More about: Matt Maltese

Upon first glance, Matt Maltese is an old soul. Combining his delicate falsetto with slick, gentle melodies, his timeless sound has come to define Maltese since his hotly-anticipated debut Bad Contestant back in 2018. Delving deeper into his expansive back catalogue of tongue-in-cheek lyricism, however, locates him firmly in the present. His wry assertions on the everyday anxieties of contemporary life have established him as a crooner for the modern age.

Driving Just To Drive is no different. Maltese’s characteristically smooth style oozes across the album, boasting a self-assurance that only comes with experience. Now no stranger to the limelight, his rich tones and societal malaise have turned acutely inward, returning to the places and moments that shaped him. The album can’t be confined to any singular, rigid vision, but rather a collection of lovelorn tracks that see Maltese at his most open, and settled, embracing new sounds but returning to the most organic version of himself he knows. Tracks seamlessly move between family, politics, and the nature of memory, united only under a uniquely human sense of love and loss that doesn’t shy away from the wonder of mundanity. 

The album begins with ‘’Mother’, a soaring lead single drenched in melancholic charm. The track itself is strong, a deeply sincere delve into heartbreak with a fresh, often overlooked perspective. Its aching, almost cinematic sound compliments Maltese’s profound vulnerability as he confronts the interwoven relationships lost in the crossfire of a breakup: ‘All my friends they miss you a lot / I know your father probably hates my guts’. As an opener, however, it feels somewhat questionable. It’s a tender track that sets Maltese’s effortless sensitivity alight, but feels, potentially, a bit too risk-free.

"Playfully disregarding all limitations of cringe"

Interesting concepts lead the album, with later single ‘Florence’ continuing to weave the fragile web of forgotten love stories. So reflective it’s almost meta, the track was written in his teenage years following a gig that changed his life. It’s a warming ode to the transformative potential of live music and the feral desire of youth. Maltese was only convinced to include it with the help of new producer Josh Scarbrow, this gap between writing and recording granting a new level of depth, acceptance and newfound maturity. Speaking on his previous work, he notes: "I’d pushed that earnestness away as I felt self-conscious, but as time goes on, there's no time anymore for self-deprecation". Playfully disregarding all limitations of cringe, it’s a personal highlight on the album in its celebration of feeling, fandom, and a relinquishing of control. 

Across the album, joy and sorrow are given equal footing, often entangled in the complexities of familiarity and nostalgia. ‘Hello Black Dog’ sees the singer greet his mental health struggles with a bittersweet nod of recognition. Its pain is felt most acutely in its domesticity, as Maltese tentatively discloses the reality of this state: ‘I stand in the kitchen light / Wash pans and enjoy my life / Someone calls my mobile / I guess it’s time’. Between soothing melodies and thoughtful lyrics, he seems to reassure us that everything is fleeting, we’re here for the ride, and that’s okay. 

This sentiment continues, though somewhat inverted, in ‘Museum’. An ode to his hometown of Reading in which the ghosts of his past endure. They, or rather he, never truly leave this space- much like the tribute bands that haunt his local social clubs. He says of the place’s influence on his life: “You change a lot but these places hold those different versions of yourself that you were and that you can’t change. I like my current self more than my teenage self, but I also realised it’s a shame to not see how the present is so intertwined and indebted to the past.”. Though at points it feels cloying, and the ‘museum of your life’ metaphor just missing the mark, it proclaims such a sunny view to melancholy that even the most stoic among us could be tempted by his warmth.

"Driving Just To Drive is spacious and permissive, embracing light and dark in equal measure"

Describing the album himself, Maltese notes, ‘I thought a lot back to being younger and how much more I used to do things just to do them. Playing on a playground as a kid or just going for a drive and listening to music in the car. I used to love stuff with no sense of an outcome, with no sense of self-imposed necessity. I think it’s important to have some of that in our lives.’ This album, then, is a testament to that. Driving Just To Drive is spacious and permissive, embracing light and dark in equal measure. As Maltese approaches life with fresh ease, he encourages his listeners to do the same. 

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More about: Matt Maltese