This past September 24, Montreal-born alternative electronic artist The Grand Mess released his debut EP, “Walking on Water.” The record examines image, intent, necessity, and authenticity in the making of art, functioning as a metanarrative that promises to shape much of TGM’s future work as an act of self-reflection on the relationship between artist, art, and audience.

Far from offering mere commentary, “Walking on Water” meditates on visibility and the damage of concealment. How much of yourself are you willing to share with the world? That tension underlies much of contemporary art but is rarely probed with this kind of honesty. In a moment defined by the tug between oversharing and careful image curation, the question feels urgent. Let The Grand Mess make his case in this interview, and perhaps you will soon be walking on water:

“Walking on Water” is such a loaded metaphor—biblical, impossible, performative. When did that image first hit you as the right one to build this EP around?

Walking on Water, as an image, is actually more of a result of the project rather than the source. The full album that’s coming out next year is called For All My Worth. The project speaks a lot about the divide I feel between what our society deems as successful versus what actually makes me feel happy/successful. I often have the feeling that the only way to be happy is to show the world that everything is going great, that you're walking on water, but every time I’ve tried, I’ve sunk.

I can’t take credit for the title of the EP, though. I got a beat from one of my favorite producers, Tech Club, and the sample was this absolutely beautiful voice memo by Spirit Genesis. I asked them both if I could take it and run, and I was able to give it my own spin and make “Walking on Water” pt. 1 and 2.

You’ve said that trying to be ‘weightless’ for others can actually isolate us. Was there a moment in your life when that realization broke through for you personally?

I think a lot of people try to make themselves appear easy-going and faultless out of fear of being a burden to people they love. All we end up doing when we succumb to that is showing the most important folks in our lives a phony, “polished” version of ourselves.

Personally, it was more of a “realization by 1000 paper cuts” instead of a more significant moment. I always want to show myself in a better light by giving the truth a little lift. The people who love me and who I love don’t give a shit about that.

This EP finds you digging through layers of performance, ambition, and vulnerability. What did you uncover that surprised you most?

I wish I had uncovered something grand, but I didn’t really. The albums that hit me the hardest are the ones that pose questions more than answer them.

I get quite annoyed at projects or art where the artist claims they’ve “solved” or answered the questions posed during the creation process. On Walking on Water, I question where I find my worth and if I am truly being an honest version of myself, but I don’t find the answers.

“Bloom” feels like the quiet heart of the record. Was it always meant to be the closing chapter, or did it emerge later as the emotional resolution?

Every song I write, I imagine at some point or another as the last song of a record. If I could make a record of only closers, I’d be in heaven.

I wrote it on my last day in New York. It was a goodbye to the city, and then became a goodbye to a previous version of myself. Since it represents a farewell, I always had it in the back of my mind that it would close the EP.

You’ve worked behind the scenes for years—TV, ads, other artists. Now that you’re in the spotlight, how does it feel?

I struggle with it a lot. I can’t help but feel selfish about it. There’s something chauvinistic and almost voyeuristic about it. I struggle with thinking that my ideas and views are worth people’s attention, and fighting to get people’s attention feels like such a fucking slog. I have boundless admiration for artists who are so good at showing themselves to the world. I think of El, who is someone I worked with a long, long time ago. She does such an amazing job of that.

What has stepping into the spotlight revealed about your own voice that you couldn’t have learned from working with producers or others behind the scenes?

From a musical standpoint, it’s just allowed me to execute my vision without having to understand or realize someone else’s. Where I’ve learned the most is on the social and visual side of things. As a composer behind the scenes, you don’t have to present as a “personality,” and it’s a very insightful and, at times, difficult learning process. I do want to praise my creative director, Shreya Chopra, for guiding me and sometimes dragging me through that process.

There’s a tension in your work between control and collapse. Do you think art needs a little mess to be honest?

Yes. More mess, especially in a time when everything can be made perfect. I think a lot of listeners feel the same way, and that’s why we’re seeing artists like Geese and Aya get some much deserved attention.

You recorded live at Nightbird Studios. What did that environment bring out in you?

Yeah, Nightbird was a fun time. It was engineered by my friend QWERTYamerica, which made it comfortable since it was just us in the room. I recorded both Walking on Water Part 1 and another piano and vocal track. Prior to the session, I was pretty stressed since I wanted to record piano and voice altogether in 1 room, no edits, no tricks, no tuning.

Nightbird does really feel like a piece of old Hollywood, of an era that no longer really exists. I also had my own studio at the Henson Lot for about 2-3 years, and that place has that same vibe.

LA is funny that way because it has all these places that have such insane musical history. Like I wrote songs for reality TV shows about 15 feet from where they recorded We Are the World. I’m a bit afraid of what’s going to happen to these spaces as the recording budgets get slashed and the mythology fades; hopefully, other places will pop up.

If someone’s quietly falling apart while listening to this EP, what do you hope they feel by the end?

Ooof. I’ll just say real quick that the day the first single of the EP came out, I learnt that my mom got diagnosed with a really bad type of cancer. I packed my stuff up and left my LA apartment, my girlfriend, and my cats behind to go help her out. I have been quietly falling apart and putting myself back together as this music has been coming out.

I hope that the folks who find this project during a tough time allow themselves a moment of vulnerability before having to try and walk on water again.

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Walking on Water: The Grand Mess Discusses Debut EP, Live Recording at Nightbird, and Artistic Truth

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