And The Writer Is...with Ross Golan - Ep. 264: How Aaron Dessner Became an Industry Favorite and the 3AM Text That Became 'folklore'

Episode Date: September 15, 2026

Today's guest is a musician's musician who co-founded The National, the Grammy-winning band behind Boxer, High Violet and Sleep Well Beast.He co-wrote and produced Taylor Swift's folklore and evermore, including cardigan and willow. folklore won Album of the Year at the Grammys.He worked on The Tortured Poets Department and produced Ed Sheeran's Subtract.He's behind Gracie Abrams' I Love You, I'm Sorry and Noah Kahan's Porch Light.In the last year alone, he's made records with Mumford & Sons, Florence + the Machine, Brandi Carlile, Sam Barber, Kevin Morby and Suki Waterhouse.He's one half of Big Red Machine with Bon Iver's Justin Vernon.And he built Long Pond, the Hudson Valley studio where many of these songs were made.And The Writer Is... Aaron Dessner!Hit subscribe and turn on notifications. Every week, we go deep with the most interesting creatives in music.Follow us on socials: @andthewriterisA special thank you to our sponsors for making these conversations possible.Amazon Music for Songwriters. Your support means the world to us.And SONA — Songwriters of North America. If you write songs, join them. They fight for us.0:00 Intro1:00 Cardigan, willow, Porch Light — and eight albums in a year5:26 Why "I Love You, I'm Sorry" was never the single7:27 Secretly rooting for the weird song8:17 When a pop star needs a single right now10:25 Don't fill the space: how he walks into a session12:12 Long Pond and "you never make a mistake investing in your creativity"17:24 Twin brothers and their dad's jazz drums22:48 "We faked it": how The National got signed26:48 Playing to no one — then 500 strangers in Michigan30:05 "Did you lose yourself?"33:14 When one bandmate starts writing hits for other people35:38 On stage with Taylor: "You're playing a stadium. It's okay."37:27 "Hey, it's Taylor": the text in 202040:34 The Dropbox folder — and cardigan by 3 a.m.47:45 The thank-you note that became willow51:49 Meeting Gracie Abrams — and 2–3 songs a day57:47 How an instrumentalist became the storyteller's whisperer1:01:11 Why his albums don't get shelved: finishing Prizefighter1:04:23 Studio stories: Gracie, Brandi Carlile, Florence, Sam Barber1:11:40 Noah Kahan arrives burnt out — and Porch Light1:15:41 Live Q&A: finding the corners, his first key change1:18:24 Advice for musicians with day jobs1:20:07 What all the greats have in commonCredits:Hosted by Ross GolanProduced by Joe London & Jad Saad Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Welcome to And The Writer is I am your host, Ross Golan. Today's future producer of the year nominee is arguably the most influential musician in the music industry today. He's a next level songwriter working with the next, next level songwriters. He's a legendary collaborator of a bunch of artists that are so big, you don't have to say their last names. He's not interested in trends. Trends are interested in him. That doesn't make any sense, but it sounds dope. Anyway, we are live in Brooklyn, New York at National Sawdust.

And the writer is, And Desdard. Tell us some of the biggest songs you've been a part of. Well, okay, the biggest songs, I guess Cardigan. Taylor Swift's Cardigan. And Gracie Abrams, I love you, I'm sorry, and Taylor's Willow and, yeah, Noah's Porchlight. I'm saying first names. Yeah. But that's the thing.

Like, okay, let's read a list of some of the people you've worked with only in the last, you know, eight to ten months. Gracie Abrams, Brandy Carlisle, Mumford and Sons, Kevin Morby, Florence in the Machine, Sam, Barber, Noah Khan, Suki Waterhouse. These are full albums, let alone, you know, Ed Sheerne and Bonie Ver and Taylor Swift and Taylor Swift and all the other albums have done. When you do eight albums in a year, do you have time to write more than you need? Like, do you write 12 songs for a 12-song album? Good question. I think it depends. So, like, in the case of Taylor, she tends to release most songs that she writes. It's kind of like there aren't that many that we have written that haven't seen the light of day.

But in Ed Sheeran's case, he's, sometimes we, one day we wrote nine songs and not all of them were good. But I tend to make music just to make it, you know. So like I'll just be tinkering. I've done this since I was a kid, just like kind of sketching, I call it, with no real intentions. I make lots of music. which I have never done anything with. And so I kind of forget about it and it's just there. So I think I tend to just be productive for the sake of it.

But I prefer when you make stuff and it sees the light of day because I don't like that feeling of you love something and it just gets hidden away on a hard drive somewhere and nobody ever hears it. Do you work 23 hours a day? No, I used to. I used to hide out in music. music all the time. And I feel like I don't anymore. I've learned that after a few days,

you sort of hit a wall, you know. And it doesn't make sense to work beyond, like, after dinner, you're kind of like full and a little bit woozy and I don't know. But the Mumford guys were at Longpun and they are still used to the, when they're in the studio, they want to stay up until 4 a.m. And I'd be like checking out at 9 or something. And it was this moment of like, What are you going to do till four? They would keep going. Yeah, it's weird when you have to listen back to something and you just woke up from the night before.

You don't have perspective. It's hard to get perspective when you have, I mean, literally no time. I mean, to do 10 albums in a year and have anything else, how do you have, I mean, you have children, how do you do it all? That's a kid, yeah. Well, so I have three kids and there. 14, 11, and 7. And I think the beauty of living in very close proximity to studios, I have my house

is, I live in the Hudson Valley on an old farm, and there's like a house, and then 100 yards away is long upon the studio. And that makes it really easy to kind of like work life coexistence. And I tend to be fast. So the studio is like kind of, it's not really like it's open, just a big open room and it's fast to do things. So sometimes like Gracie and I would make a few songs a day sometimes, you know. And so when they stack up and you can almost produce them fully in a couple hours sometimes, you know. So that happens.

