Al’s music career emerged from a series of events that seemed almost guided by fate. From a very young age, his dream had always been to become an actor. “When asked, most of the other kids in school had no idea what they wanted to be when they grew up. But I always had an answer: 'I want to be a dramatic actor.' That, of course, usually got a chuckle from whatever adult had asked the question.”  Eventually, it became clear that Al was serious about acting—so much so that, at just 8 years old, his parents enrolled him in acting classes. “I never looked back,” Al says, “and it was the first time I actually made friends with other kids, because they were as weird as I was!”  That Al would pursue a life in the arts came as no surprise to his parents. His mother was a professional ballet dancer, his father a poet, and his grandfather a concert pianist. Music was deeply woven into Al’s childhood, yet he remained firmly committed to his dream of becoming an actor.  “I was always able to maintain tremendous focus and stick with something to the end.  I was going to be an actor and that was that. Eventually, this would come in handy when needing to focus on an album's creation for several years at a time.”  Al’s desire to act was, however, interrupted several times as his family moved to various countries for a period of three years. “All this moving, while exciting for a child, truly created a sense of loss in me that took years of introspection and therapy to work through.” Wherever Al lived, he continued to pursue acting, immersing himself in local theater and performance opportunities.  “I remember being about 14, living in the U.S., when I landed a role in a production of The Pied Piper. After months of rehearsals, we finally reached the day of our dress rehearsal—on the actual stage. I stepped out and looked into the theater, facing 1,500 empty seats that would soon be filled night after night for a full week. That moment hit me hard: this is where I belonged. Honestly, after that, I never wanted to leave the stage or return to what people call ‘normal’ life. The stage felt more real to me than anything else.”

Back in Argentina, Al resumed his acting training with some of the country’s most esteemed performers of the time. He also discovered a passion for working behind the scenes, often spending time with friends on various soundstages and in theaters, either performing or assisting backstage. Al later joined a British theater troupe in Buenos Aires called The Suburban Players, performing with them until his return to the United States at age 17.

Shortly after securing an agent, Al began auditioning for roles in commercials and television shows. However, frequent relocations remained a part of his life, making it difficult to maintain a consistent acting career.

Between moves and acting jobs, Al began composing music primarily for himself, and eventually for various commissioned projects—though he never intended for music to become more than a personal endeavor. Acting remained his primary passion.  “Actors spend most of their time trying to get the job—and very little of it actually doing the job. To fill that creative gap, many turn to the stage whenever possible. For me, that space was filled by composing music. As an introvert, it became my creative downtime—quiet, personal, and deeply fulfilling in a different way than acting.”  

Eventually, his musical side projects led to a meeting with Gerrit Ohm of Ohmegasongs Productions in Germany. “They were deeply involved in the music scene over there—mostly in a rising Hip Hop–German Pop style, which was worlds apart from what I was drawn to musically. Initially, they brought me on to help with their English lyrics. But it didn’t take long before they realized I had a background in arranging and composing, and soon I was creating music for them. Still, my heart was always with instrumental New Age music. Writing for lyrics just wasn’t my thing.

Before long, people began asking if my music was available anywhere. It wasn’t—and honestly, that had never been the plan. But I was getting tired of constantly running down to New York City for auditions and gigs while living in Vermont. Eventually, I realized music could offer me the creative fulfillment I craved—without the constant upheaval. It allowed me to stay grounded, in one place, and still do what I loved.”

It was then that Al decided to focus entirely on music. “Since I came into this with a background in professional acting, I already knew one thing for sure—this is a business first. If you don’t treat it that way and act professionally, you’re not going to get very far. I’ve seen a lot of talented musicians crash and burn just because they didn’t get that.”  He informed his acting manager in New York City and took a six-month hiatus from acting. “In acting, this basically means career suicide, but I knew if music was to be it, I had to devote myself fully. I am never one to multitask.”  After years of acting, Al also realized that in pursuing music, maintaining his creative independence was essential. “I never really saw myself signing with a major (label), so I didn’t work toward that. I already knew what that kind of deal meant—and having spent so much time answering to everyone else during my acting career, I just didn’t want that for my music. Over time, I met quite a few people who ended up regretting signing with a major label, and that only confirmed my decision.”  So, Al made a bold move by creating his own label and music publishing company, appointing others to lead them to maintain his creative neutrality. Knowing he needed an album to kickstart this venture, he gathered material he had composed over the past decade, reworked each song, and compiled his first album: SHADOWS. “I honestly never felt that it was a strong album, as it was really put together to launch my music career.  Throwing together a bunch of songs that were composed through the years, with different moods and visions, is not something I’d recommend to any musician. It lacks cohesiveness.”  

