THE MATT SEIDEL BAND | INTERVIEW + TRACK REVIEW

Some bands write songs. Others seem to spend years collecting fragments of conversations, half-forgotten stories, old folk traditions, strange observations and fleeting emotions before carefully stitching them together into something that feels lived-in. That’s the world this band inhabits.

Whether charging headfirst through the restless energy of Trainwrecks in Training or settling into the reflective quiet of Someday, Not Tomorrow, their music feels less concerned with fitting neatly inside a genre and more interested in following wherever a great song wants to go. Irish folk melodies, blues, jazz, indie rock and storytelling all coexist here, not as influences being displayed, but as tools being used in service of the song itself.

At the centre of it all is a belief that music should remain human. Imperfections are welcomed, live performances are captured as they happened, and lyrics are treated as something deeper than clever wordplay. These songs aren’t trying to impress you with how much they know. They’re trying to understand something alongside you.

In this conversation, we explore songwriting as history, the pursuit of the perfect lyric, creative evolution, musical restlessness, and why the most meaningful songs often feel less like confessions and more like finding yourself reflected in someone else’s story.

TRACK REVIEW - SO GULLIBLE

“So Gullible” immediately transports me into a psychedelic folk-rock world that feels warm, lived-in and effortlessly cool. It actually reminded me of The Matt Seidel Band in the best possible way, groovy, swinging and hitting all the right places without ever trying too hard.

What really stands out is how naturally the song moves. The band feels locked into the same pulse, creating this rolling momentum that perfectly supports the theme of the track. Then come those little instrumental flourishes and fills that seem to mirror the frustration and self-awareness sitting inside the lyrics, giving the song even more personality.

The vocal interplay is another highlight. The male and female vocals complement each other beautifully, pushing and pulling against one another throughout the track. Neither voice dominates; instead they create a conversation that adds depth and emotional weight to the songwriting.

And then there’s the guitar work. The solo tone is absolutely spot on, tasteful, expressive and never overplayed. It’s the mark of a great guitarist when every note serves the song rather than the ego. Instead of showing off, the solo lifts the track exactly where it needs lifting and leaves you wanting more.

“So Gullible” is the kind of song that feels familiar on first listen but reveals more character every time you come back to it. A beautifully crafted blend of folk, psychedelia and storytelling that proves great songs don’t need gimmicks, they just need heart, chemistry and a melody worth following.

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A lot of indie and folk music leans heavily on mood, but your band seems deeply focused on lyrics as well. What makes a lyric feel “worth keeping” to you rather than just sounding poetic?

Tough first question! My songs always have what I call an “archstone lyric,” one line or phrase that the whole song springs from. They’re the thesis statements and every other line needs to flesh out that idea. I also try to separate the meanings of words from their phonetic qualities, the way a word might sound beautiful in a language you don’t understand. It’s hard to explain, but I will say that Elliott Smith’s description of songs being akin to paintings resonates more and more with me. It took me about ten years to figure out what I think he meant.

There’s a huge shift between the indie rock energy of Trainwrecks in Training and the more introspective acoustic world of Someday, Not Tomorrow. Did that evolution happen naturally, or did the band consciously need to slow things down emotionally?

Trainwrecks was the culmination of years spent moving from folk rock to a more frenetic sound that became possible as we added more band members. At the same time, I was still writing “slower” songs alongside the faster ones. After Trainwrecks, I knew that there would be less space on full-band albums for slower tracks, so I decided to fill the next album with only those that way there would be more space on the next album for every band member to show off their skills. That said, while the energy is certainly different, I think if you just look at the lyrics, both albums are more similar than not.

Your influences seem to come from completely different musical worlds, Irish folk songs, jazz, blues, indie rock. Do you think the tension between those influences is what gives the band its identity?

I think so. It would make me very happy if someone listened to a random sample of our songs and thought they were listening to lots of different bands. I like to think we’re a pretty protean band. If you stick with one identity too long, it gets stale.

Donny’s guitar playing sounds rooted in technicality and feel, while your writing seems grounded in storytelling. How do those two approaches challenge or sharpen each other creatively?

