Common Crime Q&A: The Full Conversation with Alex Leniz

After writing the full piece on Common Crime, it felt wrong not to show the whole picture. Alex Leniz didn’t just give great answers—he opened up, reflected, and pulled us right into the world of the band. What follows is the full exchange. This isn’t a press run. It’s someone talking about what they’ve built, what they’ve survived, and what they still want to chase.

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Let’s rewind to the start. What itch were you trying to scratch when you started Common Crime—the thing that past bands didn’t quite satisfy?

I think there was a new level of “seriousness” when I started Common Crime. With my past bands, it was all about having fun. Playing shows every weekend, hanging out with your friends, and just taking everything as it comes, good or bad.

When I started Common Crime, things immediately felt different. While we, as a band, still value having fun and making sure this is something we want to do long term, the stakes are higher. I had moved from Florida, where I spent my whole life, to Pennsylvania. I moved here with hopes of really getting my foot in the door of the music industry. That meant starting from ground zero, which is pretty scary! So, I started reading up a lot on how the “music business” operates and it really opened my eyes to a lot of strategies and concepts I had never thought of before.

Once I started to take myself and my art a little more seriously, putting in the time and the money it takes to make something of higher quality, I noticed pretty quickly how different this band is from all my previous attempts. It really is true when they say “you get out what you put in.” It can feel like an uphill battle sometimes, but everyone in the band believes in what we’re doing, and I think that makes all the difference!

That sense of starting from zero seems like it shaped everything. When you left the Florida scene and came to Philly, how did that shift affect what you were writing or chasing musically?

For most of my time in Florida, I felt like I was being weighed down with “imposter syndrome” at every turn. I felt so limited. I was making music,  I was playing shows every weekend, my friends all supported my band, I played a few cool shows and got on some pretty large stages, but why didn’t that feel like enough?

The music I make now is an amalgamation of all my previous steps. All the mistakes, triumphs, and experiences combined together has brought me here. I think with that in mind, where I’m at musically now is easily my most authentic self. I’ve traveled, I’ve experienced, and I’ve felt all sorts of things that maybe I wasn’t able to tap in to when I was living in Florida. That’s kind of the tricky part about staying in your hometown for most of your life. You forget how big the world is. 

Now that I’m in Philly and I’ve seen what a real thriving music scene can look and feel like, I realized that the sky is the limit. I’ve played a few sold out shows on a week night. I’ve gone to and played in some of the surrounding states that I’ve never been to before. I’ve gone to Studio 4, where some of my favorite albums have been created. It’s like playing a whole new game for me.

Sometimes I look back at my old Florida bands and I see all the things I could’ve done differently, and I let that guide me forward with Common Crime!

Was there one moment—a show, a night, a conversation—where you knew: this is it? This is the band I’m supposed to be in?

I think, honestly, Common Crime was born the second I arrived in Pennsylvania with everything I owned crammed in the back of my old Hyundai. At least ideologically. I moved here with a mission in mind that I was really gonna “go for it”. I had been working shitty restaurant jobs for 10 years, and doing music on the side. Eventually, I reached a breaking point and decided I was really going to attempt to make music my whole life. I mean, how could you know if it’s even possible if you never really try? So, I moved away with the idea that no matter the cost, no matter the hardship, no matter the obstacles, NO MATTER WHAT, I was going to start the best band I’ve ever been in. It’s been hard at times, but for me, I feel confident this was the right decision. I’ve never felt more authentically myself, and I’ve never felt more embraced by my peers for doing so.

And once you started writing, did a specific song or demo snap it all into place? Was there one that made you feel like, okay, we’ve got our sound now?

The songs from our first EP “Signals & Signs” was the first batch of songs I wrote and demoed out after I moved from Florida. I think “Would U Send A Signal?” was the first track I remember putting together and thinking “I can’t believe this is something that came from my brain.” I mean, it’s all about feeling like you’re lost in space and wondering if anybody is out there looking for you. That really summed up how I felt about moving away from a place I spent my entire adolescence and part of my adult life. Would people remember that I was there? Will they check up on me now that I’m not? 

I think once that song was completed, I saw all of my favorite bands wrapped up in the track. I heard Joyce Manor, I heard Alkaline Trio, I heard Green Day, I heard all the things that made me love music. I think that’s when I felt like I had my sound, and I think being aware of that is what made it feel so different. It felt like me, and it finally sounded the way it does inside my head!

