On a cloudy Sunday evening in Fort Lauderdale, Alkaline (born Earlan Bartley) lights a spliff in his secluded studio. The earthy smell of smoke and lighthearted banter between him and his engineer commingle, escaping the room and drifting down the hall.
Entering the private studio, Alkaline has already started digging into his archives to begin recording new music. He opens a matte-black door to reveal a quaint booth with a lone microphone in the middle.
“This is where the magic happens,” he says.
In person, he’s tall but not intimidating, charming but not cocky. He chooses to keep his shades on because with a cameraman present he can’t be caught embodying anything less than “cool.” He flashes a pearly grin, sits back on his couch, and clarifies, “I’m ready when you are.”