Matt Maltese: His ‘N’ Hers
Ten years into the game, Matt Maltese is a stalwart of indie’s top table, his name a byword for stunningly intimate songwriting and yearning romance. Now returning with sixth album ‘Hers’, he’s truly come of age - and it makes for his most mature and emotionally affecting outing yet.
“Nobody needed another Matt Maltese album,” shrugs the man himself, giving a modest smile. “After making five, I just knew it was essential to make a record where I actually put something on the line, you know? Where I actually sacrifice myself a bit and give something more in the process.” Though his devoted fans would no doubt disagree - arguing that they will very much always need another Matt Maltese album - now, the singer-songwriter is past the point of writing just to write.
“I do deeply believe that it needs to be a pretty intense, painful, and at times all-consuming experience,” he affirms, before chuckling: “I probably always sound like such a miserable bastard, but I think that making records is 90% miserable. We’re creatures that are gregarious - we like to be around people and exchange stories - but then you’re sort of just exchanging stories with a mic, or a laptop. It’s like when people talk about writing a novel; it’s commitment. And I think I realised that I needed to commit to the bit even more.” We’re settled on the sofas of South London gem The Peckham Pelican, post-shoot, shaking off the drizzle of a dreary mid-February morning with copious amounts of tea (served in mugs lifted straight off the cafe’s iconic mug wall, of course).
It’s the week before Matt officially announces his sixth album, ‘Hers’, and yet Operation Commit To The Bit is already well underway. Releasing an emotionally devastating lead single? Check. Wiping his social media of all but a few cryptic teasers? Check. (Much to the distress of his followers - one of the most-liked comments reads simply ‘MATT WHERE ARE ALL YOUR POSTS’). Learning to fence? Errr, sure?
Laughing, he explains that he’s long treated music videos as an opportunity to do things he might otherwise not, be it taking a spin at the fairground (‘You Deserve An Oscar’) or, indeed, duelling a potential suitor in full whites and a mesh mask (see the just-dropped visualiser for new single ‘Always Some MF’). “I also want to do skydiving someday,” he deadpans, “but I feel like it would actually be quite a nightmare to sing whilst I’m in the sky. I might put some lives at risk as well. Maybe for the next record…”
Having debuted a decade ago as a fresh-faced 18 year old, Matt Maltese has since made his name as one of the most consistent, quietly prolific artists around: as well as releasing those aforementioned five studio albums, he’s also recorded a full covers LP (2024’s ‘Song’s That Aren’t Mine’); composed an original score for the recent RSC production of Twelfth Night; founded an independent record label, Last Recordings On Earth; and frequently writes for other people, including Celeste, Joy Crookes, and Tom Misch.
In short, Matt’s a busy man - busy enough that, in the time since 2023’s ‘Driving Just To Drive’, he realised that there wasn’t necessarily any external impetus for another solo record. “I do really like serving other people’s visions,” he says, explaining how he settled into these interim projects with ease. “When writing for somebody else, it’s like an ego death. To put it really plainly, you’re not the boss of that room; it’s inherently just not about you. And I think I deeply enjoy that.” But, to paraphrase the idiom, comfort breeds contempt, and he eventually found himself itching once more to “just be an artist again - to follow this impossible-to-find North Star.” And so, as he navigated the end of his first serious relationship since his early twenties, he decided it was time to focus his gaze - and his lyric pen - inward once more.
Though relationships are by no means foreign thematic fare for Matt, ‘Hers’ represents a subtle but significant tonal shift. Where his earlier work sketched matters of the heart in youthful, sometimes saccharine, broadly euphemistic strokes, his latest balances this signature softness with a newfound forthrightness. “I picture you naked at the worst time / Eating with my family, playing live,” he contemplates in the opening lines of first LP preview ‘Anytime, Anyplace, Anyhow’. “Too ashamed to say it, but I miss / Everything that’s physical about it.”
There is, somehow, something slightly jarring about hearing such lines delivered in Matt’s distinctive, soft croon; indeed, in the track’s press release, he offers an endearingly British apology for its more 12A lyricism. “I think there are those people for all of us that occupy a certain incomprehensible place in our brain,” he says of ‘Anytime…’, “and this song speaks to that, and to the physical (sorry) side of it too.”
Perhaps, we suggest, perceptions of Matt Maltese the artist - both other people’s, and his own - are somewhat time-stamped to the age at which he entered the industry; while musically, he sits in the same intimate indie-folk wheelhouse as the likes of Father John Misty, there’s an inherent undercurrent of sexuality to the latter that Matt’s work just didn’t possess in the same way - until now.
