Connect
To Top

Conversations with Max Madly

Today we’d like to introduce you to Max Madly.  

Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
The first time I can remember feeling connected to music in a life-altering way was when I got on a stage for the first time. I was 6 years old, and my mom signed me up for this talent show during a family vacation. I think she noticed my love for singing during all the after-school car rides where I would unapologetically belt to Madonna’s “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” which is exactly what I sang at the talent show. Being on stage for the first time felt thrilling, terrifying, and just…right. At 4 years old, I knew I belonged in that feeling, that moment, forever. And even though I completely forgot the lyrics to the song and generally sucked so bad that I was gently ushered off-stage by the talent show host, it was like something indescribable clicked for me. Since that silly little talent show, any time I did anything music-related, I just knew that’s where I belonged.

So, I kept singing in school choirs throughout elementary, middle, and high school and quickly became enamored by it. Classical music always gave me a sense of being connected to something bigger than myself (it still does) and helped me tune out the chaos in my head. I was a really anxious, hyperactive, and unfocused kid, but music grounded me. I kept training in classical music in school choirs and then later, opera.

I loved singing opera and remember it feeling like the best creative outlet I had at the time. I ultimately stopped because it was too physically and mentally taxing. It became suffocating in a way where I couldn’t find an emotional or mental escape through it anymore, which was the whole reason I was drawn to music in the first place. When you listen to my music today, you can still hear how the classical training built my roots as an artist.

After high school, I played in a few bands in college and gravitated toward a heavier sound. I was completely hooked into the punk, grunge, alternative rock scenes, but I also leaned into indie folk stuff too. I’ve always been blissfully paradoxical in my taste, which I think comes out in my sound.

Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall, and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome? 
No, but it’s been a beautiful one. It took me a really long time to find myself as a person and artist. I’m still discovering and re-discovering that now, but I feel more connected to myself than I did when I was growing up. I could never find a way to fit into the small town in Virginia where I grew up. For years, I desperately tried to look and act like all the white girls I was surrounded by.  

I remember feeling so uncomfortable in my own skin that I felt like I almost needed to conform to survive…”conform or die” is basically how I’d sum up my adolescence. For years, I burned my hair to a crisp, overplucked my full, Middle-eastern eyebrows, packed on bronzer and spray tan (fake tanning was all the rage at the time), and forced myself into an impossible box to become the antithesis of everything that I am.  

Halfway through college, something major shifted in me. I started pulling off the suffocating mask that told me I had to be like everyone else. I started by expressing myself through my style, makeup, and general appearance and then kept going from there. The freedom I found through that expression offered so much to my craft and creativity. Right now, I feel like the truest expression of myself in my music, which excites me more than anything.  

I went through many traumatic life events in my 20s before fully committing to myself and my music. I’ve always felt like a late bloomer in that way, but I don’t think I would have been ready if I had started my career any sooner. Too much happened, and all of it was too heavy…I wasn’t mentally ready, and I think my art would have suffered for it.  

Thanks – so, what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on? 
I’m most proud of how vulnerable my songwriting is. Grief, shame, despair, rejection, and sacrifice are essential to me as a person and the art I make. I won’t shy away from that darkness because it’s what makes me feel whole and connected to the world around me. I don’t think I could create if I didn’t let myself sink into my deepest lows, feel it all, then share it with people. My art has always been the best vessel for that. I honestly don’t know where else I would put it. It’s right there for everyone to see, hear and feel with me if they want to.  

I create all of my own photography, video, and visual content, which I’ve always used as an integral part of what I’m doing with music. I’ve never seen the visuals as a separate piece of the music puzzle…all of it feels like one giant seamless blob of creation to me. I think that’s why I need full creative control of my projects, and I don’t see that changing.  

If you were a fly on the wall while I’m doing anything musical, you’d watch me bounce from wistful piano melodies (think: Debussy or Joep Beving) to doom metal, back to orchestral stuff then veer off to some folk music and land in a cloud of goth pop. I could never reign in my attention or imagination in any creative capacity when I was young, and I’m still that way. I feel like that fluidity is kind of my superpower.  

If we knew you growing up, how would we have described you? 
Growing up was blissful and painful. I was really sensitive and emotional as a kid. I felt a lot…probably more than the average person…and I didn’t know what to do with all of those feelings. They felt too big, too heavy, for my body and frequently came spilling out of me. I eventually learned how to channel that into creating something…anything. I would paint with my grandmother, Mamichka, in her studio every chance I had. She was the most remarkable artist and taught me everything she knew. Painting with her is one of my most cherished childhood memories. She never let anyone into her studio except me and my younger brother, so it always felt incredibly special when I spent time with her there.  

My childhood up was hard in a lot of ways, but I always found an escape route through art. Outside of music, using books to slip into other worlds was one of my preferred forms of escapism. I was one of those bookwormy kids that would use a flashlight to read under the covers under 3:00 AM. My mom would have to barge into my room and hide all my books to finally get me to go to sleep. I think reading definitely unbound my imagination and ignited my need to create other worlds through music and art. 

Contact Info:

Suggest a Story: VoyageLA is built on recommendations from the community; it’s how we uncover hidden gems, so if you or someone you know deserves recognition please let us know here.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

More in local stories