SHADOWS was the breakthrough Al needed to get started. “Eventually, as soon as I could I deleted this album from my catalog, but honestly, I owe it my music career.”  It was at this point that Al met sound engineer André Maquera, a collaborator who would work with him on most of his subsequent albums. “André was extremely talented and had worked with some really interesting musicians from Al Di Meola to the Von Trapp family and his studio was in Vermont, so this was great.”

Soon after the release of SHADOWS, Al recognized the need to compose an album strong enough to establish his presence in the New Age music world. While SHADOWS enjoyed modest success, it primarily served to launch his musical journey. By this time, Al was working with a new manager, Kevin, who would become a tremendous support in both his career and personal life.  "I had been working with a manager who, really, had no idea what he was doing.  I needed someone who was on top of things, and Kevin came along.  The chemistry was immediate, and from the start he handled me like no one else had."  

Work began on a new album. “Honestly, I can’t really remember how this album came together, but looking back, I can see little hints in it of what was to come later.”  After a year's work on the songs themselves, to craft an album that was both artistically cohesive and meticulously produced, he chose to record at the Ohmegasongs studios in Kiel, Germany.  “Those three weeks were pretty intense. The crew in Germany was swamped, juggling their own rising acts along with us—it was quite the balancing act. I’d spend hours in the studio, then head out to catch those acts performing at clubs packed with screaming fans. The recording sessions were pretty tense; the whole vibe was high-pressure, but somehow we got everything done on time. We even did most of the album’s promo photos while there, which added more stress, but one of those shots ended up being a staple for my promotions for years. By the time I flew back to the US, I was completely wiped out."

By collaborating with talented artists at Ohmegasongs in Germany, POETA was born. Each song was inspired by a literary work, blending Al’s acting and musical talents. Upon returning home, POETA was mastered by André at his Vermont studio and prepared for release. "I remember it still felt like a toss-up back then. It was technically my second album, but really my first one that felt like a complete, cohesive work. As far as I knew, nobody really knew who I was yet, and this album could’ve been the end of the road—me back knocking on Sue’s door (Al's New York acting manager) before long! Everything felt so uncertain."  The album gradually gained recognition within New Age music circles and eventually climbed to number 40 on the New Age broadcast charts. “It was a bit of a shock to see the album suddenly appear on that chart at number 40 when, at this stage of my career, I never even thought of the charts at all. I did not even have promotion or publicity. But I remember the first glimmer that maybe, just maybe, this may work out after all.” 

Unbeknownst to Al at the time, POETA would soon become the catalyst for a major turning point in his career.

With POETA behind him, Al began work on a new album—this time centered around a clear concept: The Arabian Nights. However, rather than the stories themselves, he chose to focus on the storyteller of the 1001 Nights tales: Scheherazade. “I read a lot since I was little, and the Arabian nights always fascinated me.  I was originally planning on a different album concept, but it was just not coming together.  Suddenly, Scheherazade took over and it was clear this was to be my next album's concept. I remember thinking that this was a really smart and corageous woman who saved her own life in such a clever way, I had to tell that story!”

This time, the album was created in Al’s studios located in Vermont and New York. “I found myself back to commuting to New York since Kevin, my manager, was based in Manhattan. So, ironically, New York was back in the picture for me! Still, keeping my artistic focus was key, and juggling the album’s composition between two states wasn’t easy. But my time in New York city ended up being important both personally and professionally. When it was time to finish the album, I went back to André Maquera for sound engineering and mastering—just like I did for my previous two albums.”  An exceptionally skilled guitarist, André also contributed to several tracks on the album.

As the album was nearing release, an unexpected opportunity arose that would elevate Al’s career to new heights. A prominent promoter in the New Age music industry reached out to Kevin, expressing interest in representing Al. The promoter had discovered Al’s previous album, POETA, and was intrigued by his work. Kevin sent a preview copy of Al’s yet-unreleased Scheherazade album, and that sealed the deal. "Ed was a big deal.  He was working with Will Ackerman (Windham Hill), who was huge, and many other prominent New Age artists, and here he was wanting to work with me.  It was a bit surreal."

