by joann snavely
photo by silken weinberg
Georgia-raised, Nashville-based musician Medium Build cultivates the human experience in the most raw and unfiltered way possible, and his new EP Marietta is no different. The EP zooms into his youth from a retrospective point of view effortlessly acknowledging the effervescent reflection on what was, and how it came to be. After spending the past year on tours worldwide, it’s clear Medium Build isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Coming hot off the heels of his 5th studio album Country which was unveiled earlier this year — Nick Carpenter is spending some time reflecting. Unclear Magazine got a chance to catch up with him as he talked about all things Marietta, his past, and where he’s looking out to next.
Your EP Marietta was just released and draws heavily from your experience growing up in Georgia. Is there a specific memory or feeling that inspired any of the tracks on the EP?
Medium Build: “Well, not one specific memory, more just trying to process my childhood and give empathy to me and my parents. I think it’s easy for us to zoom out when we get older and be like, ‘Oh, my parents were the worst and I had it so hard,’ or flip it the other way and think I was such a weak kid, I wish I had the patience or the wisdom I have now, I’d show up so much better for myself. It’s giving context to the situations — like, oh yeah, my parents were trying hard and they messed some stuff up. I was kind of an anxious kid and I latched onto the church and food and socializing and things that I thought would get me out of my anxiety. I’m maybe one of the majority of people who don’t remember a lot of their childhood because a lot was going on, and I’ve blocked a lot of it out. Nothing specific, just the general memory — like a phantom limb.”
Your track “Yoke” with Julien Baker has already generated a lot of interest. Baker is also someone that you’ve known for some time. How did that collaboration come about and what was it like working alongside Baker on the song?
Medium Build: “Julien and I met when we were teenagers — we met at this really gentle part of us becoming adults. We both had just started bands, both were trying to leave our hometowns and were trying to be somebody. We both grew up in the church, and both have different relationships with feeling like we weren’t accepted by all of the God stuff, but also really wanting to be a part of it. I’ve had this song in my head for five years just kind of wondering how to process all of that without being offensive. I truly think that a lot of people need to hear it. After sitting on a demo of it for a while, I finally recorded it properly and I sent it to Julien and was like, ‘Hey do you f*** with this, would you put anything on this?’ And she said yes. Julien and I are like old friends that are busy so we see each other like maybe once a year, and I hadn’t even seen her in a couple of months and sent her this like, ‘I think you’d kill it,’ and she did. She was kind enough to give me her time and her skill. It’s cool, it’s what’s brought us back together in a really lovely way. We got to play a show together last week, and it’s good to go to her house and hang with her dog and we had a lovely chat yesterday about the end of the world. It’s just good, old friends are really important — they remember you before you’ve had all of your fancy toys and all of your hiding techniques. Having her in my life and doing something professionally with her ten years after we were on tour together — I think it’s pretty heartwarming.”
Back to Marietta, the EP dives into themes of family, faith, and identity. How has your relationship with these themes changed over time especially now that you’re delving back into them in the EP?
Medium Build: “I think when I left home, I lost my faith and everything all at once. When I turned 18 all these doubts came into me and I wrestled with religion first. I left home at 18, my parents didn’t have any money, I didn’t have money, so I thought, cool, I’m gonna go get a job and figure it out. I started working in restaurants, I got an apartment, and the faith started to crumble. I spent a lot of my twenties just really bitter towards religion, towards my parents, towards how I grew up, and as I’ve aged — I’m 33 now — time is a great teacher and healer. I never used to want to have kids, but now it’s like, well, maybe. I never really ever wanted to think about spiritual or faith stuff again, but now I’m like, well, maybe. It’s not the people who hurt me, it’s okay to have hope in something. I think mainly it's as I go back and look at it, I had such a lovely foundation sometimes. I don’t want to wash the pain or bulls*** I had, but I don't want to say that I grew up hard knocks and didn’t have a really nice life. It’s that intersection between working-class people who loved God and tried that thing. The American Christian Evangelical program is a beast. I can now look back at it and I learned how to play music, and I learned to be alone, like intentionally and spiritually alone. I learned to meditate and learned to pray, I learned to engage in community and seek honest communication, and I learned a lot of tools that I was maybe throwing away while I was abandoning my foundation. Now that I’m reconnecting with my childhood I’m picking up the good ones, picking up the tools that were really nice and helpful, and I’m trying to use those in a new context.”
