Starflyer 59 bandleader Jason Martin is still making songs. He still drives trucks for a living; he still smokes tobacco; he is still a Christian. Martin still lives in his lifelong home base of Southern California — Huntington Beach, to be exact. But for all that has stayed the same for the 51-year-old singer-songwriter and guitar-slung cult figure of 1990s Christian indie rock, things are still different now compared to when Starflyer first started making music in Riverside County three decades ago.
And Martin longs for that time; he always longs for a different time or place, it would seem. On Lust for Gold, Starflyer’s 17th studio album released Friday (Aug. 16) via Velvet Blue Music, the musician sums up his nostalgic pining for youth with Starflyer’s most cohesive collection of tunes since at least 2016’s Slow, if not 2010’s The Changing of the Guard.
After all, if we’re lucky, growing up and getting old is inevitable. But the daily grind of working, earning, and providing can wear down the body, mind, and soul. Wouldn’t it be nice to just go back to the good old days?
“I just wanted to go back in time a bit and try to do the kind of music we started doing in the first place — full circle.”
Martin’s pursuit isn’t just the chase of money that comes with adulthood. He’s undoubtedly familiar with Job 22:24, where Eliphaz the Temanite urges Job, the quintessential Biblical despairer, to “give up your lust for money and throw your precious gold into the river” (NLT). It’s also not just the singer’s regret. Martin, as ever, is chasing a thematic prize with his music. It’s one he’s always been pursuing.
And should there be any doubt regarding that creative continuity, the new album’s title and artwork directly reference Starflyer 59’s influential second LP, 1995’s Gold, which was issued in a stark, monochromatic gold album cover. Lust for Gold‘s sleeve artwork mimics that presentation, much as its spacey guitar sounds and occasional blasts of feedback recall Starflyer’s early wall-of-sound shoegaze style.
“I just wanted to go back in time a bit and try to do the kind of music we started doing in the first place,” Martin tells HM. “Full circle.”
The circle’s not just full — it’s unbroken. One distinct change from the distant past is that Martin’s son, Charles Martin, has now been drumming for Starflyer 59 since 2019’s Young in My Head, stepping into a role that answers the question his father once posed on 2001’s percussionist-seeking “Can You Play Drums?” Now 22, Charles not only contributes to Starflyer but also fronts his own band, The Rocky Valentines. With Charles behind the kit, the father-son dynamic adds a new layer of depth to Starflyer’s legacy, blending the band’s past with its present.
“It’s pretty weird if I think about it,” Jason says. “I love having Charlie play in the band. He’s a great drummer and has great parts. We flesh out song ideas all the time, so by the time we record, it’s pretty much ready to go way in advance. It’s nice literally having an in-house drummer!”
“Things turn out best with collaboration. Without it, it’s kind of like making a movie all by yourself — you write it, you star in it, you direct it, you produce it, you edit it. End of the day, it’s just too much [of] you.”
Something that hasn’t changed? On Lust for Gold, Jason continues his tradition of spotlighting contributions from his talented friends and bandmates. Here, former Starflyer 59 drummer Frank Lenz returns to the fold, lending his orchestrational expertise to the album. Fine China frontman Rob Withem steps in with prominent guitar layers that complement Jason’s own. This collaborative spirit carries on from Starflyer’s recent records, where frequent contributor TW Walsh (ex-Pedro the Lion) played a pivotal role in shaping Young in My Head and 2021’s Vanity. Each album in this latter period of Starflyer’s catalog serves as a showcase for Jason’s trusted musical companions, enriching the band’s sound with their unique talents.
“Rob’s a really great guitar player,” Jason explains. “It was cool having him take over some of the [guitar] parts — just notes I wasn’t thinking of and parts that bounced off my parts. We had a lot of fun playing the guitars on the record.”
He continues of his bandmates, “They are all very talented guys. Things turn out best with collaboration. Without it, it’s kind of like making a movie all by yourself — you write it, you star in it, you direct it, you produce it, you edit it. End of the day, it’s just too much [of] you. I’ve suffered with that before, so if I can work with people I trust, I think the result is always better.”
Yet even with the new blood and old friends, Jason’s music is still marked by a deep nostalgia. He’s chasing something — not just success or wealth, but a past that seems forever just out of reach.
“The Christians have gone their own separate ways,” he croons on Lust for Gold‘s ominous “Everyone Seems Strange.” “It’s hard to find the ones who haven’t changed.” On the glassy title track, he wonders, “What’s the prize for chasing gold? / They’re all gone, you’re alone.” And that’s not all. “The best days of my life were in the 909,” he sings in the foot-stomping opener, “909,” which is the telephone area code covering western Riverside County. There’s also a song unabashedly titled “1995.”
I ask Jason if he has any advice for combatting the nostalgia trap — for not letting the past gain too much power over the present. “No, but I’m open to suggestions!” he chuckles. Thirty years later, his quest for gold continues. “It’s the longing for what you had,” he offers. “The search outweighs the prize.”
