Interview with damian michaels
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
I’m really into the strange contrast at the heart of “love_em_brainless.” The surreal ocean imagery and dark humor make the grief hit even harder. I particularly like the decision to keep the production intimate and acoustic, because it puts the vocals and storytelling right in front of me. There’s something wonderfully uncomfortable about the track. It managaes to be absurd and genuinely devastating!
Interview with damian michaels

`love_em_brainless` combines surreal humour with overwhelming grief. Why did that unusual balance feel like the right way to tell this story?
Humor is just another mask we strap on when we meet someone new. But eventually, you hit a critical depth where you need a place to pour the worst parts of yourself without taking the mask off. Grief is the pressure. Humor is the oxygen tank.
The imagery of himbo sirens, glowing trawlers, and deep-sea narcosis is incredibly vivid. Where did those nautical symbols originate?
The ocean builds a perfect, terrifying duality. I construct a surface open enough for listeners to project their own lives onto it, because giving them that space is the only way you coax them into the darker currents. I was never good at inviting people in; building these worlds is me learning how to leave the door cracked open. The trench is where the real things live. The predators, the unspeakable things I can never say out loud. Plus, living in Vancouver, if you aren't one with the water, you'll never survive the rain.
The song feels cinematic, almost like a short film unfolding in real time. Do you visualize scenes while writing, or do those images emerge naturally through the lyrics?
I don’t visualize anything. I have aphantasia. There is no movie playing behind my eyelids when I write. The cinematic weight doesn't come from a picture; it comes from the pure gravity of the symbols. When I sing a memory, I’m not describing a scene I see in my head. I am dragging you into the exact emotional temperature of that exact moment. You don't see it. You feel it hitting you.
Grief is often written about in very literal terms, yet you approach it through surrealism. Does metaphor allow you to tell emotional truths that realism can't?
Metaphor lets you be naked in a way that has nothing to do with taking off your clothes. It lets you take all your best parts and your worst parts, turn the volume to maximum, and force them into a single body. Because my mind works differently without an inner voice or images, my emotional memory is feral compared to a visual one. Metaphor isn't just an artistic choice; it’s the translation matrix I use to survive the grief and hand it to you intact.

Recording entirely at home gave the track an intimate, unfiltered sound. How important was it that listeners could hear the humanity in every vocal take?
It was born of necessity with things like access, budget, and timing, but it became our greatest asset. When the mask slips in your own bedroom, you have to hit record before it goes back up. Damian Michaels is a collective built around a chosen family. We’re always passing the spark back and forth. If I don't have the emotional bandwidth that day, someone else in the room does, and that raw proximity is exactly what catches on tape.
Your work seems to embrace vulnerability over perfection. Was there ever a moment where you deliberately kept an "imperfect" performance because it carried more emotional truth?
It really just comes down to two different ways of operating. You can plan a track out, obsess over it, and control everything down to the last detail until it's perfect. Or you can just live your life, let the messy moments happen, and hit record before the feeling evaporates. I always choose the second one. I don't think that makes the emotions any less real if anything I think it's the opposite. It isn't a calculated artistic strategy. It’s just the sound of us actually existing in a room
Damian Michaels operates as a collaborative project built around chosen family rather than a traditional band. How has that creative dynamic shaped both the music and your perspective as artists?
Damian Michaels is a vessel. There’s a point we all hit where we need saving from our own destructive habits. Building this project around a chosen family became the antidote. It became a sanctuary to pour our obsessions into and find redemption together. It forces a brutal emotional honesty. We are holding up mirrors for each other in ways we never dared to before.
You describe yourselves as prioritizing authenticity over polish. In today's music landscape, do you think imperfection has become a form of rebellion?
I don’t care about rebelling against a landscape. I just care about being honest. The messy, unfiltered parts are the only parts worth keeping.
The ocean feels almost like another character in "love_em_brainless." What is it about the sea that makes it such a powerful metaphor for memory and loss?
The ocean is defined by its power dynamics. Down in the trench, where nobody is looking, there is a whole ecosystem of predators. It gives me the architecture to smuggle very dark, unspeakable themes into the lyrics. But those are just the deep currents. You only catch them if you know how to look. It doesn't negate the surface. The moments on the surface were the best moments of my life. They were real, they were beautiful, and they were entirely consensual. The ocean holds both the monsters and the light simultaneously.
Dark humour appears alongside heartbreak throughout the song. Has humour always been part of how you process difficult experiences?
It’s a survival tactic. When the intensity gets turned up that high, you either laugh or you drown.
Anonymous projects often invite listeners to focus purely on the art. Was remaining largely outside the spotlight a conscious artistic decision from the beginning?
We’re all masked. I just chose a mask that actually fits. Removing the creator's ego from the spotlight forces the listener to fill the void with their own reflection. It’s the only way to be entirely truthful without compromising the art.

Your music challenges listeners rather than offering easy comfort. Do you ever worry about alienating people, or is provoking a genuine emotional response more important?
If the music alienates someone, they weren't meant to survive the deep end anyway. The goal isn't comfort; it's to show people something heavier than they're used to carrying. There are no fake emotions here. My greatest fear is the clock running out, something happening to me before I can carve this story into the world. I have to get it out so it doesn't die with me. Knowing it's recorded, that it exists, is the only thing that makes the pain bearable.
Early listeners have described the song as feeling incredibly "alive." What does a recording need to have before you know it has captured that feeling?
I am really just a big fan of anything that allows me to feel exactly what the other person is feeling. Honestly, Tegan and Sara always do this well, but honestly, I find that raw emotion comes through a lot easier in French and Spanish music than it does in English. I listen to a ton of French rap, I love Lavaï or other artists like Pierre de Maere, and I am completely in love with what Spanish artists are doing, people like Camilo, Bad Bunny, and Sebastián Yatra
Looking beyond this single, what emotional or creative territory are you most excited to explore next?
The territory doesn't matter as long as I'm navigating it with the people I care about. We are building our own mythologies now. Wherever the family goes, the art follows.
Finally, if listeners remember only one image or emotion from "love_em_brainless" years from now, what do you hope stays with them?
The crushing pressure. And the realization that we chose to dive into it anyway

(•)> That's all, Folks! Check out damien michaels on the Pigeon Opinion Playlist