“Even when I talked about having sex in my earlier music, it’d sound like a kind of movie version of it,” he says, shaking his head ruefully and laughing: “I said ‘make love’ and stuff, which is somewhat strange for an 18 year old. And actually, over the last few years, I’ve also had a bit of an influx of younger fans…” He pauses carefully, considering his party lines on the record as we go. “Maybe there was even something going on where I didn’t want to be sexual because I knew people would be listening? But then I’ve just come back around to thinking ‘well, the whole purpose is to not think too much about the other side of it all’.”
For whatever reason, if previous albums existed on a safer, storybook-romance thematic plane, with ‘Hers’ Matt finally felt “more confident being a bit more adult.” Reflecting on his own artistic evolution, he explains: “To be honest, it’s sort of inherently fucked - when I was 18, I’d be idolising 40, 50 year old men’s lyrics, and then I realised the folly of that. When I was 20 or 21, I just started listening to a lot more women than I ever had - to the point where I almost didn’t want to listen to Scott Walker, or Father John Misty, or Leonard Cohen, or even Jarvis Cocker any more, because it all felt a bit… it just didn’t feel like my life, you know? They were all sex symbols, so modelling yourself on that kind of man, when I was soft and sensitive…”
He chuckles: “At 22, there was a realisation that I’m not a cool guy. As in, ‘that’s not what this is. This can’t be a vehicle for me to try and feel like a cool guy’. I think that really helped me in so many ways, in the sense that I just started to like what I really liked, and be who I was a bit more. This record is the first time that I’ve perhaps stepped into the realm of what those men were singing about without there being any sort of idolisation at play, without trying to follow a path. Maybe,” he posits thoughtfully, “I’ve come around to being that kind of writer in an honest way?”
If “that kind of writer” is one who’s mature yet uncynical, confident yet still self-effacing, then ‘Hers’ makes a case for Matt’s application that’s not easy to refute. A realisation of these early influences, yet still unmistakably his in turn of phrase and dry wit, the record is testament to the transformative education of a long-term adult relationship. Amidst the (genuinely gut-wrenching) sighs of ‘Cure For Emptiness’ and ‘Everybody’s Just As Crazy As Me’, we also get offerings imbued with visceral jealousy (the sweeping, James Bond-theme drama of ‘Happy Birthday’), reluctant self-awareness (‘Holiday From Yourself’), and resigned disappointment (the deceivingly sultry slink of ‘Tangled’). Together, these eleven tracks speak of a love that’s not, in Jarvis Cocker’s words, just “chocolate boxes and roses” - rather, one that’s illogical and all-consuming and flawed and real.
“I think in a weird way, [being in a serious relationship] maybe made me feel a bit more justified in singing about all those things, because I had been through quite a cycle of shorter-term relationships before that, and I think that allows you to stay in the movie-lust era,” Matt explains, musing on how some of his past work was informed by infatuation as opposed to love. “There’s a certain amount of distance which sometimes exists with shorter-term relationships where you didn’t get deep enough to sing to tell the truth. The longer you’re in a relationship, the more details there are, essentially. With this, it felt like a big chunk of my life… so I’m able to sing more from a place of confidence; I’m able to sing about 10 other things [beyond infatuation], because it lasted that long.”
And in digging deeper into the messy, multiple facets of long-term love, ‘Hers’ also sheds light on the messy, multiple facets of masculinity, too. While the past few years have seen mainstream audiences embrace media centred around the complexities of being a modern woman (Fleabag, ‘BRAT’, Barbie), popular conceptions of manhood are still often constrained to a handful of archetypes: the beer-chugging, hyper-macho jock; the paternal, advice-giving guide; or the unsexualised, comedic nice guy. But despite being peppered with cinematic references (take opener ‘Art House Cinema’, or the winkingly titled ‘Eternal Darkness Of The Spotless Mind’), ‘Hers’ doesn’t play into such filmic caricatures.
Rather, its moments of classically Matt Maltese tenderness (like instant-classic ballad ‘Buses Replace Trains’) are offset by harder edges (‘Always Some MF’) and instances of more overt lust (‘Anytime…’’s “I’m looking at the stars / They look like you with your top off” could be a forgotten ‘Suck It And See’ lyric), resulting in a three-dimensional rendering of a post-breakup man whose emotional character changes with the tracklist.
“To be honest, I’m still - as always - thinking about it as I get interviewed,” Matt muses, “but I think I maybe did deeply feel that on a subconscious level - [the idea] that I can’t play to that asexual avenue anymore.” He considers: “Because I had a decent amount of [co-writing] work, I was thinking ‘what’s a worthy thing for me to even do right now?’ And it was to take risks again with my words. I wanted to be able to say the kind of shit I say to my friends in conversation, and sing about real life… not in a way that I had been avoiding, but I think you can sometimes get too obsessed with the craft [of songwriting] that you forget the whole point, which is to disrupt it with the regular life you’re having, with all the icky, gross stuff.
