Meet Samuel Edwards of SAN TAN VALLEY

Today we’d like to introduce you to Samuel Edwards.

Hi Samuel, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
I was born in 1982 in Yuma, AZ. When my parents split up around the time I turned seven, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. My grandfather had played in jazz bands during his teenage years, and his love for music left a lasting impression on me. He played piano, keys, and guitar—and always kept instruments accessible in a guest room at his home.

When we moved to Gilbert, AZ in 5th grade, he gave me his Cleveland Alto Sax to join the school band. I stuck with it through elementary and middle school. In high school, I chose music over sports and joined the jazz band, symphonic band, and marching band. But during my junior year, I lost my band credit over a misplaced uniform I had already returned. Around that time, a gang called the Devil Dogs—connected to Sammy the Bull—was active in the area, causing enough chaos to get the FBI involved. I transferred from Highland High to Gilbert High to create distance from both the gang and the school’s music program.

At Gilbert High, I met Joe Pealstrom. He was learning guitar and writing lyrics. We bonded at a well-known apartment complex we called “1001,” where teenagers gathered to hang out, create, and be heard. I’d sing Sublime covers while others joined in. Around then, I’d traded a turntable for an acoustic guitar with my neighbor, John Chavez (now DJ Jcha).

Joe and I started recording songs at our friend Marlow’s apartment using a 4-track and karaoke machine. We sampled drums from Marlow’s turntables, played GoldenEye, drank Natty Ice, smoked reggie, and made music. Some nights, we were the soundtrack to the kickbacks. That turned into house party performances, and eventually we set our sights on playing real stages.

We needed a drummer. Enter Hefro, who auditioned by beatboxing Rahzel’s “If Your Mother Only Knew.” From that point on, we practiced in any garage we could find—getting noise complaints, even visits from the cops. Eventually, we moved into a house in Gilbert we nicknamed “Kingston and Rockwell.” Drums in the kitchen, studio upstairs, fridge always stocked—we finally had a home base. We started burning our own CDs and putting music out consistently.

Our first show was in my mom’s living room. Not long after, we booked a Thursday night at Bash on Ash in Tempe. We sold over 100 tickets just by hustling CDs and spreading the word. That earned us another gig, which led to more venues, more shows, and more local recognition.

We saved enough money from gigs to record five songs at Jimmy Z’s studio in Phoenix. One of those songs, “Stars,” got radio play on 100.3 The Edge. Around that time, Hefro’s brother had a friend who came into money after a personal tragedy and decided to invest in a studio—Likewise Recording in Phoenix. That became Herb N’ Life’s new headquarters. I even started recording other local acts there. We wrote constantly, partied hard, and built a creative hub.

We eventually brought in a local audio engineer to help monetize the space while recording our first full-length album. By the time we finished the fourth song, “Gunsmoke,” tragedy struck again. Joe died in a car crash outside El Centro.

I had just seen him leave the studio to visit his mom. We both worked at American Musical Instrument in Mesa, and I figured he was just late for work. Then I got a call from his mother. The police had found a body and believed it was Joe. She hoped someone had just stolen his wallet. I called around and learned the awful truth—he was in a wreck driving back from San Diego and didn’t survive.

Everything stopped. I wanted to quit. Joe’s mom and Hefro’s mom wanted to sue the seatbelt manufacturer and use the money to keep the band alive in Joe’s honor. But I learned they’d have to go after Derek’s brother—who had been driving—as part of the case. We all went to court to support him. During a break, I called Joe’s mom and asked if she was really pursuing charges against him. She admitted she was. I told her I couldn’t support it and didn’t want any part of the money if it came at that cost. She got on the phone with the judge and told him she didn’t want to press charges. That led to a plea deal and a reduced sentence.

After that, I slowly withdrew from the band. It felt like Herb N’ Life was just covering Herb N’ Life. The grief ate away at me.

