Yellow Couch Music Asks the Big Question With “Am I More Than Enough?!!!??!”

There's vulnerability, and then there's "Am I More Than Enough?!!!??!" A title that feels like an anxious journal entry and a track that plays like a heart cracked open. This stunning opener to Tidings In The Rough, the debut full-length from Yellow Couch Music, sets the emotional and sonic tone for the entire project. It's not flashy. It doesn't need to be. It breathes.

Led by drummer and composer Layton Weedeman, Yellow Couch Music isn't just a band. It's a community of sound, and "Am I More Than Enough?!!!??!" captures that ethos with grace and groove. The track leans into smoky R&B and slow-jam jazz textures, with Estephanie's intimate vocals floating over Kirk Schoenherr's tender, expressive guitar work. It's the kind of song you play on a long night drive, caught between overthinking and emotional release.

Weedeman's background as a drummer is evident in the best way. Everything is in the pocket, locked in but unhurried. There's space in every beat, allowing the listener to sit with the lyrics and feel the question unfold in real time: "Am I too much? Or just not enough?" It's about overcompensation, fear of rejection, and the quiet devastation of wondering if your best will ever be enough. It's not chasing trends. It's chasing the truth.

What elevates the song is the subtle layering. Warm basslines, tasteful guitar melodies, ambient textures—all anchored by a drum groove that says more through its restraint than any flashy fill could. It's a masterclass in less-is-more production and a perfect introduction to the collaborative spirit that defines Tidings In The Rough.

In a sea of surface-level drops, "Am I More Than Enough?!!!??!" slows down and dares to feel something real. It's an emotional tone-setter for an album that blends genre and soul in equal measure. If you're looking for music that feels human, this is where to start.

How did your experience as a drummer shape the way Tidings In The Rough came together?

My experience as a drummer has always been rooted in groove, feel, and pocket playing. I'm a huge fan of hip-hop, rock, funk, pretty much anything with a solid backbeat that makes you want to move. That's always been the foundation of how I approach the drums. Creating something that feels danceable and locked in.

Early on in my drumming journey, I learned what pocket playing was all about, and I embraced it as a form of expression behind the kit. At this point, it feels like second nature.

When I started crafting the songs for Tidings In The Rough, a lot of the ideas began with the drums. Sometimes, I'd have a bassline already in my head and would build grooves around that. But overall, I'd say 90% of the album is rooted in backbeat-heavy pocket playing, drawing from funk, hip-hop, and world rhythms, all filtered through my sensibilities for groove and feel.

I love exploring new styles, but as soon as I get a handle on how to play something "correctly" or true to its form, my instinct is to ask: how can I make this groovier? How can I make it funkier or more pocket-driven? That's just how I naturally hear and shape rhythm.

What inspired you to launch Yellow Couch Music as a collaborative project rather than a solo act?

First and foremost, I'm a professional drummer and musician, but I'm not a professional bass player, guitar player, keyboardist, or singer. I can hear those parts in my head, and I often have a clear idea of how I want them to sound; however, executing them exactly as I imagine is a challenge when I'm working alone. That said, I do see myself growing in those areas, getting better at bass, keys, and other instruments over time. That's part of the journey.

The second piece of it is that for most of these songs, I did write the bass parts, the keyboard parts, and the core grooves. They all had their own unique vibe and emotional tone. But I also knew I wanted them to sound as good as the drums at the same level of performance. So, even if I had the ideas, I knew the execution could be better in the hands of someone who specializes in that instrument.

For example, I think this drum groove feels great, but the bassline, while solid in concept, isn't quite up to the same standard. So, I'd reach out to a friend who's a professional bass player and ask them to re-record the part. Same with guitar, keys, saxophone, horns, you name it. I leaned into collaboration because I knew it would elevate the music.

Sometimes, I would give very specific directions and ask them to play exactly what I had written or imagined in my head. Other times, I left space for them to interpret the part within a set of creative boundaries. In many cases, they brought their voice, their flavor to it, and that became such a beautiful part of the process.

There's a lot of trust in that kind of collaboration. My vision for Tidings In The Rough was pretty clear, and I chose people. Some I knew personally, others I found through research or trusted referrals, who I felt would bring the right energy to the project. And they did. Their contributions helped shape the album into what it ultimately became.

"Fool Stop" features some iconic voices. How did those collaborations come to life?

I wrote the instrumental and then collaborated with Grady Tesch and Eric Biondo to refine the groove, making it as funky, groovy, and interesting as possible. From the start, I knew this was going to be a hip-hop-inspired track. That was the intention. The whole feel and inspiration behind it were rooted in hip-hop, so I knew I'd eventually need to bring in some talented MCs.

At the time, however, I didn't personally know many MCs. I'm a huge fan of hip-hop; I know hundreds of MCs by name, but I didn't have personal relationships with them, and I couldn't just cold-call them out of the blue. So, I turned to my trusted network of people.

One of those people was Steve Royster from Open Crates. I knew his organization was deeply connected to New Jersey hip-hop and DJ culture, so I figured he might have some ideas. I sent him the track and asked if he knew any MCs who might be a good fit. That's when he introduced me to John Robinson. He gave me John's email, and I reached out to him.

At first, I thought of it as a cold call. John didn't know me, but later, he told me that because Steve made the introduction, there was already a level of built-in trust. He said if Steve believed in the music, that was all he needed to know. And that was a beautiful moment for me. When John heard the instrumental, he vibed with it. I gave him a little direction based on the theme of the chorus, and he came up with his verse that fit perfectly.

