THE ARTIST'S PURSUIT of a personal legend is full of unfamiliar terrain. It has just as many mountain switchbacks and shadowy valleys as there are open and inviting frontiers. The wise ones don’t worry when the way forward isn’t clear, because they know the path reveals itself with every step. The magic is in the kinetic energy of moving one foot after the other, despite the doubt and darkness. This archetype of trust and playing hide and seek with one’s own muses is a sort of origin story for Ian Beert of The Master Speed.
A latch-key kid growing up shuffled between two bedroom communities outside of Chicago where each of his parents had staked their claim after separating, Ian had always been on the move. He was born to two classical musicians who’d work him into their schedules: rehearsing, conducting, arranging for artists like Cheap Trick. This left him waiting for performances to start, waiting for performances to finish, waiting on the sidelines of the orchestra pit, just …waiting.
It’s no wonder, given time and autonomy, that he would trade the upright bass that was bestowed upon him for an electric guitar. It was something actionable, loud, raucous, and contrary to the conservative values that permeated suburban Illinois. Whatever that spark is that sets a human out on their own path, it found oxygen and fuel when he left home to study in Colorado to break the cycle of school, frat, job, marriage, kids, repeat.
He brought his guitar and opened tours for platinum artists of the day like Matt Nathanson and Braddigan of Dispatch. However, along the way, real bills had to be paid with real money, and he found himself after some years giving credence and precious time to another set of skills. He took a job as a line cook in a pub, started a hummus company, and woke up years later as a consultant in the food industry, burned out and begging for relief during Covid.
San Miguel de Allende is just one of the 20+ locales this wanderluster has called “home” in recent years. It was the palatial villa there, overlooking the high desert of Mexico, where he sought refuge in 2020, that changed the course of his life.
With time and space, shielded from the chaos of the world at large, the path of destiny showed itself again. He began fervently recording demos and, after connecting with old friend and producer Luke Edwards, he traveled to Seattle to record them with full instrumentation, codified in 440hz.
Sketches gave way to songs fully realized. The recordings were fresh but had all of the comfort and nostalgia of something already well-worn on the FM band. The EP needed a name—something that served as a reminder to a man constantly scanning the horizon, a way to wring every drop out of the present moment. A book of Robert Frost’s poetry landed in his lap at the just-right moment, and The Master Speed was born.
Now based in Nashville, The Master Speed is continuing the quest—not just to make music, but to truly honor the muse. To live in service of something that’s just beyond our grasp as humans. Where the path will lead is anyone’s guess, but as with any good artist, he’ll commit to it fully for the sake of the story.
