Today we’d like to introduce you to Ethan Rink.
Hi Ethan, it’s an honor to have you on the platform. Thanks for sharing your story with us – to start, maybe you can share some of your backstories with our readers.
My story started before me, with my middle name: James. My grandfather, James Raymond Rink, spent an entire summer of his teenage years in an English class during summer school to appease his mother’s will. “Always listen to your mother.” he would tell me growing up. That English class set him on a path that might have saved his life. In that English class, he discovered his love for writing and went to college to get his degree. When he was called to serve in the war, those writing credits spared him a spot on the front lines. He served not with a gun but with a pen. He served as a war journalist. That passion for writing never died. He wrote many poems, later took up instruments, and fell in love with singing words rather than writing them. That’s how I’ll never forget him, his voice like a charming old hound dog and his fingers plucking away at a banjo.
My father, James’ middle son, grew up making comedy short films with his friends. This endeavor eventually transformed from writing scripts to songs under the guise of an outrageously characterized metal band called The Flaming Intestines. Their lyrics were so unserious and yet surprisingly witty. It was camp. They performed locally, sold records, and even made short films surrounding the band’s characters. The love for words, a lust for fantasy, and a desire for poetry were passed down to me by my father and his father before him. My journey in art started when I was only three weeks old. I made my stage debut in my church’s Christmas pageant as the newborn baby Jesus. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a sound. Ironically the perfect performance meant staying completely silent. My mom would tell this story for the rest of my life, every chance she got. When I was four, my mom took me to the Theatre for the first time to see a musical. I had never seen a room so filled with people and more magical, yet they all disappeared when the lights went down. I was so small I had to sit on my knees with my seat folded upright to see over the person in front of me. But what I saw changed my life. And even as that tiny four-year-old boy, I knew I had to be on that stage.
I sang all the time at home. I started writing plays and musicals with my mom and forcing her to perform them for my dad in the living room, for whom I charged a dollar for entry and even more for snacks that he had bought himself. I lived in these fantasy worlds as a child. As an only child. As a lonely child. And that lonely child grew up fast and stopped thinking as much about having a life on stage, and more about being normal, trying to be content as a watcher. I was trying to be an ordinary boy and do everyday boy things, not things that girly boys do. So I forgot.
At the start of the summer when I was ten, my dad moved our family to Austin, a thousand miles away from everyone and everything I had ever known, to pursue his long-forgotten dreams of being a filmmaker. With no friends and no school where I could make friends, I felt more alone and more depressed than I ever had. And my mom noticed. She forced me to audition for a local children’s musical theatre program. I had low expectations. When it came time for my audition, I was nervous about singing in front of people for the first time. But when I started singing, I watched the director smile and cry. I was cast in the lead role.
Theatre unlocked a side of myself I had never known. I gained the confidence and passion for risking becoming the girly boy, and most people liked me more because of it. I did theatre throughout High school. Everyone introduced me as “Ethan Rink; he’s gonna be on Broadway one day.” I filled all my time with dance classes and singing lessons while writing poetry and lyrics to express the things that, even now, not as a lonely boy but as a popular boy, I was still too scared to say. But I didn’t need to tell them. I could be on stage and sing and recite someone else’s words.
After High school, I continued with theatre more professionally and even performed for a crowd of over three thousand. When the spotlight hit me, I felt more alive than ever, but it didn’t last. Standing in a pillar of light with so many eyes on me, I felt like nothing more than a ghost of myself. I didn’t want to spend my whole life like this, hiding behind a character, telling someone else’s story. So I took the biggest risk of my entire life. Breaking the hearts of my family, who flew a thousand miles to see me in every show, my friends, who were so proud they treated me like a movie star, and my mom, who took me to my first show fourteen years ago, I quit musical theatre.
It was the best decision I ever made, although the hardest. I didn’t have a set path anymore. I felt like I was starting from scratch. I didn’t know how to start or even where to start. I was scared and held back by the idea of perfection, tricking myself into waiting for something unattainable until I was “better” before releasing music. But I just started anyway. I created and just kept creating and writing lyrics, making videos, and learning to play guitar. I focused on what made me happy and felt like me. My art bloomed alongside my soul, and I was finally ready to accept that secret truth I had hidden for so long. I was pansexual. My first song was released on August 4th of, 2021. It was a simple one-two-track production, vocals, and guitar that I paired with a video my friends and I made with a point-and-shoot camera in a single night. The song only gained under a thousand streams after its initial release, but I just kept creating. I have five singles on all platforms and an EP of five songs that have accumulated over a hundred thousand streams on Spotify. I’m constantly trying new things with my sound and discovering different facets of myself through my art. I plan to continue growing my audience and evolving as a person as my music evolves.
My name’s Ethan Rink. I write songs on my grandfather’s guitar and film music videos with my dad and his friends, all while being loved unconditionally by my biggest supporter: my mom.
We all face challenges, but looking back, would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
I had to figure everything out myself, find a producer, create cover art, script music videos, hire makeup artists, make sets, hire costume designers, advertise releases, and engage with my audience’s social media. I was trying to figure out what I was doing. I’ve always just tried to make things work the best I can. Sometimes things worked out, and sometimes I found myself starting over, also getting over the fear of what people would think about me when they heard my lyrics, which held me back even after my first release. I try to be as honest as possible, and I also tend to be super dramatic in my lyrics and use a lot of hyperbole. My EP combined my most tragic love stories with the plot lines of my favorite Horror movies. I had to explain to many relatives that I didn’t think about killing people. It was just hyperbole.
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
Since I have a history in musical theatre, I’m good at combining my lyrics with a character or a setting. My lyrics tend to lean very dramatically. Another thing I excel at is my visuals. Even when I start writing a song, I usually already have a strong sense of its color identity. My promotional photos and album art photos are an extension of each song’s story and help build the world of my music beyond just the lyrics.
What do you like best about our city? What do you like least?
Austin’s strong music culture feels like a great place to start as an independent artist. Beyond just the music culture, Austin has every type of person available to you—actors, musicians, painters, embroidery artists, photographers, graffiti artists, producers, and videographers. Any artist you can think of can be found in this city. This town is full of interesting people and interesting ideas. Something I don’t like about Austin is the lack of seasons. I was born in Ohio, so I grew up watching the leaves turn all shades of autumn and float in the wind. And in winter, sledding down hills in the park and walking over frozen lakes. Austin has great summers, but after summer, nothing is going on.
Contact Info:
- Website: ethanrink.com
- Instagram: https://instagram.com/ethanrink
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@EthanRink
