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“Three of the songs on my first EP made girls cry,” Ian Walsh chuckles, but his laugh isn’t cruel or boastful—it’s one of astonishment. While the dashing 19-year-old Delaware native may still be coming to terms with his power as a singer-songwriter, listeners will hear only depth, melody and maturity on his debut full-length, Please Remember.

Although Walsh spends most days in anonymity, grinding through his second semester at the esteemed Berklee College of Music, the multi-instrumentalist devotes his nights to exploring the emotional turbulence befitting his other favorite pastime: surfing.
“It’s got all the elements,” he explains. “You’re out there by yourself; you’ve got time to think, to enjoy the scenery. And then you’ve got the rush of trying to tame the wild. There’s danger, serenity, relaxation and also being in an untamed environment.”
All of which couldn’t be a more appropriate analogy for Walsh’s music.

Getting his start as a bassist in popular local blues act Johnny Duke and the Aces, he went through a brief headbanging phase before the tumult of young romance shaped him into the seasoned indie rock paramour of Please Remember. Walsh’s earnest emotions mirror his songs’ tempos, be it confident and ebullient (“Perfect Sense,” “Supposed to Be”) or forlorn and regretful (“Goodbye,” “Apology”). That latter track, the album’s plaintive closer, was his first stab at solo songwriting; he specifically crafted it to offer closure for an ex—as aforementioned, with mixed results. “If you think of breakups, this was a hell on earth kind of break up,” Walsh admits. “I still think of myself as post-that relationship. It was a big part of my life.” These various and sundry dalliances with love and loss shaped the majority of his first EP, whose five songs all appear in re-recorded form on Please Remember.

As the young quadruple threat—in addition to singing, he plays guitar bass and piano—began to hunker down with producer Ritchie Rubini (the Caulfields) and mixer Nick DiDia (Velvet Revolver, Bruce Springsteen), he eschewed that raw angst for more refined, universal themes: “songs, not gifts,” as he puts it, “darker and less pop.”
But don’t use the longing inherent in the lyrics to lump Walsh in the “Hey There, Delilah” emo-pop crowd, or the surfing connection to liken him to a Jack Johnson or Tristan Prettyman. Walsh respects all camps, but is most content simply being himself and developing his own identity.

“When I listen to the radio, I hear the same song over and over,” he notes. “I just want to make music that has real instruments, that’s catchy and artsy and has a nice sound to it, but isn’t so polished and dehumanized.” Please Remember is a testament to the achievement of that thoughtful goal.