And then there's other times where it's a lot of times on the record it's like one or two songs take 95% of the time just because they're these weird weird riddles. Well, I mean, you do albums sort of the old-fashioned way. It seems where you record the songs and then the label picks the single. I don't know if that's accurate. But when you're writing that fast, you have any perspective enough to say, hey, this song's special. Yeah, the single, I mean, it's interesting because that part of it, is I come from a place of indie, like the national and just having come up from

making songs with my friends to play on tour, like as a rock band, the way that the single world functions and the commerciality of things. Like, I don't, sometimes I'm not the best judge, but I have my favorites. I have my feeling as to like, oh, my God, people are going to fall asleep with that or they're going to, like, die to hear this. And I think, like, I love you. I'm sorry, it wasn't a single from Gracie's last. record and it kind of was interesting to see what it did on its own, you know, or like our band,

we were never good at choosing the songs that are actually the ones that are more popular, you know. But then in other cases, it's obvious, like, well, the one that this song has tempo and it should be it should be the single. But yeah, I tend to be more agnostic where I just really want to, like, make music and not be super critical or super, um, um, hit driven, you know, like not be focused on that. That's one thing that I think streaming has helped is democratizing the single selection, you know, and a label that's more patient and is willing to not look at new music Friday numbers and assume that that's the trajectory of the album and is willing to say, okay,

well, let's just wait and see. And this one's where, let's put some resources here. And, you know, it seems like the patient approach, works. I feel like the situations I've been in where labels trusted or had a longer view of where someone could get to that they've been rewarded for that. But it's hard because it's like

when you have instant feedback of like, well, it's streamed that yesterday and it's stable, but what if they did this and it'll rise and everyone is obvious. Like some people are just really focused on charts, but it doesn't allow for the mystery of how people are going to gravitate to this, the ugly ducklings, you know, that might be the most cherished song on a record or somewhere. And I'm always kind of like secretly rooting for the weird mix meter song that's surprise everybody or just something that's kind of not designed to be the hit. I mean, that's, that's, that's, that's, that's,

That's our favorite part of your band, you know, is that the means. The non. Yeah, well, I mean, just like it's music and songs, and it's, you know, it's not one or the other, but there's a lot of musicality in it. But let's say hypothetically, there's a pop star at your studio who needs a single, and they only have a certain amount of time. How do you address an artist who needs a single now? Well, I've learned.

I feel like over the last several years, I learned, because sometimes you have to function in that way. I've been in situations where it's like every idea I had wasn't clicking for someone or they weren't responding. And they'll be like, well, what if you, like, just start a beat. I'm like, oh, like, what kind of beat, you know? So you get better at sort of being spontaneous in that way. thinking in terms of how something can be designed.

And it is fun. It's like a fun game. I just tend, I tend to prefer when there's like a musical thread that has appeared that I'm, like, that's pulling me along or that I have something in my hands that's like telling me what to do as opposed to like trying to design something for success, I guess.

This is abstract, but it's kind of how I think. But I have, I mean, definitely been in enough situations now where you're under pressure and you have to somehow deliver that to that person that's looking for something specific. And so usually I think about tempo and about the structure in a way that's more just focused on getting to the hook, you know, and like, and also setting up in a way that's really attractive and like

pulls you in. But it's again, it's like not, I feel like I'm more of a collaborator and less of a producer in that sense where I prefer to, you know, just to be a musician or a songwriter and not really focused on that. It's not my favorite thing to do, basically. The artists that you work with are each coming at you from a different musical perspective. Are you studying their music and like-minded musicians before you go in the room with them? Or do you just go in and feel who you are every time? I generally try not to fill the space.

I feel like I just, again, like, how? having learned over time, it's like, I feel like where it's more interesting if you actually just show up and sit down and like not have some, like, I think a lot of producers, at least that I've been around, are more like catchy, like big ideas, you know, and creative direction, which is important. But like for me, I think I come, I've found that it's more interesting for me if I just inhabit the space. And I'm lucky to have this space that I upstate that feels very welcoming and very, there's a lot of like light and just, it's like an instrument itself. And so it tends to be an interesting place just to have a conversation. And then it's very musical. There's like just

instruments everywhere and sounds good and things start happening. And like the simplest idea can turn into this giant hit or something, you know, it happened. So, like, I feel like that's, it's better just to see, not get in the way of, like, whatever might be in the chemistry between me and someone who's just derived by, like, sitting down and having too many ideas or talking too much or, you know, to, like, getting to know them. But to answer your question about if I listen, I do, like, I feel like I tend not to work with someone if I'm not already a fan.

Or I've definitely like get lost in their music. And usually most things I've worked on, I've already kind of like absorbing, you know, in some way. Long Pond is your studio. You know, it feels like a bit like where Rick Rubin's Shangri-La is.

It's this idea that you go there and it's an oasis away from the big city. And, you know, there's something magical about all studios. for music dorks. You know, but here it's not in the city. What is it about a two-hour drive away?

You know, that makes Long Pond special. That's different than, you know, the big studios that are in Manhattan. I mean, I think it's that the way it's, first of all, the design of and where it sits in the land, it was very, there was an old horse barn on this property, which is kind of, it's an old,

it's like the corridor of the Hudson Valley is where the Dutch settled these towns. And so there's lots of old farms that sit along the Hudson River. And it's up on a ridge above the Hudson River. It's just this old kind of collection of 18th and early 19th century houses on this road. And one of them I bought 13 or 14 years,

ago when my daughter, Ingrid, was three, because it was like I grew up more in the countryside. I was just thinking I got to get out of Brooklyn and moved up there eventually full-time. And there was this old farmhouse, and there was like a whole small horse barn there. And a pond, a natural pond. I was long and thin. And there was like another dad at the school, this Waldorf school. Erilyn Newman is his name. And he's like a master carpenter and like kind of self-taught architect.

And he just worked with me to imagine what could be there. And so we took down the horse barn and a bunch of amazing people built this studio. And at the time I was like, what am I doing? This is, I've never spent this much money. And like I asked a friend, I was like, because it was really for the national. I was like, this is where the national is going to make. records. It was 2014 or 15. And my friend Jesse's his name just said, like, you never make a mistake investing in your creativity. It'll be, you know, write songs. You know, it'll be great.

So he did it. And the National Made Sleepwell Beast there. And it was the first thing that happened in that studio was that record, which was really important for us. And like we all, like, instantly there was this magic in the space even beyond just like a nice recording studio. It felt, and I think it had a lot to do with the land and how it was positioned, that there's water that's always moving, and like no matter where you look, it doesn't feel contrived, but like if you look at this window that way you see grass and this way you see water and that way you see trees and it just feels and there's no control room, it's just light and hairy and there's actually in oxygen circulate.

Because a big, my friend studied studios. And like, if you don't have enough oxygen, like fresh air coming in, your brain just is less productive. So there's this circulating thing that's bringing oxygen in. And it's just been a, it feels like an instrument to me. So like I playing music in there, I just, things happen. And I think for a lot of people who come, it have been in a million studios. It's not saying it's like the best studio because it's not like there's things that's not good for, but it's there's something about like a lot of people come there and they breathe out.