Donny’s not only the best musician I’ve ever met, but the best songwriting partner. I’m proud of my lyrics and the foundational chord structures I write for them, but Donny’s guitar playing always elevates the music, especially his solos. He definitely inspires me to push myself musically. I doubt I would have written the more blues and jazz influenced songs without him. And I’m grateful to say that Donny has told me he’s sharpened his own skills as a result of my sometimes weird chord progression choices.

A lot of bands try to stay sonically consistent so audiences know what to expect. You seem more interested in following where the songs naturally lead. Has that ever felt risky?

I can see the argument that our songs might be a little too heterogenous and that makes us a harder sell. But at the end of the day, the only reason I’m doing any of this is because I want to write the best songs I possibly can while having fun with some of the best people I’ve ever met. Speaking of, Danielle has told me she loves how much our music changes and that we’re always surprising our audience.

There’s something timeless about folk music because it survives through honesty rather than trends. Do you think modern songwriting sometimes forgets the importance of emotional clarity?

I’d want to make sure I heard as many modern songwriters as possible before forming too strong an opinion on that. But I will say that what I love about folk music is how direct it can be and how it transcends individual songwriters to become part of the culture. One of the musicians I admire most is the 17th and 18th century Irish composer Turlough O'Carolan, who travelled Ireland playing hundreds of songs. He might be an extreme example, but there are so many people throughout history up to the present who carry tons of folksongs inside their heads. In doing so, they become walking histories.

The title Trainwrecks in Training feels chaotic, while Someday, Not Tomorrow feels reflective and patient. Do those titles represent different versions of yourselves emotionally?

When I first started writing songs as a teenager, they were more or less diary entries, and they came few and far between. It wasn’t until I realized that the songs didn’t have to be about me whatsoever that I started writing them consistently. For instance, “I Know the City at Night”, on the EP prior to Trainwrecks, is about someone much cooler than me. And most of the “sad” songs were written when I was in a great mood. I tend to think we’re all the worst judges of ourselves, so it’s likely some (or a lot) of me crept into both. But my intent was to craft albums with two very distinct personalities. And if they are versions of me or the rest of the band, we’re as much chaotic or reflective trainwrecks on a daily basis as anyone else.

When you’re writing lyrics, do you approach songs more like conversations, confessions, or observations from a distance?

I think of them as earnest attempts to represent a particular moment, feeling, or personality as accurately as possible. After I find my archstone lyric, I tend to talk out loud, keeping phrases that seem particularly apt to the topic. For instance, in “So Gullible,” I knew I was going to mention “bleeding hearts”, “sunk-cost fallacy,” “cut my losses,” “primrose path,” the idea of a script, etc. to capture the frustration of feeling strung along. Even the weirder songs, like “There’s Somethin’ Brewin’ Out There,” have a cohesion to them. In the end, I want anyone who listens to my songs to feel like I covered the subject as comprehensively as possible. I certainly hope to write songs for decades, but I don’t know if I’ll ever feel the need to say anything else about gullibility again. Then again, some songs have sequels - the sequel to “There’s Somethin’ Brewin’ Out There” will likely be on the next album.

The blend of introspective songwriting and varied musicianship gives your music a very human feeling. Was it important for the recordings to preserve imperfections and personality rather than feel overly polished?

Absolutely. Imperfections are the best. I remember as a kid hearing Billie Joe Armstrong during the American Idiot tour sing “Time of Your Life” when his voice was exhausted and raw. That solidified my love of music that’s unpolished. I’m proud of how all our recordings were done live. For example, some cicadas were buzzing during the recording of “Ballad #1”. It was totally unplanned, but it adds so much depth to the song. And shoutout to Ben Baker of Canadaway Studios for being an amazing producer and occasional drummer in the band!

If someone listens across both releases back-to-back, what do you hope they notice most, the differences between the records, or the deeper thread connecting them underneath it all?

Personally, I’d love for them to be initially surprised but in retrospect see the differences as part of the band’s interest in expressing as wide a range of music and ideas as possible. I hope every new album comes as somewhat of a surprise. But mostly I hope people feel reflected in the songs. When I was younger, I thought writing was about expressing something you and you alone felt. Later than I’d like to admit, I realized what really resonates is when we express what everyone feels in a new, illuminating way that provides comfort. Bottom line, whether it’s a fast-paced song like “Trainwrecks in Training” or something somber like “Pardon Me,” I hope they offer people a little bit of solace.