In 2010, life was chaotic—I had a two-year-old son, a rocky relationship, and had just enrolled at the Conservatory of Recording Arts & Sciences (CRAS). Around that time, Gabo from Fayuca hit me up about playing bass for a few shows. I told him I couldn’t commit long-term, but after a couple of gigs, I found myself officially in the band. While juggling fatherhood and a full course load at CRAS, I toured with Fayuca, completed my internship at Fervor Records, and earned my degree. I tried channeling that energy back into Herb N’ Life, but something had shifted. The connection wasn’t there anymore, so I made the tough call to close that chapter and fully commit to Fayuca.

Somewhere in there, I reunited with Emily—my now-wife—at a show at The Stray Cat. We had our first child in 2016. I started doing acoustic Herb N’ Life sets with members of Catfish Mustache and The Veragroove, playing cover songs a couple times a week until we burned out and called it quits. I figured maybe that was the end.

But then my kids started asking why I had all this gear if I wasn’t making music.

Not long after, Arian called me on a three-way with Cisco. Funny enough, I had replaced Cisco in Fayuca back in the day—after they tried someone else who didn’t work out, then called me, lol. I had done four tours with them over five years, but by year five, the lifestyle was catching up to me: bad diet, worse sleep, drinking, drugs, women… it wasn’t sustainable. I bowed out of touring and took a job as a sales account manager at a local security tech integrator in Tempe.

In 2020, Arian reached out again to jam. We linked up at Francisco Studios in Phoenix. It was fun, but I wasn’t trying to drive home buzzed, so I didn’t follow up. Then he called again—this time with Cisco on the line—and now it felt real.

We started forming a new version of the band. We tried out Vic from Las Calakas on lead guitar, but it wasn’t the right fit. Then Arian’s brother, Adrian, came to jam—and by the end of the night, we all knew this was the right lineup.

We recorded our first single, “Stay Away,” and brought in Money Dash from Las Calakas for a feature. Our first full-band performance was during the COVID era, at a masked-up event hosted by Cannabis Cactus Magazine. Mikey gave us a full spread in the magazine, and it signaled to the local community: Herb N’ Life was back.

We saved up gig money and hired Ralph Patlan to record our first full-length album, which became The Blue Album. Around that time, Adrian, Arian, and Cisco were being sued by a former manager from their previous band, Proper Trash, so trust took time—but we pushed through.

Our music started hitting local radio, getting placed on playlists, and gaining traction with industry insiders. Cisco’s modeling work with Dixxon Flannel Co. helped open doors, and we landed a soft sponsorship with them that continues to this day. Through Cisco, we also secured a sponsorship with Blackflys, and I just picked up new shades for the whole family.

We’ve worked with incredible visual artists like Opie Ortiz (LBDAS), Justin Oltesvig, Benjamin Artis, KC Cowan, and El Ray. We’ve played SeaLegs in Huntington Beach, Boise Hemp Fest, Viva Iriezona, Budzapalooza, Four Corners Motorcycle Rally, and multiple Dixxon events.

We won Rome & Duddy’s “America’s Got Talent” contest and were featured on the Feeling Good with Duddy podcast live at the Dirty Heads HQ. In 2024, we were honored as Phoenix Magazine’s Best Band/Musician of the Valley.

We recorded our follow-up EP at 17th Street Studios with legendary producer Lewis Richards, who’s worked with nearly everyone in the reggae/alt scene. We also tapped him to produce multiple dub versions of our songs.

Right now, we’re in the studio with Matt Keller working on our second full-length album. We recently signed with Horizon Echo Management & Productions, who also work closely with Las Calakas.

Today, I work full-time as a sales account manager for a local distributor, supporting a family of six—Nixon (16), Orion (9), Zeke (6), and Victoria (1). I love my life, I love my family, and I love my community. I’m excited to see how far Herb N’ Life can go in 2025 and beyond.

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Creative Writing Coach said:

Definitely not a smooth road — but I don’t think it was ever supposed to be.

