I don't wear a lot of color because I live in New York, and I'm sort of color-blind, so colors don't match to me a lot of the times, and it makes me anxious. So I'll always defer back to black.
I started Verite on savings from three years working at Applebee's in Times Square. I was a ridiculously good waitress. I was making more money than my brother, who worked at a start-up.
I'm disregarding all the rules I've seen as people approach writing music. I'm trying to break them.
I want to write weirder stuff and convince people that it's Top 40.
I moved to New York when I was 21 and worked between 40 and 70 hours a week. Then I invested it all. It was really just a hustle. But I was kind of raised to work like that, so to me, it seemed very normal and natural.
School was just kind of something where it was like, 'Um, I guess I should get my bachelor's.' My mind is always geared towards the practical.
I want to be in control of how my music is released and how I create it. What people don't talk about when they talk about major labels is how many artists get dropped or funding gets dropped when they don't recoup quick enough.
When I was 16 or 17, I started listening to Death Cab, and I started writing my own songs. I was writing alternative rock, and I had a seven-piece band. The shift was just iterations of experimentation and finding what sounded right. When I stumbled on the sound and vibe that I currently have, it was kind of by chance.
If anything, I'm the most hesitant to bring on a label. That terrifies me. I think people believe major labels are linked to success. They're absolutely not that.
When you do acoustic shows, there's always a more intimate vibe. I go into them with lowered expectations and assume that people don't want to hear me.
I love spreadsheets. I do all the finances. I pay the publicists. I have to compartmentalize the creative and the business, so there are sacrifices. But ultimately, I get to be the CEO of my own business.
Sometimes, you're going 24 hours a day, seven days a week for a few months, and then you come home, and you wonder what you're doing with your life and why. At least, that's the experience I've had.
I was joking with someone about this the other day. They were like, 'You talk about Applebee's as if it was your ex.' I miss it; I miss setting up tables at 6 A.M.
I hyper-analyze everything; I'm always in my head. Those moments where you don't think and you're just part of the environment did not come easily to me, but it was those moments and highs that I chased.
I used to play shows in D.C. and then drive back to New York to work at 6 A.M. So there are those moments, and you just really need to power through them. Eventually, it builds on itself.
I want to be an arena act. There's so many steps to take to get there, and it's so easy to get lost and cocky. I just take small steps each day.
When it comes to production and the overall sound, I don't really have a lot of intentions with it. I start off with melody and a lyrical idea, and then build off of that story.
I'm not very good at vacationing or relaxing or planning any of that for myself. So I'm in the habit of piggy-backing off of gigs and deciding to stay an extra day.
A lot of my music has ambiguity and room for people to interpret.
If I'm happy with what I'm putting out and proud of it - that is becoming enough for me. It's testing myself, but I'm ready to do it, whereas I wasn't ready before. Sometimes it's feigned confidence, but if I make a decision, I can do anything.
