Part 2

Many writers have claimed that as soon as they enter into the process, certain aspects of the narrative are out of their hands. Do you like to keep strict control or is there a sense of following things where they lead you?

Definitely the latter. Sometimes I have an idea in mind, sometimes I'm just experimenting, but inevitably most of my decisions are made instinctively based on what is already present. A guitar line inspires a drum part, inspires a synth melody - the song "feels" like it needs fuzzier texture, or “feels” like it needs absolute clarity.

I guess that's control, in a way, but those decisions seem to be out of my hands. I don’t have a choice in them, the number of possible paths narrows the further I get into writing/recording. I never have much of a plan, and sometimes things happen as legitimate accidents.

I've certainly tried to be more intentional with each step, and been frustrated by not being able to do so. When I was new to this, I often had a very specific vision in mind and was disappointed by how I always came out with a totally different result. But I don't feel that as much these days, I've realized that I'd rather make something interesting than something that just successfully mimics whatever song or band I was inspired by, which is usually where a "vision" comes from for me.

I've learned to appreciate the benefits of not being intentional, of discovering a song instead of planning it. I personally think it's crucial as an artist to be open to anything, to avoid feeding that part of yourself that is disappointed by the outcome.

There are many descriptions of the creative state. How would you describe it for you personally? Is there an element of spirituality to what you do?

There is a spirituality insomuch as I subjectively feel as if certain decisions and outcomes in my creative process come from a higher place, not from me. Something like channeling or uncovering, that's the sense I get.

My job as a musician is to be entirely present and receptive, so I can be essentially just a tastemaker in a trial and error process of iteration that inevitably produces something with my fingerprint. But the material is pulled from somewhere else.

I feed the muse with effort and time, and it rewards me with a song. But I have no ownership of the song, I only did the work of digging it up.

Once a piece is finished, how important is it for you to let it lie and evaluate it later on? How much improvement and refinement do you personally allow until you're satisfied with a piece?

It really depends. I have a horrible habit of starting new songs before I finish old ones, so unintentionally pretty much all of my half-finished songs go through a phase of evaluation where I'm just listening to them occasionally in my car, deciding whether they're interesting or not.

I get scared sometimes that some really valuable stuff gets left behind, so much gets abandoned halfway! But I try to tell myself that whatever I'm most naturally interested in finishing is what I'll feel strongly about in the end. When I near the end of an album cycle, I do tend to sit with a larger initial tracklist and cut one or two that just don't feel right. But I think my process is comparatively way less refined than other artists.

I have absolutely released tons of songs that were written and recorded in a single day, with no additions beyond mixing/mastering. I remember reading that Panda Bear preferred to record his songs all-or-nothing, that is, in one session start to finish. I'm paraphrasing but he said something like it's because if he returns to songs later, he approaches them with a totally different headspace, influence, vision, etc. and that sort of destroys the internal cohesion of the song for him.

That's pretty much how I feel about it too, I like to go with my gut, never overthink, and drag out the entire composition before I quit, so that it can exist as a record of only that specific moment. I don't like to do multiple takes, or sweat the details. But that gets me into trouble, and might do more harm than good, honestly.

The truth is it's primarily motivated by my impatience and short attention span, a desire to work quickly and keep my process fun instead of tedious. I couldn't claim it results in "better art." So it's something I've been working on over the last few years, trying to be a bit more of a perfectionist where it counts - otherwise I've learned I end up with vocal takes I literally can't stand hearing after it's far too late and the song is already out!

In terms of what they contribute to a song, what is the balance between the composition and the arrangement (including production, mixing and mastering)?

That's such a hard question, especially because their individual importance is always subjective to the listener. Some people are all texture, whereas others want capital-S "Songs."

I can only speak for myself, and I'm very much the former. All of these aspects have power, but I'm drawn in most by production and sound. So I focus most on that in my own music as well. I'm far more concerned with the holistic atmosphere of a song, rather than the strength of my hooks or my lyrics or making sure there's an arc to the arrangement.

Those things matter, and I try my best at that, but I honestly think my unique gifts lie more in production than songwriting.

Music and the accompanying artwork are often closely related. Can you talk about this a little bit for your current project and the relationship that images and sounds have for you in general?

For this album, I had so many visual options in consideration, mostly because I had been working on it for so long.

