Premiere: Alexandria Maillot Shares Live Performance Video of “Cherry Pit”
Photo credit: Jennifer Latour
Vancouver singer-songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Alexandria Maillot released "Cherry Pit" last month and is now releasing a live version for us to fall in love with the track all over again. What began as a lighthearted songwriting challenge revealed itself as a way for Maillot to confront anxiety, grief, and the difficult process of rebuilding after experiencing hardship. The result is one of the first glimpses into their debut album Cryptomnesia, a release that finds Maillot pushing their atmospheric blend of indie-tronica, dream pop, and artful songwriting into bold new territory.
Today, REVERIE is pleased to premiere an exclusive live performance of "Cherry Pit," filmed at Vancouver's legendary Warehouse Studios. Ahead of the premiere, we caught up with Maillot to discuss the unexpected origins of "Cherry Pit," translating deeply personal music to the stage, the synesthetic approach behind the musical world of Cryptomnesia, and why, beneath it all, they're simply searching for connection during these uncertain times.
REVERIE: For readers discovering your music for the first time, how would you describe Alexandria Maillot in this current chapter?
I'd say we're in our expansion period. Our sound has evolved since the last record, especially as we've solidified our live stage ensemble. It feels like if we are following the arc of a movie, we're entering Act 2.
REVERIE: “Cherry Pit” captures the complicated grief of losing trust, identity, and even parts of yourself. Looking back at the writing process now, what emotions were you trying to untangle, and what did the song ultimately help you understand?
“Cherry Pit” started out as a silly challenge between my partner and I on who could write a song that sounded the most like Coldplay. Despite many attempts at sitting in front of my piano and picking up my guitar, at that point, it had been many months since I had written a song. The challenge was a fun assignment that mitigated many of the traditional pressures and expectations of songwriting. I wrote the chords and then what is now the first verse, "I pulled up to your house / I didn't want to get out / I didn't want to get out / When I pulled up to your house", and as I kept writing, I realized I was pulling on the threads of something real.
I had a series of back-to-back life experiences that exacerbated a pre-existing anxiety/panic disorder. After writing the song, I realized that I had built up a massive wall to block out these difficult moments, inevitably inhibiting my capacity for processing and, by extension, creation. The song was a catalyst in shattering those barriers. I guess I have Coldplay to thank for that.
REVERIE: We’re premiering a live performance of “Cherry Pit,” which gives people a different perspective on the song than the recorded version. What changes when you perform it live? Are there emotions or musical details that only really come alive in that setting? What can you tell us about the recording / studio session?
There is always a process of interpolation when learning to perform a song based off of its final recorded state; Even if the live counterpart is made from the same fundamental elements, it inevitably feels iterative, as you are no longer in the same mental state that you were in when recording. To me, this process feels a lot like the equivalent of trying to draw with your non-dominant hand; It's awkward and feels untethered. But, in this stage of rediscovery, there are often new, exciting realizations outside of the recorded material that leads to the live iteration becoming its own stand-alone work.
When we first started practicing the song as a full band, I hadn't used drum loops or samplers onstage. I was in a (not-so-great) band many years ago and we played this devastatingly terrible show where a computer crashed mid-set, and I've been opting for a more economical setup ever since. Cherry Pit, however, is very much anchored by that drum loop, so I decided to get over my technological complex in favour of serving the song.
Aside from that, it was a matter of translating the emotional impact of the song into our four-piece ensemble; I opted for playing guitar versus piano-the latter of which was the main instrument I wrote the song on-as I really enjoy the way a guitar breaks up as you dig into it; It's a very emotional, cathartic instrument to play live, something I personally find difficult to translate on stage when playing the keys.
We performed the session at the Warehouse Studios in Vancouver, BC and were supported by a wonderful team of creatives (check the credits!). It was a pretty fun shoot as Bryan Adams was recording in the studio above us and Michael Buble in the studio below. It added an element of excitement to the day, as you never knew who you were going to run into in the stairwell.
REVERIE: Throughout your work there’s a fascinating balance between pristine pop melodies and textural production. As both a songwriter and producer, how do you decide when a song needs beauty, and when it needs to leave its imperfections exposed?
I think each song requires a specific approach. Some songs require more precision, whereas others feel like the harder you work to control its elements, the further away it gets from the truth of the song. It's all very much rooted in curiosity and being open to anything and everything.
I grew up listening to a lot of early 2000's R&B (Destiny's Child ruled my teenage years), as well as artists like Patsy Cline, Ella Fitzgerald, Blossom Dearie, and Etta James, who are all beautiful vocalists. So, I think that I always gravitated towards melodic music, as I feel like vocals are what I heavily focused on when I was a kid and learning to really listen to music. However, with production experimentation, I'm inclined to lean away from "pretty" and more into performing in an emotionally undefined space. I'm particularly drawn to the in-between; somewhere that drifts between melancholy and nostalgia and gratitude and longing and grief. I'm always thinking about the intention of the song and what is required to sonically convey its motivation, and that ultimately informs the production approach and the elements that go into it.
REVERIE: You’ve spoken about audio-tactile synesthesia and being drawn to “gritty, imperfect sounds.” How does that shape the way you build a song? Are there particular sounds, textures, or moments on Cryptomnesia that feel especially vivid to you because of the way you experience music?
I speak a lot in colours and where I feel the placement of an instrument or element within my own body. I always want to be oriented within a song, even if by the end of the track I am meant to feel off-axis, and often imagine a movie scene the song could be playing in. When I have that picture in my mind, I try to notice the details that make up the scene: The environment (is it windy? rainy? ), time of day, season, temperature, etc. I know when I've landed on the right sound if it helps define these elements and builds a clearer picture.
REVERIE: As listeners continue to discover “Cherry Pit” and the rest of the record approaches, what do you hope they carry with them after spending time inside this world you’ve created?
I had a whole thing written for this answer about how music is a class issue and artists are a vulnerable class of workers that face a lack of health benefits and weak policy protections against new technologies... But really, at the end of the day, I want the takeaway to be that working-class artists like myself are simply searching for our place in the world. We brave the elements of this volatile industry despite our better judgement, more often than not living below the poverty line, in pursuit of something real. We are looking for our people, our community.