How does Marietta feel different from your last album Country? Were there any creative processes or creative shifts that occurred?
Medium Build: “I think getting Country out of my system was really helpful. Doing the big major label record, trying to be artsy and intentional. I was thinking a lot, but now I’m not really interested in thinking as much. I’m really interested in doing more. I think this EP is maybe a bit sonically different, there are four different producers, but all through whatever I was on that week. It’s a lot of me trying stuff and it still feels very much a part of the Country theme because it’s a lot of me processing my childhood and where I came from. This maybe just looks like a zooming-in. Going from Country, which is this album about the South and my parents, and now literally zooming in on my hometown like, what is Marietta? Who is Nick? Who is twelve-year-old Nick? There are a couple of rock songs and pop tunes, there’s a folky tune, two love songs, two songs about my childhood, there’s stuff for everybody which I think is really fun. It’s a nice end to the era, so I can move on. I’m starting the next record already, looking at different influences. I feel like I’m tired of looking inward right now. I feel like I’ve done a good job at showing up for that guy, and now I’m curious to move on to new stuff and look at the world and tell some stories that I haven’t told before.”
Your music always feels so intimate and raw. Do you ever find it challenging to be so vulnerable with your music, especially regarding the more personal themes?
Medium Build: “You get good at doing what you did last time. When I was first starting out I figured I was going to say the cringey thing — I’m gonna say the hard lyric. And people were like, ‘Woah, you’re so brave, you said that thing that people don’t say,’ and then I get used to that and have to find new ways to risk. So I’d say that the greatest fear or hurdle is me finding out what is the new scary thing. Like the new scary thing for me honestly is probably making a song where I don’t yell, and maybe I don’t say the crazy journal entry — what if I just said something really subtly? What if I was more nuanced? What if I engaged in something a bit more not from my own crowd — what if I reached across the aisle? I just want to stay risky, or connected. I still want to be connected to my own heart, but I’ve run the play a couple of times with like, ‘Yeah, Medium Build, that guy is going to yell his journal entry,’ and I’m always going to do that — it’s never going to stop. I think there are new risks I want to take.”
What’s the most unexpected lesson or piece of wisdom that’s emerged since you began creating music?
Medium Build: “I thought that it was just going to happen. I don’t know if it’s anything I’ve ever fully learned, but I think I thought that if I did this thing enough that something would blow up or there would be this a-ha moment — that arrival. There’s no arrival, you never really make it, even when you do you don’t. Look at Chappell Roan, Noah Kahan, or Shaboozey, Zach Bryan — people who’ve just blown up so fast. Now they have to protect their mental and protect their families. Then I look at my life and it’s so chill — like I’m bummed that my show tonight only sold 250 tickets instead of 450 — like whatever, I’m living. I’m trying to be present. I think that’s the wisdom I’m holding onto right now is that there’s no ‘I won the game,’ there’s no sold-out everything, even if you do that — then what, where do you go? Everything will crumble and fall back into the sea, the moss will grow on us and we will decompose, so I’m just trying to enjoy it rather than fight. Some people run their band or their music career like it’s Tesla, you don’t have to compete. I don’t have to compete, there’s no competition. I’m just competing with myself, trying to be more honest, more afraid, trying to feel better. I’m getting old and boring and trying to be more comforting to myself.”
You’ve recently toured alongside some really big names including your own tour. How has being on such large-scale tours shaped the way you perform live?