They're just like, but I think so many times it's happened, you know, not to say that's for everybody, but it just feels like it catches a lot of people, you know. Yeah, when we built this studio that we do the podcast out of normally, it was same sort of time. Oldest was turning three. when I was building it, I was like, okay, what are the things that you need to make a studio important? And everyone said natural light, good coffee, and nobody said a neat pre-amp. No one said like you need, you know, nobody cares about any of the, they all have the same instruments, give or take. You know, some of them are, you know, more magical than others, but they all have guitars, pianos, all this. stuff, but it's light, light, light.

So, you know, that's amazing. I mean, people who produce for their own bands, they get to learn on the job a bit. And you got to go through this process of, of, you know, producing for your band before you became, you know, the guitarist of an indie band, albeit a very big indie band, becomes, you know, Pop's biggest producer is a wild journey.

So how does this journey start? I mean, I think it starts a twin brother. And we were born in Cincinnati in the mid-70s and just did every, like, shared a room until we were 18. Bryce Destner is his name. And my dad was a drummer. And we found his drums in the furnace closet and pulled them out and, like, had them out.

And he came home from work. because he had given it up when he was maybe 30, but he was a really excellent jazz drummer in the 60s. He grew up in Brooklyn and had played, like, serious music and studied. And he kind of just sat down. He was like, okay, he never told us about it. And we were maybe six or seven. And just sat down and just, like, played the old-style grip

and just incredible rudiments and just blew our minds. And so I just started playing the drums immediately. And my brother at that point started playing flute and got interested in classical guitar and we just started and we were, I think as twins, we were naturally competitive

and in the same room. And so we just, so he picked up the guitar so then I would like, we ponds some baseball cards that got a bass and we were just like constantly looking at each other

and got very dexterous very quickly. And like, let me be at school just be like playing with our playing riffs and stuff like in air, air guitar all the time. And it was the same, it was kind of just the same thing with everything we did, like bouncing off of each other and sort of feeding on each other's breakthroughs. I don't know if it was a twin thing or what it was,

but I kind of went more towards songwriting and like playing, just kind of playing, like almost like watching him play classical guitar and then imitating him. but I was just writing something new. So I became like this generative sort of musician where I was just always like making stuff up from an early age. Was there a point, a day you remember, when you and your brother diverged on your musical directions?

I was a little bit, yeah, just more pulled in an emotional direction music thing. He was like really into the maze. music and still is. And he's also emotional, but it's like he's really into the, the dense, like, labyrinth of the most complex thing you can imagine and he achieves it, which is amazing. And I also, it still feeds back on me in weird ways. You know, the band comes out of your time in New York and, you know, the people you were meeting while you were at Columbia. Tell me about what is the beginning of the national? My brother and I and Brian Debenorf, we were classmates in middle school and played on the middle school basketball team in Cincinnati, Ohio together.

Brian is 6-6, and he was the center. And we were like, I was the point guard, Rice was a shooting guard. We had a special play where, like, Brian would post up at the free throw line and we'd get him the ball and he had like a great shot. And that was our first. interaction with Brian, but he was already at that time this incredible drummer. And we kind of got like Matt, there was like a matchmaver we were going to get together and play. And kind of was like, he was a year

older. And it was our first real hangout. It was like getting together in our basement and playing. We played Grateful Dead songs for like eight hours or something. And then we just had a series of bands. And later all throughout high school and then in college, also we had another band and then Scott Devonorf, Brian's older brother, was best friends with Matt Burninger, and they went to design school to be graphic designers at the University of Cincinnati.

And they were like guided by voices and half can wigs and pavement devotees. And like had a band called Nancy. And then at some point there was this melding of those two, like our little threesome and their twosome into forming. the national in the late 90s, in Brooklyn, actually. So it was after we graduated from college and stuff. And yeah, it was kind of like brothers, big set of brothers getting together. What was the first song you wrote?

I think it was a song called Bells Are Ringing. I probably was like stealing the ring them bells or something, but it's bells are ringing. How does it go? I can't remember the words. I do remember how it goes. Like, it was, it's gonna, it was just like, it was just that, I think. Just like a, it doesn't sound that different to what I do now. It's funny how that works, though.

It's like your identity is, you know, we're always chasing where we really first came from before we start overthinking. So that checks out. getting signed you guys didn't sign to you know RCA or to Columbia or you know you signed you know to 480 and and it's

you know it's an indie label it's an indie label process and how do you get from there's the five of us we're now a band to getting a record deal I feel like we faked it so it was like basically at first, no, but we performed the band. And Matt, the singer, he was,

we all had jobs, like pretty serious jobs that we were paying our rent from, mostly in new media, like design stuff. This is 99, 98, 99. And when the first shows were literally at office parties, for one, someone's company. But there were a few, like, amazing people at those office parties that became these, like, super fans and, like, supporters.

And we, like, helped us, like, bring people to the shows. And we finally got a show at Mercury Lounge, and 30 people were there. And then we got another one, and there were 80. And eventually it was, like, 100, you know, and it started to be, like, a few people you didn't recognize. But the big thing was like one of those fans, friends, was French. Ellen Germain was her name, is her name.

And she helped us get a show in Paris on this boat called Lucky and Get Pirat, like in the Sen. Sounds outlandish, but it's true. And then we sent our music to Franc Sinterre to Bernard Lenoir, who's this DJ, who is this DJ. had this thing called the Black Sessions that were, he was like a legendary, kind of like old school, cool, punk indie DJ. And he started playing a song of our first little record that we had made. And then there was an article in the paper. And our show was sold out. I had like,

and got, like, can get Pirat. And we were like, holy shit. Like, what just happened? And so it was in France that the national kind of like had a moment. And then, Roger Truss from Beggar's Banquet, which the parent company of 4D and Rough Trade and Excel and all that came over. I'm condensing a few years into a little story, but basically came over and saw us play in Paris, and he loved it and loved the music, but he probably thought we were much bigger than we actually were because it was only in Paris that we had that kind of audience. That's called marketing. That works. Yeah. You guys record the, you know, the self-titled album.

And then it's like, sonically, it sounds really live, sounds really indie, you know, sad songs for dirty lovers, Alligator. These are all like, they're all just, you can hear like the gears turning. Yeah. But something happens around Boxer that is out. obviously just feels like that's when everyone in the country knows who you are. I'm sure people obviously knew who you were before that. But what is it here? Watch this, guys.

