Analogue Music | Maia Friedman

Maia Friedman

By Matt Conner

Maia Friedman has long been a steady, radiant presence in collaborative projects—adding warmth and texture to Dirty Projectors and gentle intimacy to the dreamy pop of Coco. But with her new solo album, Goodbye Long Winter Shadow, Friedman brings her voice and vision forward with quiet confidence.

Produced with Philip Weinrobe and Oliver Hill, Friedman's second solo LP is crafted with great intention and it shows. These songs reflect an artist who’s learned to slow down, trust her instincts, and build something beautiful without forcing it.

In our conversation, Friedman spoke about the shift toward trusting herself, the joy of not needing to prove anything, and how motherhood deepened her connection to the creative process.

Analogue: This is your second solo project. How did it feel going back into the process of making something fully your own again—especially after spending so much time in collaborative spaces like Coco and Dirty Projectors?

Maia Friedman: Writing in collaboration and playing in collaboration with other people is something I've always loved. And I think I had this idea—especially when I was younger—that doing your own thing was somehow more valid, that if I was working with other people, it meant I wasn’t able to do it on my own, I don't feel that way anymore. That was just insecurity.

I've always loved the creative exchange of being in other people’s bands and contributing, but I also really wanted to have my own project—to be able to put something out as myself. And I think having my first record, which was written in collaboration with other people, having that done and out and having gone through that process, I wanted to challenge myself to really write independently and to write songs that I felt really proud of lyrically, as far as the harmonic structure and the chord chordal progressions and the chordal voicings and harmonies.

And so I think I had a little more confidence in myself, and that helped me write the record.

Analogue: Was that first record something you'd been holding onto for a while? Or did that impulse emerge more recently?

Maia: I think I’ve always wanted to do it. I started playing music really young—piano when I was five or six, violin when I was nine—and I was always writing songs.

I remember being 12 and dreaming about putting out a record. At the time, there were a lot of these young lady pop stars, Britney Spear and Christina Aguilera, but then there was also Gwen Stefani. I was a huge fan of early No Doubt. I was also really into Queen. These examples were being set and I didn't know which one felt like me. I didn't want to be Britney. Gwen Stefani? That's cool.

I didn't believe that I could do that necessarily. I was writing songs starting in high school, but I was really focusing on playing in other people's bands or being a band member in other people's projects. However, that desire was still very much there.

I think it was sort of in between wanting, really wanting to have my own project and have my own voice, but then feeling like I still needed to rely on other people or that I should share that in some way. It was just a matter of growing and finding belief in myself that I could do that.

Analogue: Did it feel too vulnerable at times, having your name attached to everything—from the music to the tour posters?

Maia: Yeah, for sure. The first record was going to be a Uni Ika Ai release at first. But when the band members moved away or focused on other things, I talked to them about releasing it under my own name and they were super supportive. Still, it took a lot of courage to do that. It felt big—like, “This is me.” Not me with someone else. Not me contributing to something. Just me.

Analogue: It sounds like this record came from a more confident place.

Maia: Definitely. I feel really comfortable with this one. It’s something I worked so hard on—I was involved in every detail of the arrangements. I feel like I created something that reflects a world I really love. I’m really proud of it.

And I still love working with Coco, and Dirty Projectors too. Coco is super collaborative—Olivia, Dan, and I all write and sing and produce. It’s very free-flowing. Dirty Projectors is more about contributing to someone else’s vision, but it’s still very fun. I enjoy being in both roles.

"I just don’t have the bandwidth to be insecure anymore. I have to trust that what I’m offering is enough."

Analogue: Do you feel like that creative comfort changes how you approach songwriting now?

Maia: Yes, totally. I have so much more trust in myself. When I was younger—especially in my twenties and early thirties—I was constantly questioning myself. Am I good enough? Am I doing this right? But I don’t hear that voice as loudly anymore. It’s still there sometimes, but I know how to quiet it.

I’ve had enough experience now to know I can do this. And a big part of that shift came from becoming a mom. I have less time to overthink things now, which is kind of a gift. I just don’t have the bandwidth to be insecure anymore. I have to trust that what I’m offering is enough.

Analogue: Are any of the songs on Goodbye Long Winter Shadow older—things you’d been holding onto for years—or were they written mostly in the same window of time?

Maia: Most of them are pretty new. “Open Book” is the oldest. It started in 2019, but the rest were written between 2020 and 2022. We recorded the album in February 2023, which feels crazy now. Even though they weren’t all written at the exact same time, they all belong to the same emotional era for me. They came from the same internal space.

Analogue: You mentioned your daughter earlier. Now that the album is out, does it feel strange promoting work that was written and recorded before such a major life change?

Maia: Not really. I think of these songs as letters to a future self. Sometimes I write something and don’t fully understand what it’s about until years later. Now that I’m a mom, I hear new meanings in these songs that I didn’t realize were there when I wrote them. It’s like I was writing to a version of myself I hadn’t met yet—or even writing to her, in a way.

VISIT: Maia Friedman

*Photo: Alex Munro