“I was interested in the way a softer, sensitive person sings about [sex] - that felt like I was pushing my envelope a bit,” he continues. “The instinct with a lyric about the physical side of love is to kind of do it with a wagging finger and a bit of a dance, you know? And I say this - I am dancing in the ‘Always Some MF’ video - but I’m glad it comes across as something sincere.”
Sincerity has always been the name of the game with Matt, but his sixth outing ups the ante in earnest - less the sharp pain of a fresh cut, and more the lingering ache of a wound you know will leave a scar, ‘Hers’ is a dedication to the indelible imprint some people leave on our lives. As he succinctly observes in ‘Always Some MF’: “In the back of your parents car it hit me / I knew this wouldn’t come for free”.
“It just comes from the vulnerability you get from giving someone the power to break you a bit,” he nods. “With shorter term relationships, you’re able to avoid that and sidestep it. Truly letting someone in always has to be incredibly vulnerable and humbling, because you just can’t…,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully: “I guess there are a lot of people who always pick a partner where they’re [the person] in power, for various reasons, but that wasn’t the case with this relationship. [It’s about] choosing an equal, where you think ‘oh, you could kill me’. That was something I hadn’t experienced for a while.”
Does he think the relationship in question - and its end - has given him a different perspective on his own masculinity? “I’m probably still always working that out… one for my therapist, maybe,” he says, laughing.
By his own admission, Matt’s now been around the block a few times - he’s seen the good, the bad, and the ugly of the industry, and has successfully shrugged off its famously fickle whims to emerge as a true stalwart of contemporary songwriting. His secret, it seems, is to make peace with “being a bit pathetic”. “When I started, I don’t think I became famous at all,” he says with a wry smile. “It was maybe a brief knock and then a whimper, because I made an album, got dropped [by Atlantic], and then I kind of started again. It’s not like I had a huge ego before I was dropped, but that so deeply knocks you… I think because the success I’ve had has been after a lot of processes, I feel like I’ve actually had a lot of time to grow as a normal person.
“I was almost a middle [of-the-road] child at school,” he reflects, warming up to the topic. “I was never the most popular person, or the least popular person, and I think that stops me from ever really being able to feel like I’m on top of the world - in a good, safe way. But I also don’t think I’m a piece of shit enough that I’m not gonna try and make great work; I think I can make great work. That’s a great place for growth - one that’s not bogged down by expectation or change.”
From the boy who released ‘Bad Contestant’ to the modern man depicted on ‘Hers’, Matt Maltese is well and truly all grown up - and has, happily for us, documented every step of the way. Ruminating on the words of wisdom he might now give his younger self, he’s as dry as ever. “Stop drinking as much - it doesn’t make you a better singer onstage. Grow out the hair; shave for once; maybe fewer flared trousers would be good, but you do you,” he says, laughing. “I used to wear a suit every day! That’s insane!”
Ironically enough, though, it required him taking a slight step back from himself to land on an authentic way forward. A multi-hyphenate in the truest sense of the word (try saying solo artist/producer/composer/label founder/co-writer five times fast), broadening his creative remit has allowed Matt to refine his primary craft all the more. “I definitely feel like I’ll make records for a long time, but I also got so much out of continuing to step out of my own lane,” he affirms.
“I think my whole life will probably be a series of going ‘I don’t want to be Matt Maltese anymore’, then eventually coming back to the fact that I am, in fact, Matt Maltese.” He grins: “I’ve been really fortunate to have met all kinds of people at my shows; divorced dads in Sheffield, and also 16 year old girls in Korea. It’s just nice that it connects, really. So I guess I’ll keep doing it.”
‘Hers’ is out on 16th May via The Orchard.
With special thanks to The Peckham Pelican.
Read More
Maisie Peters: Seasons Change
After a series of high profile support slots and live shows around the effervescent pop of last LP ‘The Good Witch’, Maisie Peters found herself ready for a gear change. With her third album ‘Florescence’, she’s dug a little deeper and found contentment in the more intimate moments of life.
Wolf Alice: Park Life
One of their generation’s greatest indie success stories, with latest album ‘The Clearing’ Wolf Alice have well and truly conquered the big leagues while always staying true to their roots. Returning to North London this summer for the fullest of full-circle moments, the band are rounding out their victory lap the only place possible - with a hometown turn at Finsbury Park playing their biggest ever headline show.
Thundercat: Claws Out
On his new album ‘Distracted’, Thundercat - the acclaimed bassist, sought-after collaborator, and cultural iconoclast - is joined by Tame Impala, Mac Miller and A$AP Rocky as he takes on the social media age. It’s a complicated portrait of an artist facing up to a strange time in his life - and an even stranger time in the world at large.
American Football: Back In The Game
As they sailed into middle age, American Football braced against their choppiest waters yet. Here, the Midwest emo forefathers share how they confronted divorce, addiction and creative differences to make their rawest album to date.