This is because I'm learning. We just launched our Patreon page today or yesterday. And a Patreon fan question from Austin over here, I'll paraphrase it. But he basically said when was the moment when you realize the thing that the National had been doing, as an indie band became commercial. I mean, it would have been on Alligator. I think Alligator, the record before Boxer, we started to have experiences where

we were still, like, feeling the humiliation of, like, playing shows where no one's there or playing. We did a tour with Clap Your Hens, Say Yeah, which was like an early internet band and a great band, but like they were the opener and they suddenly had more fans than we did. And like, it was this awkward. moment. That was still happening on an alligator, but towards the end of Alligator, I remember we played in Michigan in Grand Rapids, I think, and there were 500 people there. And we were like,

and we didn't know a soul. And it felt like, okay, so these 500 people are here because they have the record and they love it. And then when Boxer came out, there was this exponential thing that happened almost like you could feel it from almost for them the release day. It was like people, the whole time since Alligator had, in the years since Alligator had come out, they had just been like multiplying or something. And then you could feel it when Boxer came.

And there were, and Boxer was this very cohesive record that just really landed. And then, yeah, a lot of things happen to us that were super positive that helped during that time. But yeah, that's when it, like, you could feel. And then it's like, high violet, the same thing happened and trouble will find me the same thing. It just, it kind of grew, you know. It's weird because manufactured virality is something all the labels try to achieve, but in reality,

it's this Jada Segua thing. And, you know, that era is such slow virality. Because you saw, the way someone would share it is by burning a CD and handing it to someone. And when you're on tour in 2003, you're maybe using MapQuest and a printout while you're looking at an almanac in the front seat. You know. Like fighting over. Like, no, that was the exit. And you're like, it's exhausting.

And then to have 500 people show up, you're like, we did it. It's like, you know, that compared to the billions of streams that you have later is just so insane to think, like, all that is part of the DNA that makes you. you are now. It's incredible. Sometimes I try to go back and think about where we've been or where I've been in all the different experiences. Because what like people ask me advice or like artists you meet, you can see sometimes maybe they're at the beginning of the journey. They haven't even played a show or they've or they've had huge success and they're like running on fumes and you can just see it like all the things that can, like, it's a very, it's a hard life.

The touring, without, without being in your daily kind of grounded life, like being out there. It's glamorous, it's fun, it's, you know, rock and roll, but you can really lose yourself. And I think, um, did you lose yourself in that process? Yeah, definitely. Yeah. How so? I mean, it's been, I feel like the national, we've had every version of, you know, rock and roll,

just whether it's losing trends or, like, issues with substances or being, like, the interpersonal dynamics. Fortunately, we're still all really close and in a good place, but it's definitely like it's not easy, you know. And I think people that tour are. it's good when you take it. I think when you set limits for it. I enjoy seeing artists. I started working with Gracie before she really ever played a show

six, almost seven years ago. And I like that because I could sort of be there in a way as she started to play more and more shows and they started to get bigger and bigger did have a lot to say about like what it can do and where you are.

But as far as on a musical level, it is incredible to feel like that everything that I learned and all the playing music so intensely in your basement as a kid, like now that makes me comfortable in any situation. Because it's worst case scenario, I know I can play. So like I might not be able to, might not have the best idea on that day or whatever it is, but I enjoy playing. I can do that. Band says stick together

because being in a band is the worst. I'll just tell us about your experience, Rob. Look, man, if it wasn't for 10 years of record deals and touring around and selling very few records, I wouldn't have been like, I wonder what it's like if I try to write songs with and for other people. see what's on the other side of it.

And it's, you know, whatever songs I've had that have been successful happen because I have performed in front of people. And being in a band sucks. And it's like, I want to know what it's like to. Look, when you write with an artist, when you write with a band, you're in a band for 25, 27, 8, whatever you had, 29 years. Like, it's a crazy amount of time. You're like, you know, how many people do you know that are married for almost 30 years?

It's a long time to be in a relationship with people. And when you write with an artist or a songwriter, if it sucks after a week, you're gone, you know? You don't, but when you write with, you know, when you're with a band, you have to go do the ups and downs. And one way is to share in revenue. There's something beautiful about your co-writers. So what people don't really understand is the only other people in the world that know what you're going through when a song is successful or not successful is your collaborator. And so when you guys, you know, there's a reason why one of my collaborators is the godfather to my son and vice versa.

Yeah. You know, because you know you really go in the life. You're going through the same journey. Yeah. But once you start writing hits for other people, you're now on a separate journey. than the other guys in the band. Is that hard for the band? It's a good question.

I mean, I feel like they're amazing and extremely gracious about all the things that have happened to me. And I think there's some sort of tacit understanding because of the role I always played of being like I was very generous. I was very much just had all these ideas all the time musically, which couldn't possibly all be national songs.

And also the national is like this slow moving amoeba that's like, who knows when it's going to surface again kind of feeling. I think it's in some ways been a relief probably that, you know, I'm really busy and Bryce is really busy and Matt is really busy. there's like a little space because you can, you can eat each other up, you know. And it's, it's a beautiful family. And they're like every character in that band, every person in the band is really special.

But when you're cooped up together for 27 years, things happen. You know, like you have ruptures. You have, you know, inevitable tension or creative tension. But it's been, it's been amazing. It's been some of my favorite things, favorite shows that ever happened in that band were just in the last few years. And like, I do think we might hopefully still make some of our best music. But as far as, like, no one is, no one seems jealous or weird about all these other songs that I've written. Because I think we've all, at least Bryce and I have always been doing a lot of other things.

And then Matt's really making a lot of his own music. But it is a weird universe. I think when I made so many songs, for example, with Taylor, I entered a strange place where suddenly, you know, when I got on stage and played with her, just that feeling. I had no idea how big that was. I had no concept at all, you know.

Yeah, we were talking right before we walked on stage, not to interrupt, but I was like, are you nervous? And he said, well, I played the eras to her. And for those watching at home, there are 70,000 people here right now. So trust me, this is wild. To her credit, the first time I went up there because she could tell I was nervous and she was so nice because she sort of said to me like, she was like playing her guitar and she was like, you're playing a stadium, it's okay.

You know, he was just like, it's good, you're okay. Well, okay, so, you know, 2017 is when a sleepwell beast comes out. It obviously gets a ton of critical claim. You've now been running on national albums for a while. COVID happens. And for many of us, you know, the folklore when that came out was like a relief. Like a lot of us got it and could listen to it in home or, drives, but not with other people.

