Singled Out: Matty Frank's Moth

Matty Frank just released his new album, "Dooda", and to celebrate we asked him to tell us about the album and the single "Moth". Here is the story: The idea for Dooda was truly conceived when I decided to move to North Carolina from NYC to live with my then partner. While writing music about our long distance relationship before the move, I was thinking about all the logistics keeping us apart: jobs, finances, career opportunity and development, all artificial things that could be argued as trivial in the grand grand grand scheme. This idea melded with thinking about the contrast between New York City and Durham, NC, which I guess is still a small city, but to me at the time, in my big city britches, might as well have been the woods.

I tearfully yet gladly fled NYC and its growing subway violence and stagnant trash air with a couple folky protest songs about how all these artificial things have distanced us from our planet and ourselves, and how we could have easily enjoyed everything without money, jobs, aspartame, cars, sludge, guns, etc etc. One of my favorite artists, Mitski, said that a guilty pleasure of hers is young adult romance because silly little trifles like insurance and mortgages are completely irrelevant to the characters; the relationship is the only thing. A lot of Dooda discusses how we do very much let trivia get in the way of our relationships with each other and our environment. Apples grow on trees, yet somehow we now have Stop & Shop.

Only after arriving in Durham, regularly romping around on some hikes, and immersing myself in a richly supportive music scene did the rest of what I wanted to say with Dooda come to me: despite the way of the world, things can still be cool and fun. A goal of mine after moving was to learn how to forage for mushrooms. I still haven't two years later (it's risky business), but Dooda also exists in the musings of "...well, it's pretty cool that I could do that". What if I did start a garden? What would our planet look like if everyone knew how to grow corn? Isn't it amazing that bugs can be all those colors? Much like scrolling through any social media feed, I was balancing out my thoughts of doom (a news report of this week's mass shooting) with flagrant optimism (a picture of a cat or a Nicki Minaj meme to cleanse the palette before moving onto the next political atrocity).

Sonically, I thought it of course made sense to feature a lot of acoustic sounds and nature recordings, including clarinet, crickets, frogs, and this bird shaped whistle I got from a Greek festival that sounds like a loon. However, my favorite sound on this album is my darling omnichord. Not acoustic, but as acoustic as electric can get. My particular model, the OM-84, was discontinued in the 80s and is the last fully analog omnichord. When it comes to synthesizers, I always think of analog as "acoustic" or "natural" compared to often newer digital synthesizers due to their physical imperfections, and its charming sparkliness really lends itself to Dooda's world. I squeezed just about every sound I could out of it, from its drums to its strums to its bloops. I could talk about it for hourrrrrs.

One particular song on Dooda, called 'Moth', came to me when I was showing my omnichord to my brother. You can hear a bit of us talking at the top of the song when I was playing what became the main chord progression. I was telling him before how I was selling a piece of gear and he asks if it's the omnichord. When I say no, he jokes that it should be after hearing me play it. I was just messing with some minor chords that are right next to each other in the chord button area place (whatever it's called), and liked how borderline spooky they sounded. The progression and automated rhythm made me think of people dancing around a bonfire. I didn't know what to do with that for about a whole year until the idea for the chorus instrumental and vocal melodies arbitrarily came to me while I was driving in Durham. Many of my ideas for Dooda crystallized by this point, and I thought the song would fit perfectly as the "burn everything to the ground" moment.

Before naming the song, I already developed a moth logo for the album, deciding that moths would be the album's staple imagery. Moths evoke all the woodsy, earthly wonder I want to convey, and unlike the more famous butterfly, retain a connotation of unassuming mystery (despite being just as flashy!!) that is perhaps all the more alluring. The song itself, however, is entirely assuming, unmysterious, completely flashy, quite famous, and entirely alluring, like moths thrashing around a flame. You don't see butterflies doing that crazy sh*t! It's really about losing yourself to your basal inclination to flail about a heat source like the wild animal you are, to destroy those artificial things that don't matter in the grand grand grand scheme, like your bills, your ID, your grocery list, and to remember that natural forces reclaim all in the end. Even moths that dance around the fire. Moth was really the only name I could choose for this song.

After chronicling my experiences living in a city and moving to the (relative) country into all these songs that are equal parts doom scrolling and outdoor recess, I thought they would best be tied up in a carefree, nearly nihilistic bow. Originally named for an inside joke/nickname between me and my former partner, Dooda carries a carefree singsongy connotation that I felt still suits these songs that tweet like little birds in the mouth of a wolf.

Hearing is believing. Now that you know the story behind the song, listen and watch for yourself below and learn more here

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