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For Stephen Kramer Glickman, the path from cult TV fame to global music resonance has not followed a traditional arc. It has been unpredictable, at times chaotic, and ultimately deeply human. That is precisely what makes this current chapter of his career feel less like a pivot and more like a long-overdue alignment.
Best known to many as a standout from Big Time Rush, Glickman has quietly built a second act rooted in music, one that recently erupted into global visibility thanks to his haunting cover of “Crazy.” What could have been a fleeting viral moment instead became something far more substantial, driven by emotion, instinct, and an unwillingness to over-engineer the outcome.
“I think everyone has a time in their life where they’ve lost their mind,” Glickman says. “The original ‘Crazy’ by Gnarls Barkley was a cultural phenomenon when it first came out and I think I got extremely lucky. My cover just passed 8 billion plays on TikTok a few weeks ago. It’s definitely a pretty fascinating thing.”
That level of reach is staggering by any standard, especially for an artist operating outside the traditional machinery of major labels. But for Glickman, the takeaway is less about numbers and more about the unpredictable nature of connection in the digital age.
“The sheer volume of music producers that reached out in hopes of wanting to recreate its virality is staggering,” he says. “Having a song that becomes part of a trend is really the key. It’s not something you can plan for, truly. All you can do is create and trust in your producer.”
In his case, that trust was placed in producer Natalie London, whose work helped shape the tone of the track and the broader project it lives within. It is a collaboration that underscores a recurring theme in Glickman’s approach to music. He is not trying to control every variable. He is trying to feel his way through it.
That instinct-driven process starts long before a song ever reaches an audience.
“I really have to get addicted to a song to want to cover it,” he explains. “I grew up doing musical theater my entire life so if I can’t find personal meaning in it, I won’t be able to perform it in a unique way.”
It is a philosophy that separates reinterpretation from imitation. Glickman does not approach covers as exercises in nostalgia. He treats them as emotional translations, filtering familiar material through his own lived experience. That connection is what allows his performances to land with a kind of intimacy that feels rare in an era dominated by algorithmic output.
Even as his sound has evolved, that emotional core remains intact. His earlier work leaned heavily into stripped-down, piano-driven arrangements, a format that still anchors his creative process.
“It definitely has changed over the past few years,” he says. “The more I’ve worked with my drummer, Buddy Gibbons and my guitarist Soren Crisell the louder and wilder the covers have become. But it always starts at the piano. I’ve been playing the piano for 43 years so it’s truly an extension of my body at this point.”
That daily ritual is not just practice. It is grounding.
“I play the piano every day for two hours and consistently try out different types of music. It brings me a lot of joy singing and playing.”
Joy, however, is only one side of the equation. Discipline plays an equally critical role, especially when transitioning from studio work to the unpredictability of live performance.
“I’m a rehearsal machine,” Glickman says. “For the Big Time Rush Tour, we rehearsed four hours a day five days a week for two straight months. I wanted to know every word and every note of what we were doing backwards and forwards, but then once you’re on stage, you can let go and just trust it.”
That balance between control and surrender is something he credits to his acting background, where preparation is everything but the performance itself must feel instinctive.
“I had an acting teacher at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts who said, ‘There’s no thought in the process of acting. It’s all visceral being built by the offstage thought process.’ I use that advice in everything I do.”
It is a mindset that extends beyond performance and into collaboration. Glickman is quick to emphasize that the people he surrounds himself with are as important as the work itself.
“I love collaborating, especially with extremely talented musicians,” he says. “But you have to trust that they know what they’re doing. You have to trust in their professionalism and in their talent. That’s what works for me.”
That trust also informs a perhaps surprising stance on his future as a recording artist. At a time when many would leverage viral success into a push for original material, Glickman is content leaning into what he does best.
“I’m not really interested in writing original music,” he says. “I like being a singer. I like singing other people’s stuff. Again this stems from growing up doing musical theater. I trust in what I’m good at and I trust in what other people are good at.”
It is a perspective that feels almost countercultural in an industry that often prioritizes authorship above all else. But for Glickman, interpretation is not a limitation. It is a craft.
That craft has been sharpened not just in studios and rehearsal spaces, but across continents during his recent tour with Big Time Rush. The experience offered more than just large audiences. It provided a series of moments that feel almost cinematic in their variety.
“I ate piranha in Peru. I drank tea while drawing in Paris across from the Eiffel Tower. I wandered the streets of Brussels until my phone died. I met new friends on the train in so many countries and explored places I’ve only imagined.”
It is a rapid-fire list, but one that captures the spirit of the journey. For Glickman, touring was not just about performing. It was about immersion.
“I love adventure and the Big Time Rush tour gave me the opportunity to have the greatest adventures of my life so far,” he says. “It also gave me a chance to connect with a fan base that I’ve only seen in my comments on Instagram—people that grew up watching me—translated into Portuguese, German, Spanish, French, and so many more. I loved every second of it.”
That connection, once abstract and digital, has now become tangible. It is no longer just numbers on a screen or streams on a platform. It is faces, voices, and shared moments across cities and cultures.
Now, that momentum is carrying into a more intimate setting. Glickman is set to headline a show at The Sun Rose on May 30, bringing the energy of a global tour into one of Los Angeles’ most personal live music rooms.
For Glickman, this doesn’t feel like an arrival. It feels like the door just opened.