One track that stands out is “Call of the Rat”. It’s got this urgency, like it’s trying to get out of your chest. What was behind that song emotionally, and how did it take shape sonically?

That song is absolutely a remnant of my past Florida self. I wrote that song, I think, like 6 or 7 years ago now (which is crazy to think about). I think it’s a clear display of the rage and the intensity I felt inside myself while trying to cut my teeth in the Florida scene. I knew I wanted to write a song with a big sing-a-long chorus, hence all the “woah’s” and the big gang vocals. 

That being said, the “Call Of The Rat” you’re hearing now is still much different than the version I wrote back then. Through many different bands and miles and years between, the song has had a few different versions before coming to the conclusion that you’re hearing now!

Zooming out a bit, what’s a moment from your first year as a band that really captures the spirit of Common Crime—something you wish you had on tape?

Oh man. It’s hard to narrow it down to just one moment but the first thing that comes to mind is when we shot the music video for our song “Ghosted”. We were surrounded by our friends and just had so much fun putting it together. A lot of the shots in that video were thought of on the fly, so it really was our first time collaborating as a full unit. 

A lot has changed since we shot the video. I think it was before we even played our first show. So, we’ve gigged, we’ve gone through lineup changes, we’ve written even MORE songs, and now we’re about to do it all over again with our new upcoming EP “Anywhere But Here”. But, when I think about what moment FEELS like Common Crime, it was definitely all of us crowded in this little old house, trying to figure out how to look as cool as possible on camera for the very first time.

You write emotionally big songs, but they never feel forced. When you're working on something new, how do you tell the difference between a song that "feels it" and one that's just pretending?

I’m glad it feels as genuine to the listener as it does to me! A lot of the songs we’ve released have sat with me for years, so I’ve had a lot of time to workshop them in my head. Some haven’t changed at all since the first concept, and some have been reshaped completely into their final form. 

I think the trick is to write A LOT of songs. I’m naturally a pretty anxious guy when it comes to my songs, so I’m quick to throw away a lot of ideas (finished or not!) But, when a year or two goes by, and I can’t help but think “This song needs to be finished” or “I’ve felt the way that this song describes for __ amount of time, and I can’t shake it” then I know I’m on to something.

Out of every 15-20 songs I write, maybe 4-8 break through past the demo stages. You just have to try and try and try. I’ve made a habit of really paying attention to how I felt when I first wrote something, and how I feel about it a few months or a few years down the line. If the goal is to create something I can look back and be proud of, then I want to make sure I’m really representing who I am as a whole, and not who I was for a passing moment.

Your lyrics walk that line really well—personal, but not locked up. Are you intentionally keeping some space open for listeners to see themselves in the songs?

Usually when I’m writing lyrics, I come at it with a theme in mind. Sometimes I’m thinking of a general emotion, or sometimes I’m trying to call back to a specific time or event. I like to take broad strokes with my lyrics because I think the “relatability” factor is such a crucial element to connecting with the fans and listeners. I want you to feel what I felt, but also connect it to your own experiences. That’s what makes music, at least for me, so unifying. 

On the music side, what rules or instincts do you follow when you’re building a Common Crime song? Or is the whole point to ignore the rules entirely?

I used to write out the structure of songs on the top of the paper before I’d really write anything. I’d have a list that said “intro, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus”, which is the standard pop song formula. This was a great way to get started writing songs but can get a little repetitive. 

With Common Crime songs, at least the ones that get released, I like to keep this structure in mind but also try to fearlessly break the order. Sometimes there’s two verses right next to each other. Sometimes there’s not even a clearly defined chorus. I like to let the song guide me, and not worry so much about how it fits the “pop song” mold.

Speaking of instincts—ever write something that felt great at first but later felt too close to an influence? How do you decide when to keep it or cut it?

I have folders and folders on my laptop of demos I started with titles like “Weezer riff #3” or “Title Fight Ripoff #8”. I wish I could recall one specific one, but there’s just so many at this point. The stuff like that usually never gets finished, but it also allows me to let my guard down and dig a little deeper. It’s a great exercise if you want your influences to shine through without totally ripping them off. Sometimes I even try to write songs as if I’m writing for a specific band. Like I said, those usually don’t make it into the Common Crime stratosphere, but they at least give me a good idea of how to tap into certain sounds and vibes.