And, you know, you, this is a huge change from the national to working with Taylor. How do you, how does, how does Taylor Swift call Aaron Destner and say, hey, and what was that phone call like? I mean, it was a text, first of all. It was, I think it was March or April of 2020. And we had met Taylor a few times. She was there when we played SNL in 2014. She was friends with Lena Dunham, who was the host. And I remember she asked Bryce, my brother,

but he had like, I need my girl. He slams his guitar on the ground. And we were all psyched because she had asked Bryce about that at that time. Like, how do you do that? What does it sound like? And then she had come to see us play. and we talked to her, and I think she was really a fan of the band.

And when COVID hit, she reached out and got, from a mutual friend, got my phone number, but when she texts, I really was wondering if it was actually her. I felt like it could be a friend, but she said, like, hey, it's Taylor.

Would you ever consider collaborating? remotely. This is crazy what's happening. Like, maybe we can send her, you know, because I think she knew how the National worked, where we basically, Matt, burning or singer of the National, is so, so unwilling to stand, to, like, work in a room with us

that we sort of say that we, like, lob, lob things over the fence to them, basically. Or, like, put it under his door and, like, sneak away. So we just got, I had got, And I had gotten really used to my brother, too, they'd gotten used to making music in song form and then like throwing it over the fence. And so I think she knew that.

And she just sent me anything, like the weirdest thing. I think she thought it was going to be super weird and arty or something, which it was, sort of. And not weird, but a little hardy. And I sent a folder of music that I had been working on because I had been really working on a lot of music because a year before that, Justin, back to the early name drop that I did, he had asked me to open the Bonne Verre,

what would have been the Bonne Verre European tour of spring 2020. And he called me, he actually called me on the day that easy to find the national record came out. And I think he was, I don't know if he was being subversive or what he was doing, but he, like, called me. he was like, hey, I want you to open the Bonny Bear tour by yourself. And it was like his first, it was going to be like this big arena tour. And I was like, but how would I, you know, I can't do that. Why did he ask you to do that?

I think he just thought, I think because he had, that's a whole other line of talking about. He'd been so grown so accustomed to sitting and listening to music that I made that I kind of just wanted me to do that. like play the music that I make in a space for lots of people before he would play. So then I was nervous because I thought that would be so fun, but I was terrified. So I'd been making all these things, like tons of them during the whole last period of the national touring. And then in the months before COVID hit. So I had a whole folder and I just like, I just was sitting at the, I remember I sitting at my kitchen table in upstate New York. I just sent the Dropbox folder to Taylor.

And like 3 a.m. that night, she sent back Cardigan fully written. Like, fully written. And I has a voice memo. And I was like, holy shit. Like, what's happening? So what was it that you sent, when you sent the instrumental for Cardigan, you have a guitar there? Well, fortunately, it's on piano,

but I think it saves me. Fine. It was pretty much the song musically, like there's not because I was making sketches, songs without words, but

fully producing them because I was imagining that I was going to go play them on tour. Just as instrumentals or was there a part of you that was going to Were you thinking of writing top lines to those tracks? I was maybe going to sing a few things. Did you have a version of any songs on the track for Cardigan? No, not that one, but like a version of Invisible String.

I had been sort of singing along, too. And there's certain songs where, like, but that wasn't really my idea. My idea was mainly to play instrumental music. Because I can sing and I like singing, but like having been around such incredible singers, it's pretty intimidating when you're like going to step out and do that. So not really my, wasn't really my idea. But basically the song was fairly fully formed. It was fully formed structurally.

And then she just, it was incredible what she did. I mean, you just were like, it was like, I felt like a high school basketball player. suddenly was like on a team with Michael Jordan. Like, it was like winning. You know, it was just like, holy shit. Just the way she just carved into it and gave it so much. And then for the next few days, other songs, she just started sending them from tracks.

You know, she sent the song Peace and she sent the song, Invisible String. And these were written to tracks. that I had sent her where it was astonishing because I didn't it was as though we were doing in a room together you know because they did they had corners and went places and you know yeah it doesn't sound like that yeah what were your expectations for folklore before it came out I mean I think I was just hoping well first of all I didn't I for some reason I didn't pay attention And while we were making it, it was such a beautiful time.

It was so, it was so inspiring and so private. It was just this direct back and forth that we were having. It felt very hermetically sealed from the world. Nobody knew. She really, it was myself and John Lowe, this incredible engineer, who was sort of living with us almost during COVID. and then Taylor was in L.A. at that time. We were just firing stuff back and forth.

And it felt I didn't think about it, really, what the world would think until, I think, up until the point where it had to be mastered, it was going to come out. And then she, I think she, I think Taylor actually, she was just always really encouraging me not to worry about the shadow of what she had done before or what the, her expectations were quite, low, I think, commercially at least. And I just, I think she had, I don't think she knew how it would be received.

And then we were on the phone on FaceTime as it came out. And you started to see this crazy response and like crazy critical acclaim. And it was just, it was like quickly a buzz with this sort of transformative moment. for me at least. And it was really, really exciting and life-affirming and crazy. It was never expected it. And I started to realize then, you know, how just her reach, you know, as an artist. I already, of course, I knew how that she was the biggest pop star in the world.

But I just said it didn't really allow myself to think about, because some of these songs are so, you know, like peace. is a good example. It's like a pulse with like three harmonized bass lines and mixed meter and she like traces this song to it. You know, and it's a beautiful thing. But he was like, it's not going to be a hit. It's not, it never was a hit, but like it was. But it still has hundreds and hundreds of millions of streams. Yeah. Yeah. And her fans, I think the beautiful thing was like the way her fans met this music and embraced it and saw a side of her. How do you approach a song that you didn't write? Because there are songs on that that you didn't write, but you produce it. What's the difference when you approach a song that is given to you that you're not a collaborator on on the composition side? Yeah, I feel I love that, to be honest. Like there's certain songs like Exile as one of them or Betty, which Jack and I produced together, which I love.

producing and it kind of frees you a little bit. It's like it's not your child, but you are, you've been trusted to shepherd it. And then there's a kind of free, a different kind of feeling in that. I find it a little bit harder musically, because if I didn't write the music, I have to search a little harder to know how to take it somewhere

or find its corners. Whereas like if I, usually if I made the music, it's kind of all in me already or something, you know? Like, what's the bass going to do? I already know or something. But I love it. I mean, the Kevin Morby record that I just made, which I really just am so in love with,

I didn't write a thing on that. And I'm so, I wouldn't want to. It doesn't need. It just feels perfect to me. The Evermore era, you know, a follow-up to doing folklore, Champagne Problems is obviously a massive song. I mean, they're all massive.