Scheherazade was released to widespread acclaim. With the combined efforts of Kevin and Al’s new promoter, the album soared to remarkable success. Suddenly, Al’s music was featured on television and radio stations worldwide, embraced by New Age broadcasters and critics alike. The album debuted at number one on the New Age broadcast charts and held that position for an impressive three months—a rare achievement in the genre.  “It was unreal. This meant I was getting played non stop, literally on rotation. They liked my work! Critics and reviewers were gushing about the album. Suddenly, I was getting mail from people around the world about my work.  Even my own mother would call me every time one of the album’s tracks played on a television music channel—my photos splashed across the screen!" 

The sudden spotlight quickly became an overwhelming weight on Al’s shoulders. "Someone suggested I get an assistant to handle most of the mail, but I ended up doing it all myself. I just felt responsible to every single person who reached out. Looking back, maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but I don’t regret it. Eventually, someone took over a lot of my social media, but that wasn’t for a while yet." 

Indeed, Scheherazade was so warmly received that it catapulted Al into becoming one of the most prominent New Age artists of his era. “I was even hearing from Will Ackerman’s people congratulating me on my chart position, and suddenly other New Age artists were hearing my name and reaching out.  I had to take a step back and absorb all this.”  The growing attention eventually brought Al close to several artists he had admired for years, turning professional respect into genuine friendship.  “To me, the Arabian Tales were always about magic and, well, Scheherazade was indeed magic for me!”  Scheherazade not only established Al as a respected New Age artist among his peers but also firmly defined his musical style: the concept album.

Al’s career was now in full throttle, which meant a new album needed to be composed—and composed quickly. Promoters often encourage artists not to wait more than 18 months between releases. However, from the very beginning, Al chose to resist this pressure and turned down the rush.  "I needed the time I needed to create what I felt was something good and I was not willing to cut corners.  And I was still trying to digest what was happening to me and my career."

Al now confronted a daunting reality faced by many artists who reach the summit of their careers: the struggle to transcend their own success. “As it happens with most of us artists when we reach a certain level of success is that we ask ourselves, ‘how do I top this?’  And you have to top earlier success if you are to stay relevant.  It is weird in some ways because now you're not trying to be better than someone else, you're trying to top yourself!  It suddenly becomes daunting, because you do not have a precise formula for why something you created earlier worked so well so that you can replicate it.   After the success of my album Scheherazade had been so big, this was the case for me.  Scheherazade could do no wrong, but would that be the case with my follow-up album?  In a way, the success of that album would haunt me for years to come.”  As an artist rises to success, so too does the pressure—to exceed past achievements, to meet growing expectations. With acclaim comes a surge of demands and responsibilities, each one heavier than the last. “Suddenly, I found myself hiring more people, and their jobs—and their futures—started depending on the choices I was making and the work I was putting out. On top of that, as an artist, pleasing your audience means everything, but it’s not always easy. Dropping a follow-up album after a big success is always a gamble. Tons of artists struggle to top what they did before. And for me, there was the added challenge of staying true to who I am as an artist.”  

The follow-up was Northern Seas—an album partly born from grief, inspired by the heartbreaking loss of Al’s 23-year-old nephew to leukemia.  “It was a very hard time for my family, particularly my sister.  I cannot imagine what it is like to lose a son.”  With Northern Seas, Al reunited with André as sound engineer and guitarist, while also welcoming the masterful talents of Vermont-based musicians Hannah Beth Crary on fiddle and Tim Cummings on Celtic whistle.  “I wanted to do something different, explore mythology from a different part of the world.  There is a tendency among artists once they hit on something successful to stay with it and do more of the same.  But I did not want to do Scheherazade Part 2. I wanted to grow as an artist, and that is always a gamble.  Your audience might not follow you down the road you choose to travel.  Still, I took the challenge head on.”  Northern Seas delved into Norse mythology, marking a distinct departure from the Middle Eastern-inspired themes of Scheherazade.  “When Northern Seas came out, some fans who loved Scheherazade weren’t as enthusiastic. Plus, I was dropping it at the same time as some pretty big-name artists, but I didn’t rush or try to change the release date. I wasn’t afraid or intimidated—I just wanted the music to stand on its own.”  As a result, Northern Seas didn’t claim the coveted number one spot that Scheherazade had held for three consecutive months. Instead, it reached number two—still a remarkable achievement. “Critics and reviewers were not sure what to do with it at first,” says Al. “Everyone was expecting more Scheherazade, but I was done with that and needed to move on artistically.”  Indeed, critics recognized the album’s artistry, but this was a different side of Al Conti—one they may not have been prepared for.

