome My Stutter

Music can be a creative outlet for many people, but we underestimate how critical it may be for many artists to express their internal emotions. That is the case for Riley Smithson, an up-and-coming producer who performs as Shrimpnose. Smithson, who has had a debilitating stutter most of his life, began playing instruments as a young child. His musical hobby eventually turned into a necessary outlet the more difficult it became for him to communicate with his friends, family and peers due to his speech impediment. Now, Smithson pursues music full time.

Here, Smithson shares his experiences growing up with a stutter, how his stutter changes his perception of making music, and why learning how to make music helps him connect with other people.

Growing up was really confusing for me. I got scrutinized for [my stutter] by bullies on the bus and the playground. It was pretty standard stuff. Trying to participate in class was always a terrifying experience. To this day, when I'm put in "performance situations" with my speech where I have to explain something on the spot, I freeze up. It feels like being frozen in time with hot coals burning on my neck.

Kids, teachers, and parents would mock me. Not necessarily deliberately, but they would think they were being funny for some reason, as if my impediment was a joke.

It made me feel like a total outcast—like I would never be able to have legitimate conversations with people without my speech distracting them, either out of ignorance or malice or both.

I was alone often growing up. My parents are traveling musicians, so as soon as I was trusted at home, I began spending a lot of time alone, learning to play drums and piano. My dad got me a drum kit when I was about five years old.

In high school, I jammed in some bands with some kids from school, but I mainly spent my time honing my drumming. A friend of mine had Garageband on his mom's computer and it fascinated me that you could make a song from scratch with nothing more than a laptop. After a while of screwing around with Garageband and Logic, I got Ableton.

After I graduated high school, my depression got worse. Last year, I enrolled at the University of Minnesota without understanding why I was going. I felt like my speech prevented me from participating in class and limited my job possibilities. I was pretty broke during this time. For a couple months, I'd go about half the days of the week not really eating because I couldn't afford it. I wasn't sleeping much and when I did, it was never for more than a few hours. All I wanted to do was be in the studio working on my shit all the time.

Music transformed into more of an outlet than a hobby. The more I worked on music, the more I felt like that was the only thing I should be doing. [Music] brings a level of fulfillment that I don't get from anything else—people, drugs, alcohol, etc. It makes me feel whole and healthy. I make music because it saved my life, not for anybody other than myself.

After half a year of trying to keep my grades up, all my feelings of isolation and depression accumulated and reached a point where I had to make a decision: I could continue at college, where I was ironically studying talk therapy, or I could pursue music, which was quite literally the only thing in my life that brought me joy.

I decided to drop out to pursue music.

Before I start any song, I kind of already know how I want it to sound. I try to keep it as open and free and thoughtless as possible, like jazz improv. I love sampling myself playing instruments and then fucking up how they sound. Kids toys are great for samples. I almost always need to listen to something at least 50 times before I know what I want to do with it.

Most people view speech as a necessary bodily function. I view being able to make music as a necessary bodily function. Since I can't really talk like most people, I've kind of replaced my need for speech with music. Making songs with my friends fulfills some of my need for meaningful connection. It feels like a conversation when we're all working on songs, even if not a word is said. "Darkness" with Nazeem and Jaylap was made in the studio, with each of us focusing on our own parts in silence. It felt like we were all on the same page without even having to contrive my thoughts into words

I still feel isolated a lot of the time. Music makes it easier. Having a community and artform where the "conversation" or medium isn't verbal makes me feel like I can express myself in healthy ways.