I can explain how and why I landed on this final album cover. I’ve always been partial to repurposing my own film photography for cover art, because that has the effect of attaching a specific memory and a specific place from my own life. It’s not just that I took the photo, but that the album becomes connected to that memory or what it represents.

The photo for my album Far From This World was taken near my grandparent’s summer house in Sweden, where I used to visit back when I was a kid.



I recorded the album in lockdown during covid, losing my mind, entirely housebound and missing that place (and everywhere, really). So the cover became a sort of representation of my desire to go somewhere far away, or freely see the world again. Additionally, my desire to leave the chaos of that time - missing when I was kid, basically.

This cover is no different, it’s a film photo I took while travelling at a time when a lot of things in my life were changing, and I was sort of discovering that kind of change was possible. It felt like that memory and feeling suited the themes of the album. That’s the sort of associative process that has usually felt most emotionally resonant for me, and that’s really what I look for in my album art.

Does it produce an emotional response for me? If so, I go with it and hope that it’ll translate to someone else too. But sure, sometimes an old photograph or a design just feels like it expresses the album better. It produces a stronger response in me.

I’m still definitely interested in commissioning artists for cover art in the future (actually, I did just that recently), because I have the desire to expand the scope of my music in the sense of involving others in the vision. These days, there are some things I want to express that require someone else's help, you know?

After finishing a piece or album and releasing something into the world, there can be a sense of emptiness. Can you relate to this – and how do you return to the state of creativity after experiencing it?

Oh I'm running from that all the time.

That's definitely a real thing for me, but I don't take breaks from recording, so an album release doesn't have that effect. I'm always already deep into the next project. Whenever I do allow myself a breather, that emptiness certainly creeps in, and it's a psychological concern for me, one I have no explanation for yet. Probably never will!

Returning to creativity is all a matter of re-establishing momentum as I mentioned previously, I just have to force it until I'm not forcing it anymore, which always happens. I don't know any other way, really. It's not always fun, but I'm addicted to this in a sense, so it's not like I'm actually able to tell myself "I'll just do this tomorrow" for very long before the cravings lead me back into the studio.

I would love to know a little about the feedback you've received from listeners or critics about what they thought some of your songs are about or the impact it had on them – have there been “misunderstandings” or did you perhaps even gain new “insights?”

All of it is magical to me, and honestly they’re never too far off about what I’m trying to say.

I’ve always been surprised to hear people connect with my songs, because when I started recording I wasn’t confident I was making anything emotionally accessible at all, just audio experiments really. But even back then, and now, I’ve always tried to write about what hurts, and to make something with an emotional core.

It all just feels so insular to me when I’m recording alone in the studio. It feels like a miracle that this thing I do to process my own feelings and explore my own creativity can become a comfort to someone else too. That’s sort of the insight I’ve gotten really? That even if I record “selfishly” - as in, with myself as the target audience - the song will still reach someone if I’m honest enough.

It’s incredible, the kind of communicative power music holds. There’s an interview with Elliott Smith where he said his approach to writing meaningful music was that he just tried to make something that felt good or resonant to him, and trusted there were some people on earth similar enough that they would have the same reaction. I’m botching his words of course, but that really stuck with me.

I’m endlessly thankful for the audience I have, it’s a blessing I can’t entirely wrap my head around, and I try to be careful not to take it for granted.

Creativity can reach many different corners of our lives. Do you personally feel as though writing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more 'mundane' tasks?  

Yes, creativity is everywhere!

Of course cooking, woodworking, even sports and coding are all creative. I mean, they have to be. But each of these pursuits express a different part of the person as a result of their language. A great cup of coffee would communicate in the language of taste, music in the language of sound.

Going further than that is difficult though, isn't it? Because even if I understand what sound is, I don't really know why it affects me or any other listener the way it does. So I experiment with it, I try to explore the language of sound and patiently listen for something that feels in sync with what I want to say, just like I would with the written word.

Of course, that's not at all how we approach the "mundane" tasks of our day-to-day, but I'd actually like to think that even in those areas, I could find a way to communicate a message, or record a particular state I'm in. Like, I've certainly been in rooms with interior designs that conveyed more emotion than some songs!

It's all the same thing, and intentionality and passion are the deciding factor, not the language.