Matt Maltese: His and Hers

"At 22, I realized that I’m not a cool guy." If “that type of writer” refers to someone who is mature but not cynical, confident yet modest, then 'Hers' makes a compelling case for Matt that is hard to challenge. It reflects an understanding of early influences, while still being distinctly his in style and humor; the album serves as a testament to the transformative experience of a long-term adult relationship. Among the (truly gut-wrenching) sighs in ‘Cure For Emptiness’ and ‘Everybody’s Just As Crazy As Me’, we also encounter tracks filled with raw jealousy (the sweeping, James Bond-like drama of ‘Happy Birthday’), hesitant self-awareness (‘Holiday From Yourself’), and accepted disappointment (the deceptively sultry rhythm of ‘Tangled’). Collectively, these eleven songs depict a love that, in Jarvis Cocker’s words, is not merely “chocolate boxes and roses” but rather one that is illogical, consuming, flawed, and genuine. “In a strange way, [being in a serious relationship] perhaps made me feel more justified in writing about these things since I had experienced a cycle of shorter relationships before, and that allows you to remain in the infatuation mindset,” Matt shares, reflecting on how some of his earlier work was driven more by crushes than by true love. “Shorter relationships often come with a certain distance that prevents you from getting deep enough to express honesty. The longer the relationship lasts, the more intricate the details become. This felt like a significant part of my life… so I can sing from a place of confidence; I can address ten other themes [beyond infatuation] due to its duration.” In exploring the complexities of long-term love, ‘Hers’ also illuminates the varied aspects of masculinity. While recent years have seen mainstream audiences embrace narratives focused on the intricacies of modern womanhood (like Fleabag, ‘BRAT’, and Barbie), conventional depictions of manhood continue to be reduced to a few stereotypes: the beer-drinking, hyper-masculine jock; the fatherly figure offering advice; or the non-sexualized, comedic nice guy. Despite being filled with cinematic references (like the opening track ‘Art House Cinema’ or the cleverly titled ‘Eternal Darkness Of The Spotless Mind’), ‘Hers’ avoids such filmic clichés. Instead, moments of classic Matt Maltese tenderness (exemplified by the instant-classic ballad ‘Buses Replace Trains’) are contrasted with tougher edges (‘Always Some MF’) and more openly expressed desire (‘Anytime…’s “I’m looking at the stars / They look like you with your top off” could easily be an overlooked lyric from ‘Suck It And See’), leading to a multi-dimensional portrayal of a man navigating emotions post-breakup, whose emotional state shifts with the progression of the album. "Honestly, I’m still - as always - contemplating it while I am being interviewed,” Matt reflects, “but I think I subconsciously felt that I can’t engage in that asexual lane any longer.” He ponders, “With a reasonable amount of [co-writing] experience, I was considering ‘what’s worth my attention right now?’ and it was about taking risks again with my words. I wanted to express the kind of things I discuss with friends, and sing about real life… not in ways I had been avoiding, but sometimes you can become so focused on the craft [of songwriting] that you forget its main purpose, which is to interrupt that with the messy, unpleasant aspects of regular life. “I was interested in how a softer, more sensitive person approaches the topic of [sex] - it felt like I was testing my boundaries a bit,” he goes on. “The tendency with lyrics discussing the physical side of love is to portray it with a finger-wagging attitude and a bit of a dance, you know? And although I do dance in the ‘Always Some MF’ video - I appreciate that it comes off as sincere.” Sincerity has always been essential for Matt, but this sixth project raises the stakes in earnest – less the sharp sting of a new wound, and more the enduring ache of a scar that will form; ‘Hers’ is a tribute to the lasting impact certain individuals have on our lives. As he succinctly puts it in ‘Always Some MF’: “In the back of your parents’ car, it hit me / I knew this wouldn’t come for free.” “It stems from the vulnerability of granting someone the power to hurt you a little,” he acknowledges. “With shorter relationships, you can easily evade that and sidestep it. Allowing someone in fully is always incredibly vulnerable and humbling because you simply can’t…” he pauses, choosing his words carefully: “Many people tend to choose a partner where they hold the