However, something unexpected happened—Northern Seas soared into Amazon’s Top 10 New Age Albums of that year, drawing the attention of a wider, more diverse audience. This unexpected success not only expanded Al’s fan base beyond his established listeners but also solidified his place as a versatile and evolving artist within the New Age music world. “Suddenly, my music was reaching an audience that may not have been as interested in Scheherazade. I was now getting songs nominated on Celtic Radio!” Meanwhile, Scheherazade continued to find success through ongoing radio play and new licensing opportunities, further expanding Al’s influence in the New Age music world. "You’d think I’d have time to sit back and really enjoy how my career was taking off—but honestly, there was no time for that. Kind of sad when I think about it now."

Northern Seas reaching a wider audience also meant something else: Grammy® attention. “As the album had been submitted for the following year’s Grammys, I began to hear from many Recording Academy members who normally did not listen to New Age music (nor voted for it) and yet loved my album."  Around this time, another significant shift occurred in Al’s career. Through the introduction of a fellow artist, Al connected with publicist Beth Hilton, who began representing him alongside his promoter—a professional partnership that continues to this day.

This increased exposure also brought someone into Al’s life who would prove pivotal both professionally and personally: Bobby Susser. A successful artist in his own right—and a lifelong childhood friend of Paul Simon—Bobby carried with him decades of industry experience and wisdom that would soon become a guiding force in Al’s journey.  “Bobby reached out to me, and right away, we hit it off. He was different. In an industry where superficiality is everywhere, Bobby stood apart—he’d been in music for decades and had risen above all the noise. He appreciated that I was no-nonsense, and I felt the same about him. He was real, and that mattered to me. At that point in my career, trust was everything, and I could only place it in a few close people. What struck me most was that Bobby clearly didn’t want anything from me—something incredibly rare in this business. That’s why I always gravitated toward working with people who ended up becoming like family. Bobby became a mentor and a dear friend. We’d talk for hours on the phone. His input was priceless, and his perspective on the industry was deep and truly shaped how I saw things. Plus, he had the most incredible stories—personal ones, from a lifetime inside the music world.”  Grammy attention for Al’s album kept growing.  “Honestly, I didn’t think much about it at the time—getting a Grammy nomination is nearly impossible, especially as an independent artist. Winning? Forget it! I also wasn’t hungry for it in the way some people are. So, I just kept doing my thing and stayed focused on the music.” At the same time, another profound challenge was unfolding in Al’s life—his mother was battling breast cancer, a fight that would demand strength and resilience. “A thing like that puts a Grammy into perspective!”

And then it happened: Northern Seas received a Grammy nomination. “I remember that day very clearly. I was at my house in Vermont, getting ready to fly down to New York City for some engagements. I was a bit nervous—by then, it was starting to seem like a nomination could actually happen—but I still didn’t believe it would. So I pushed it out of my mind. Kevin (manager) and Beth (publicist) already had a plan in place about who would break the news to me, whether good or bad. I arrived in New York, Kevin picked me up at JFK, and we went straight to dinner. Both he and Beth were checking for updates the whole time, but I stayed out of it.

Then the news broke. Kevin got really quiet and serious, looked me in the eye, and told me: I had been nominated. It was huge. And I knew instantly—it was going to be life-changing. I remember the moment felt like everything stopped. Everything went still and silent, just for a beat that felt like forever. Then the phone started ringing off the hook. First it was my publicist in L.A., then colleagues—some who’d been nominated too, some who hadn’t (awkward)—and of course, Bobby, who kept me on the phone until 3 a.m.”

This period also deeply affected Al’s personal life, as he and Kevin were now in a committed relationship. “This nomination changed everything—not just for me, but for Kevin too. Artists aren’t always the easiest people to be in a relationship with. We’re complex, often temperamental, and our lives revolve around emotional expression. But Kevin really got me. Being in a relationship with someone who’s quickly becoming a public figure is like walking on quicksand. And being gay, with an audience largely made up of women, added its own layer of pressure. While Kevin was no stranger to navigating circles filled with high-profile professionals, this was different—this was personal.