One thing that stands out in your sound is how your guitar tone punches through without being over-polished. What’s your approach to using guitar as an emotional weapon?

I think it’s all about the tone. Think about some of the most played songs in the world. Most Beatles songs, most top 40 hits, most generational anthems are extremely simple in terms of playability. It’s the tones that define them. There’s only 12 musical notes, after all. Your guitar tone is like your own personal signature.

For me, I think of all the guitar sounds that have really impacted me. “Letterbomb” by Green Day is a sound I strive for a lot. Or “Cherub Rock” by Smashing Pumpkins. I think a good song is equal parts unique (in tone and in theme), and originality (also in the same factors). 

Let’s talk about recording. Signals & Signs sounds raw but massive. Was there a decision in the studio that really shaped how it turned out?

When we recorded that EP, it was my first time stepping into a real, credible recording studio with a real producer. We went to Soundmine Recording Studios to work with Dan Malsch, who has worked with bands like Ghost and Bigwig. They aren’t exactly bands that we wanted to replicate, but they had such massive sounds and we knew we wanted to get on that level.

I think one of the hardest decisions we made for that record was recording the vocals ourselves. We tracked drums, bass, and most of the guitars at the studio. By the time our sessions were done, we were at an impasse. We could either buy more time and finish it out in the same place with the same people, or we could take the knowledge we gained and try to do it ourselves.

We ended up recording the vocals for that EP in the basement of one of our friends house, and I think that was the right choice. It took a lot of the pressure off. No racing the clock, no trying to impress a big time producer, no pressure to nail it on the first take. We got to have some fun with it, and really take our time to get it right. I think that was a defining factor in how the EP sounds.

What part of the studio process do you secretly geek out about the most—the thing you love that might surprise people?

I personally LOVE tone chasing in the recording studio. I have my usual live rig that comes with me everywhere. Same amp, same guitars, same pedals, etc. So to step into a studio and play around with all of THEIR amps, and THEIR guitars and pedals, it’s like being a kid in a candy shop. I’ve always been really into watching “rig rundowns” on YouTube, seeing how my favorite bands get their sounds. So, it’s a really cool experience to get to play as a mad scientist with guitar sounds!

Zooming back out again—do you think of Common Crime as an outlet, or as part of your identity now?

I think of Common Crime, firstly, as an identity. I use it as an outlet, sure. It’s how I process big emotions like love, grief, trauma, and all those things that are best not bottled up. However, Common Crime is such a big part of who I am now. In a way, it’s always been. Even before I moved to Pennsylvania, even before I came up with the band name, before all of it. I’ve always had these thoughts and feelings (and some of the songs, too) kicking around in my head. It wasn’t until I made the move and really started putting it together that I realized how much of myself was coming out through the music. I’d like to think you can put on any Common Crime song and walk away having a pretty decent understanding of who I am and how I felt at the time.

When songs aren’t pouring out from inside you, what outside stuff sparks inspiration—books, art, conversations?

If I knew exactly what sparks inspiration, I’d keep a lifelong supply of it bottled up on my shelf. The truth is, inspiration comes from tons of different angles, and usually for me, it comes at random or it at least feels that way.

Most of the time, I feel inspired by other people. Sure, a lot of my songs come from my point of view, but they’re not always ABOUT me. Sometimes I think of my friends and things they’ve told me, and I try to place myself in their perspective. How do I think it felt to be them when they fell in love? What did it feel like for my friend to lose their beloved pet? I know how I feel about these things, but it's a whole different experience when you place yourself in somebody else’s shoes. Sometimes we feel the same, sometimes we don’t.

 At the end of the day, we all just want to feel “seen”. Well, what better way for me to see you than to try and understand how you felt?

Jesus, that’s insightful. Seriously. And outside of music entirely, what else are you into that feeds your creative brain? What’s your version of messing around just for the sake of it?

I love all things photo and video. I’ve recently gotten really into capturing moments on film with old cameras, as well as cutting together videos with my old vintage palmcorder. Stuff like music videos and movies really excite me because it’s the great combination of visual and audio identity. I’ve latched on to so many songs through movie soundtracks because I felt exactly what the director was trying to convey. So many songs have stuck with me just because the music video spoke to me in a certain way at a certain time.