There have been incredible highs, but also some real heartbreak and hard lessons along the way. Losing my best friend and bandmate, Joe Pealstrom, in a car accident in 2003 was a defining moment that changed everything. We had built something special together, and his loss shook me to the core — not just as a musician, but as a person. After that, Herb N’ Life didn’t feel the same. It felt like we were covering ourselves. The spark was gone for a while.

Then came personal struggles: navigating fatherhood at a young age, juggling school at CRAS, relationships that weren’t always healthy, and trying to find balance between creative passion and real-life responsibilities. Touring with Fayuca brought great opportunities, but the lifestyle was taking a toll — bad sleep, bad habits, and a pace I couldn’t maintain if I wanted to be a present father and partner.

There were legal challenges too. When we reformed Herb N’ Life in the 2020s, three members were being sued by a former band manager. That created tension and trust issues we had to work through. We also rebuilt from scratch during COVID, when live music was at a standstill and the world was on edge.

But through all of it, the music kept calling. Each setback taught me something. Each loss, each detour — they shaped the sound, the message, and the heart of what Herb N’ Life is now. So no, it hasn’t been smooth. But it’s been real. And that’s what matters most.

Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I’m a musician, songwriter, producer, and band leader—but at the core of it, I’m a storyteller. I use music to process life, to connect with people, and to represent where I’m from. I front the band Herb N’ Life, which blends reggae, rock, hip-hop, and punk with a Southwest soul. We’ve built something grassroots and real—no big label push, just word-of-mouth, hustle, and community.

I’m most proud of the fact that we’ve been able to bring Herb N’ Life back to life, stronger and more honest than ever. After losing Joe, the band went silent for a long time, and for years I thought that chapter was closed. But now, with a new lineup and a deeper purpose, we’re making the best music we’ve ever made. We’ve been able to play major shows, land festival slots, get radio play, collaborate with scene legends like Lewis Richards and Ralph Patlan, and even earn recognition like “Best Band/Musician in the Valley” from Phoenix Magazine.

What sets us apart is authenticity. We’re not chasing trends. We’re not trying to fit a mold. We write what we feel, we show up for the community, and we bring heart to every show—whether it’s 30 people in a bar or 3,000 at a festival. Our sound has roots, but it’s not stuck in a box. You’ll hear reggae in one track, punk in the next, maybe even a dub remix after that.

Offstage, I also work as a full-time sales account manager to support my family. I know what it means to grind during the day, chase your passion at night, and still be there for your kids. I think that balance, that real-life perspective, is part of what makes this project resonate. I’m not just making music for a party—I’m making music that says something, because I’ve lived it.

That’s what I’m proud of. That we’re still here. That it’s still growing. And that it’s still real.

What would you say have been one of the most important lessons you’ve learned?
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that time and energy are currency—and how you spend them defines your life.

There was a point in my journey where I was chasing everything at once—touring, partying, trying to hold relationships together, raising a kid, going to audio school—all while still grieving the loss of a best friend and bandmate. I burned myself out, emotionally and physically, and it forced me to ask: What really matters?

That’s when I learned to move with more intention. I stopped chasing moments that didn’t feed me, stopped saying yes to everything, and started building with people who truly believed in the music and the message. I learned how powerful it is to say no—so that your yes actually means something.

Another big lesson: nothing is guaranteed. Not the shows, not the recognition, not the people. You could lose someone tomorrow. So create while you can. Say what you need to say. Record the song. Book the gig. Tell your people you love them.

At the end of the day, growth isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s showing up to practice when you’re tired. Sometimes it’s choosing to be a present parent over chasing a tour. Sometimes it’s being humble enough to start from scratch again—but doing it with more wisdom than before. That’s where I’m at now, and I’ve never been more grounded.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://herbnlife.co
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/herbnlife/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/herbnlifeband
• Twitter: https://x.com/herbnlifemusic
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/c/herbnlife

Image Credits
Photos by Irie AZ