But Kevin knew how to handle it. He knew how to work with me, with the people around me, and with the whirlwind of change we were stepping into. He wasn’t just my manager—he was also a certified coach, and those skills were essential in managing not only the business but me as a person. And more than anything, he believed in me—wholeheartedly, without question. That kind of support made all the difference.”  

What followed was a whirlwind of activity for Al—events, press coverage, interviews—all while he worked to maintain a sense of balance amid the growing demands of his career and the emotional weight of his mother’s illness. “It was almost more than I could or wanted to handle.  At that moment, my mother’s cancer was first and foremost on my mind.” Kevin became Al’s anchor during this intense time, shielding him from unnecessary stress and quietly managing the craziness around them. By handling the logistics and absorbing the pressure, Kevin allowed Al the space and focus he needed to continue creating and moving forward in his career.  "I remember there were things Kevin shielded me from—stuff he knew I didn’t need to see. Some of it was pretty nasty. A few colleagues, out of resentment, were publicly saying things about me, and one particular radio host went after me ruthlessly. Both Kevin and Beth made sure I never saw his vitriol. Looking back, I’m grateful for that.

The truth is, when you start hitting a certain level of success, it can get ugly around you. People project their own frustrations onto you, and the air around you starts to shift. I guess that’s how you know you’ve really made it—when the praise and the poison come in equal measure." 

Al's schedule was becoming difficult to handle. "Kevin and Beth handled everything. All I really knew was that I had a TV interview on Friday, three radio interviews the following week, an AP interview the day after that, and a photo shoot squeezed in three hours later. Then it was off to a Grammy nominee reception in New York, followed by the LA trip, Grammy events, and the actual telecast.

I just rolled with it—but honestly, if you’d asked me what day it was, I wouldn’t have had a clue. Somehow, in the middle of it all, I still managed to check in with mother from time to time and see how her chemo treatment was developing."

With the Grammy telecast fast approaching, Al now had to prepare for one of the biggest moments of his career—requiring a trip to Los Angeles and adding yet another layer of pressure to his already packed schedule. “By this point, I had attended so many events and given so many interviews, I was completely exhausted. Honestly, I didn’t think I would win—mainly because of who I was up against. But I’ve never been someone consumed by winning. Success, for me, has always been relative. I know it might sound phony, but I genuinely didn’t care about taking home the award.

I’ve got plenty of Grammy-winning colleagues, and some of them changed after their win—and not in the best way. I lost some good people to a Grammy. I also didn’t want to attend the Grammy telecast at all. Remember, I’m an introvert. Those kinds of events are my idea of hell. I don’t look back on the whole thing fondly. People don’t believe you when you say you could be on the red carpet with Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, and Adele—and still wish you were back home, in peace and quiet. But that was me. And yet, there I was, smiling for 100 photographers calling my name and pretending I was loving every minute of it.  I've turned down all Grammy invitations every year since!

That said, I also understood what the nomination meant for my career. I accepted that if I was going to stay in the game, this was part of the deal. I couldn’t have it both ways.”

The Grammy Awards finally happened and Al did not win, losing to Pat Metheny. “It was OK. Some people around me were devastated and couldn’t understand how I was so nonchalant about the whole thing. I was just glad it was over. No matter how many times I said I was fine, no one believed me. I actually started wondering if something was wrong with me!

I think a lot of people around me had invested heavily—emotionally—in the idea of me winning. But I hadn’t. And honestly, I lost to Pat Metheny. I mean, how many people can say that?!"

Following the Grammys, Al’s time in Los Angeles was consumed by a flurry of meetings, industry events, and networking opportunities. The momentum was thrilling, but the pace was unrelenting. “I found myself at the Warner lot for a meeting and couldn’t help but smile at the irony—I had finally made it onto the Warner lot, not as an actor like I once dreamed, but as a musician. The full-circle moment wasn’t lost on me.”

