Marcus Fetch
15 years ago I was a crazy radical christian kid hitchhiking around the Northwest. I saw the world as a dark and fallen society where no one saw the truth. Deeply depressed alienated and alone, I tried to live like an apostle, embracing poverty, in prayer all day, practically living in a fable.
Fast Forward
This year I moved to Nashville to build a tech company and fund my music career, but months of 100-hour work weeks, and my best friend almost dying in the hospital, I had some serious breakdowns and from a lack of words or ability to process these heavy emotions, I started speaking in tongues again.
Not knowing if this tongues language is real or not, and honestly not caring, I decided to sing on this song, and it evolved into this wild masterpiece.
(120hrs of production)
The GenAI wave is about to crush everything and it feels eerily tower of babel moment. So here's to digital language overload.
A broader story and music video is soon to come, but for now, Ill let the song speak for itself.
This is Fire6.
Fire6 Unknown Genre - OUT NOW!
a song that transcends language and connects directly to the emotions of my soul, the rage of our current times, and the traumas of the past.
The Music of Marcus Fetch
From nonprofit rebel to hologram alchemist—how a Nebraska kid with a beat-up guitar wandered through the American undercurrent, healed his soul, and found his voice again in Nashville.
By Ekaf Peed, Rolling Stone
There’s something different about Marcus Fetch. You can feel it in the room before he plays a single note. Maybe it’s the way he carries the weight of a thousand stories in his shoulders. Or maybe it’s the hush that falls when his voice enters the air—weathered, honest, and unmistakably human.
Fetch isn’t some overnight phenom clawing at fame. He’s a drifter turned builder turned songwriter who’s lived too much life to fake it. And that’s exactly what makes him so compelling.
“I was 12 when I started writing songs,” he says, brushing a hand through his thick hair. “Just trying to make sense of the world, really. Music was the only way I could say certain things.” Raised just outside of Omaha, Nebraska, Fetch grew up with a wild heart—drawn more to open skies and long train tracks than football fields or GPA scores. By the time he turned 18, he was already moving—first west, then wherever the road led.
His early twenties played out like an American myth: hitchhiking through Colorado, busking in strange cities, spending months in silence in the Utah desert. He devoured books on philosophy, studied people like they were scripture, and kept a guitar in his passenger seat like a lifeline. But even then, music was more diary than career. “I wasn’t chasing stages,” he says. “I was chasing God. Or maybe just peace.”
It was in Birmingham, Alabama—somewhere around age 23—that everything changed.
“I started a bike shop,” he says, almost sheepishly. But that bike shop became Redemptive Cycles, a nonprofit that would transform downtown Birmingham into a community nexus for transportation equity and DIY culture. Fetch didn’t just sell bikes—he welded tall bikes out of junk parts, threw raucous community events, and turned an alley behind the shop into a living canvas of murals and movement. “It was chaos and beauty,” he laughs. “We didn’t have grants or backers. We had grit.”
Over the next 10 years, Fetch would lead Redemptive as Executive Director and later Board President, building an institution that still thrives today. “I learned how to lead. How to recruit. How to make something out of nothing.” But eventually, the cost of that hustle caught up. “I was sleeping four hours a night, inhaling paint fumes, living in a moldy fixer-upper next to the projects.” At 30, his body broke down—bulging discs, autoimmune flares, the works. “I couldn’t move without pain. And I realized—I hadn’t written a song in years.”
So he left. Sold the house. Hit the road again, this time not to escape, but to remember. He returned to the mountain towns and lonely highways of his twenties—but this time with more ghosts, and more wisdom.
And that’s where the music came flooding back.
In 2022–2023, Fetch quietly poured over 1,500 hours into his second album, Red House—a self-produced body of work that sounds like Bon Iver met Townes Van Zandt in a Southern church full of ghosts. It’s haunting, personal, and defiantly unpolished. “It’s the truest thing I’ve ever made,” he says.
The songs play like letters to his former selves—heartbreakingly intimate, yet expansive in scope. In “Red House Blues”, he sings of isolation and longing. In “Cedar Hill”, there’s a whisper of forgiveness. And it’s all delivered with the fragile confidence of someone who’s wrestled with darkness and come out blinking in the light.
Last year, he took silver in the NewSong Music Contest in Asheville—a moment he calls “unexpected and deeply affirming.” But even as his music gains traction, Fetch isn’t chasing the industry treadmill. “I don’t want to ‘make it.’ I want to make something that lasts.”
These days, Fetch lives in Nashville—a city known for chewing up and spitting out dreamers. But he isn’t here to be the next big thing. He’s here to build. By day, he runs Fetchmark, a creative technology company, fusing art and tech, folklore and futurism. “I want to make the world feel magical again,” he says.
But music? Music is still the pulse. He plays local shows, drops unreleased tracks on Instagram, and dreams of the day he can tour with a full band. “I don’t have a label. I don’t have management. But I have something better: time, clarity, and a deeper reason for doing this.”
Ask anyone who’s heard him play, and they’ll tell you—Marcus Fetch doesn’t sound like anyone else. Maybe that’s because he’s not trying to. His songs aren’t posturing or chasing trends. They’re letters from the road, dispatches from the soul, stitched together with dirt, grace, and something like hope.
“I’ve lived a few lives,” he says. “And I’ve got a few more albums in me.”
We believe him.
A compilation of music written over 5 years living in an old red brick house next to the projects in Smithfield, Birmingham.
Red House is a coming-of-age album that squeezes every last drop of angst out of your late twenties. Breaking away from friends and the party scene, soul searching through late nights, house parties, and wild road trips. Fetch unleashes this powerful musical performance writing and recording almost the entire album himself.
His songs are heartfelt and raw, a true singer-songwriter's album, with lyrics that paint unique life experiences. There's a genuine emotion, and a story in every song.