The process was similar to that of JSWISS, although we took a slightly different approach. I was familiar with his work through Grady's band, Momentum, but instead of asking Grady to introduce us, I decided to reach out to him directly. I visited JSWISS' website, found his contact information, and sent a genuine cold email introducing myself. I included an MP3 of the instrumental so he could immediately hear the vibe. I kept it honest and told him who I was and what the song was about, and he connected with it. I gave him some loose direction around the chorus lyrics, and he ran with it.

As for the chorus itself, that melody and those lyrics came to me after listening to the instrumental probably hundreds of times. It was during a period when I was going through some personal struggles, and the lyrics just emerged naturally from that space.

I had a good relationship with Estephanie at the time; we had worked on a few songs together already, so I knew I wanted her to sing the chorus. I wanted a female voice to carry that emotional weight. She was down. She came over to my home studio one day. I sang her the melody, and she nailed it, one or two takes, tops. We kept it, and it was dope.

Can you discuss one track on the album that surprised you with its outcome?

Locust Walk was such a fascinating and unexpected creative journey. It all started one day when I went into my drum studio with a mic setup and the intention to learn a groove that was unfamiliar to me, or at least something outside my usual patterns. I sometimes catch myself falling into the same rhythmic habits, so I wanted to push beyond that.

I hopped on YouTube and found a video on the Drumeo channel called "5 Drumming Styles You've (Probably) Never Heard." One of those styles was called Poinciana, popularized by Ahmad Jamal's version of the tune Poinciana. The groove, played by drummer Vernell Fournier, had this offbeat swing to it. A New Orleans-style groove using a mallet in the right hand playing the snare, with the snares off, the floor tom, and then the backend of the left stick on the bell. It was subtle, strange, and groovy in its own way.

So I recorded about five minutes of myself just playing that pattern over and over, kind of as a personal homage to Poinciana. When I got home, I started building off that groove, not by copying the original bassline but by creating something with a similar energy. I ended up with a loose, jazzy drum-and-bass foundation that felt different from anything I'd done before.

As I often do, I sat with those recordings, listening to them repeatedly. Eventually, melodies began to reveal themselves, particularly horn lines. I reached out to my good friend Lars Haake and told him about the project. I sang the horn parts I had in my head, and he played them. We recorded several takes based on my ideas, and I also gave him space to interpret and improvise. By the end, we had something like five or six horn layers built over this strange, Poinciana-esque drum groove.

At that point, I didn't know what I had. It felt weird, jazzy, a little mysterious. But I knew it had something. And I thought, "How can I make this even more interesting?"

That's when I remembered my fifth-grade art teacher, Mr. Jennings. He was one of my earliest creative heroes, an artist and poet who I always looked up to. I knew he did spoken word, so I reached out on a whim and asked if he had any poetry he'd be open to contributing. I didn't even send him the track; I just asked.

A few days later, he sent me an iPhone recording of himself reading a poem called "Locust Walk," which he had written as a tribute to the great Sun Ra. I imported it into my recording software, and to my total surprise, it fit perfectly. Not only was it nearly the exact length of the instrumental, but rhythmically and emotionally, it landed right in the pocket. It felt like pure magic like something bigger was working through us. I wasn't forcing anything; I was just a vessel.

And around that time, Sun Ra's presence kept popping up in my life. People were wearing Sun Ra t-shirts, random mentions in conversation, and I had just seen the Sun Ra Arkestra live for the first time, with Marshall Allen still leading the charge. That show came through my friend Jonathan Glass, who, coincidentally, had also connected me with Lars. Everything felt aligned. 

Serendipity was in full effect.

With the core of the track built, I decided to shift the energy. I asked myself, "What if this were even funkier?" I ended up stripping out the original Poinciana drums and replacing them with a hard-hitting, backbeat-heavy groove, somewhere between Run-DMC and Rage Against the Machine. That change also called for a new bassline, so I scrapped the original and wrote something much more syncopated and hypnotic, something head-noddy and raw.

At that point, I needed a proper studio sound. My drum room is pretty small, and I wanted something bigger and punchier. So I booked a session at Studio G with two people I knew could handle the vibe, Jeff Berner and Grant Zubritsky, to track the new drums and bass live. You can feel the energy in the final recording. Raw, chaotic, alive.

What began as an experiment in jazz drumming evolved into this wild, genre-bending track featuring spoken word, massive horns, and a hip-hop backbone. It's not Sun Ra's brand of cosmic jazz, but it feels like an unintended tribute, capturing the same kind of beautiful chaos that his music embodied. And at its core, it's still rooted in the grooves I love. Backbeat-heavy, rhythm-driven, and full of soul.

What does success look like for this project, and what's next for Yellow Couch Music?

Success, for me, is when I set my mind to something and see it through to completion.  When I can take an idea, manifest it, and bring it into reality. I've always wanted to release my project, my singles and records, and create an album that truly represents me. And not just the music. I've always wanted everything about the release to reflect my vision, from the sound to the artwork. I wanted to be able to look at a finished piece and say, Yes, this is mine. This is something I'm proud of. This sounds like me. This looks like me.

Over the past three years, working on this album has been a journey, that has taken me from releasing singles and music videos to getting professional photos taken, building my website, shaping my brand, and finally releasing the music into the world. It's all felt like success to me. I've been fortunate enough to collaborate with some amazing people and have even received some great press coverage along the way.

One of my next milestones is pressing 'Tidings In The Rough ' to vinyl. It's 100% going to be yellow vinyl. That's a must. I have a vision for the artwork and the liner notes; it all lives in my mind right now. I'm giving myself about a year to bring it to life. I'm not going to force the process, but when it happens, that'll be another real marker of success for me.

I'm a record-head. I love collecting vinyl, I love DJing, and I've always dreamed of holding my album in my hands, opening the sleeve, placing it on a turntable, and hearing it play. That's always been part of the goal. Being able to turn those dreams into reality is the ultimate definition of success for me.