This marked another pivotal chapter in Al’s life. Now firmly in the public eye, he found his carefully guarded personal life becoming more exposed than ever before. Until then, the world had seen his relationship with Kevin as purely professional—but that boundary was beginning to blur, and the privacy Al had long fought to protect was slipping away. “I had been good at compartmentalizing my life—until that point. My relationship with Kevin was both personal and professional, and somehow, we managed to keep both sides separate. Even most of my colleagues didn’t know I was gay. You have to understand, once you reach a certain level of success, you stop being just a person—you become a product. ‘Al Conti’ wasn’t really me, it was the brand we were selling. I was a musician, and music was the product. Everything from my public bio, promotion, albums—even the photos—were all tools to sell that product. It often felt like everything was about ‘Al,’ but rarely about me. I was so private that no one even knew—or asked—what ‘Al’ was short for. And the few times I did share my full name with a colleague, they couldn’t make the switch. They just kept calling me Al. Bobby, being close to Paul, would always joke with me about that—our little 'You Can Call Me Al' running gag. Artistically shortening my name and using my mother’s maiden name gave me a bit of a barrier, a way to separate public from private. And to this day, no one in my private life calls me Al.”

The Grammys changed everything. The heightened exposure catapulted Al further into the spotlight, making it increasingly difficult to maintain the privacy he had so fiercely protected. What had once been personal was now under public scrutiny. 

“What was really hard for me during all those red carpet events was that Kevin would always walk just a couple of feet behind me. Beth would lead the way up front, then I’d be thrust forward into the cameras and journalists while they both took a step back—and in those moments, I felt utterly alone. I had to use every bit of my acting skills just to stay calm, look professional, even act excited while following along. But inside, I felt terrible for Kevin. No matter how much he said he was fine, I was literally leaving my partner two feet behind me.  I remember giving interviews and while my mouth was talking, my mind was constantly wondering where Kevin was. Meanwhile, some colleagues would walk the red carpet arm-in-arm with their spouses—and I didn’t feel like I could do the same. You have to remember, this was over a decade ago. These days, people shout their sexual orientation from the rooftops, and sometimes it even helps their careers. Back then, it was a completely different story.  I remember the Grammys being right before Valentine’s Day, a journalist put a microphone in my face and asked me flat out who I was taking out. I froze. After that, I made a decision. I called a meeting with Beth and Kevin and just blurted out: 'I want to come out.' What followed was five months of careful planning and tactical thinking about how to come out until I was finally ready to scream. But we had to be careful, the gay community can be brutal if you’re a public figure who doesn’t come out, or if you come out too early—or too late. And I didn’t want it to seem like a publicity stunt. It felt like a no-win situation.”  

But someone was there to help.  Alison Arngrim, known for her role as the mean-spirited Nellie Oleson in the long running TV series Little House on the Prairie was in contact with Al during this period. “It was amazing that she gave her time so selflessly to me at that moment, when her own schedule was packed as she had just written an autobiography and was very busy promoting it. That is when you know the universe had just sent an angel your way." Arngrim’s words resonated deeply with Al and would play a crucial role in shaping how he chose to come out publicly.  

"Alison said some things to me that deeply affected my decision to come out. While she was working on Little House, one of her closest co-stars—someone she was best friends with—was closeted. He later died of AIDS, and the experience left a deep mark on her. I asked her, 'If he were around today, do you think he would’ve come out?' And without hesitation, she said, 'Absolutely.' Then she said something that really stuck with me: 'No one really comes out now—you just ARE.' That was it. That was the answer I needed.

After that conversation, Beth figured out the best way to approach it. She arranged for me to casually mention it during a radio interview—as if it were no big deal, just a part of who I was. The only thing is… I wish she’d told me about the plan ahead of time!”  During the interview, when the radio host asked if there was an important person in his life, Al came out quietly and without fanfare—just as he had always approached both his career and his personal life.  “It was so funny, a few weeks later Wikipedia had picked up on this interview and the page quoted it. I was officially out and it had been painless. Somewhat.  The number of women fans slightly dropped, but I now had some new male fans!”

After the intense whirlwind of the Grammy experience, Al found himself utterly exhausted—drained both physically and emotionally. Though his mother had successfully emerged from breast cancer treatment and a mastectomy, now on the road to recovery, Al needed time to regroup. The album he had begun working on before the Grammy frenzy was temporarily put on hold as he sought to heal and find balance once again. “I was completely drained—mentally and creatively. I had nothing left in the tank, so I shelved the new album for six months and just stepped away from it all.” 

The album, eventually completed and released a year later, was The Blue Rose. However, its reception was lukewarm, falling short of the impact Al had hoped for. “Critics and my audience had gotten used to this big, powerful sound from me. But The Blue Rose was quiet and introspective—because honestly, that’s where I was at the time. It’s what I needed to create. I remember one reviewer pointing out how quiet the album was, saying it didn’t sound like a typical ‘Al Conti album’—and they were right. That’s exactly what I intended it to be. In a way, that critic totally got it.”  

