Porches

Words by: Leendert Sonnevelt | Photography by: Michelle Helena Janssen | Styling: Sophie Gaten

If God is in the detail, then Aaron Maine is most certainly a gift from above. Minutely turning the everyday mundane into moody electronic pop, the artist better known as Porches just released his third album, The House. On the sequel to his critically acclaimed Pool, Maine constructs a musical space that brings together various extremes: heavy and light, straightforward and poetic, pain and pleasure. Glamcult sat down with the Brooklyn-based songwriter for a thorough chat.

Q: Hi Aaron! Your new album has just been released, and it sounds like a lot has happened. Can you tell us about the mental, musical or spiritual state that this record (re)presents?

A: Sure! Quite a bit has changed between when I was writing the record and where I am now. I wrote the record over the course of the last year of this relationship I’d been in for about five years. In hindsight, I kind of wrote it that last year and finished it up after moving to a new place and having broken up. It felt like the timing was very appropriate, I guess, for closing the chapter. While I was writing it, it never felt like a breakup album or anything like that. Looking back, it’s come to represent something different.

Q: So, you’re currently in another place than when you were making The House. How are you feeling now?

A: I’m good. I feel like everything changed at the top of 2017. It was a year of growing into myself and catching up with myself, discovering who I am at 29. But I feel good, still writing and recording every day that I’m able to. I’ve got a nice place and have been seeing this girl for almost a year now, which is exciting.

Q: This issue of Glamcult explores pain in all its facets. To what extent was pain or hurt a part of making The House?

A: Well, I didn’t yet know the heartbreak or what was to come after the breakup then. I think there’s some sort of confusion, unsettledness or discomfort apparent when you listen to The House. While there is that, I tried to be more aware of the content and be sure to inject some sort of beauty or appreciation for those moments as well. I’ve always been drawn to the more melancholic moments in life, where you’re straddling pain and beauty. Obviously those two things together are quite exciting—that’s when I feel most alive.

Q: People tend to assume that going through a rough time on a personal level leads to better work as an artist. How do you feel about that?

A: It depends... When you’re experiencing life in a more exaggerated way and everything carries more weight—when you’re extremely happy or extremely sad—there’s a chance that your message will come across with a heavier weight to it. But I wrote 95% of The House while I was still in that relationship. Since then I’ve come to think some things take time to be away from to even write about them. I don’t think when something bad happens my instinct is to immediately write a song about it. Some things have to settle before it feels appropriate, at least for me, to put it forward as a piece of art.

Q: Listening to The House, I can also hear a sense of joy or liberation, especially in terms of instrumentation.

A: I think there’s a sort of excitement that surrounds the production, which is a bit more independent of my reality and my experience. Or at least I’m less aware of the way that my experiences make their way into the decisions I make when writing chords, making drum sounds or choosing synth tones. But I’m glad you feel there’s some lightness or excitement.

Q: Yeah, for instance, I think the music and initial mood of Find Me are much more positive than its lyrics. You can even dance to it.

A: Right, that’s something I’ve always been interested in: unlikely pairing and juxtaposition. When the lyrics are heavier, the song will go the opposite way. Or when the song is optimistic, I’ll use darker sounds and chords. In the same vein that everything has two sides: this idea of straddling the line between both extremes.

Q: I’ve been listening to Find Me a lot, and love the lyrics: “Touch my neck and walk me home”. Is there a specific story behind the song?

A: It’s one of the few songs on the record that I wrote about something specifically: the moment I first started experiencing anxiety attacks, when I was about 26. Your heart races, your chest muscles clench up, you get dizzy.