But what is the, what becomes your expectations for the follow-up, you know, being now the guy, what are your expectations for Evermore? I think we were, what happened was we were having so much fun. We had so much fun making folklore and you feel that it wasn't. complete. Like it wasn't, I don't think either of us wanted to give up that place that we were in or this that we were walking through and all the just joy and kind of artistry of it or just being in this making stuff. And it was still the pandemic. So it was actually, I had gone to see her when just after folklore came out to kind of celebrate. And as a thank you, I sent, as a thank you note,

I wrote the music of Willow and just sent it to her. But not really thinking, I don't think I was like trying to lure her into another, like, song or album. And I swear 20 minutes later, she sent back the, like, my phone, She had written Willow. And then I think she said, I guess, we're making another record. Well, there's a guitar right there. I know.

What did you send for Willow? What is telling me? I might not be able to... Sucker. I mean, it wouldn't... It wouldn't be... It would have been on the rubber bridge, but... Something like that.

I can't even remember exactly how it goes, but it was basically just like... this riff in like a tiny bit of production you know with that's awesome but with the with the structure

with your discography do you have I know you know we've talked to you know Ed and some of these guys who can just pick any song in their discography and they can play it and sing it if I were to go back to the beginning of national songs

you know can you like do you have the ability to play every song that you've released? The national maybe, yeah. But not, I was never someone that could just sit at a campfire and just play and sing songs, because I always had collaborators. So it was always in a group or something. But yeah, I think most of those are imprinted.

And then it's funny, though, because now this is the new thing of like, because I have made so much music in the last six or seven years that I can't remember it all. Yeah. I mean, I remember it. I want to hear it, but like on how it goes, it's like. Gracie was on this podcast, and when we did it, it was right before the release, and then she went and did, came back on the day the album came out.

This is when we released that episode. And I just remember her talking about this incredible relationship she had with you guys. How did you meet, how did you meet Gracie? Well, actually, I think I met Gracie because my publisher, Jen, who's here tonight. And we also shared, we have the same lawyer Gilean who's also here tonight. They introduced us, and it was at a time when I was still very much in the thick of making Evermore, I think. And I'd never met someone remotely via FaceTime or Zoom that I would potentially collaborate with. So even that idea was like, what?

You know, like, how will that work? But I think that somehow they knew that I just had a feeling. And so we had a, Gracie and I talked on FaceTime. And it felt like I was talking to my sister or something or my little sister. And yeah, we just, and then eventually she came to Longbun for the first time. And she came, her mom is from Maine. And she'd been visiting her grandparents up there near. Camden, Maine, and she drove down from Camden.

And the first thing we made, I think we called it Camden, which is the song of hers. And we kind of just, from that first day, we were making two or three songs a day, just writing them in the room together. It was the opposite of how, a different way of working. It wasn't sending her tracks. We were just, like, wake up every morning and see what would happen. And usually I would just start playing things, and she would respond or be, like, like try something else or, you know, then we would just find these songs. And it was, and we, and that was amazing thing about Gracie.

She was fully comfortable just being completely open and being there with no real, there was no pressure in the room, no like, I'm searching for a, you never felt like she was searching for something specific or a hit song or a kind of, it just wasn't there. we were literally just like anything was worth chasing, you know. So that's how it started, and it's still like that. It's just still, it feels incredibly natural. And we've become really close friends and really been through a lot

and lots of, in both our lives, things have happened. And at this point, we've made so much music. So it feels like a real, feels like we're almost in a band, but not without all the dysfunction. it's interesting when you think of the past producer of the year nominees and winners you know um some of the greatest right now with obviously max just had his 30th number one and you know jack antonoff won what three years in a row and uh you know jack had obviously has his own thing but still worked with basker and a bunch of the people throughout his process

and learned from a lot of sort of masters where he could find his own identity. And, you know, Watt, same thing. These people learned from greats and then Max even with Dennis Pop. A lot of these guys came from greats. Who's your Yoda? It's interesting to think about it because I feel like I've not been able to have the same kind of exposure maybe to working with other people because I live somewhat in my own upstate and I haven't been in LA or in the city very much to work with people.

But early on Peter Cadiz who made the National, like he made Alligator and Boxer and and he made, you know, Interpol's Turn on the Bright Lights and Antics. And like I learned a lot from him just about our music. and how he approached things. And then as I got into producing more and more, I did benefit from exposure to Jack and to, because I was seeing some songs we would work on together, but it was also like we were coexisting on different records.

And I've been fortunate, same thing with Ed, with Ed Shear, and I got to see how Fred or certain songs, with Max where he would just see how things were done, but it was never like in the actual room. So it's just like over time, I think I did absorb a lot and study a lot, but it's been pretty, I feel like a little bit like the country bumpkin

who's just like still tinkering with acoustic instruments and stuff and is, you know, just doing in my own lane or something, you know. Although, yeah, I have to say, Andy Wat did come to, long pun because we worked on Brandy Carlisle's record together and it was so fun and he was so by the end of him being there it was like we had changed I was the like bold crazy like loud guitar player and he was like super subtle and already like doing like kind of fulky stuff and it was a really it was a fun melding of minds for someone who is an instrumentalist primarily an instrumentalist to become the storyteller's whisperer. How does that make sense? I honestly, I think it's allowing, well, first of all, I don't, I'm not sure I know,

but, but I've thought I've tried to reflect on that a little bit over, over the years. And part of it's making music that I, that I, that I, that I, that I, I really believe in, regardless of what happens in terms of melodically or lyrically, what's there, like making music that feels like it's already about something or that has an emotional purpose for me. And maybe for others that hear it, like, there's something about that that draws stories out of other people. So early on, Matt would always say he feels like the music, there's times where, he feels like the song is actually telling him stuff. And that always felt cool that he was saying it,

but I didn't quite understand it. And then Justin similarly would say, like, he would just come hang out because we got to be really good friends over the last 20 years. And we would always just listen to music and mess around in the studio, most of the time, not sharing any of it with the world. He would kind of say the same thing where, like, you feel like the music that I was making had stories or images or things in it.