Nonetheless, The Blue Rose found its audience and garnered attention, even if it didn’t achieve the widespread acclaim of Al’s earlier work. “I remember about a year later, a broadcaster told me privately that this album had helped him through a really tough year. That kind of thing makes all the work feel totally worth it. And honestly, I can’t complain—some of the songs from this album still bring in pretty solid royalty checks to this day!"  

However, Al began to feel that his music work no longer brought him the same sense of fulfillment it once did. “I started questioning why I was even doing this. Suddenly, people around me had ulterior motives—some were clearly using me to boost their own careers or dropping my name to get into events. After the Grammy nomination, it felt like I had a dozen new 'best friends,' none of whom I had actually asked for. I found myself surrounded by this sort of unspoken society of artists whose main goal seemed to be winning awards, not making music for the love of it. That’s never been what it was about for me.

There was also resentment from colleagues who had never landed a nomination, and even from reviewers who thought someone else deserved it more than I did. All of this made me start to seriously question my career and whether I still wanted to be part of this industry. Thankfully, Bobby helped me through that time. He had seen huge success himself and had also watched his lifelong friend, Paul Simon, navigate the craziness of fame. His perspective was invaluable.

And for the first time, I had no idea what my next album would be. Usually, by the time one album was released, I already had a concept lined up for the next. Not this time. The idea of retiring started to cross my mind. So I took a little time off.”

Indeed, it would be another three years before Al’s next—and final—album would be released.  “At some point, an idea I had played with a few years earlier—one that hadn’t quite panned out—came back to me. I had always admired the mystic Hildegard von Bingen and had wanted to compose an album inspired by her life and work. A colleague of mine happened to be friends with author Matthew Fox, who had just written a book about Bingen. When she told Fox about my potential project, Fox generously sent me a signed copy of the book for inspiration.

At the time, I thought I was heading in the right direction creatively, but emotionally, I wasn’t there. The Grammy experience had left its mark on me, and what I ended up needing to create was The Blue Rose. So the Bingen concept was shelved—but not forgotten.

Now, the idea returned. I still felt drawn to Bingen, but as I started composing, the project evolved. It became clear this album wasn’t going to be strictly about her—it was about a deeper, more personal journey. It became a reflection of my own spiritual path, and of the stories and experiences of people I had met over the years, each searching in their own way.

Bingen remained a strong influence, though, and I kept her in mind as I composed each track. I dove into research on the music of her time, and music tied to the pilgrimage road to Santiago de Compostela. All of it began to form something much bigger than I had originally envisioned.”  

That album would be MYSTIC, Al’s final and deeply personal work. “As work on the album was beginning to take shape, I heard from Ricky Kej—a colleague I had met at various industry events over the years. Ricky had just released a new album (which would soon go on to win a Grammy, right in the middle of my project), and he reached out to say he loved the concept I was developing. He also had the time and interest to collaborate, which was a pleasant surprise. After many conversations, we agreed that Ricky would come on board as the project’s associate producer. I also decided to utilize his studio facilities in Bangalore, India, for some additional recording as well as for the final mastering of the album. This marked a significant shift for me—it was my first time not working with André Maquera in Vermont for mastering. It was a bold departure, but I was seeking a fresh sound, and Ricky was exactly the creative partner I needed to make that happen." 

Once the project was underway, it quickly gained momentum. MYSTIC was recorded across five different studios, spanning locations in the USA and India, reflecting its rich and diverse influences.

"Something really lovely happened with this album. Colleagues of mine whom I had always admired, not just as artists but as human beings, joined the project."  Windham Hill guitarist Jeff Pearce lent his signature ambient guitar work throughout the album; Pamela Copus, renowned for her work with the acclaimed New Age band 2002, contributed haunting harp melodies; and vocalist Charlee Brooks—known for her collaborations with New Age artist David Arkenstone—added ethereal vocals on several tracks, including the album’s powerful title song. This remarkable collaboration culminated in an album that Al regards as the pinnacle of his musical career. 