I’ve also found painting and other forms of physical media as a great outlet. I like to thrift photo books like “100 best album covers” or “The History of Jazz through pictures”, cut them up, and turn them into collages. It really scratches the itch of needing to create without all the pressure of it being “good or bad”. It’s just a fun thing that I like to do for myself and myself alone.

That makes total sense — that drive to create just to create. So when you’re channeling all that into new music, is there something you haven’t hit yet? A sound, a feeling, a version of yourself you’re still trying to reach?

As I mentioned before, I use my songs as a way to process my most complicated emotions. It’s almost as if I’m trying to understand myself a little bit better. “Signals & Signs” was all about settling with the fact that my life was changing at a rapid pace. Our next EP, “Anywhere But Here”, has a similar theme, but a different perspective. It’s not about the fears of “how will I make it in this new world with this new life”. It’s more so a reflection of the life I lived before, and an affirmation that I made the right choice by moving away.

I’ve got a few other songs that won’t be on this upcoming EP that I think will see a release further down the line that touch on even MORE complicated emotions. In the last 2 years, I’ve had my car stolen, my childhood dog passed away, and tons of other tough breaks. I’ve written songs about a lot of these things, and I’m pretty pleased with them. It’s a whole different side to my songwriting identity that I’m not quite ready to share yet, but I think will definitely come out sometime along the way.

That’s heavy — and it makes the next chapter feel even more meaningful. As you grow through all of that, do you feel pulled more toward going louder and bigger, or dialing things back? How do you keep that evolution honest?

My gut tendency is to always play LOUDER. I come from the world of punk rock and hardcore, playing fast and playing loud, unleashing raw energy out into the void. But a part of me would like to explore the softer side, too. I love bands like The Pixies who can weave in and out of both dynamic ranges. Sonic Youth, Basement, and Title Fight are some other bands that have left a big imprint on me in a more recent way. While I like to keep a sense of the same energy and aggression as I always have with my songs before, I like to try and weave in some of the things that influence me NOW.  

You’ve clearly got a handle on where you want the sound to go, but what about everything else? The visuals, the stage presence, the full Common Crime experience. What haven’t you revealed yet that you’re excited to dig into?

We’re always going back and forth on how to improve our live show. At this point, we all feel pretty confident in our ability to write and record songs. If I’m being honest with you, we definitely all still practice our "stage moves" in the mirror when nobody is around. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but we want our fans to be engaged with us throughout the entire concert experience. There’s nothing I hate more than watching a really good band who can’t get out of their shell when they play live. The whole point of going to a concert is to connect the bands to their fans. It doesn’t have to all be crazy choreography and pyrotechnics, but I think there should be just as much thought in the performance side of things as there is in the songwriting side. 

I want to put on a show that sucks you in, even if it’s only for 30 minutes. I want our audience to feel like if they look away, even for a second, they might miss out on something. A Common Crime show should feel like an experience that sticks with you, even after it’s over. Eventually we might factor in stage settings and props to help propel the show forward, but for now we’re just trying to hone in our own personal performances so we can deliver a raw and emotional show every time.

Last one. Perfection—friend or enemy? How do you know when to stop chasing “better” and just let a song live?

I don’t think such a thing as a “perfect song” even exists. I don’t want perfection, I just want to be understood. And not even by the listeners, but understood by myself. Once I can listen back to a song and go “oh yeah, that sums up everything that I was feeling” I know it’s time to move forward with it. Some songs never reach this point. Some songs take endless tweaking. Some songs get it right on the first go around.

It’s a feeling that can be pretty hard to describe, but once I listen to a song and feel like I learned something about myself or walk away with a better understanding of my experience, I know it’s time to let it live. I don’t want perfection. I’m not perfect. Nobody I know is perfect. But I am unique, and I am complex, and I just want to be heard and understood. Maybe not everyone will agree with my perspective, but at least by the time they’re spinning my record, they’ll have it in the palm of their hands.

No better way to end it than that. Huge thanks to Alex for showing up with honesty and heart. That kind of self-awareness doesn’t just make better music — it makes music that lasts. Can’t wait to hear what comes next.