Medium Build: “I’ve watched some bada** shows, even just doing all the festivals this summer, I’ve seen the Chappell Roan show like three times, I’ve seen Sabrina Carpenter, Tyler, The Creator, Lana Del Ray, and you start taking notes, like, wow, there’s a way you can do this pro. It’s made me want to be better as a singer and musician, I want to try harder to play better. But mainly again it goes back to being more present. I’d say the shows that have melted me more than anything have been the ones where either the artist was really present or the crowd was really present or involved. How do you find that middle ground, how do you write songs that people connect with? How do you get people passionate about what you’re doing and how do YOU stay passionate about what you’re doing? Even at Austin City Limits, Sturgill Simpson was playing at the same time as Tyler, The Creator and I watched half of each of their shows and they were both so present in different ways, Tyler’s running around doing flips and goofing, and a lot of talking to the crowd-getting to know them. Sturgill doesn’t say a word, his eyes are closed and he’s listening, and he’s so in touch with his guitar and his voice and they both were so moving and so different. It doesn’t look one way, I just want to be that level, I want to be that in touch.”
You’ve also seen a pretty rapid rise in popularity. How has that affected you and what do you take away from that?
Medium Build: “It’s funny, I was talking to a friend today about how nice it is to tour Europe because we’re not as popular and the fans are a bit chiller. Then I zoom out and it's like okay, well, again, I’m not Chappell Roan, I’m not Reneé Rapp, I don’t have to deal with people standing outside my van for hours or following me to the grocery store. I just enjoy it, I enjoy what I do. I don’t enjoy the social aspect of it, I love meeting people and I’m super social, but it’s not my favorite thing — like posting on Instagram and doing the ‘hey, don’t forget me’ routine. It means a lot to me to have my privacy now. It’s felt fast, but I’ve been playing music since I was 19, and I’ve been chasing this for over a decade. Sometimes I can't believe I’m still doing this, like shouldn’t I give up by now? But now it’s like, well, whatever, now I’m doing it. I’m trying to keep my head normal and remember that I’m not that much of a big deal, even though people are buying tickets and knowing the songs. It’s crazy, I’m very lucky, I’ve had a lot of good luck this year, and I’m trying to remember that it can all go away, and I’ll get old and people will forget about it. I’ll be back at the open mic one day I’m sure.”
If there’s one message you want your music to give fans, what would it be?
Medium Build: “You’re not alone, we’re not alone. Community is real and available. Life is lonely and weird and long and scary but also incredibly short, and the people we love die or change. So much of life makes us feel alone, but we’re really not. That’s truly the thing that I’m always wrestling with in tunes is like human connection and worth and how we love on each other.”
What’s one piece of advice you’d give your younger self when starting music?
Medium Build: “I would tell him to buy a tuner, I would tell him don’t listen to the people who tell you they’re an expert. You’re good enough, make your own beats, buy a microphone, and learn how to make your own stuff. Keep it in-house, you don’t need anyone. I had such imposter syndrome and thought I needed someone to tell me what to do. I had that a lot of my life, this doubt that I couldn’t do it alone. I’ve found a lot of my strength in the past ten years in figuring out there were things I could do by myself. I would tell 19-year-old me to just go to Guitar Center, buy a drum machine, buy a little recording thing, and lean in, don’t look back.”
What’s a guilty pleasure song or artist that would surprise your fans?
Medium Build: “It is funny how people get siloed into hipster belief systems, I just love pop music, and I love country music too. Probably pop country stuff like Sam Hunt, it’s not guilty to like Sabrina Carpenter. I still will go back and listen to some of the emo stuff I grew up on like Panic! At the Disco. I think that’s probably cringey as hell, but that first record was so important to me when I was a kid. I’ve listened to F-1 Trillion a bunch, that’s probably embarrassing. I love a good pop song — any wayyou shake it up. That new Bruno Mars and ROSÉ tune “APT.” — I can’t stop listening to that tune. Give me something catchy, I’m literally so down.”