MYSTIC was released to widespread critical acclaim, securing spots on top radio playlists and earning prestigious awards—including Best World Album at the ZMR Music Awards. This marked a triumphant return for Al, who hadn’t claimed that honor since Scheherazade won the same category years earlier. Unable to attend the ceremony, Pamela Copus graciously accepted the award on Al’s behalf. “I felt that MYSTIC’s win brought me full circle to Scheherazade, which I’ve always seen as the turning point in my career. MYSTIC was also the most personal of all my albums—I poured a lot of myself into it. Its success didn’t come all at once; it grew steadily over time. Even now, years later, people are still discovering it. I almost never listen to my own music, but I’ve revisited MYSTIC a few times in recent years, and I’m still genuinely proud of it.”

It soon became clear to Al that MYSTIC would be his final work. The rapid ascent to success had taken its toll, and he found himself yearning for a new direction and purpose beyond the music. 

“It’s not uncommon for a musical act to burn out and call it quits after a decade—I was in good company. And truthfully, I felt I was done. By now, a new album concept would’ve already begun forming in my mind, but this time… nothing. In the past, once I started composing, inspiration would flow, and I always knew when an album was finished—it was like someone had turned off the creative faucet. But this time, that initial spark never even came. The concept didn’t arrive. That’s when I knew I was moving on.

I also felt a strong pull to live life outside the entertainment world—an industry I had been part of for decades. I had already started declining event invitations, and deep down, I knew this shift had been coming for a while. I did not want to 'be seen'—I wanted peace, stillness. In fact, after MYSTIC was released and the promotional cycle wrapped, I didn’t listen to any music for over a year. I needed that silence. I wanted to explore who I was beyond the public figure. More than anything, I craved privacy. Once your life is splattered across Wikipedia, true privacy becomes nearly impossible—and that was something I never fully got used to. While I still attract some public attention from time to time, I’ve stepped away from all of it. An artist rarely gets to live a “normal” life. But that’s exactly what I was determined to do now."  

Al’s career is truly one to admire—not just for his artistic achievements, but for his steadfast determination to stay grounded, to make choices many artists chasing fame might have avoided, and ultimately, to retire gracefully while still at the height of his creative powers. 

“I never truly expected my music career to go as far as it did or to reach the heights it did. I’m not sure anyone ever really does—but I certainly didn’t. I still reflect on how incredible the ride was. But honestly, I was ready to step off that train and walk the rest of the way, taking time to smell the roses.

Many people I met in acting and music thrive on attention. As an introvert, I never handled it well—nor did I ever really want it. What I loved was the expression. For most artists, creative expression is a deep need, and for me, it was how I connected with others. But the attention that came with it? That was never the goal. Even something as simple as dining out—I’ll always look for the table furthest from everyone else, hoping to slide in unnoticed and be left alone.

Ironically, I chose a very public career. And in this business, if you’re not getting attention, you’re as good as done. That contradiction plagued me throughout my career. I often chalked it up to my astrological makeup: Pisces Sun, Leo Rising, Cancer Moon—constantly tugging in opposite directions between craving the spotlight and hiding from it. In the end, I think the two water signs won.”  

Al’s music continues to enchant listeners, and fans still regularly reach out to him, keeping his legacy alive and vibrant. 

“It’s always a bit difficult when people ask what I’m working on now or when the next album will be released—because the truth is, that chapter of my life has closed. My publicist once told me, 'You never quit publicly, because you never know,' but eventually, I felt the need to make a clear statement and put to rest any lingering hope that a new album might appear. That said, it means a lot to know that the work I’ve done still resonates with people. It’s humbling—and a little surreal—that royalties from my 2008 album Scheherazade continue coming my way!

Those who know me personally truly understand my need for a life outside of music. Some of my artist friends quietly assumed I was just taking a break and would return once I had rested. But by now, they realize: I’m not coming back.”  

Since retiring, Al has enjoyed a peaceful, quiet life. Yet, it was with profound sadness that he learned of Bobby’s passing—a loss that deeply touched him. “Beth reached out to me about it, and I was in shock. I had been completely consumed by a cross-country move and hadn’t heard that Bobby was gone. The news hadn’t even been made public yet—not even by Smithsonian Folkways, the label that had just acquired his entire catalog. They released the announcement shortly after. I was stunned. The loss hit me deeply. The last time we spoke, he hadn’t been feeling well, but I never expected this. When Bobby passed, I felt something shift. I knew in my heart that the cycle of my music career had come to an end. He had been with me through the most meaningful and formative phase of it all—and without him, it just wouldn’t be the same.”