And I think, and I don't know, it's not intentional. I think it's literally just because I try to make things that I would drive around listening to because I find it soothing emotionally and just fun, you know. So that feels like part of why I've ended up in that role. It's just the kind of music that I seem to make. But the other side of it is I feel like I feel like. I don't feel like I have to fill the space. So there's a lot of times with great songwriters

where I'm just pretty happy to be there, like a companion, you know. And like Noah, I've made a lot of, like, it's very interactive at times, but there's other times when we've worked where I just try to kind of like get out of the way of his, like he just needs to like. right, you know. So part of it's like, it's almost like you throw the, you throw the pitch, you know, and then get out of the way. It's, you know, this last year I named all those people from the last eight, ten months or so. And if you obviously add, you know, a couple more months you have, uh, you also can add Taylor Swift's, you know, tortured poets department. You

can add, you know, at Chiron's album. There's, there's so much music that, that, that, that, that happen all at the same time. And when I write with an artist, it feels like the song that they're going to go with comes out, I don't know, anywhere from like eight months to 15 months later, and you have no idea the rhyme or reason. It just seems to do the thing. But you seem to have this schedule, like, you know, I don't know, somehow you're able to finish an album and the album actually comes out as scheduled. How do, you know, and Noah obviously famously had some time issues

with getting albums out. So how is it that these albums seem to not get shelved? Well, it has happened to me, but I feel like I'm a good, so I am good in the final stretch of like, just being very committed and very just willing to lose my mind to finish something. Because there is always this thing with records where they hit somewhere along the line, they hit the wall.

They hit like an impasse, whether it's like in the songwriting or production or like label or something happens where it's like you're pushed. You are like in the fight, you know? And I feel like I'm pretty tough for some. I think the nuts comes from the national, because the national records were very hard to make and touring and early. I'm just like, I'm not soft in that way.

So like when things get a little intense, I just kind of buckle down. So I feel like I've been, like the Mumford record, that was, it needed, you know, we had to, wasn't the easiest, record to make in the final stretch of it and just kind of like buckle in because I feel like I've been there a lot. What made it hard to finish? I mean, it was the first time they'd ever had outside writers. Obviously, Marcus has been on this podcast too. You know, he talked to, first of all,

I talked about Long Pondy's like somehow the music just sort of falls out of the sky there. But what made it so hard to finish Prizefighter, which is an excellent album, by the way? Thank you. It is a family favorite and the goal. one house home. I love it. I mean, I think it's because they had art, they were coming back from so long away, and they had made Rushmere,

which is a great record, and it was right as, but we sort of, a lot of the songs that became Prizefighter appeared even before Rushmere was done. So there was this moment where it was like finishing Price Fighter, because they went on tour with Rushmir,

and it seemed like it might end up stranded. And so there was a period of time where I did feel like I was carrying the torch a little bit for it. But I don't have a problem doing that. And I feel like I can be, if I believe in something. And they were all super into it also, but they're also on tour and kind of doing their thing. I was like, no, guys, we got to circle the wagons and finish this. I think it's important, you know. And so they did.

So if I had been, maybe if I had been less persistent, it might have taken longer or falling apart or something like that. What's a memorable studio moment? You know, instead of, we usually do a rapid fire, but I'm not going to do that right now. What I want to know are, because these are such icons that you're working with. I just want to know a memorable studio moment from each of these. Let's start with Gracie Abrams. What's a memorable moment with Gracie Abrams? I mean, this is going to, it's not about music, but my kids, like out of nowhere,

it was her 23rd birthday, Gracie's birthday, and she was at the studio. And my kids, with that with no prompting from anyone, came them from school. Oh, when put on, like, their best clothes. My son was seven, and my daughter was 10. And they put on, like, their, like, clothes they would wear to church or something. And we don't go to church, but, um, came out with their instruments. And they had rehearsed a song and, like, like, came into the studio and sat around her and played her happy birthday song. And it was just like, but it was not, like, I did not put them up to it.

It was like they just somehow, they were so, you know, it was, that's, so that's not a music-making anecdote, but. Brandy Carlisle is one of the best singers of all time. What is it like working with Brandy Carlisle? I mean, she's just so legit. It's like she's been there, she's done it. So when she came to Longpun, it was after, she was kind of like, she just finished all the, Her final Joni Jam at the Hollywood Bowl and flew out. And really, I don't think she knew.

Both of us were like, what are we doing? Like, what's going to happen? I don't think she had any. There were no songs. There was no idea. And we wrote, in that first day, we wrote a war with time and no one knows us. And it was like being with a just a classic poet-songer, Renaissance woman of just she's powerful you know it's like really in her voice what she's capable of

and you just feel she's just formidable and she's an amazing human being so um yeah and she's fascinating really tell me a story about working with florence in the machine yeah i mean florence is she won't mind me saying that she's witchy it's like she if she It's as though like a 16th century, like operatic, mystical, slightly witchy woman just, like, landed in the Hudson Valley. And it's like... I think people put it in the Hudson Valley in the 16th century would have also thought that she was in a way.

Yeah. Yeah, it would have been not a great result. But the Puritans, but... I think she's physically, like, how she makes music, it's this, she's constantly moving and she's constantly, like, a feverishness to how she, a feverish, uncompromising, just, like, deeply passionate approach to music making. And she's, I never saw her sing a single thing twice. to just sing, if she's singing a lead vocal,

she's almost disregarding the mic and just kind of like twirling into the isoboose and sings off the mic and it's like, you wouldn't change a thing about it. And then she's back out before you even notice. And you're just like... And there's smoke.

Yeah. But she also, I mean, she, she hears things and she's interested in sound in ways that's really, it was challenging. and pushed me to be uncomfortable with sound. Like there were sounds and notes and stuff that I was like, why would we have that weird note droning through the whole song?

And she was right. She was just like, it's got to be that. That's what it is. But she's really just absolutely brilliant. I do have the question written that I was curious about, which is who's the artist with the highest standards? I mean, I feel like everyone, I mean, they're all different. I feel like a lot of people I've encountered that get to this place of the ones we're talking about right now are weirdly laid back about details because they see a bigger picture.

So they're like less nitpicky, you know? Like definitely Florence and Taylor and Noah and people like that, they're not kind of telling you to turn the. bass up or by point two or whatever. You know, it's like they're not thinking that way. I feel like artists that are starting, like in an earlier time of their career, there's more anxiety or something about this kind of getting the perfect thing.

And then as you go on, you realize that there's a million ways to make the same song. And, you know, it's not this cold fist. around the steering wheel. But I have stories, but I won't, you know. Fair. Sam Barber is amazing. I'm such a fan.

What's it like working with Sam in a studio? What's a story around Sam? I mean, he came, Sam came to Lang Pan early. Like, it came last year, and it was my first encounter with him also was in the studio, and he was fully, um, writing in the room. And with him, it's this, like, raw force coming out of him, where he's almost, you feel he's like in a, almost in a,

almost in a, some kind of state of mind that's where he's not fully present with you while he's, like, actually losing himself in the song. And he would stay up all night. I would go in, at some point, I would go in. in the house and then I would come back and it seemed like he hadn't slept, but he would have finished, finish his song, and led that song Hope It Never Rains. And he's just, this, like, incredible force. You know, you can tell he's going to go really far.

Noah Khan had this, you know, it's obviously a really visible follow-up to his first album. And, you know, the journey to it's documented literally in a documentary, and he talks about it a lot, you come in and he finished the album. What was it like dealing with an artist who has that dysfunction around him? I mean, I think with Noah, you could feel that he... First of all, when he first came to Longpun,

he sort of said up front that to me that he didn't think we would write songs that maybe we'd just get to know each other. He was sort of doing a, you know, check your expectations sort of feeling. But in a genuine way, I think he didn't know. And he was pretty burnt out from touring and from just that long, crazy ride

that he'd been on the stick season. And I think he was not sure where he was as a writer, as a, you know, what he wanted to say. It was definitely a confusing time for him artistically. And also with that level of success, you do end up getting pulled in all these different directions. Like, work with this person, right with this person, like be in this room, be in that room.

And I think it can be confusing. It can be also like a little soul killing at times. That was me. It was a little bit of the energy that he arrived with. And I think that was also maybe what he was scared of, is like another situation with another, like, dude, like, trying to get songs out of him or whatever it would be. And he came, and we sat down and chatted and made porch light,

which came kind of just out in the room. It was very clearly, like, both topically and what the song does, it was, like, extremely cathartic to have that be the first thing that happened. It was so obviously strong and so obviously important, you know. And so I think it, and I just think the energy was very comfortable between us. It was like we had already met. We were already there.

Plus, we were like playing soccer half the day out in the yard and golfing and stuff. So it was just fun, you know. Yeah, I imagine that, you know, a few of these albums are going to get nominated, plus, you know, this body of work is just so substantial. And like you said, like Kevin Morby, when you're not a writer on, your producer on it, I just think it's so impressive. Adding Suki, who's totally different than them, you know, that feels like that's a real departure musically.

I feel like this is just such an incredible year for you, man. Thank you. I feel super honored to be here with, like, with you and also it is weird how all these records kind of came in a relatively tight window

and like Gracie's records about to come out that I'm so proud of but I don't you know I just think it's I just think I'm lucky basically well you know

number one albums one in a year two in a year and having a song on one would be like, that's cool. It's just like, you know, some of its luck. For sure, timing is a lot of luck. Like, you're not orchestrating it all to come out so well. But it certainly is, if you were to, this is how you would do it.

So thank you for doing this podcast. Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I would say if we have like a, You know, we have probably about five more minutes.

If there are any questions, we can do a couple of Q&A if you're down for that. Yeah. Yeah. Are there any quick questions? Yeah, in the back. Can't see you. I think I got a light on me.

Just look like a silhouette. Yeah, yeah. I want, there was an interesting thing you talked about finding the corners. And finding the corners either in the room or remotely. I just wanted to understand that bit more. Can you create something great if you don't find the chorus? Yeah, well, okay, I think I was referring to like music. If you write music for someone else to sing to, if it's too, like generally I make like quarterly simple music,

but there's usually something about it that is giving a depth or some complexity or there's some risk that you take in it. And I find that that generally, like it might be harder for someone, respond to it, but it usually means it's going to be more special or be more compelling on some level than if it's just writing the same. I mean, a lot of people like, but I also admire artists that can write the best songs with just the simplest chorus. I think because I'm a musician first and instrumentalist, like I tend to try to make music that has something in it that's like a little bump or a little corner or just like sometimes it's little, just like an extra beat here and there.

I always say this is Savon's friend of all of ours. It says that it's like writing a screenplay to special effects. And I think that when that guy's giving you tracks and you're like, how am I supposed to sing through this? You know, it's just landmine, landmine. Then all of a sudden you switch keys. You're like, go fuck yourself. But you do like yours are like time changes and like in a lot of that.

But it feels like you don't do the key change. Don't do the key change, man. You try to sing it with that. That's not fair. I've never done a key change until hit the wall. Grace's single that's out now. And I was literally messing around trying to make a sketch. And she walked in and she was like like that.

I just happened to play like an F major instead of a minor. I think it was on accident. She was like, that's cool. I was like, are you sure? We need that. We need that. I think they said last year was the first year were no songs in the top ten had a key change.

Some crazy set. I'd probably butcher that, but that's about right. I don't know, something to think about. Another yes. Hello, I'm Naya. I'm a musician here in New York. I know you were talking about kind of growing up doing day jobs as well as music.

What advice would you give to upcoming artists who work day jobs and are trying to balance making music? I think it's really good to have limitations with how much time you have to make music and do you have to support yourself? And like with the National, we kept it. I would literally call in sick to work and I would be in France or something.

It would be like... I think it's really worth it to just push it, you know? And you can't... Matt in our band would always quit his job like a year before we would have decided to do it. And we'd be like, what are you doing? But he was the one that was like kind of so optimistic and the rest of us were more cautious.

But I don't think. I think it's good to have limitations. And you can in the time, like sometimes the best work you just, you literally do when you're exhausted at 10 p.m. before you go to bed. I don't know. Thank you. Thanks.

Two more. Go for it. Off topic was for Thier of Socrates. Thank you. Good question. You should just say the NICS, even though, you know, this is the right answer right now at all in this city. It doesn't matter what sport.

You just say, what's your favorite food? The Nix is the answer to the time. For me, it's definitely Liverpool, but right now it's the U.S. Men's National Team. Hey, now we're talking. All right, one more. In Pi, I'm Mari. I'm a songwriter here in New York.

In working with all these, like, grades or Titans, would you say there's, like, a commonality in terms of either like a mindset or personality trait or something. Obviously, these are like the elites of our industry. Is there a thread that you see running through all of them? They all work with Aaron. I would say that all of them can, like blow your mind in terms of just raw. You know, there's like they've, that they've developed and worked really hard.

Like nobody's just coasting to get to that point, you know. So it's not, that's very, I was very encouraged to see that where you never feel, like Taylor, you never feel that she's like not trying her best or doing her best. And when she's recording, she's like laser focused and super. just on it and giving so much. And so that's really, I think because I come from more like indie rock slightly slacker, like messiness is cool or the grateful day or whatever. It's just like, but more working with a lot of these more singular artists that are

on stage in front of tens of thousands of people, they really can do it. You know, they can, they've just spent countless hours, you know. Well, thank you, Amas. music. Thank you, Sona. Thank you, National Sada. And thank you, Aaron Jester. We're out.